Falcon (Own the Skies Book 3)

by Emma Nichole

  “We’ll see about that. I’m pretty aware of my surroundings.” I place the bottle down and my hands go to my hips.

  “Good. That’s an essential skill to have. Always be aware of everything going on around you.”

  “I’m on your time, boss. Shall we begin?”

  “Absofuckinglutely.”

  Falcon

  Is it possible she gets more attractive every time I see her? I always find something new to appreciate about her and today; it’s a small beauty mark on her neck right where a vampire would bite.

  Now I want to bite it. And lick it. And kiss it. And suck it.

  And now I’m hard. Fuck.

  I’m wearing black basketball shorts, and they don’t do me any favors in hiding what is exactly happening down there, so I try to think of any and everything that could take care of it.

  Then she bends to tie her sneaker.

  I clear my throat and cross my arms over my chest then turn around like I’m looking for something.

  “Problem?” she asks and when I turn to face her again, she has a smirk on her face like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, but surely not. Right?

  “Nope. No problem.” I clear my throat. “We will start with some simple stretches to get your muscles ready and to prevent any cramping.”

  “Stretching. Okay. I can do that.”

  “And you’re good at it, if my memory serves me.” I grin when her face blushes red when I remind her of the night I watched her do yoga in the window.

  “Every girl needs to be good at something, right? Maybe stretching is my one thing.”

  “I have a feeling you are good at many things, Faith. And we are going to add another to the list before I leave.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to make you have the meanest right hook in the city.”

  “Cockiness never looks good on anyone, Falcon,” she adds.

  “No, but confidence does, and you need to have a lot of it, so…get your beautiful ass on the mat.” I point.

  “Yes, sir.” She gives me a wink then stands in the center of the mat.

  “Careful. I may make that a rule if I like it enough.” I join her on the mat. “Sit down. We’ll stretch out your legs first.”

  She sinks to the mat, stretches her legs out in front of her, and leans forward to grip the tips of her sneakers with her fingers. “Like this?” she asks.

  “Perfect. Now lie down on your back.” I lean back until my head touches the mat and glance her way as she does the same. “Bend your left knee and cross your right ankle over it.” I show her exactly what I mean. “Now grab the back of your left thigh and pull your legs to your chest.” She follows instructions perfectly, keeping her breathing steady. “Use your right elbow to push against your right knee until you feel a stretch. That’s getting your glutes and hips.”

  “Ohhhh my God. That feels amazing,” she says, nearly under her breath. I almost think I’m hearing things it’s so low.

  “Now do the same thing, but with the opposite leg.”

  She does what I ask and moans under her breath again.

  I’m going to die here.

  Cause of death: Blue balls.

  ***

  After running through a few more stretches and trying my best to block out the little breathy noises she makes without realizing it, we are finally able to move to the bags.

  “We’ll keep things simple today. I’m going to throw a right hook into the bag and I want you to watch my form, okay?”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  I take my place in front of the bag, pulling my fists up into position then letting the punch fly, landing exactly where I had intended.

  “You have to put your whole body into a punch. You can’t just focus all of your energy into your first. It has to come from your whole being.”

  “That was almost poetic,” she teases.

  “I do what I can.” She laughs, and I love it. It’s an incredible sound. “All right. Let’s get you in front of the bag.”

  She moves around to take my place and tries to mimic my form as best she can, but it’s all wrong.

  “Like this?”

  “Not quite. I can position you how you need to be, but I’ll have to touch you. Is that all right?” I always ask permission before touching my students in any capacity, especially females. Given the current social climate, you can never be too careful. And even though things are different with Faith, I still want to be respectful.

  “Of course. Thank you for asking, actually. Most men wouldn’t even consider it.”

  “I’m not most men.” I move to stand behind her, placing my hands on her hips to shift them a bit so they aren’t parallel. “You have to pivot into the hook, so your body needs to be perpendicular to the person or thing you’re hitting.”

  I can feel the tremble of her skin against my fingers and the heat of her body at my chest. She’s much shorter than me, so if I were to bend down a bit, I could rest my chin atop her head.

  We catch each other’s eyes in the mirror in front of us as my fingers wrap around her wrists, pulling her arms and fists up into position.

  “This is your guard.” I caress the wrist closest to her face. “Never drop this. It needs to protect your face, always. If you drop your guard, you’re vulnerable.”

  I see something flit across her eyes. Some kind of realization or understanding. “I won’t let my guard down.”

  “Good. Now, show me a punch in slow motion. I want to see what you do with your body.”

  She nods then focuses in on the bag and with the release of a breath; she throws her arm through the air and connects her fist with the heavy, black bag.

  “That sucked, didn’t it?”

  “It didn’t suck, but if you were really fighting a person, you would have been popped in the mouth because you…” I gently nudge her other fist back up to her chin. “…let your guard down.”

  “Fuck. Okay, let’s do it again.” She bounces slightly from foot to foot. She’s eager. I like it.

  “You have to pivot off this back foot. It is your source of power.” I slip my hand down the back of her thigh then twist a bit, showing her what I mean. “See. Pivot. Turn your body into the punch.”

