“I know.” She buried her face in my shirt, nestling against me as if she wanted to burrow into my skin. “I know.”
The moon slipped behind the clouds and I was grateful for the darkness that cloaked us. I continued to hold her, not even sure what to say anymore, just knowing that I wished I could take away her pain.
Moving up against the pillows, I opened my eyes to see the red glowing from the digital clock on the nightstand. It was almost five in the morning.
Turning on my side, I gazed at Sadie’s soft sleeping form, her long, thick lashes inky against her smooth, creamy skin.
Warm, protective feelings stirred inside me as I touched her tear-blotched cheek and her soft parted lips.
I couldn’t recall ever aching like this for a woman.
She was so important to me, such a huge part of my life, and I wanted to keep this corner of my world safe.
Quietly, I rose out of bed and threw on my jeans, careful not to disturb her sleep.
Surrounded by darkness, I slipped out of her room, crept down the stairs, and let myself out into the backyard.
There, I started off my day with fifty push-ups, followed by fifty sit-ups.
During army basic training, my physical fitness regimen began at five a.m.
Now, even years after I’d left the service, my internal alarm clock still went off at five, and I found myself sticking to that same regimented routine.
After my warm-up, I practiced some Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu forms and techniques that had long been ingrained in me. The army used Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu or BJJ as a standard for teaching soldiers combative training, and it was how I trained for unarmed combat.
I began with some stretches and triangle leg lifts before moving on to the BJJ dance, which focused on kicks, knee strikes, and punches.
It was a fluid and acrobatic martial arts style, and I was constantly moving in simulated combat to avoid an attack, or to set myself up to launch an attack.
Over and over, I practiced the same basic movements, building up speed and endurance. Repetition and implementation until it became like a reflex.
Chapter Thirty
I woke with a strange new experience. A feeling of absolute contentment and peace, and with it came a realization that Julian was right. The best thing and the worst thing that ever happened to me were in fact one in the same.
While I detested Simon with everything inside me, if it wasn’t for him, if it wasn’t for that one mistake, I wouldn’t have Evan. The day my son came into my life, my entire world changed and my capacity for love deepened in unimaginable ways.
Evan was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
And he led me to the second best thing in my life—Julian.
A man who made me feel like all was right with this world.
In listening to me, he gave me the gift of sharing some of the burdens I carried.
In giving me love and support, he gave me strength.
And that strength and that love did wonders for my spirit today.
Snapping the sheets aside, I slipped out of bed and padded downstairs in search of him. I found him out in the backyard and I stood there in silence, forgetting to breathe as I watched him.
He was in constant motion, bending, striking, twisting, and making quick and unexpected counter moves. It was a graceful battle dance and he went at it as if he was determined to work himself to exhaustion.
The rosy-pink light of dawn cast a beautiful glow across the hard planes of his sculpted torso. I stared at the muscles in his abdomen shifting and rippling, the thick cords of sinew in his forearms as they flexed and relaxed, his sun-darkened skin shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat.
I swallowed hard. He was the most stunningly gorgeous male specimen I’d ever laid eyes on. Sexy, deadly, utterly unself-conscious and I was so painfully aroused. My nipples and breasts ached, my clit pulsed, my body craving for his touch.
Julian paused in the midst of an elbow strike and looked directly at me.
“Sadie?”
I smiled, loving the sound of my name on his lips. “Is this what you do every morning? When you leave me in bed all by myself?”
He grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Pretty much.”
I crossed the yard until the space between us closed to a mere few feet. “I want you to fight me,” I told him.
“Why?”
“I need to practice.”
His green eyes narrowed with concern. “For what?”
I gave a careless shrug. “No reason.”
In truth, something about Tim had me on alert. When he’d cornered me in the parking garage the other day, it scared me more than I liked to admit.
But I wanted to spare Julian the worry. “C’mon,” I urged. “Fight me.”
He hesitated a moment, then relented. “All right. But you might get hurt.”
“Oh yeah?” I said with sass, taking on a sideways ‘guard’ stance. “You might get hurt, too. But I’ll try to go easy on you.”
“Oh, really?” A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement as he settled in an all-too-comfortable fighting stance. “Go on.” He nodded once to indicate that he was ready. “Hit me.”
I approached cautiously but deliberately, then lunged at him, thrusting my fist toward his torso.
He blocked swiftly, parried my return cut, and blocked me again.
Before long, we had an audience. Mom stood by the grill in her pink robe and bunny slippers, scratching the eagle nest on her head. “Is this MMA fighting?” Her voice was ripe with mockery. “You know, I’ve always thought MMA looked sort of homo-erotic, and now watching the two of you go at it with your sweaty bodies, I’d say it’s damn near hetero-erotic, too.”
“Mom,” I grunted. “Go away.”
What have I gotten myself into?
My lungs were burning and sweat was trickling down my breasts.
Now it was Julian’s turn to attack. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, moving calculatingly, with no wasted motion, his eyes never deviating from my face.
