It was early morning in the MC compound yard.On Elena’s rare day off, Reaper put her through self-defense drills.A few days had passed since he’d chased off Cruz and the other cartel spy who’d been shadowing her at the hospital.
Things had gone quiet since then, but Reaper wasn’t naïve enough to mistake silence for surrender.The cartel didn’t let things go, and they sure as hell didn’t forget someone who was under the protection of one of their enemies, the Devil’s Crown MC.
After executing a kick that landed on Reaper’s side, Elena wiped the back of her wrist across her brow.She was breathing hard but smiling anyway.She had dressed in borrowed sweats and an old club t-shirt that hung loose on her frame, hair pulled back tight like she meant business.She’d surprised him with how seriously she took this.
“I did that kick right?”she asked.
“You hesitated for a second,” he replied.“In the real world, hesitation gets you hurt.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.“You’re enjoying this,” she finally stated.
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug.
They squared off again.He showed her how to plant her feet, how to keep her balance low.How to use her weight instead of fighting against his.He corrected her stance with brief touches.He placed a hand at her hip, and adjusted her shoulders.Every contact lit something low and dangerous in him.Reaper couldn’t help but touch her.
“Don’t think,” he told her.“React.”
She lunged.He blocked her easily, catching her wrist, twisting just enough to show her how exposed she’d made herself.She hissed in frustration.
“You’re stronger than you think,” he said.“You just don’t trust it yet.”
“I trust it,” she shot back and came at him again.
This time she moved faster.It was a little sloppy, but a lot faster.He stepped aside, ready to counter, already anticipating the mistake she was about to make.
He didn’t anticipate the punch.Her fist connected with his jaw in a sharp, solid crack that echoed in the quiet yard.
Reaper staggered half a step before he caught himself.A ripple of sound went up from a couple of brothers watching from the porch.Someone let out a low whistle.
Elena froze, eyes wide.
“I’m so sorry, I—” Elena began.
Reaper barked out a laugh, tasting copper, adrenaline roaring through his veins.He rubbed his jaw once, then looked at her, standing there flushed and shaking with the aftermath.
“Don’t apologize,” he said.
She blinked.“I hit you,” she pointed out.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning now.“And it was clean.”
Her breath hitched when he stepped closer.He cupped her face, thumb brushing the edge of her mouth.
“I’m proud of you,” he told her.
Something shifted in her expression.Pride bloomed there.She leaned into him.Elena fisted his shirt with her hands and he covered her mouth with his.The kiss was hard and claiming.
Reaper didn’t care who was watching.He backed her up until her shoulders hit the fence, one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding to her waist.
Someone cleared his throat loudly from the porch.
Reaper broke the kiss.
“We’re done here,” he said, loud enough for anyone listening.
He didn’t look back as he took her hand and led her toward the clubhouse and back to his room.The shower was cramped, steam curling thick in the air.He stood under the spray first, letting the water beat against his shoulders, trying and failing to cool off.
Elena stepped in behind him, bare feet against tile, fingers sliding tentatively along his back.He stilled.
