Chapter 34
34
ADAM
B elle stands before me in not nearly enough clothes. It would be easier for my mind to behave if he wasn’t in a perfectly fitted white T-shirt that shows off his slender frame and shorts that hug his butt just right. Fortunately his togs were in the laundry, along with a few other items from his wardrobe, and weren’t sacrificed to the storm like most of his ensemble. I went out yesterday morning, once the weather cleared, and gathered what I could. Lily-Iris doesn’t hold out much hope any of it can be salvaged though.
He shifts his weight, visibly uncomfortable. “Would you like to see what Geoff taught me?”
“Love to.” I don’t have high expectations that Geoff taught him much of anything. The ‘lessons’ were likely just a way to flex his ego while putting Jonathan down.
Jonathan plants his feet shoulder-width apart and punches out. “There was this one.” He strikes out with his other arm. “And this one. Oh, and hands in front of my face.” He pulls his fists up in front of his jaw, where a dark purple bruise marks the spot where Geoff’s fist connected. “Won’t forget that one in a hurry.”
“Hmm.” I move behind him. “Your right foot needs to move forward a little.” I automatically reach to adjust his hips. His hips. I’m standing so close and I’m holding his hips and time stops. His hair is growing long. Curls the color of sunlight kiss his neck and cup his ears. Focus.
“You have to picture a line between your feet.” I nudge his left foot with mine to widen his stance. My nostrils fill with the scent of his shampoo and his skin. I have the overwhelming urge to brush my lips against his smooth neck. It’s so close, I’d only need to duck a little. “Punch again. One two.”
He does as I command and it sends a thrill through me. This is all a terrible idea.
“You feel the difference?”
“I… think so. I feel more stable.”
That makes one of us. It’s taking all my self-control not to slide my hands up from his hips, up along his sides. I want to devour him.
I take a step back. “Why do you want to learn boxing?”
He turns. I’m still closer to him than I should be, close enough that he has to crane his neck a little to answer.
“I suppose it seems like a good way to keep fit.” It sounds like a lie. He folds his arms in front of himself.
“There are better ways to keep fit. What’s the real reason?”
His gaze slides away, to his feet. I wait.
“I suppose it would be good to learn to defend myself.”
I see a flash of Belle pressed into that corner, trying desperately to shield himself from Geoff’s attack. The rage rises in me afresh.
It takes effort to keep my voice even as I say, “If you want to defend yourself, boxing might not be the best place to start. The fighting you learn in a gym isn’t necessarily going to come to you in a moment of need.”
“Being able to swing a punch that actually connects would be nice though.” He offers a weak smile.
“Is that what you’d like me to show you? That’s attack, Belle, not defense.”
He shrinks back, as if I of all people would judge him.
“Sometimes…” he rubs at his arms. “Well, I get awfully tired of being weak.”
Oh Belle. “You’re not weak.”
He laughs hollowly. “Really. Because if you hadn’t been there?—”
“I was there.” The thought of not being there makes me feel ill. It’s played in my mind every moment since the incident. “Look, if you’re ever in a situation like that again, what you need is self-defense tactics. Things you can do that give you a chance to escape.”
“Right. The better part of valor.”
“I’m not sure where that saying comes from, but it’s accurate.”
“The bard.”
I think that means Shakespeare but I’m not confident enough about that to respond.
“The number one thing you can do when you’re outmatched is get away.”
“I understand if you no longer wish to teach me. As I said the other day when we spoke, I’m not very good at?—”
I rest my hands on his shoulders. Damn theyfeel good under my hands. Lately, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about his touch. His fingers twining with mine, his cheek pressed to me. His hips. His shoulders. Funny how once I breached that touch barrier it was like I was a man starved. All I crave is his touch. “Belle. I’m not retracting my offer. I’m just trying to determine what to teach you.”
He looks up at me with those pretty green eyes and says, “Anything you want.”
Holy shit. I’m not going to make it five minutes into this lesson without popping a boner.
Not for the first time, I hear Ray’s confident declaration echoing in my head. The man’s head over heels for you. But from all I’ve seen he feels no more than friendship. And even if he did once feel something, does he still after seeing The Beast? And if he does, does it even matter? The power dynamics… those haven’t gone away. I take a deep breath and force my mind back to the task at hand.
“I can teach you some self defense techniques. From the weak spots to basic throws and the like.”
“You mean like karate?”
“More like Jiu-Jitsu.” Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is known as the ‘gentle art’ and I take my promise to not hurt him seriously. “How do you feel about choking me?”
He flushes bright pink.
I kneel in front of him while he practices the ‘rear naked choke’ and absolutely do not imagine doing this naked. Why did they call it that anyway?
He wraps his arms around me, one over the shoulder and one under the opposite arm. “Like this?” My nostrils flood with vanilla. His top hand makes a fist, the bottom hand grabs it around the wrist.
“Yeah. Good.”
“Am I squeezing too tight?”
“No, Belle. I’ll tap out if I need to.”
“I’m just checking.” He tightens his grip again.
I reach up with my right hand, grab him, roll him and pin him.
He stares up at me, bewildered.
“You did well,” I say.