  We practice that move slowly, and together, over and over until she grows comfortable with the motion.

  “Okay, I think I understand,” she says in a breathy whisper. She’s concentrating. I can tell by the small furrow between her brows.

  “Now, the pivot is important, because when you go to actually throw the punch, you want to keep your arm bent at a ninety-degree angle, or close to it. Really, if it’s any smaller or any bigger than that, the punch won’t be as powerful.” I move her forearm a bit to adjust the angle.

  “Who knew there were so many fundamentals? I figured I’d just come in here and throw my fists around.”

  “Fighting is an art form.” She turns her face back to look at me. “I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. When you’re fighting in the streets, it’s about emotion and anger. When you’re in the cage, it’s about skill. Outsmarting the other fighter and landing calculated blows. You have to keep your wits about you. Leave emotion at the door. Emotion gets you hurt.”

  She scans my face for a moment. I can see her eyes dotting back and forth between mine.

  “Has emotion ever gotten you hurt?” she asks, and it’s in this moment I realize we are still standing so close together that her back is completely flush against my front. My hand is resting casually on her hip. I can smell the sweet scent of her shampoo and the zing of her sweat. It’s intoxicating.

  “Emotion gets me in trouble often, but it never hurts me,” I reply.

  “You’re lucky.” Her eyes land on my lips and hold there.

  “Why? Has emotion ever hurt you?” I raise my hand and place it softly on her cheek and her eyes flutter closed as she leans her cheek into my palm.

  “Emotion has ripped me to shreds,” she say
s, in a barely-there whisper.

  “But here you are, standing in my arms, in one beautiful piece.” I slide my thumb against her skin.

  Her pink tongue darts out and swipes over her lips and I can’t resist another second. I tried to be the gentleman, but fuck if she doesn’t turn me into a caveman.

  I lean forward slowly, letting her see my intention free and clear. She doesn’t pull away; she doesn’t hesitate.

  Christ.

  She pushes up on her toes and leans in toward me. Our lips ghost over one another for the briefest of moments. Our bodies teetering on the precipice of what is sure to be a soul rocking meeting of lips.

  BANG!

  The sound of the once closed metal door colliding with the wall behind it echoes through the room.

  “Oh, God! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” a voice sounds from the doorway.

  Faith pushes away quickly and walks four paces away from me with her hands on her hips. She doesn’t turn to look at me at all.

  I spin to see exactly who the cockblock is, but it’s a small, elderly woman dressed in a pair of workout leggings and a white T-shirt.

  “I was looking for the bathroom. I’m assuming it’s not back here, is it?” she asks sweetly.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say, with a shake of the head.

  “Rats. Okay, well I’ll leave you be. You have a good day, now.” She gives me a wave and I return the gesture as she closes the door, leaving us alone once again.

  When I focus my attention back on Faith, she is sliding her hands over her face then she spins toward me.

  “All right, can you show me the stance again? I want to make sure I get it right.”

  She isn’t even going to acknowledge the near miss kiss we just had. I can see it written all over her face. She wants to move on. She’s back to business.

  I’ll give her what she wants…for now.

  I take my place behind her once again, helping her move back into position, but before we get started, I lean in and whisper eleven words into her ear.

  “Just so we are clear, this isn’t over. Not even close.”

  Chapter 9

  Faith

  I am not the kind of person to just go out on a Sunday night, certainly not to a bar, but Nora was insistent I come out with her and her friend, Amelia, tonight, so I said yes.

  And let’s be honest, I could use a night out with the ladies from time to time. I like getting all dolled up occasionally.

  But bars make me nervous.

  Drunk people make me nervous.

  The uncertainty of their actions, and the way it makes people act, is not something I relish or enjoy at all, but I made myself a promise that night. I wasn’t going to let it dictate my life, and I haven’t.

  But I can’t turn off the anxiety that comes with being around alcohol.

  The Warehouse is a small bar off of River Street. Amelia’s fiancé knows the door guy and the bartender, so I feel a bit more at ease when we walk in.

  We find a table to the left in the back corner by the pool tables. It’s pretty crowded in here, but everyone seems relatively calm and well-mannered.

  “I’m so happy you came out with us!” Nora exclaims, doing a little dance in her seat.

  “Me too. Nora has told me so much about you, I’m just happy to finally meet you,” her friend, Amelia, says.

  She’s a knockout with fire-engine red hair. She moved here a couple of years ago after a pretty bad divorce and picked up right where she left off with her high school boyfriend, Grayson, who is Case’s best friend.

  It’s super complicated, but I think I’ve kept it all straight.

  “Well, hey, I’m happy you two wanted me to tag along on girls’ night. It’s nice to get out once and awhile,” I say.

  “You’re always welcome. The boys would appreciate another person with us, ya know? They get nervous when we go out alone,” Nora says, with a shrug of her shoulders. “I guess Case sees so many horrible things in a day that he can’t turn it off.”

  “I can understand that,” I interject. “Bad shit happens when you least expect it. It’s good to be cautious.”

  Nora gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Well, tonight, I want to let all the worry go and just relax. What’s everyone drinking? First round is on Gray.” She pulls out a credit card that I assume is Grayson’s.

