Their hot bodies

                        ~ELENA~

A loud knock on the door startles me awake in the morning.

I groan softly.

I don't like being woken up from sleep. I like to sleep and wake up by myself.

Groggy and still tangled in my sheets, I sit up with a confused frown.

Who is knocking??

Sunlight is peeking through the curtains, and my phone says it's just five minutes past seven.

The knock comes again, this time followed by a familiar voice.

“Elena,” Nico calls. “Get your pretty ass up. We're going to the gym” 

I blink, still half-asleep.

Gym??

I drag myself to the door and open it, only to be greeted by Nico wearing a very clean white singlet, and a pair of low hanging black sweatpants and a grin that should be illegal this early in the morning.

“I don't recall signing up for torture this morning” I grumble, rubbing my eyes.

He chuckles.

“Com'on little dove, Riccardo and Vincenzo are downstairs already.”

I roll my eyes.

“Okay, fine. Being fit isn't a bad idea after all” I say.

“Exactly” he murmurs. “You know where the gym is??”

“I'll find my way” I reply to him.

“Sure. We'll be waiting” he winks at me.

I roll my eyes and slam the door in his face.

Such a big flirt!

I walk to the bathroom to brush my mouth and brush my face.

I come out of the bathroom minutes later and walk to my wardrobe to pick one of my gym clothes.

I had bought some of my gym clothes when I wanted to please Alessandro by going to the gym with him.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to wear any of them.

I think it's now useful again.

After staring at the wardrobe for minutes, deciding on which clothes to wear, I end up wearing a sleek, form fitting black crop top and high waisted black compression leggings which hug my hips and thighs and highlight my curves.

Then I wear my sleek training sneakers.

I spray perfume all over my body, then walk out of my room.

***

My eyes widen when I get to the gym and open the door.

I really should have stayed in bed.  I wasn't prepared.

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for the sight of three shirtless, sweat-licked, sinfully built stepbrothers in front of me.

It dawns on me how identical they are.

For a while, I struggle to differentiate them.

Each has tattoos on his body, and the one with the most tattoos is obviously Nico.

I can't tell the other two apart.

The gym is massive, sleek and modern—more like a private fitness club than a home gym. It smells like mint and sweat, and testosterone.

I step into the gym, and immediately feel like I've been thrown into a sinfully hot fever dream.

One glances up from his stretching and gives me a small, polite smile.

“Good morning, Elena” he greets, and I can tell it's Riccardo.

Good thing I'm able to differentiate them with their personalities.

“Hey,” I say softly, trying not to melt at how his dark curls fall over his forehead. He's in a gray tank top and shorts, muscles carved and glistening.

I study the tattoo on his body for easy identification next time.

He has a black and red snake wrapped around a dagger tattoo on the inside of his biceps. It coils perfectly with his muscles, the head of the snake near his wrist. It's sleek, dangerous and oddly elegant…just like him.

The other is definitely Vincenzo and he doesn't even spare me a glance.

He's at the far end of the gym, punching a sandbag like it personally offended him. His jaw is clenched, muscles flexing with every precise, powerful hit.

He's pure ice and fury, and somehow it makes him even more irresistible.

I study the tattoo on his body too. His tattoo is a massive black wolf head etched across his back. The eyes of the wolf glow with white ink, glowing faintly under the overhead light.

Scars…deep, long and old–slash through parts of it, like he earned both the ink and the pain layered underneath.

I am staring too much and I force myself to look away.

And immediately regret it.

Because my eyes land on Nico. He's lifting weight, tattoos on full display, biceps bulging with each curl. His sweatpants ride low on his hips, teasing the dangerous V-line.

His tattoo is sprawled across the left side of his chest, creeping down his ribs and disappearing into his pants. And another, a burning rose, thorns curling into flames that occupied his left arm and hand is rendered in dark, smoky ink.

The contrast of the ink against his golden tan skin is obscene.

Each of them wears wars on their bodies. Bullet scars on shoulders, knife cuts slashed across abs, faint bruises that hints at fights that ended badly for the other guy.

But instead of ruining their beauty, it adds to it.

They don't look broken.

They look like gods who have been to hell and back…and came out sexier.

And that, in itself, is terrifying.

And right now? I'm the only girl in this damn room. With them.

“Still staring, little dove??” Nico calls lazily, catching my eyes trailing over his abs. “You've been quiet.”

My cheeks turn red in embarrassment. He just caught me gawking at their bodies and his grin isn't helping matters.

I snap my gaze away and cross my arms.

He chuckles and then comes close to me and whispers in my ears.

“You like what you see??”