19. Killian #3
“Hey, stray!” I call out, grabbing my water bottle. I chug half of it. “Put that book down and get over here.”
She looks up, startled. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m gonna teach you how to fight.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says bluntly.
“I think it’s a great idea.” I set down my water and walk over, holding out my taped-up hand. “Come on. Get up.”
Jhene stares at my outstretched hand. “Killer, I’m serious. I’m not a fighter. I’m more of a... flight type of girl. You know, running away from danger instead of toward it.”
“What happens when running isn’t an option? What are you gonna do the next time some Russian asshole grabs you in a bathroom and there’s nowhere to go?”
Her brows draw close and her shoulders tense as she considers the hypothetical scenario.
She thinks of what happened at Barclays and nibbles on her bottom lip a moment. Then she sighs and slips her smaller hand in mine.
“Fine. But if I punch you in the face by accident, that’s on you.”
“I’ll take my chances. I take punches from men a lot bigger than you all the time, stray. I’m sure I’ll survive.”
I lead her to the center of the mat and position her in front of me, taking note of her stance. She’s tense, her weight distributed wrong, arms hanging uselessly at her sides.
“First thing,” I say. “Your stance. Feet shoulder width apart, one slightly in front of the other. Like this.”
I nudge her feet into position with my own, and she shifts awkwardly, trying to find her balance. My hands settle on her hips to steady her. She stiffens uncertainly at the contact, obviously worried about where this is going.
“Relax,” I murmur near her ear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I know that,” she says almost irritably. “It’s more like… I’m afraid I’ll hurt myself. You’ve seen me waitress at the Banshee, right? I’ve dropped entire trays.”
I let out a low chuckle. “You’ll be fine. I’ll even catch you if you fall.”
“What’s going on here?” grunts Malone suddenly. He’s walked back over from where he hangs out in his office, hands on his waist. He’s got his gym bag slung over his shoulder, signaling he’s on his way out. “Kill, this isn’t part of your regimen.”
“Taking a break from the regimen. Showing Jhene a few moves.”
Malone glowers in disapproval, though he doesn’t push about it. “Well… I’m out. Wife’s dragging me to dinner for our anniversary. Everybody else has gone home too. Make sure you lock up.”
I make a noise from my throat to signal I’ve heard and redirect my attention back to Jhene. My hands slide up to her arms and adjust their position.
“Hands up. Protect your face. Elbows in to guard your ribs.”
She follows my instructions, though she’s still too stiff. Obviously unsure of the stance.
I step around to face her, keeping my hands raised in a mirror of her stance.
“Good. Now, if somebody grabs you from the front, what do you do?”
“Scream and hope someone hears me?”
I shake my head incorrigibly. “Not exactly, stray. You create distance. Watch.”
I reach out slowly, giving her time to see it coming, and grip her wrist. She tenses up even more, instinctive fear flashing across her heart-shaped face.
But she still doesn’t pull away. She seems to quickly remind herself this is only a simulation.
“See how I’m holding you? Most people’s first instinct is to yank backward. But that’s wasted energy. Instead, you rotate your wrist toward my thumb—the weakest point of my grip—and pull.”
I guide her through the motion, showing her how to twist and escape. We practice it a few times ’til she can break free without my help.
“What if they grab both wrists?” she asks.
“Same principle. Rotate toward the thumbs, then strike while they’re off balance.”
I demonstrate a palm strike on the punching bag. First the normal way, fast and decisive, then slower for her to pick up the motion.
Her eyes widen behind her glasses, a furrow of concentration between her brows.
“What if they grab me from behind?”
“Now we’re talking.”
I slip behind her again, wrapping my arms around her waist in a bear hug. She goes rigid in my grip, her breath audibly catching.
“Easy,” I murmur against her curls. “It’s only me. You’re safe.”
She forces herself to relax yet again, her body softening slightly against mine.
“If somebody grabs you like this, you’ve got a few options. You can stomp on their instep.” I tap her foot with mine to demonstrate. “Or you can throw your head back into their nose. Or, if you can get your arms free, elbow to the ribs.”
I walk her through each option, guiding her body through the motions. We’re pressed close together, my chest against her back, my arms around her waist, her ass brushing me.
It’s impossible to ignore how good she feels. Every slender curve contrasts the muscle on my larger, broader frame.
This close to my stray, I’m remembering how hard it is to fight temptation.
I can smell the conditioner in her hair. Hear the breath she draws. Feel how supple her skin is as my taped-up hands steady her hips and guide her arms.
Apparently, she’s noticing too.