Stepping sideways, I ducked and backed lightly out of his reach. “That’s it,” he said encouragingly as I began circling him with an unwavering focus.
When he came at me again, I blocked his swing and dodged to the side.
Soon I started to get the hang of it. At close range, he could subdue me with his size and sheer strength, but if I moved fast enough and stayed alert, I had a chance.
Little by little, Julian allowed me to get closer.
I attacked. He easily blocked every blow.
By now my lungs were so raw from the exertion that I thought they might explode.
And I was so drenched with sweat that it soaked through the thin material of my tank top and the cotton fabric clung to me like a second skin.
My breasts tingled and my nipples hardened, anticipating each contact between us.
Every time our sweat-slicked bodies brushed up against each other, I savored the slippery friction of skin against skin.
While I held nothing back, Julian seemed to take special pains not to hurt me.
The next time I rushed forward with a right-hand strike, he neatly deflected and caught my arm, pressing it firmly against my back.
He was positioned behind me and I couldn’t see his face, only felt his hot breath as he panted in my ear.
My neck arched and my nipples puckered, desire snapping through my body.
All of my senses sharpened.
The warm air enclosed me and I felt his thighs tightening, his hard abs flexing, his sinewy cords of muscles rippling against my back as he tightened his hold. “Now if your attacker has you in a stronghold, what do you do?”
“Go for the eyes?” I panted, fighting to breathe.
“Yes, that’s one way to get him to pull back and let go of you. He will reach for his eyes, which will give you room to kick and move away.”
“Like this?” I formed my free hand into a ‘scissors’ shape, turn
ing it palm down.
“Exactly. Now extend your fingers and press them tightly together.” He paused while I adjusted my fingers. “That’s it. Now you’re ready to gouge someone’s eyes out.”
“Sounds simple enough,” I said smugly. “If I can punch an elevator button, I can poke someone’s eyes out.”
“You got it. Always aim for the parts of the body where you can easily inflict the most damage—the eyes, nose, throat, groin, knee, and legs. Now depending on the position of your attacker and how close he is, that will determine where you will strike. Don’t step in closer, say, to strike his nose with your hand, when you can reach his knee with a kick.”
I felt a faint smile tugging at my mouth. “That goes without saying.”
“All right, Miss Know It All. Now if your assailant grabs you from behind, what do you do?”
“Knee him in the groin?”
“That works. But it’s more effective if you employ SING.”
I frowned at his words. “Sing?”
“SING,” he said, and went on to explain. “Solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin.”
“Solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin,” I repeated.
“Yes, remember that. You elbow your assailant in the stomach, stomp hard on his instep, follow it with an elbow to his nose, and finish it with a hard kick to his groin.”
“Um…” I hedged. “Okay.”
“Now,” he instructed, “try that on me.”
“No!” I balked. “I’m not doing that to you.”
A weary sigh broke free from his chest and he loosened his hold on me.
Quickly, I slid from his grasp then feinted to the side. “But I’ll do this to you.”
My training rose up and took over and I caught him off guard, delivering a kick into his standing knee, breaking it backward. Then, leveraging all my weight on one foot, I grabbed his arm, twisted my body, and whipped him over my shoulder.
The next moment, Julian landed on his back with an impact that shook the ground.
In an instant, he flipped to his feet with surprising speed and agility. “Where in God’s green earth did you learn to do that?” His lips turned upward in a semi-grin. “Were you trying to kill me?”
“No.” I was panting so hard but I felt exhilarated. “I took Krav Maga classes a couple years ago. It’s been a while, but it’s all coming back to me now.”
His eyes lit up. “Let me get this straight, you took up a martial art that was developed by the Israeli army—the Israeli paramilitary—for the purpose of contact combat?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Why not? It’s the best martial arts for self-defense. It incorporates Western boxing punches, Karate kicks and knees, Greco-Roman wrestling, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu ground fighting, Muay Thai throws and grappling, and bursting adapted from Kung Fu.”
Now it was Julian’s turn to be Mister Know It All. “Pssh! I know all that. My question is why?” Without waiting for my answer, he limped stiffly over to the patio seating area, wincing at the pain in his knee.
“I’m so sorry, Julian.” I followed him quickly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Does your knee hurt real bad?”
He slumped quite suddenly into a chair. “Nah,” he said with an air of machismo. Then he sat straight, as if at military attention. “Now tell me, why Krav?”
I pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. “Kids can be cruel.”
He stared at me, his eyes questioning. “To you?”
I shook my head slightly as if to say, Stop being an idiot. “Not to me. To Evan.”
He held very still, waiting for me to say more.
I drew a deep breath before I began. “You know how Evan had to go through many heart surgeries when he was a baby?” When Julian nodded, I went on. “Like some kids who have congenital heart defects, Evan experienced delays in his growth, in his development. He was delayed as an infant, but with the help of his physical therapists, he quickly caught up.”
