Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate (Adelaide) novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112

Briar

A few hours later, I nudged Carter. Who was nodding off.

“Hmm?”

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“We have a run to make up and training to do, the cameras can wait till tomorrow,”

“That’s right, we had things to do.” He agreed before he got up and stretched. I followed him upstairs to dig through my bag to find something to run in as he unbuttoned his work shirt the rest of the way and peeled it off. I took my clothes to the bathroom and came out in a

sports bra and tight workout shorts. My hair balled up into a tight, messy bun coming out of

the back of one of Jake’s old hats. Carter walked out of the bedroom in a pair of sweats and

sneakers and nothing else. Looking fine as hell.

We ran the two miles down a different trail that overlooked the valley in the light of the waxing moon. It was so breathtaking in the stillness of the night that I couldn’t help but soak

it in as we jogged down the trail. Its energy kissed my skin and soaked into my being.

After that, Carter took me to the basement, where I was surprised to see not only a weight bench set up, but a series of different bags. Mats lined the floor on one side. I guess he took

his fitness seriously, I cocked my head watching him, it definitely showed.

He guided me to the weights first and added an extra 20 to the barbell of light weights I had been working up to. He had high hopes, but I followed his instruction and was flabbergasted when I found it…easy. He added another 20 after each rep of five until I lost count. Eventually,

I complained as my muscles quivered and strained with the effort.

“You’re benching more than you weigh now,” he let me know. When did I ever step on a scale? I wandered. However, it was definitely progress, only I hadn’t expected it so soon. Maybe he

was just a good judge of wight, suspect descriptions and all.

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15:05 Mon, Oct 5

Chapter 112

He showed me the speed bag, then the hanging bag, before he brought me to one that stood

on the floor and was weighted with sand. He tossed me a pair of hand wraps and I put them

on as he continued to speak.

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“This is the one I want you to picture the face of all your frustrations on.” He reached over to

a sound system, and 90s metal came through the speakers. “Now beat the fucking shit out of

that mother fucker Briar,” he yelled above the music. I complied,

I stared at the bag, my mind swirled with feelings, brimming and overflowing with agony…

anger. It took a few moments for me to collect myself as I secured both hands in the

protective layers of fabric before I released all the pent–up rage and turmoil into simultaneous

punches, kicks, and knees as I assaulted the stand–up bag with trained and honed fury. The

weight of it wobbled as the random combinations flowed out of my body, and impacted the

bag with force I didn’t know I possessed. The release felt good; my mind ran through a list of

every unbidden touch he had forced upon me and every strike he had marred my skin with.

The drugged state that was involuntarily enforced upon me, and the vile things he did to gain

what? Who was I to him but a pawn in his big plans? His stupid fucking obsession for fucking

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