Dominic Voss was built like an ancient Spartan. He looked like he had been crafted to be a warrior and protector since birth. Even with being laid up in the hospital while he healed, he was still impossibly broad and toned. His shoulders looked like they could hold up the weight of the world and then some and I couldn’t remember ever seeing an ass look that tight and perfect in a pair of track pants, which was saying a lot considering the bulk of my clientele got paid exorbitant amounts of money to look good in athletic gear.
I was taller than him by a few inches, but he was cut and hard in all the right places and that superb body and the intensity on the roughly hewn face attached to it were wreaking havoc on my concentration. I was supposed to be paying attention to how he responded to the tests, not to the way drops of sweat were running down the sides of his neck and across the impressive bulge of his pecs. And I really, really shouldn’t be wondering what he would do if I leaned over the edge of the treadmill and licked the salty moisture away with my tongue.
I shifted my gaze away when my assistant caught me staring and nodded when he asked if he should kick up the speed some more. I nodded but watched Dom flinch a little as he had to adjust his gait to keep up with the machine. His dark eyebrows were furrowed. His already bronze complexion looked even darker and I could hear him breathing audibly behind the mask strapped to his face. I watched as his arms pumped hard at his sides, the left one flowing free and easily like it was supposed to while the right one moved stiffly and awkwardly. I didn’t have any doubt that he could chase a bad guy down in a footrace, but I was starting to wonder if he could hold on to them when he caught up. His mobility on the left side was fluid and sure; the right side of his body looked like it should be attached to a much older man with arthritis.
He was struggling. But he wouldn’t say anything. In fact, when the treadmill went up to the highest setting, which was the last ten minutes, he would run through and not offer a single complaint. I frowned at him because I knew that that kind of exertion wasn’t good for his leg. The body had its own language and if you refused to listen to what it was telling you, then chances were you were doing more harm than good. When my assistant asked to kick it up the last time, I shook my head in the negative and saw Dom’s very dark green eyes narrow at me. I knew that if he didn’t have the plastic ventilator covering the entire lower part of his face I would be getting an earful.
I met his look with a bland one of my own. I was in charge here and the sooner he learned that, the better this partnership would be. I kept my eyes locked on his and treated him to the same slow and thorough appraisal he had given me yesterday, only I got the added benefit of getting to check him out while he was sweaty and shirtless.
After Remy died, I went a little crazy. I figured if he couldn’t love me enough to save us, to save himself, then I was obviously the problem. I figured I was nothing special, undeserving of someone as fantastic and charismatic as Remy Archer, so I went off the deep end. I slept around like it was a sport. I tried on boy after boy searching for one that would fit. I burned through men like a wild fire, endlessly searching for that special something that I’d had so briefly. I was trying to fuck away grief and guilt and there had been plenty of willing partners to help me do it.
Then one day I got a phone call out of the blue that changed everything. Remy’s best friend, a sweet little thing named Shaw Landon, now Shaw Archer, wanted me to come and meet the other Archer boys. Remy’s twin, Rule, and his older brother, Rome, were moving on in life, finding loves and lives of their own, but the way Remy went out … we all deserved more than secrets and speculation. She convinced me to come meet the entire family and like an insane person I agreed.