“He’s right on target now, isn’t he?”
“He is. He was on target when he started kindergarten. His teachers knew of his heart defect but I told them not to limit him. I didn’t want to limit him. I wanted him to try to do everything he could. And I still feel that way.” I forced myself to take another deep breath and exhaled slowly, but the action did little to calm me. “There were two kids in Evan’s pre-school class who always made fun of him because he was so small and so frail. They were bullies. At recess, one of them kicked Evan in the stomach. This boy…” My voice hardened. “This Satan’s spawn thought it would be ‘cool’ to see if Evan would split open because of the scar that ran down the front of his chest.” A new fury swept over me and I paused to gain control of my faltering voice. “The taunting and the teasing only got worse when Evan didn’t fight back. They pushed him around and he came home crying in my arms. I talked to the teachers, I talked to their parents, but nothing changed. At some point, I finally had enough. So I spent some time researching the best martial arts for self-defense and that’s how I learned about Krav. The next day, I enrolled Evan and myself for classes.”
“For how long?”
“Just a year.” I kept my voice light.
He fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Did it help Evan?”
“It did. He learned to focus, his confidence grew, it built up his self-esteem, and it gave him a sense of accomplishment.”
“But did he learn to kick some ass?”
“He sure did.” I gave a single nod, hearing the pride seeping into my own voice. “I like that the object of Krav is to avoid injury in fights. So Evan learned to protect himself by ending an attack with the least amount of damage to his body. And he learned to inflict maximum damage with minimal effort and strength. His teacher taught him that he didn’t need to choose between being nice and being tough. He could be both.”
“Was he able to keep up with the training?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded again. “We had a good teacher. He was really understanding of Evan’s condition and he tailored the training to focus on techniques that catered to his needs. I was in the class, too, so I could make sure he didn’t over exert himself.”
“What happened to the two bullies?”
“They left him alone once they realized he wasn’t one to mess with. But I wanted them expelled from school… after what they did to Evan, after they—” At the last second my voice faltered and I couldn’t say any more, couldn’t finish the sentence.
In the ensuing silence, I examined my fingernails and realized that my hands were shaking like a leaf.
Not with fear, but rage and fury at those two bullies who had tried to hurt my son.
I shut my eyes for a brief moment, as if by doing so I could pull those memories close.
Julian reached across the table and grabbed my hands to still them. “You did your best to look out for Evan.”
I looked down at our entwined hands. “Some might not agree.”
“I do.” His voice was strong, and it was certain.
When I looked up to see the warmth and affection in his eyes, some of the fury seemed to drain out of me.
I sighed. “Are you sure your knee is all right?”
“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Why don’t you go take a shower and cool off?”
“Okay.” I gave him a long and indulgent look. “Why don’t you join me?”
Chapter Thirty-One
I didn’t join her right away. I had to grab my gym bag from my car so I’d have a fresh change of clothes. But I couldn’t get to her soon enough. My cock was so hard for her my jeans almost split open.
Drenched in sweat, the wet cotton top had clung to her skin, perfectly outlining the curve of her tits, the thin material almost translucent over her porcelain flesh.
My cock had throbbed at the sight of her breasts, areolas like ripe peaches shadowing her white top, the tips hardening and protruding with each contact.
I hadn’t wanted to fight her. All I had wanted to do was tear her cl
othes off and fuck her senseless.
By the time I got to her room, I heard the shower running and the bathroom door was cracked, as if Sadie had left it open in silent invitation.
Stepping inside and closing the door behind me, I stripped off my clothes and stood there transfixed, watching her through the glass of the walk-in shower.
She stood with her palms pressed against the tiled wall, lifting her face into the hot cascade of water. Steam was rolling off her skin, the water raining over her perfect tits and pounding off the plump cheeks of her ass.
I swallowed hard. She was a fucking vision.
Sliding the glass door open, I got under the warm spray of the shower and kissed her beneath her ear, brushing strands of wet hair away from her neck as the water pelted her back.
Then I reached my arms around her breasts, grazing her nipples as I grabbed the shampoo off the shelf and squeezed out a generous amount into my palms.
Water spilled between our bodies and the sharp scent of rosemary mint permeated the air as my fingers massaged her scalp, working the cool gel into the roots, starting from the top before moving across the sides to her temples where they stayed for while.
She released a deep full-body sigh as I applied pressure with my fingertips in circular motions. Unable to resist, I swirled my tongue around the shell of her earlobe, then flashed the tip inside her ear, easing a low moan from the back of her throat.
I continued massaging her scalp, stimulating her follicles, pressing my thumbs against the little dips and indentations at the nape of her neck before working the lather all the way to the ends.
Eyes closed, she tilted her chin into the drenching blast of the spray as I worked my fingers through her hair, carefully rinsing the suds from its length, finger-combing the long, lustrous strands until her hair was soaked, clinging to her back like wet silk.
She reached for the bar of soap on the shower shelf and attempted to turn around when I stopped her.
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