“I’ve thrown punches before,” she snaps, bristling.
“At pillows,” Boris deadpans.
She shoots him a glare hot enough to peel paint. “At… at my imaginary enemies. Way more intimidating than pillows.”
That gets Lev grinning like a maniac. “Now we’re talking. Who won?”
Mary mutters, “They were invisible. You do the math.”
Lev almost chokes laughing, swerving the SUV. “Jesus, sweetheart, no wonder you lost.”
I watch all of it. The way she snaps, bites, argues without thinking. She doesn’t realize what it means, how dangerous it is that she’s stopped holding back.
And maybe I shouldn’t like it. But I do.
“Where exactly are we going?” she demands, turning back to me.
A streetlight catches her face as we pass under it, throwing gold across her cheekbones, making her eyes look like fire. Boris sits between us, focused on his laptop, completely oblivious to the fact that I want to reach across him and kiss that smart mouth until she stops asking questions I can’t answer.
“Training,” I say, keeping my voice level.
She takes a deep breath, like my answer isn’t what she wants to hear.
“Training what, exactly?”
“Self-defense.”
She blinks. “I thought we covered this. I know how to shoot now. Sort of.”
“Friday’s four days away,” I tell her. “Guns won’t help if someone gets close enough to grab you.”
The humor drains from her face. Reality settling in like cold water.
But she doesn’t fold. Doesn’t go quiet and small like she used to. Instead, she squares her shoulders and nods.
“Okay. Teach me.”
“Rule one,” I say, circling her on the gym mat, boots heavy on the rubber. “Forget fair. Fair gets you dead.”
Mary pivots, tracking me, her leggings hugging every lush curve, shirt tight over her breasts, her body screaming defiance like she’s prey ready to bite. Her vanilla-floral scent—soft, too damn soft—cuts through the gym’s stale sweat, making my cock twitch.
“If some bastard grabs you,” I say, “you’ve got seconds before he drags you somewhere worse. Don’t think. Fucking destroy him.”I step behind her fast, chest pressing her back, arms wrapping her waist, pinning her tight against me. Her heat seeps through her shirt, lush ass grinding my groin, and fuck, I’m hard, straining against my pants.
She makes a sound—low, instinctive, not even words. “Hmmm…”
It kills me. Goes straight to my cock, like she’s enjoying the trap.
“This is how they’ll take you,” I say, lips brushing her ear, her scent flooding my lungs. “Too close for guns. Too tight to run.”
Her breath catches, body stiff but not scared, curves trembling against me.
“What do I do?” she asks, voice breathless, daring.
“Everything that hurts,” I say, hands splaying over her stomach, fingers digging into soft flesh.
Her lashes flicker. I feel it, her heartbeat hammering under my touch. She tilts her head just enough that her cheek brushes mine; deliberate or not, I don’t know, but it feels like she’s testing me, testing how far I’ll let this go.
“Elbows, heels, head. Use it all.” I guide her elbow back, slow, showing the strike, her hair grazing my jaw, tempting me to bury my face in it.
