HIDE: A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

SIXTEEN

Wilson lifted his eyebrows. “What is it, my love?”

“Don't lie or keep things from me. As much as you can, I want us to be open to each other,” he said, his hand unconsciously tightening on Wilson's knee.

Changing the topic, Wilson averted his gaze from Brandon's pleading stare. It was a bit late not to hold back certain things from him. Yes, he wanted to be truthful, but was hurting their relationship in the process worth it? “You took classes in my absence. Self-defense and shooting, that sort of thing. . . And I’d like you to resume them here.”

A smile curved in Brandon's mouth. He wanted to also show Wilson that he wasn't the same scared assistant he knew. He was stronger, more resilient, and more appealing. “I would like you to train me on how to fight and use weapons, then. While working as your assistant, I can double as your guard,” he joked.

Wilson broke into a small laugh, glad that Brandon had followed suit in letting go of the conversation earlier and switching to this one. He nodded, agreeing to his specific request of being his trainer. The thought of another man or woman laying hands on his man, even if it was for a teaching purpose, made him mad. He might lose it again. That was why he was suggesting earlier that Brandon change into something more comfortable because this idea lingered in his thought.

* * *

With nothing to do and definitely not in a great mood to give Brandon a tour of the house, Wilson decided to start his training to distract himself. He was excited with the idea of teaching him self-defense, even though he didn't intend to see him in danger or use the tactics. But, he still wanted him strong enough to protect himself if the need arose.

The irony of what he was doing didn’t escape him. Most people would say he was the one that Brandon needed saving from, and they were probably right. Wilson didn't give a f**k. Brandon was his. And, he would do whatever to keep him safe, even if it involved killing someone.

They started with the house gym, warming up on the treadmill at full speed. Brandon had an amazing body and don't work out much to maintain it. On the other hand, with his stunning genetics, Wilson couldn't skip a day without training. He had gotten used to it.

Judging by the sweat trickling down his slender back, Brandon looked like he would pass out any second. He had been going at a slow pace yet, it was exhausting for him. While Wilson didn't look fazed.

Wilson ended his run and quietly got down from the treadmill as Brandon was still focused, not noticing his absence. Careful not to startle him, he came by the side and said, “we're good, baby,” his words came out low and husky as a familiar surge of arousal hardened his c**k. There was something sexy about seeing Brandon work out.

Wilson loved seeing him all out of breath, with his skin dampened, making his skin glow. The fact that he was wearing a pair of shorts, a loose singlet, and sneakers, didn't help, either. He wanted to lick the droplets of sweat off his smooth, chiseled belly, then throw him on the nearest mat for a quick f**k.

“You might as well eat me with the way you're ogling me,” Brandon said breathlessly, reaching for a small towel to wipe his face. “Is it just me, or are you horny all the time?”

Wilson gave a huge smile and hits the ‘Stop' button on the treadmill. “Let's go,” he ordered. Brandon hopped off the machine, grabbing his water bottle. “I’m ready.” He looked so excited that Wilson decided to hold off on the mat f*****g for now. Delayed gratification could be a good thing, and he did carve out that time specifically for Brandon's training.

“All right,” he said.

Taking his hand, he led her out of the house. They went to the field where he occasionally worked out with his men. At this time of day, it was too hot for any intense

exercise, so the area was largely empty. Still, as they passed by, Wilson saw a few of the guards surreptitiously staring at Brandon. It made Wilson want to rip their eyes out. They picked up the signal immediately and averted their glance as soon as they looked at Wilson. He didn't care if one thought it was irrational to be possessive of him. He was his and that was all that mattered.

“What are we doing first?” he asked as they approached a storage shed in the corner of the training field.

“Shooting.” he gave him a sideways look. “I want to see how good you are with a gun.”

He smiled, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “I’m not bad,” he said, and the confidence in his voice made Wilson grin.

Inside the shed were some weapons and training gear. Going in, he selected a few of the most commonly used guns. Then they went outside to the shooting range. There were numerous targets set up at different intervals. Wilson had him begin with the closest target: a dozen empty beer cans propped on a wooden table some fifty feet away. Handing him the pistol, he instructed Brandon on how to use it, and then, had him aim at the cans.

To his shock, he hit eight of the ten cans on his first try. “Dammit,” he muttered, lowering the weapon. “I can’t believe I missed those two.”

Surprised and impressed, Wilson had him try out the other guns. He was comfortable with most of the guns, hitting the targets. Wilson switched and placed on a machine gun. Brandon's hands shook when he tried to aim.

“You would have to get stronger to use that one,” he told him, taking the machine gun from him.

He nodded in agreement, reaching for his water bottle. “Yes,” he said between sips. “I want to get stronger. I aim to be able to handle all these weapons, same as you.”

He couldn't help laughing at that. Despite his generally easygoing nature, Brandon had a strong competitive streak. He despised failing at things.

“Okay,” Wilson responded, still chuckling. Taking the bottle from him, he drank some water and then returned it to him. “I can train you to get stronger as well.”

After he practiced shooting a few more times, they returned the guns to the shed. Then he took him to the indoor training gym, to show him some basic fighting moves. Wilson had a rough start in life, and most people didn't have an idea. Fighting to survive has always been his ordeal. That was why he found it easy to start and end one.

Dowen was there, sparring with three of the guards. Seeing them enter the room, he stopped and respectfully nodded at Brandon, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his face. He knew by now how Wilson felt about Brandon, and was smart enough not to display any form of emotion; interest, or despise, towards Brandon. His sparring partners, however, weren't that wise, and it took a murderous glare from Wilson for them to stop gaping at him.

“Hi Dowen,” Brandon said, ignoring the little interplay. “It’s good to see you again.”

Dowen gave him a carefully neutral smile. “You too, sir. Mr. Edward is lucky to have you by his side.”

To Wilson's annoyance, Brandon visibly flinched at the compliment, and his mild irritation with the guards morphed into sudden anger at him. His reluctance to accept their relationship in public was like removing a splinter in Wilson's heart. He was no longer inclined to be reasonable and forgiving.