Get Off on the Pain Read Online Free PDF

the blows of his punches and heavy breathing, before pushing the door open, my eyes landing on his back.
    The muscles in his back flex, showing through his white shirt as he grips the bag with both hands and leans his head against it, fighting to catch his breath.
    I can see the sweat dripping down the back of his head and neck. His shirt is completely drenched and transparent, clinging to his every muscle. I was right; this man is definitely in shape. Watching him, tense and full of so much emotion, makes something about this moment so damn hot. To top it off, that firm ass on display in those sweats is enough to send any girl into a hormonal hot flash.
    “I thought I told you to stay away?” He growls out, punching the bag one more time. “Have you ever heard of privacy?”
    Stepping inside, I snap a couple pictures of his backside as he takes another swing and then grips the bag again, letting out a small grumble. Is it wrong of me to want to capture this moment? Probably so, but I’ve never played by the rules much.
    I run my hand along the old Pontiac Trans Am and admire it as I walk around it. “This is a beautiful car. What year is it?”
    Running a towel over his face, he lets out a little breath, obviously giving up, before turning to face me. “It’s a seventy-six.” He drapes the towel around his shoulder and reaches for a bottled water. His jaw muscles are grinding in between gulps as he stares at the car, downing half the bottle already. “It’s a-”
    “Trans Am,” I cut in, grinning at him proudly. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I don’t know my cars. I was raised by my father most of my life.” I frown at the thought while pulling my hand away from the candy apple red paint. “I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff; too much.”
    He gives me a look of curiosity as I step closer to him, my eyes wandering out of my control as I check out his tattoos. He looks uncomfortable, but doesn’t say a word as I read the script up his left forearm, “Strength,” and then read the script on his right forearm, “Pain.”
    I look up at him and our eyes meet. They’re conflicting. I can tell that a part of him wants to tell me to leave. Why he doesn’t I have no clue. I have to admit; I like it, for now at least.
    Clearing his throat, he pulls his eyes away from mine, clearly feeling awkward with being so close to me. Pausing for a moment, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair before turning around and walking away from me, toward the door leading to his house. “I have some things to take care of. Lock the garage on the way out.”
    I don’t say a word as I watch him reach for the handle. I guess I just don’t really know what else to say at the moment besides, “Do you have a name or should I just give you one?”
    He squeezes the handle and pushes the door open, the smell of Vanilla seeping out. He freezes, but doesn’t turn back to face me. “Memphis,” he says in a flat tone. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”
    Stepping inside, he turns around to face me with a slight look of humor on his face. He grips the doorframe, his muscles flexing as he looks down at my neck. “Nice camera.” His lip curls into a half smile before he shuts the door behind him, once again leaving me standing by myself.
    “This feels awfully familiar,” I mumble while showing myself out of the garage, but not before locking it of course.
    After closing the door behind me I turn around to see Bailey walking around the side of the house. She looks lost until her eyes land on me.
    “What the hell?” She gives me a questionable look while jogging through the grass to keep up with me as I walk toward the front of our house. “I’ve been looking for you for over twenty minutes now. If you were going to be sexing up our mysterious neighbor, you could at least leave a note saying so.”
    I let out a humorous snicker as I reach the porch. “Sorry. I thought it was only going to take like five minutes or so.