Page 117 of Resurgent

I loosen my grip just enough for him to turn.

Big mistake.

He sweeps my legs out from under me, catching me before my back hits the mat as he goes down with me. Adjusting as his glistening bare torso and ripped, tattooed forearms cage me in. Every inch of him is toned perfection above me.

I stare up at him; he stares down at me, neither of us saying a word.

Then his mouth curves. “You're distracted again.”

“You're sitting on me.”

He leans down, trailing kisses up my throat until he makes it to my lips.

“Oh, for the love of—” Tyr's mental groan is so dramatic I nearly laugh.

One kiss becomes two. Then three. Then his hand settles on my waist, thumb brushing along my side.

I smile against his mouth. “Still think I'm the one distracted?”

“Absolutely. But I’m enjoying it.”

I hook my fingers around his neck and pull him closer, his expression changing to a look of hunger. His mouth trails briefly along my jaw, then to the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

I inhale sharply.

“Hm.”

“Don't—” I start, and he pulls back immediately.

“Sorry!”

“No, I was saying don’t stop. Gods, please keep going.”

“We’re supposed to be training,” he reminds me before giving me one last kiss and popping back up.

Neither of us hesitates once we’re back in starting position. I punch; he dodges. He swings, I block. Each step and counter step looks like a well-choreographed dance, though irritatingly, that means I’m not gaining the advantage.

Taking advantage of his misstep, I tackle him at his center, both of us going to the mat with me on top. For one breath, I have him pinned beneath me, my knees braced on either side of his hips. I shift backward to reset my balance, and the movement brings me just close enough to feel exactly how much I've managed to distract him. His breath catches, and I take the opening, throwing a punch at his face that I already know he’ll block.

Except he doesn’t.

My fist connects with his face, splitting his lip instantly.

“Oh my gods, Hunter! I’m so sorry!” I explain, scrambling to check how bad it is.

“That was perfect,” he laughs, blood coating his teeth instantly as he smiles up at me.

“Why are you laughing?” I shout, pulling my shirt off to put pressure on the cut. “You were supposed to block!”

“I was a little distracted,” he says, calmly pulling me back down to sit on his very obvious erection and slowly rocking me back and forth as his thumbs rub rough circles into my hips.

A low moan escapes me, drawing his eyes to mine. His usual composure is clearly hanging by a thread, and I’m desperate to make it snap.

Pushing down harder, I revel in the way his eyes roll back, and every muscle of his tightens just before he pulls me down for a kiss.

For too long, we stay like that—bodies moving in sync in the middle of the mat and making me desperate to know what he’ll feel like inside me.

Reaching down, I start to loosen the tie on his training pants, but a swift, playful smack to my ass stops me in my tracks.