Chapter 1
DESI
Men are on women.
Women are on women.
Grunts and groans fill the air.
There is cheering from the sidelines as bystanders watch them writhe and buck and try to get the other off them.
“It’s like a big orgy in here,” I say to the woman standing beside me. I don’t know her, but she’s standing like we are, back against the gym wall, eyes glued to the men and women fighting for positioning—moving, bucking, defending—on the mats where they’re lying.
She emits a nervous laugh and looks to me. Prim and proper, she resembles a Stepford wife, and all I can think is that her ladies’ club decided to do this together and she’s the only one who decided to show up.
At least I’m not the only one nervous about being here. There could be worse things I guess…like actually needing to use the skills I’m supposed to learn here in Sunnyville Self Defense Class to protect myself.
A group at the far side of the gym erupts in applause, and I stand on my tiptoes to see a woman standing with her foot on the instructor’s throat while he’s lying on the mat. His red SSDC T-shirt matches everyone else standing around trying to look official with a whistle and gym pants on.
“Exactly,” a deep rumble of a voice on the other side of me says.
I glance over and whoa…all my attention shifts from the grunts and groans on the floor to how I wouldn’t mind grunting and groaning with the man on his cell beside me.
Our gazes meet for the briefest of seconds—chocolate-brown eyes giving me a passing glance and a curt smile before turning back to whoever is on the phone while watching the action beyond.
Taking my time and trying not to pay attention to Hottie McTotty, I scan the gym.
Basic blue gymnastic mats cover the majority of the hardwood floors, basketball hoops hang from the lofty ceiling but have been drawn up, and championship banners hang, partially hiding the painted mural of the Sunnyville High School mascot on the wall at the far end.
But no matter how hard I try to not look back at him, that is where my attention lands.
He’s a good six inches taller than I am, has dark hair, and his body beneath his Under Armour workout shirt hints at how ridiculously fit he is.
His bicep closest to me stretches the fabric and is covered in a dizzying tattooed array of colors and images I can’t openly look at to decipher.
You can only do so much with a sideways stare.
But his voice. It’s like liquid sex with a rasp and a rumble and a whole earth-shattering orgasm in between.
Hello to you, Mister A-Little-Rugged-And-Whole-Lot-Sexy.
I listen to him talk. Not stalkerish-like…well, maybe stalkerish-like, but damn if the background of grunting and groaning only serves to enhance the things my mind is dreaming up.
And then it hits me.
He’s not here as an instructor—no red SSDC shirt on. So that means he’s here as a boyfriend or a husband and therefore completely off limits.
Damn it.
If he were an instructor, I’d make sure to be in his group so he could grind on me for a bit…and I’m talking the pelvis kind of grind…if I’m being truthful.
He ends his call, and when he goes to put his cell in his pocket, he catches me staring at him, because I’m still stuck on the fact that he’s waiting for his girl.
“Hello.”
God, that voice.
“Hi.” I smile brightly, and I’m sure when I straighten up my tits arch out in reflex.
He notices. I know he does, but what do I care? It’s not like I have a chance with him.
“Are you taking a class?” he asks.
“I’m supposed to.” I shrug and shift on my feet, suddenly nervous when I have no reason to be. “But I’m not sure how much I’ll learn.”
“No?” He turns to look at me, eyebrows raised, lips pursed.
“It’s Sunnyville.” His eyes are unrelenting as they bore into mine. “It’s not like we attract the best talent.” He angles his head to the side, mouth ghosting a smile I can’t read, as if he’s questioning if he made the right investment by putting his loved one here. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” He turns to face me, clasped hands hanging in front of his pelvis, and my eyes flicker there for the briefest of moments.
To his hands. To avert my gaze from the intensity in his. Not to blatantly stare at his cock…but of course when I look back up to his eyes and see the lift of his brow and a smile toying at the corners of his mouth, he assumes I was checking out his package.
Lovely.
“I mean”—I look at the crowded gym while my nerves rattle harder.
When my nerves rattle my mouth runs, and when my mouth runs, I can’t be held accountable for what I say.
“These instructors are all wanna-be cops. They probably never passed the exam to get into the Academy.” His smile grows wider and my lady bits might be tingling as I peg this guy to be one who likes to live a little dangerously.
Maybe he’s had a run-in or two with the law and places cops not high on his list of people to invite to dinner.
“Rent-a-cops?” he asks through a part-cough, part chuckle.
“Yeah, those. Either that or they’re the guys who couldn’t pass the psych test and are a little wacky.”
He purses his lips as if he’s measuring my words and when he shakes his head with a laugh, that grin of his widens to epic proportions. “Definitely the psych test.”
“Right? I mean, I get they’re here trying to help women protect themselves, but you’d think they might have a tiny part of them who gets off on the power play aspect of it.
” Stop talking, Desi. Your best friend-in-law is a police officer.
