House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

She wiped at her face with the back of her arm, but found it to be equally sweaty. Hunt returned to the array of metal machines that seemed more like torture devices, adjusting the seat on one to accommodate his gray wings. She stood in the center of the room like a total creep for a moment, watching his back muscles ripple as he went through a series of pull-down exercises.

Burning fucking Solas.

She’d blown this male. Had slid down that beautiful, strong body and taken his ridiculously large cock in her mouth and had nearly come herself as he’d spilled on her tongue.

And she knew it was ten kinds of fucked up, considering how much shit they were juggling and all that lay ahead, but … look at him.

She wiped at the sweat rolling down her chest, leaving a spectacularly unsexy stain beneath her sports bra.

Hunt finished his set but kept gripping the bar above his head, arms extended high above him, stretching out his back and wings. Even in a T-shirt and gym shorts, he was formidable. And … she was still staring. Bryce twisted back to her mat, grimacing as she put in her earbud and it blasted music. But her body refused to move.

Water. She needed some water. Anything to delay going back to that plank.

She trudged for the wet bar built into the far wall of the gym. The beverage fridge beneath the white marble counter was stocked with glass water bottles and chilled towels, and Bryce helped herself to both. A bowl of green apples sat on the counter, along with a basket full of granola bars, and she took the former, teeth sinking into the crisp flesh.

Fuck doing planks.

Savoring the apple’s tart kiss, she glanced over toward Hunt, but—Where was he? Even that telltale ripple of his power had faded away.

She scanned the expansive gym, the rows of machines, the treadmills and ellipticals before the wall of windows overlooking the bustle of the Old Square. How had he—

Hands wrapped around her waist, and Bryce shrieked, nearly leaping out of her skin. Light erupted from her chest, but with the music thumping in her ears, she couldn’t hear anything—

“Fucking Hel, Quinlan!” Hunt said, prying her earbuds away. “Listen to your music a little louder, will you?”

She scowled, pivoting to find him right behind her. “It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t sneak up on me.”

He flashed her a sweaty, wicked grin. “Just making sure my Shadow of Death skills don’t get rusty before tomorrow’s tea party with the Under-King. I thought I’d see if I could dim myself a bit.” Hence her inability to sense him creeping up. He rubbed at his eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be so … jumpy. Or bright.”

“I thought you’d praise me for my quick reflexes.”

“Good jump. You almost blinded me. Congrats.”

She playfully slapped his chest, finding rock-hard muscles beneath the sweat-dampened shirt. “Solas, Hunt.” She rapped her knuckles on his pecs. “You could bounce a gold mark off these things.”

His wings rustled. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

She propped her elbows on the counter and bit into her apple again. Hunt extended a hand, and she wordlessly handed him one earbud. He fitted it to his ear, head angling as he listened to the song.

“No wonder you can’t do a plank for more than two minutes, if you’re listening to this sad-sack music.”

“And your music is so much better?”

“I’m listening to a book.”

She blinked. They’d often swapped music suggestions while working out, but this was new. “Which book?”

“Voran Tritus’s memoir about growing up in the Eternal City and how he became, well … him.” Tritus was one of the youngest late-night talk show hosts ever. And absurdly hot. Bryce knew the last fact had little to do with why Hunt tuned in religiously, but it certainly made her own viewing much more enjoyable.

“I’d say listening to a book while working out is even less motivational than this sad-sack music,” she said.

“It’s all muscle memory at this point. I only need to pass the time until I’m done.”

“Asshole.” She ate more of her apple, then changed the song. Something she’d first heard in the hallowed space of the White Raven dance club, a remix of a slower song that somehow managed to combine the song’s original sensual appeal with a driving beat that demanded dancing.

The corner of Hunt’s mouth kicked up. “You trying to seduce me with this music?”

She met his gaze as she chewed on another mouthful of apple. The gym was empty. But the cameras … “You’re the one who snuck up to fondle me.”

He laughed, the column of his throat working. A droplet of sweat ran down its powerful length, gleaming among all that golden-brown skin, and her breathing hitched. His nostrils flared, no doubt scenting everything that went hot and wet within the span of a breath.

He tucked in his wings, leaving the earbud in place as he took a step closer. Bryce leaned slightly against the counter, the marble digging into her overheated spine. But he only took the apple from her fingers. Held her gaze while he bit in, then slowly set the core on the counter.

Her toes curled in her sneakers. “This is even less private than my bedroom.”

Hunt’s hands slid onto her waist, and he hoisted her onto the counter in one easy movement. His lips found her neck, and she arched as his tongue slid up one side, as if licking away a bead of sweat. “Best be quiet, then, Quinlan,” he said against her skin.