All I Want is You

by Cassie Cross

  I find a deck of cards in the junk drawer in the kitchen, but a few cards are missing from that deck, too. Hunter tells me he thinks his grandfather pitched them, to make sure he and his brother didn’t stay inside all day when there was so much nature around them.

  For someone who got dragged out of her apartment because she was spending too much time in it, I’m surprisingly going stir-crazy. Turns out having Netflix on hand makes time go by a lot faster when you’re bored, and it turns out that wanting what you can’t have makes you want it even more. I’m learning that lesson double time here, both with Hunter and the fact that I’d give pretty much anything to be able to go outside right now, even if I have to stay in this podunk town.

  Hunter’s handling things better than I am. He’s sitting at the small table in the kitchen, leaning back in the chair that creaks every time he moves, completely involved in whatever he’s looking at on his phone. Occasionally his brow furrows, but he doesn’t give anything else away. From the looks of it, he’d be perfectly happy to hang out here for all eternity.

  He’s probably used to taking these little excursions to protect other clients, and at least he’s engrossed in his work. There’s a relatively steady stream of calls coming in, and all I know from what few words I’m able to make out from Hunter’s hushed tone is that things are going well and they’re close to “closing the deal” with some guy named Damien.

  My understanding is that Damien is the reason why I’m stuck in this godforsaken cabin with nothing to do, forced in the orbit of a gorgeous man I can’t touch. So, the sooner whatever the “deal” is gets closed, the better off I’ll be.

  I’m getting restless, pacing the room for lack of anything better to do, wanting to lace up my sneakers and run for the first time in forever, if only because I know that I can’t do that. There’s a nervous energy bubbling up inside me, making me feel like I’m going to come out of my skin.

  “Restless?” Hunter asks from his spot at the table, where he looks perfectly content. Jerk.

  I let out a humorless huff of a laugh. “What gave it away? The pacing or the way I’m clenching and unclenching my fists?”

  My sarcasm doesn’t even make him flinch. “If you need an outlet, I could teach you some self-defense,” he says, setting his phone face down on the table. I’d swear it almost looks like he regrets it the second the words come out of his mouth, but he doesn’t take them back.

  This isn’t exactly the offer I was hoping for, but an outlet for all this pent-up energy would be nice.

  “After last night, it wouldn’t hurt for you to be able to protect yourself.”

  “There’s a self-defense technique that can make you bulletproof?” I tease, feeling lighter at the prospect of getting to do something soon.

  He shakes his head, smiling as he tilts his head down. “No,” he sighs. “But short of being bulletproof, you should at the very least know the basics. I teach self-defense classes for women. Consider this one on the house.”

  I hate to admit it, but he has a point. The likelihood of a drug dealer’s minions coming after me for money that my ex owes them by raining down a hail of gunfire in a club I’m at seems relatively small. Having Hunter in such close proximity, though, with sweating and touching and all that torture? Seems like a terrible idea, but I never again want to be completely powerless in a situation like I was in last night.

  “Sound good?” Hunter asks.

  It’s bad. It’s a really, really bad idea for so many reasons, but I’m going to do it anyway.

  “Self-defense? Sounds great.”

  6

  Hunter

  The second I press my chest against her back to show her the proper stance to defend against an attack, I realize just how bad this idea was on my part. I had an inkling when I offered and almost took it back, but I’m a certified self-defense instructor. I teach women all the time. I’ve never been so insanely attracted to any of them, granted. I thought I could detach into teacher mode and turn everything off.

  I can’t.

  What was I thinking? I have a hard enough time keeping myself in check with Hayley even without physical contact, and here she is letting me touch her. Even though, theoretically, it’s a great idea—she needs to learn how to throw a punch or take down a would-be assailant—I’m the last person who should be teaching her this.

  She should be taught by someone who isn’t thinking about how warm and soft her skin is. Even after all night in a bar followed by a road trip in an old beat-up car, I still catch a whiff of her fruity shampoo when she turns her head. Her perfume still lingers on her skin; there’s a hint of it in the air when I show her how to hold her fist for a punch. Her skin is soft beneath my fingers.

  I shake my head, hoping it’ll clear all the thoughts I definitely shouldn’t be having right now. I need to focus on her safety, not on her.

  “This is just basic self-defense,” I tell her, desperate to get myself in the right frame of mind. “It’s not enough to take on anyone with a weapon, but I’ll teach you a basic disarming technique in case someone gets close enough to you with a knife or a gun. Even if they don’t have a weapon at all, you’ll be able to stun them for long enough to get away.”

  “I know it’s best to be prepared, but I really hope I don’t ever have to use any of this.”

  “I hope you don’t either.” I can’t stand the thought of someone trying to hurt her, making her fear for her life the way she did in the club last night. I could go a lifetime without seeing that panic on her face again. I want her to be able to take control and not be at the mercy of a stranger who wants to do her harm, on the off chance that there’s a next time. “If a man puts his hands on you and you don’t want them there, I’m going to show you how to make sure you can get them off and keep yourself safe.”