“I did?”
I pull back to kneel again. “You want to know how to escape being pinned?”
He nods and I show him the shrimping movement—a sideways thrust that I’ve never seen as sexual before now. But when Jonathan does it my blood flushes hot.
I clear my throat. “So, that’s the key to escaping when someone has you pinned, because their center of gravity is going to be directly over yours. And then you’re going to throw them off balance.”
I try to explain verbally, but it’s just no use. Blood rushes in my ears. I briefly consider calling off the lesson. But I draw in a steadying breath. I can do this. “Let me show you.”
I lie on my back with my knees up and encourage him to straddle me. He pays rapt attention as I explain about arm frames and he flushes a deep crimson when I demonstrate by locking my hands against his upper thigh. “Are you okay? We can stop?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Just uh… just paying attention. So this is a ‘box frame’?”
“Yeah. And then you lock your feet tightly under my knees.”
“Right.”
“And your arm around my neck.”
He does so, coming in close enough for me to smell his aftershave. Focus.
“So how you escape is…” I put my elbow against the inside of his knee and thrust my hips up and to the side. His balance shifts and instinct takes over. He’s on his back looking up at me again.
“I… how did you…?” Jonathan asks.
Shit. I went too fast. “Sorry I’m not a great teacher. Uh… do you want to try again?”
He mounts me again. I repeat the first section and slow down for the second, explaining how to position the hand inside the knee, where the fingers should be pointing.
He’s staring down at me, face inches from my own, pupils blown wide. His breath puffs against my face. I’m grateful his hips are hovering above mine, because if they were flush with me he’d feel how hard I’m getting. I need to get a grip. I push his knee wide and slide my own leg up between his and escape. “Want to give it a try?”
He nods, though he seems uncertain. He lies down on his back.
“I’ll go slowly, promise.” I throw my legs over him, kneeling to either side of his hips, fully aware of our difference in size. He presses his hands to my upper thigh, just how I showed him. This is how I die.
“Okay, now shrimp.”
He arches his back, but instead of throwing his weight to one side, he thrusts straight up and oh my god . His eyes fly wide. There’s no way he didn’t feel my boner. And I’m pretty sure I felt something too.
“Almost.” My voice comes out gruff and low. “One shoulder. It’s about offsetting the… the…”
Our faces are so close that I can practically feel the heat coming off his flushed cheeks.
“the… balance.”
Jonathan tilts his chin up and kisses me.
My heart stops. The whole world stops. There is nothing except the feeling of his soft lips brushing mine. Then my heart kicks again and everything rushes in.
Jonathan Belle is lying beneath me, flushed and beautiful, with eyes full of questions. “I’m sorry, I?—”
I cut him off with another kiss. Heat chases across my skin, pooling near my groin as he tangles his hands through my hair and opens up to me. He’s so soft, so warm.
He whimpers and I pull away, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but he chases my mouth and then my lips are on his again and explosions are going off in my chest as I lose myself in the intoxicating taste of him.
Someone clears their throat behind us and I shoot up, mortified.
Meredith is standing by the door, smirking, with her arms folded. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a call for you.”
I pull a hand through my hair, straighten my shirt. How much of that did she see? I’ve been waiting for a call from the States. I should have expected the interruption. What’s wrong with me? “Uh, thanks. I’ll be right there.”
“Long distance, Beast.”
“Yeah, I know.” I climb to my feet, turn to help Jonathan up, but he’s already getting up, pointedly not looking at me.
“We’ll, uh, talk soon?” I say.
He nods. “Yes, of course.”
I finish the call, send off an email and then head for my room and a much-needed cold shower.
Meredith corners me in the passage. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”
I should have known she wouldn’t let this drop. My heart is still thumping from that kiss. What a fucking kiss it was.
I wipe a hand across my face. “It wasn’t intentional.”
“You accidentally pinned our teacher to the floor and kissed him?”
“Yes, actually.” I start towards the stairs again, striding past the door to Geoff’s empty room.
Meredith follows. “I’m concerned about you.”
“You think I’ve finally lost the plot. The isolation has driven me insane.”
“Oh, I don’t think you can blame the isolation.”
I glance at her and find her smiling slightly.
“You think I’m in a downward spiral. One that started when I had the brilliant idea to host four American orphans in Scotland of all places.”
Doing this project here in this house was probably a mistake. Everything from taking children across the border to paying courier fees on each delivery are complications we didn’t need and we would have never faced doing this somewhere else, somewhere closer to home. I thought it couldn’t be anywhere else. I wanted so badly to make Lloyd’s dreams come true, no matter how impractical. But Lloyd’s gone and, as beautiful as this house is, it was never my home.
“Malakai isn’t an orphan,” Meredith says. “His father will qualify for parole in four years.”
“He might as well be.”
“And I don’t think you’re insane. At least not for this. This project, it’s important. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that. I just… This is ending in little over two months, Beast. I don’t want to see you hurt. Any of you .”
My stomach churns. In the silence that falls between us, I can hear the sounds of the children drifting up from below. They’re laughing, probably celebrating some CraftWar accomplishment.
I comb a hand through my hair again. “I know.”