Her breathing’s changed, exhales that come out faster and sharper. Heat radiates from her body as a deep flush spreads. It even reaches her cheeks and makes me so damn tempted to drop kisses on the exact spot.
She shifts in my grip and presses her ass more firmly against me. My blood surges down below, and I drag a ragged breath through my lungs.
“Killer…” she murmurs. “Is this still self-defense training?”
I spin her around to face me, one hand steady on her hip. Her eyes are dark, pupils enlarged and lips slightly parted. She’s peering at me as if dazed.
I recognize the look. I’ve learned it well over our time together.
“That depends,” I say, voice dropping low. “You want me to stop?”
In answer, she grabs at the back of my neck and wrenches my mouth down to hers.
She’s as aggressive as I usually am, trapping my lower lip between hers and giving a tug. Then she’s pushing her tongue into my mouth, brushing it against mine. She’s rising up on her toes so much she’s damn near climbing up my body.
The shock of it wears off, and I lay claim with equal fervor.
I meet Jhene’s tongue with my own, hands falling to her ass. I pluck her off the ground and let her legs curl around me, kissing the fuck out of her.
Our heads move with the rhythm of our intense kisses. It’s quick and easy to lose ourselves in the moment.
…the taste of each other.
Her full, supple lips against mine and how she tugs at my hair with clenching fingers.
I grip her ass even harder, filling up my palm with the rounded flesh, and a throaty groan rumbles from my chest.
The desire I have for Jhene Prince is unparalleled. It’s unlike anything ever I’ve ever felt.
One kiss, one touch from her, and I’m a fucking goner.
She grinds her hips into me and draws back for smaller kisses that she sprinkles on my jaw. Playful, naughty, taunting little kisses she leaves on my skin and that burn like fire.
More flames added to the blaze building inside me. The fire that heats my blood and rushes straight to my cock and makes me painfully fucking hard.
I’ve held myself back for Jhene. Often denied myself for her comfort, minding her trauma and triggers.
But in this moment, as we kiss hard and I hold her in my arms, there’s no such thing.
Any consideration vanishes as arousal takes over. I tap into more primal instincts as I grab a fistful of her ass and another fistful of her curly hair and kiss the woman like she belongs to me.
She does belong to me.
She’s fucking mine in every way, shape, and form.
The girl thinks she doesn’t need anyone. It’s how she’s existed for years now. But she’ll learn I protect what’s mine, and she’s as good as mine.
There’s no going back.
I hold her up and walk us across the gym floor. Both still lost to each other’s kiss, it barely registers with us where we are.
That we’re in the middle of a damn boxing gym, not at home.
“Killer,” she pants against my lips. Hers are swollen. “What if someone…”
She’s so disoriented, she can’t even bring herself to finish her sentence. In my own daze, I still get what she’s asking and answer her between another heavy, tongue-lashing kiss.
“You heard Malone,” I grunt then plant another deep kiss on her. “Everybody’s gone. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”
I’m not even sure where the hell I’m taking us as I carry her with me and we go back and forth with trading kisses. It’s as if we’re each other’s air and we need each other to breathe. Going without is inconceivable.
Fucking unfathomable.
“I’ve got an idea.”
I set her down once we’ve reached one of the boxing rings. Leaping up onto the ledge, I hold down the ropes and create a wider opening for her.
A slow smirk comes to her soft, swollen lips. She climbs through without protest, turning to face me. I’m so damn quick, I’m already stepping toward her.
My arm hooks around her hips, and I guide her back to me. My mouth covers hers, and we’re once again locked into more fierce, passionate kisses.
More moans and more tongue.
More of Jhene’s slender fingers in my hair, tugging at the strands.
It’s fucking euphoric—her nails lightly scrape my scalp, and then she’s pulling like she can’t stand it. She needs to cling to some part of me to handle how I’m kissing and touching her.
I pick her up like nothing. No trouble at all as I walk us toward the corner of the ring.
“You want this big dick?” I grunt. “You want me to fuck you, stray?”
She shudders as if an ice cube’s slid down her back. She pulls back to hazily stare up at me, eyes dark and cloudy behind her glasses.
Fuckkkk… she’s so unbearably sexy. All without even trying.
Curls wild and glasses half down her nose, her lips are parted and she’s desperately heaving air into her lungs.
I never knew I had a thing for girls with glasses, but Jhene’s unlocked a fetish I didn’t fucking know I had.
“Yes,” she breathes. She leans forward and presses a kiss to my neck. “Fuck me like I’m yours, Killer.”
“You already are,” I growl. “You are mine, stray. There’s no turning back.”
Our aggression multiples.