  It’ll be difficult to do here without any gloves, mats, or props that I usually use, but I can teach her the basics without full force.

  She nods, taking the defensive stance I just taught her. It isn’t perfect, but 30 minutes into the lesson I wouldn’t expect perfection.

  We practice until she has relatively good form with a straight punch, a groin kick, and a knee kick. Hayley is a quick study, and she’s stronger than I anticipated.

  “Do you work out?” I ask, wanting to get a feel for other ways I could teach her to use her natural strength.

  Hayley hesitates, sliding her plump bottom lip through her teeth and nearly making me groan. I’d done such a great job of slipping into the teacher headspace, and now all I want to do is kiss her and find out what she tastes like.

  “Not as much as I did before I moved to D.C.,” she explains, pulling me out of the fantasy brewing in my mind. “In college I was on the volleyball team, and I’m competitive as hell. Staying in the gym gave me an edge, so I was there pretty much all the time.”

  That makes me smile. It explains why her punch is so strong, and why there’s so much force behind her kicks. Strong as she is, though, the next part might be more of a challenge for her.

  “Someone could try and grab you by caging you in with his arms,” I explain. “They could put their arms around you from the front, which is rare, or sneak up on you from behind.”

  Hayley narrows her eyes, like she’s thinking about the problem and trying to figure out the right way to respond to that threat based on what I’ve just taught her. I’m glad she’s taking this so seriously.

  “If he comes at me from the front, then I knee him in the groin,” she replies proudly. “From behind, I…punch his forearms?” She demonstrates by curling her right hand in a fist, mimicking hitting her forearm by moving her hand up and down.

  It’s a good guess, but an incorrect one.

  “For anyone who’s bigger than you are, it’ll be difficult for you to get away. Even with the groin kicks and punches we just rehearsed. In any situation where someone puts their arms around you and tries to overpower you, you have to be as difficult to control as possible.”


  I move up right behind her, pressing my chest against her back. She tenses and turns her head in my direction. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I reassure her softly. I don’t want her to think that this is real or that she needs to come at me full force.

  She nods, giving me a soft smile that makes me want to kiss her. Again. I have to refocus, because I can’t kiss her. Especially not now, when she’s on the verge of learning a skill that’s important. One that could save her life if she’s ever in a situation like the one she was in last night.

  “I know you won’t.”

  I take a deep breath and clear my head, getting myself under control. “I can’t think of a better analogy to use, but if you ever get into a situation like this, where some attacker gets their arms around you to try and control you, the best thing you can do is think of yourself like a wild animal,” I tell her. I place my hand on her bicep, mimicking the motion she should use to push against my arms. “They’ll do anything to escape when they think their lives are in danger. You need to squirm and wiggle as much as you can. Don’t focus on any precision moves of hitting a particular area. Just crouch down, lower your center of gravity, and flail. Elbow, kick, whatever…but make it as hard as you can for them to hold on to you.”

  She shivers a little in my arms, probably imagining a scenario I hope like hell she’s never in.

  “Want to give it a try?” I ask.

  She steps out of my embrace and raises her brows. “To be clear, you don’t want me to actually elbow you or knee you in the balls, right?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, please don’t do that. Just focus on trying to get away for now, steering clear of my balls.”

  I wouldn’t blame her if she did want to knee me in the balls after I flirted with her in the club last night, then let her believe it was an act.

  “Okay,” she replies tentatively, which doesn’t give me much confidence, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  7

  Hayley

  I’m not ready.

  Not ready for Hunter standing so close to me. Not ready for the way his breath sweeps across the back of my neck, making me shiver. Not ready for the way his ridiculously broad chest molds against my back.

  Definitely not ready to feel his six-pack through the thin cotton of the T-shirt I’m wearing. Hunter’s wearing a shirt, too. Those muscles are making themselves known through two layers of cotton. Just how built is this guy?

  I don’t answer, and Hunter takes that as his cue to go right ahead and slide his arms around me, moving slowly like he has during the first run of all the other moves he’s taught me. Guess he figures I’m not as ready as he thought I was, because I can’t stop freezing up around him like a smitten moron. I’m sure he’s used to it, but…embarrassing.

  I appreciate that he wants to teach me self-defense, and yeah, he told me that he’s a teacher, but I’d rather be in a classroom with a professional than here in this rural torture chamber. I’m getting what I want—Hunter’s hands on me—but not in the way I want it. I’d like him to be ripping my clothes off, but instead he’s doing a slow-mo attack scenario that gives me all the proximity but none of the pleasure.

  Ugh.

  Of course I would go out for a one-night stand and wind up stranded with the one guy I can’t seduce into meaningless sex. Story of my life.

  And here he is, moving agonizingly slowly. His arms finally wrap nearly all the way around me, his pinkies sliding along the exposed skin above the waistband of my pants where my shirt’s ridden up.

  “Okay,” he says, his stubbly chin scraping across the curve of my neck. “The next few will be half-speed and half-strength, and then we’ll go full-speed and full-strength. How’s that?”

  It’s great, it’s fine. I can totally handle it. “Sounds good,” I lie.

