Chapter 16: Naughty & Nice: Chapter 16

Just like yesterday morning, the cabin is silent when I wake up with the sunrise.

Hendrix is out for the count. He doesn’t show a single sign of being aware of me slipping from the bed and pulling clothes on.

As I leave the bathroom and head toward the kitchen for my morning hit of caffeine, I assume that Wilder is either still sleeping or out for his morning run.

I soon discover that I’m very wrong when I step into the living room and find him wearing only a pair of shorts and doing push-ups in front of the couch.

All the air rushes from my lungs at the sight of his muscles rippling beneath his skin.

Hendrix is fit, his body toned and defined. But Wilder’s… it’s in an entirely different league.

Unable to stop myself, I stand there with my mouth agape and watch.

He moves so effortlessly. It’s addicting. Too addicting.

“I know you’re watching,” he says roughly, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.

“What the fuck, Wilder?” I gasp, my heart beating uncontrollably.

He stops and climbs to his feet. He’s got the cockiest smirk playing on his lips that I think I’ve ever seen, and I kick myself for getting sucked in.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks, combing his sweat-damp hair back.

“Why aren’t you out running?” I hiss, needing to take the heat off me.

“You saw the weather warning yesterday, right?”

“Yeah,” I muse.

“Go look outside.”

Ripping my attention from him, I march over to the windows and gaze out.

“Oh shit,” I breathe.

“Indeed. I could have opened the door, but it would have caused a snowslide.”

“A snowslide?” I ask, still staring at the mass of perfectly white snow on the other side of the window. I know I said I was hoping for a white Christmas up here, but this is something else.

“Yeah, a landslide but with snow.” I don’t look back, but I know he’s rolling his eyes at me.

“Right,” I mutter.

“It’s going to get worse today,” he explains as a gust of wind whips across the top of the snow, causing a huge cloud to engulf the cabin.

“Right,” I repeat.

“I hope you ordered enough food, because there’s no way of getting more.”

“We’ll be okay,” I say absently.

“I guess all we need to worry about is entertaining ourselves, then. Although, I’m not sure that you and Rix will have an issue with that. How was last night, by the way? Sounded epic from where I was sitting.”

My cheeks blaze. I knew at the time that he’d hear everything. But while I was with Hendrix, lost in our own little world, it didn’t matter.

Now, in the harsh light of day and standing in front of his twin brother, it’s very different.

“No need to be shy,” he says, his smirk still firmly in place as he takes a step forward to whisper in my ear, “I rubbed one out listening to you.”

My gasp rips through the cabin a beat before he chuckles.

“Go and make your coffee, Rebel,” he demands before walking to the coffee table and drinking some water.

His throat ripples as he swallows, and despite knowing better, my eyes drop to his chest, his abs, and then his crotch.

My mouth runs dry when I find a tent in the fabric.

Shit. He wasn’t joking, was he?

Before I embarrass myself even more, I make a beeline for the kitchen, leaving him to do his thing.

When I return to the living room, he’s moved on to sit-ups.

Keeping focused, I grab my book and curl myself into my favorite reading chair, seeing as the swing seat is out of action today.

If it weren’t so cloudy, it would allow me to watch the sunrise as well as the open fire, assuming someone had lit it.

So instead of enjoying the beautiful scenery outside of the cabin, I’m forced to try and ignore what’s happening on the inside.

Snuggling under the blanket, I open my book and stare at the words.

It works for a couple of pages, but then Wilder begins doing burpees, and I can’t help but lift my eyes.

Just like the sit-ups, it’s effortless. If it weren’t for the light sheen of sweat on his skin, I would think he wasn’t even trying.

“Got to a boring bit of your book, huh?” he guesses, although fuck knows how he’s aware I’m looking; he’s got his back to me.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he quips as he continues jumping up and down.

“You make me feel unfit and fat,” I mutter.

He clearly wasn’t expecting the comment, because he stops on his feet and turns to look at me.

“You might be unfit, but you certainly aren’t fat.” He stares at me with such intensity that I instantly regret the comment.

“When was the last time you exercised? Other than last night, of course.” He winks, and I roll my eyes.

“Uh…”

“Too long ago. Put your book down and get over here,” he demands, placing his hands on his hips.

“Um… I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

Ripping my eyes from him, I pretend to start reading again. In truth, it’s impossible with his gaze boring into me.

“Noelle,” he growls. “You need to be in tip-top shape for all the sexercise you’re going to get now. Gotta put some work in.”

“I really don’t. What the hell?” I shriek when he steals my book and coffee and places them on the side before ripping the blanket from my lap and grabbing my hand. “Oh no,” I cry, attempting to run away.

“Nope. We’re doing this. Warm up first, then I’ll put you through your paces.”

“This is really unnecessary. It’s Christmas Eve, for fuck’s sake.”

“Even more reason to be doing it. Burn off some calories before all the feasting.”

“I don’t like you very much right now.”

He quirks a brow. “Only right now? Okay, let’s stretch.”

Resigning myself to my fate, I follow his orders and do as I’m told.

“I thought we were warming up. This is yoga.”

“Same thing. We’re stretching your muscles and beginning to get your heart pumping.”

