Blake gently closed the door behind him without a sound and completed a slow stalk through Autumn’s living room. Drawn to her bedroom, he nonetheless paused when something caught his eye in the kitchen. An official-looking form stuck to the fridge, the words ‘Application for International Employment Authorization’ stamped across the top. Her visa renewal. She’d told him the damn thing was nearly expired—how much time did he have?
He had tonight. All he could do was focus on tonight.
Blake continued on to his intended destination; Autumn’s bedroom. He rested his shoulder on the doorjamb and studied the scene. It was chaotic, Autumn in panties and a purple tank top tugging clothes out of her drawers and tossing them backward onto the bed. She obviously didn’t notice him standing there because she continued to mutter under her breath about what an inconsiderate asshole he was.
True enough. Considering his recent fuck up, he probably should have waited outside in the hallway. That would be the polite, gentlemanly thing to do. Truthfully, though…he couldn’t stand another minute not having his eyes on her. So here he was. Lucky for him, she had a stalking fetish.
Autumn held up two pairs of leggings, obviously trying to decide which to wear. Had she worn that lace thong for him? It separated the tight cheeks of her ass and wrapped around her slight hips, touching all the places his tongue wanted to be. Every part of her looked so smooth, so sun-kissed, and he wanted to worship her up, down and sideways. Blake’s hunger was even sharper than usual and he wondered if this was the almighty need for make-up sex people raved about. Knowing she’d been angry with him made Blake want to give her orgasms. Loud, scratching, sweaty ones.
He should be grateful she’d forgiven him at all. He’d definitely been the asshole she was still proclaiming he was. And when he’d arrived at her job today and seen her covered in pet hair, clearly exhausted but still achingly beautiful…the full magnitude of what he’d done hit him like a ton of bricks. Scraping together an apology on the walk over had seemed like an impossibility until she was standing right in front of him, the sunlight picking up flecks in her hazel eyes and turning her hair to gold. Thankfully, whatever he’d blurted out was good enough to make her agree to tonight’s date. Now, hopefully she wouldn’t back out when she found out where they were going.
She’d discarded both pairs of leggings and pulled out two more from her seemingly endless supply. “The black ones are frayed,” she muttered, “the white ones show my panties. Fucking hell, why do I have so many leggings?”
Blake took two slow steps into the room and watched awareness creep up Autumn’s spine. Goosebumps broke out along her neck like lights going on in a city skyline. Her right ankle crossed over the left, then returned to its original place. Jiggling, jiggling.
Oh yeah. He definitely wanted to give her orgasms. And more apologies. The kind he’d issue inside her, grinding his cock against her G-spot. Her accelerated breathing and the flickering pulse at the side of her neck told Blake it wouldn’t be a difficult battle, getting her on the bed. Spending the night buried in her pussy, her headboard making dents in the drywall. But something wouldn’t let him take her, yet. Not without earning it. Not without her knowing she was worthy of being earned.
Blake slipped his hand around her throat from behind, the tips of his boots pressing into her bare heels. She needed this, too, though. And God knew Blake needed to touch her. He’d deprived himself yesterday and his palms missed the shape of her, the texture and heat.
His fingers cinched tighter around her throat, conforming his body to her back. “I like you in the black ones, Blondie,” he said, brushing his mouth over her hair. “The ones you keep in the second drawer from the top.”
A shudder went through her at the nickname, a signal the game was beginning. Her swallow slid up and down in his palm. “How do you know where I keep them?”
Of course, he’d been watching her from the doorway. That’s how he knew. But that wasn’t the answer she wanted. “You think this is the first time I’ve been in here?”
Blake let his right hand travel down Autumn’s throat, his left one joining it at her breasts where he unhooked the front of her bra, tugging the material down her arms and letting it fall to the floor. He clasped Autumn’s waist and squeezed hard, lifting her onto her toes. “I’ve touched every damn thing you own.”
He could sense Autumn holding her breath, waiting for him to touch her tits. Cup and mold them. From his vantage point over her shoulder, Blake could see how stiff her nipples had become. He ached to pinch and suck those buds, but knew if he did, they wouldn’t leave the bedroom tonight.
Instead, he reached over and slid open the top drawer of her dresser, moving some panties and socks aside until he found a white sports bra with a Nike swoosh across the front. He pulled it down over her head, guiding her arms through each hole and securing the tight material over her breasts, the action jiggling her tight ass around on his lap. “You don’t wear this one very often, do you? You’re always reaching for the sexy shit that pushes your tits up and makes my cock suffer.”
“You shouldn’t know what I reach for—”
“If you didn’t want me so curious about what’s under your clothes, Blondie…” He pressed his open mouth to the side of her neck, taking a hit of her cherry scent. “You’d stop walking around the building looking so…fucking beautiful I can’t concentrate on anything. On my work…”
Shit.
Silence bulldozed the room. Realizing he’d screwed up the game, Blake scowled and snatched the leggings from Autumn’s hands. He spun her around and—ignoring the adorable O of her mouth, and the twinge in his leg—he hunkered down and held open the waistband. “I was going to say something about you being a dick tease.”