  “Water is fine for me, actually. I’m not much of a drinker when I’m not at home,” I tell her.

  “And I’ll just take a beer. Whatever they have on tap,” Nora says.

  “Water and a beer. Coming right up.” She stands, adjusts her black maxi dress, and heads over to the bar.

  “Did I mention how hot you look tonight?” Nora exclaims loudly. “Like damn!”

  I just roll my eyes and laugh. I tried tonight, of course. What girl doesn’t like getting all glammed up?

  I’m wearing dark washed skinny jeans tucked into a pair of black booties and a black flowy tank top. My hair is in loose waves and my eye makeup is neutral with a pinup-style, winged liner and a bright red lip.

  I’m not going to lie. I feel sexy.

  “Thank you, but look at you, Nora! You put us to shame. Seriously.”

  She blushes a bit. “Thank you. So...” She drums her nails on the table. “I’m just going to ask it. Has my brother been nice to you? Treating you right?”

  My mind instantly plays back our almost kiss yesterday and his promise that it wasn’t even close to over. My skin tingles at the thought. He smelled so good. His body was so warm. I wanted nothing more than to dive in for that kiss.

  “Wow, you really just go for it, don’t you?”

  “Go for what?” Amelia says, when she returns, placing our drinks down in front of us.

  “Faith was just going to tell me if my brother was nice to her on their dates.” Nora sips her beer with a grin.

  “Dates? Plural? As in more than one?” Amelia asks, with wide eyes as she sits back down.

  “One date. Just one. The second time we hung out, it was just at the gym. Hardly a date.” I swirl my water with the straw.

  “It was definitely a date. A man went out of his way to spend more time with you when he didn’t have to. Thus…date,” Nora says, and they both nod in unison.

  “I mean, he’s great. Very polite. A gentleman, actually. More so than some of the men I’ve dated here, that’s for sure.”

  “I warned him he better be nice to you, or I was going to rip his dick off and hit him with it,” Nora says, which causes laughter to burst from both Amelia and myself.

  “You did not!” I say.

  “I did. No one, not even my brother, is going to be rude to anyone I care for, especially not a woman. I won’t have it.” Nora takes another long swig of her beer.

  It doesn’t take long, given the rate at which alcohol is flowing for both of them to be feeling incredibly good, and I have to be honest, it’s very entertaining.

  We’ve been at this table for a couple of hours and have plowed through plates of loaded tater tots, cheese sticks, chicken wings, and round after round of drinks. Well, water for me, of course. The bar is starting to clear out, leaving us mostly alone, and I’m enjoying myself thoroughly, especially the dirty turn the conversation has taken.

  “Hold on, wait a second,” Amelia says through drunken giggles. “Case’s dick is bigger than Gray’s? Oh God. We can’t even let Gray find out.” She erupts into laughter again. “He’ll be so sad.” She puckers out her bottom lip playfully.

  “So you’re saying Gray has a small dick?” I ask, shoving another cheese stick into my mouth.

  “I didn’t say that.” She winks then giggles again, leaning over into Nora.

  “I’ve seen it once,” Nora admits, covering her mouth to silence her laughter.

  “What?” Amelia and I both ask at once. It’s so perfectly timed that it’s comical.

  Nora holds one finger up in front of her lips. “Shhhh. Quiet down, jeez.”<
br />
  “Explain to me when you saw my soon-to-be husband’s penis!”

  “Yeah,” I add, “we’re waiting.”

  Nora sighs and waves her hands as she tells the story, “Well, it’s when we were staying out your house last year, because we had come over and didn’t go home because it was late and we had been drinking, yada yada. Well, I got up to pee in the middle of the night and Grayson and I crossed paths in the hallway.” She covers her face. “He was completely naked. Stark naked. Dick out, ass out, naked. We literally collided. Body to body and his dick smashed up against my belly then he startled, fell backward, and landed on his ass.”

  “Oh my God!” Amelia exclaims.

  “He was mortified. Made me promise not to tell you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, plus I think he just didn’t want any ribbing from Case.”

  “Now I have to see Case’s. It’s only fair.”

  “Ohhh! He sexted me not too long ago. Want to see?” Nora asks excitedly.

  I say no at the same time Amelia says yes.

  “The answer is no,” a deep, gruff voice sounds from behind me. “Share that with no one.”

  I turn around to see who it is, and the hot guy trifecta is before my eyes. It nearly throws me off balance.

  The man on the far left is tall with brown hair peeking out from a red baseball cap that he has turned around backward, and he’s sporting jeans and a plain white T-shirt that hugs his arms tightly. I’ve only met him a few times through Case, but he looks a little different now with a bit of facial hair.

  Grayson Aldrich.

  Case is in the middle, of course, still in his uniform, and even though I see him as a brother, even I can’t deny how attractive he is.

  But the beast by him is sucking all of my attention away and sending my heart into a pounding spiral.

  Falcon.

  “It’s closing time, ladies,” Grayson chimes in. “We came to make sure you got home safely.” He walks around to stand behind Amelia and helps her stand, but not before cupping her chin in his hand and tipping her head back for a kiss.

  They are incredibly attractive together.