“There’s been plenty of that recently,” I mutter, mimicking him and moving into a downward dog.

“Sex is good for the soul.”

“Yours must be suffering right now then,” I tease. “When was the last time you went this long?”

“I’m not a complete man-whore, you know,” he mutters, attempting to sound offended.

“Just a partial one, then?”

“Pain in the ass,” he breathes before moving us through a few more poses.

I hate to admit it, but I quite enjoy it.

Despite the banter, it’s quite relaxing.

The weather might be all kinds of awful outside, but inside, it’s calm and peaceful.

I focus on my breathing as we transition and feel the weight of the past few days lift.

“Okay, now it’s time for some work,” Wilder says, jumping to his feet and jogging on the spot.

“There is something wrong with you,” I grumble.

His need to keep moving, to keep busy is exhausting.

I know it’s a coping mechanism and his way of dealing with life, but it’s hard work to watch.

“Jumping jacks. Squats. Sit-ups. Push-ups,” he lists.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he says, coming to a stop in front of me. “Ready? Twenty jumping jacks.” He begins leaving me standing there, the opposite of ready, as he begins counting. “Come on, don’t be a pussy.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

I do one and am swiftly reminded that I’m not wearing a bra. My boobs aren’t that big, but then I’m pretty sure every pair is too big for unsupported star jumps.

“I’m too much of a woman to be doing this, Wilder.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion.

“Boobs and jumps don’t mix.”

“And you think a dick and balls do? Hold them down if you have to. Or better idea, let me.”

Rolling my eyes, I forget about the top half of the star movement, grab my boobs, and jump with him.

By the time he gets to twenty, I’ve done no more than eight, but I’m already sweating and out of breath.

Why people do this for fun is beyond me. It’s torture.

“Squat time,” Wilder says happily.

“Slave driver,” I mutter, ripping Hendrix’s hoodie off and throwing it onto the chair I should be relaxing in.

“Hmm, much better,” Wilder says, making a show of checking out my body.

“Rix will hurt you again,” I point out.

“It’ll be worth it,” he muses, rubbing the bruise on his cheek Rix gave him yesterday.

“If you say so.”

“Okay, squat for me. Let me see your form.”

Rolling my eyes, I do as I’m told.

“Stick your ass out. More. More.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s it. Now, ten reps.”

“Five,” I barter.

“Ten.”

I groan, aware that I’m not going to win.

I get to seven before my thighs are trembling, and not in a good way, and I collapse on the floor.

“You really are out of shape, huh?” Wilder asks, looming over me, his signature smirk on full display.

“And you really are an asshole.”

I close my eyes as he drops to his knees, praying this torture can be over.

It’s Christmas; we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.

“On your back, feet on the floor.”

I crack one eye open to find him waiting for me impatiently.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I deadpan.

“No, not one of them requires this much work.”

“What you mean is you sleep with easy jersey chasers.”

“Works for me,” he says as I get into position.

The second my feet are down, he grabs my ankles.

“Cross your arms over your chest and lift.”

Before doing as I’m told, I lift my hand to my head. “Yes, Boss,” I salute.

When all he does is glare at me, I get to work, figuring that the sooner I pacify him, the sooner it’ll be over.

“One,” he counts. “Two. Three.”

Then it begins to get hard.

Four and five come slower, and then I get to six, and before I manage to get up, a voice booms through the cabin.

“I thought I told you not to touch her.”

“Dude, don’t get your panties in a knot. I’m holding her ankles.”

“And making her exercise. Noelle hates exercise.”

“I can tell,” he deadpans.

“Hey,” I cry. “I’m doing my best here.”

Wilder quirks a brow as if to say, ‘Really?’.

“Rix, your brother is being mean to me. I was quite happy sitting there and reading my book,” I argue. “Look what he’s made me do.”

Rix’s footsteps get closer until I can see him.

But unlike I’m expecting, he doesn’t make Wilder stop. Instead, he claims the chair I was pulled from and instructs his brother to continue.

“What?” I shriek in utter disbelief. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Hendrix holds up his hands in surrender before sitting back to get ready for the show.

“Fucking hell.”

“Four more,” Wilder says, sadly not forgetting that we’re not done.

“And then it’s jumping jacks, right?” Hendrix says hopefully.

“No, you’re too late. Wilder’s already watched me do them.”

I can’t help the wide grin that spreads across my face as Rix’s jaw ticks with realization.

“I thought it was weird that I had to do them naked, but I trust him.”

Rix is on his feet faster than I thought possible.

“You fucking ass⁠—”

I can’t hold it; I burst out laughing.

Thankfully, Wilder releases my feet and I’m able to stand. The second I do, I rush between them, just in case I started something.

“I’m joking,” I breathe, pressing my palms against Rix’s chest and staring up into his eyes.

“Good. Because if there’s going to be any nakedness, I need to be involved.”

My heart somersaults and my first thought is whether Wilder told him about my book and what he read yesterday morning.

“O-okay,” I stutter, following Hendrix’s line of sight toward his smirking brother.

If I ever needed a reminder that these two can communicate with only their eyes, then this is it.