“But you said the other thing. The lovely thing.”
Blake’s frown deepened. He couldn’t ignore the relief he felt over her thinking it was lovely. God, that settled it. He was losing his mind. Why not just stick a rose between his teeth and lead her in a tango? This girl wanted to be held prisoner and he was inflicting romance on her. Something he had no experience with.
Stick to the plan. Stick with what you know and what she agreed to.
“Put these damn things on. We’re going to be late.”
One foot in the air, she swayed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here, instead?”
He caught her knee and drew it to his mouth, nipping at the soft inner skin with his teeth. “The walls of this apartment have never heard the sounds I want to wring out of you, Blondie. Believe me. But after I was selfish with you…” His tongue soothed the spot he’d bitten and absorbed her shudder. “I wouldn’t allow myself to apologize and ask you out again unless I did this right from now on. Did right by you. So put on the damn leggings before the scent of you turns me into a liar.”
Autumn complied in a dazed manner, a wet spot spread along the front of her thong. As if leaving the building without mauling her wasn’t already hard enough. He tugged the thin, black pants up her calves and thighs and settled them at her hips, swallowing the possessive kick he experienced over dressing her. Goddamn. Why did it feel so nice?
When he managed to drag his attention from her sexy figure, covered in nothing but a bra and skin tight pants, he found her watching him closely. “Where are you taking me?”
“Krav Maga.” With a concerted effort, he turned on his heel and left the bedroom. “A beginner’s class uptown.”
“Are you serious?” She met him in the middle of the living room, her hands clasped together under her chin. “Like, I get to punch and kick things?”
“You’ll be a one-woman killing machine within an hour.”
Her lips pressed together, but didn’t quite hold in her chuckle. “Was that a joke, landlord?”
“Obviously it was. You couldn’t kill a pigeon.” He waved a hand in the direction of her feet. “Go put your shoes on. And cover up.”
“Hey, you’re the one that dressed me.” Her attention snag
ged on his erection, currently pushing at the seam of his sweatpants. “Um. How long were you standing there watching me, anyway?”
Blake crossed his arms over his chest. “Long enough to know I’m not just an asshole, I’m an arrogant butthole.”
“Sorry about that one,” she said, dancing off toward a pile of shoes near the door, taking her sweet time sliding them onto her feet. “To be fair, you did sneak in here like giant, pervert ninja.”
His mouth threatened a smile. “Tick tock, Fun-Size.”
Blake had gotten the idea to bring Autumn to Krav Maga the first time she’d set foot in his apartment. He’d towered over her petite, post-break up twenty-something form as she asked a man twice her size to hold her hostage, and he’d marveled over her courage. It was too much to hope that she’d sensed something in Blake that caused her to trust. Way too much to hope for.
No, she’d obviously reached a point of desperation. A point where her hulking bastard of a landlord became appealing, but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. No, he was trying not to fail spectacularly at being given this privilege. More than anything, he wanted to take that confidence she’d displayed and…give it room to grow, any way he could.
They’d taken an Uber to the training center on the Upper East Side, because even after Autumn pulled on a tank top, he could still see the Nike swoosh. Honestly, it was as though she’d purchased everything in her wardrobe with the express intention of sexually frustrating him. But he remembered Autumn being self-conscious thanks to his silence en route to their dinner date, so he’d forced himself to form words and ask about her job. She’d proceeded to tell him about a bunny that had accidentally swallowed a tab of acid, and the subsequent tongue-lashing Owen had given the owner, and Blake actually found himself laughing.
Long ago in another lifetime, his friends—Kevin, Elaine, Tommy—would make a huge deal out of how rarely he laughed. ‘We knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere. Take a picture! Doctor Doom is laughing.’ It used to annoy him into stopping. Lately, though, laughter made him replay what Kevin had said in the building hallway. You mostly open your mouth to make everyone feel like idiots. But we were friends—thick and thin—and the rest of us still are.
When he’d laughed in the cab with Autumn, she’d stuttered a little, obviously caught off guard and he hadn’t minded at all. He’d kind of enjoyed surprising her. Had he changed? Or did he just hold his friends to a harsher standard?
Blake and Autumn came to a dead stop upon walking into the gymnasium.
“Oh my God,” Autumn said, fanning herself. “It’s tropical in here.”
“Hi! Sorry.” A young man with floppy hair and a mustache jogged toward them, wearing a blue and gold instructor’s uniform. “We’re not testing out Bikram martial arts or something. The air conditioner’s broken. Please don’t leave. Free water. I will give you free water.”
“Shouldn’t water always be free?” Autumn asked. “Like, it does fall from the sky.”
Once upon a time, Blake had worked under the ground, locked inside humidity for hours at a time, while wearing a jumpsuit and heavy equipment. This sweltering gym was a cake walk for him. Autumn on the other hand, was unlikely to have endured this kind of damp heat. He turned to her. “Will this be okay for you?”