You know differently. And yet my mouth still runs because he’s cute.
“You know…pushing women around. Taking their abuse. It’s probably a turn-on for some of them. ”
He nods slowly and surveys the room with a lift of his eyebrows. “That’s what you seriously think?”
A round of applause erupts and echoes throughout the entire room before I get a chance to answer him. I’m forced to step backward when the slew of women who just finished with their session heads to where we are standing near the door.
When the influx of chatty women seemingly excited and high on adrenaline—despite their sweat-dampened hair and flushed cheeks—finally clears the doorway he’s nowhere to be found.
It’s a blanket reminder that he definitely was here to pick up his significant other. Add to that, I just acted like a complete idiot trying to impress a man who I’ll undoubtedly see around town again and cringe when I do.
Since when do I try to impress people?
“The seven o’clock group can head on in,” a man says as he motions to all of us standing against the wall.
All it takes are those words to make my mind shift gears—because if I’m one thing, it’s hard on myself before I move on to the next thing—and coming here is a major step in admitting that what happened scared the shit out of me.
With a roll of my shoulders and a huff of a breath, I step forward with the women beside me. We find seats on the mat as directed and wait for everyone to settle.
The gentleman who summoned us stands with his hands on his hips.
His bald head is shinier than Mr. Clean’s, and he has tree trunks for arms. With a clap of his hands in front of him, he begins.
“Congratulations, ladies, on taking the first step in taking back your fear. People call me Bear. Yes, it’s odd, but just go with it.
” He smiles wide and takes a step forward as three men in SSDC shirts file in behind him.
“Some of you are here because you’ve had a scare and need a way to erase that helplessness you were made to feel.
Others are here because you saw a movie, a news story—something that made you not want to ever be in the position to be made a victim.
So let’s get one thing straight: no one here is a victim.
Every single one of you here is strong. And we’re here to show you just how strong you are. ”
I glance at the women and wonder who fits what profile. Who’s been victimized? Women from all walks of life and sizes and ethnicities surround me—some I know, most I don’t—and it calms me some knowing I’m not alone in this. That I’m not ridiculous in being scared.
“Let me introduce to you our four instructors so you know who you’ll be giving hell today.
” A round of chuckles filters through the air.
“First up I have Teddy. He’s a Krav Maga instructor by day and a self-defense teacher at night.
He’s been doing this for fifteen years and loves nothing more than for you to beat up on him.
” Teddy, with the light hair and slender build, lifts his hand in greeting.
“Hello, Teddy,” a woman near me says with a whistle and fans her hand in front of her face.
“He’s happily married, as well.”
“Damn,” she murmurs and gets a round of chuckles, nerves tingeing the edges of most of them.
“Next up is Eric. He’s a newly minted instructor, and so I told him you’d be easy on him,” Bear says, all the while shaking his head to tell us not to. “He might be new, but the kid somehow has endless requests from women to be placed with him.”
Eric steps forward and lifts his hand. He’s tall with the looks of a model—chiseled, scruff, blinding smile—but too clean-cut for my liking. “That’s only because I give out free candy at the end of class,” he says, as the women sit taller and pat down their hair.
I’m sure his lollipop is what he has to offer.
And then I feel stupid even thinking that. It’s my damn nerves again. They’re making me jittery and causing my thoughts to run. The last thing any of these women are here for is to be enjoying the eye-candy.
They’re here to learn self-defense.
They’re here to prepare themselves.
Then why am I looking?
Because you’re really good at sticking your head in the sand and using other things to distract you from the truth.
The truth that says you’re scared but too stubborn to admit it.
“Next up is Ky. He’s straight from Florida where he’s a physical therapist for the Olympic athletes, and now he’s doubling as an instructor for the next few months.”
Ky lifts his arm. His light brown skin is gorgeous in color, and his arms are dotted with Maori tattoos.
“And last but not least is our newest addition. A certified badass who has served as the commander of one of San Francisco’s SWAT units for fifteen years before recently taking a short sabbatical to live a life outside of the constant razor’s edge of crazies.
We’re thrilled to have him and his expertise. Ladies, please welcome Reznor.”
The ladies clap, and I turn to find none other than the tattooed hottie who was standing by the door with me. Oh shit. Now with the red company shirt on, he takes his time walking over to us while every part of me wants to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment.
My comments loop on a reel in my head as I lower my eyes and shut them momentarily.
Did I really say all that about cops and psych tests and…oh, this is not good.
And of course when I lift my eyes again, he is staring right at me. No mistaking it. He doesn’t address us, but rather just holds my gaze, and with a ghost of that smile of his, nods his head before stepping back.
Reznor.
How did I know he’d have a sexy name to go with all that deliciousness that he is?
The ladies turn their focus back to Bear and just before I do, Reznor gives the subtlest lift of his eyebrows to me as if to challenge what I’d said before turning his attention to his job.
Bastard.