  Hunter cinches his arms securely around my mid-section, but not tight enough for me to feel like I can’t get away. I do what he taught me: lower my center of gravity and make it as hard as possible for him to hold on. Even at half-strength, escaping proves to be more difficult than I anticipated, but I’m able to break free relatively quickly each time.

  During what has to be the fifteenth run-through of this, I’m struggling against his arms, his biceps forming a tight band beneath my breasts. I’m gonna go insane if we keep doing this.

  “At what point would I kick you…I mean, my assailant, in the balls to get away?” I want to learn when to strike a blow so this lesson can be over and I can go to the opposite side of whichever end of the cabin he’s in.

  “If you’re struggling to get free and it’s not working, and you think you can get an advantage by startling your assailant enough to loosen their grip, bring your foot back to kick their shins, their knees. Beat on their arms. Elbow them, whatever you need to do.”

  “And risk pissing them off,” I say.

  “You’re struggling, you’ve already pissed them off. And they have you at that point, so don’t worry about pissing them off and worry about getting away.”

  Hunter still has his hold on me, so I wrap my hands around his wrists just as I crouch as much as I can. I bend at my waist, putting as much pressure as I can on his hands, and I break myself free once again.

  “That was easier than I thought it’d be,” I taunt, even though it really wasn’t.

  Hunter’s eyes widen, and he lets out a surprised laugh. “It can’t be that easy,” he says smugly. “You’re sweating and I’m not.”

  Well, that pisses me off. “You’re twice my size!”

  “I’m taking it easy on you.”

  I want to wipe that mischievous smile right off his stupid, handsome face. I told him earlier that I was competitive, but that may have been an understatement. I know he’s taking that knowledge and using it to goad me, but I don’t care. I’m livid at the idea that he thinks I wouldn’t be able to get away from him.

  “Stop taking it easy on me then,” I say, unable to hide just how frustrated and pissed off I am. “Give it to me full-speed. If you want me to learn how to fend off an attacker, then attack me like an attacker would. Anyone who’s trying to get something out of me isn’t going to sneak up behind me and seductively slide his hands across my hips.”

  Hunter’s eyes flash with something, and I ignore the heat that rises in my cheeks because I’ve revealed too much. I really need an outlet for this sexual frustration that’s drowning me, and if I’m not going to get that from him in the way that I want it, I’ll take it in the way that he’s offering it.

  He raises his eyebrow at me, clearly ready to accept the challenge.

  I’m going to take him down if it’s the last thing I do. Considering how big he is, it very well may be.

  There’s fire in Hunter’s eyes. Maybe he likes the way I’m challenging him, maybe he doesn’t. I can’t quite read it.

  “Are you sure you can handle it?” He licks his lips as they curl up into a sexy smirk.

  Ugh, I hate him.

  “I’m sure,” I tell him, sounding a lot more confident than I feel. Panic wells up in my stomach, because I desperately want to win this, and I’m not entirely sure that I can. My mom always tells me to fake it till I make it, so I guess that’s the best way to go about this situation.

  Hunter moves so quickly I don’t even have time to anticipate it. He doesn’t grab me from behind like he did previously. He locks his arms around me from the front, smashing my face against his chest.

  My heartbeat ratchets up a few notches, my fight-or-flight reflex kicking in. He really isn’t taking it easy on me this time, not that I expected him to. Just…the difference between our trial runs and this is night-and-day.

  I’m not in the position to lower my center of gravity like we’ve been practicing, but I flail against his chest—god, he smells good—until I’m at least able to turn myself around in his arms, gaining some leverage against his body. I crouch down and lift my legs, bent at the knees, so that it’s a little less easy
to hold me up. I elbow at his biceps, pressing my ass against his thighs to push his hands loose. His grip is so tight.

  I wiggle as much as I can, and maybe that works in my favor because my lower back is basically rubbing against his dick. He’s curled around me and breathing heavily. When I move a certain way his breaths stutters, and even though trying to turn him on into surrender is a very dangerous idea, I’m too competitive not to use his erection to my advantage. I move a little more just to get him distracted, then slam my heel into his foot.

  His breath catches and he loses his grip, but he still has one arm wrapped around my waist. His hold is loose enough that I can turn in his arms, and I push against his chest, then wrap my legs around his waist to throw him off balance. It works a little too well, because we both fall to the floor.

  Hunter brings his arms around my back to absorb some of the blow, and we wind up on the floor with him cradled between my legs. He’s breathing hard, his face inches from mine. He looks angry and frustrated and aroused. It’s gorgeous.

  He leans in close, the tip of his nose brushing against mine. The air is charged—an electrical current running between us— and I feel like I did last night in the alley. He’s gonna kiss me this time, though, I know it.

  “Hayley,” he whispers.

  I close my eyes and wait for it.

  “This isn’t the way you want to end up, on your back with your attacker on top of you.” He leans in close, then says, “I win.”

  He pushes up onto his feet and reaches out to help me up.

  I hate him.

  As if being a loser wasn’t bad enough, I’m a sexually frustrated loser.

  And I want him even more than I did before.