“I’ve been promised kicking and punching.” She smiled and leaned into Blake, close enough for him to count the scattered freckles on her nose. “No take backs.”
Blake nodded once at the instructor. “Lead the way.”
While Blake and Autumn stretched on a blue mat that took up the whole gymnasium floor, a dozen more class members walked in, staying only after the promise of free water. At eight o’clock, the instructor took his place at the front of the class, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Okay, so. Brief history lesson, folks. Krav Maga is Hebrew for contact combat. Its origins stretch back to Imi Lichtenfeld who took his mad street fighting skills and turned it into an art form. Now it’s the official military fighting system used by the Israel Defense Forces. And it’s badass as shit…”
Blake listened with half an ear as the instructor continued the origin story. He’d done his own research before signing up for the class and knew the basic history. He couldn’t help but watch Autumn from the corner of his eyes, noting the way she tilted her head when listening, tongue tucked into the edge of her mouth, blonde hair resting on her cheek. It was almost enough to distract him from the swoosh on her tits.
The first fifteen minutes of the class focused on strength training. Planking, push ups, some mental preparedness guided by the instructor. It had been a while since Blake tested his injured leg anywhere but the privacy of his own apartment, but thankfully no one seemed to notice him favoring it. Mentally, he knew an injury wasn’t something to be self-conscious over, but he couldn’t help associating it with a time in his life he wanted to forget. A time that had been all too recently thrown in his face.
“Okay, everyone.” The instructor clapped his hands. “Partner up. We’re going to start with a straight punch combination. On the back wall, you’ll find some bags with holding straps. One partner holds the bag, one partner wails on them like Rocky.” Everyone laughed. “You’re only going to make contact with two knuckles. Forefinger and middle finger. Direct all your energy forward. Maximize the impact.”
Autumn retrieved the bag and returned to him, seeming at the last second to remember their considerable height and weight difference. “Um, maybe I should find someone normal sized?”
“You’re one to talk. I could put you in my pocket.” He took the bag from her. “My fists aren’t going anywhere near you. I’ll just hold the bag.”
“Okay.” She hopped around a little, like the gym mat had transformed into lava. “You’re not going to rip it away at the last second and make me fall on my ass, are you?”
“Of course I’m not.”
“And…” She lost some of her pep. “You’re not going to make fun of my spaghetti arms, are you?”
There was a punching bag hanging in the corner of the room. And more than anything in that moment, Blake wanted to go knock the goddamn stuffing out of it. She hid it well most of the time, but it was clear Autumn’s self-esteem had been dropped in a garage disposal by her dickhead ex. There was enough of the brilliant woman beneath to know she hadn’t always looked down on herself. How else could she not know—and be told on a constant basis—that she was funny and beautiful and perceptive and warm? That prick, Ian, had done this to her. He’d never been surer of it. Or more determined to help reverse the damage.
“You didn’t even flinch when I told you about tonight,” he said. “This isn’t a typical second date. Nothing we’ve done is typical, but you face it all like a pro. You had no reservations about trying something new. You just got dressed—”
“Again, sir, you dressed me.”
“I’m trying to be sincere here,” he growled. “Kick this bag’s ass, Fun-Size. No one is stopping you. No one can stop you from doing anything.”
Little by little, she started hopping again. “Make the bag my bitch, yeah?”
“Damn right, make it your bitch.”
More hopping. “Now?”
“This century. Yes.”
She pulled back a fist, screwed up her face and bashed the bag. Hard. It wasn’t enough to knock him off balance, but he took a step back anyway—and the lie was worth it when a smile broke out across her face. “Made you my bitch, too!”
“Let’s not push it.”
Blake could have stood there all day and let Autumn batter him with her fists. After that first punch, she got into a rhythm, getting settled in her stance, focusing on the target and letting fly. With each punch, she stood with a touch more self-assurance. Shoulders squared, chin up. She stopped glancing up at him to gauge his reaction to everything she did. Toward the end of the drill, he sensed she was channeling frustration into the punches. Her hits got harder, came faster, her lips pressed in a flat l
ine. As fierce as she looked while walloping the shit out of the punching bag, there was vulnerability in her expression, too. And it took a lot of willpower for Blake not to drop the bag and…hold her. Or ask what she was thinking, even though it was clearly a private moment. So he contented himself with holding the bag while she had at it.
“Nice job, everyone. Last drill for today!” The instructor circled the room, sweat soaking the back of his shirt. As the class went on, the gymnasium had grown progressively hotter and even Blake had to admit, he could do with some cooling off. So while the instructor pulled a volunteer to the front of the room to demonstrate a takedown maneuver, Blake stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the bleachers.
“What are you doing?” Autumn whispered, staring at his body like she’d seen a ghost. “You can’t just go around looking like that. It’s rude.”
“How is it rude?”
“This is a beginner’s class. People signed up for it secure in the knowledge that other out-of-shape people would be joining them. Then you show up looking like Aquaman and shatter their illusion of comfort.”
“Yes, if I’m known for anything, it’s worrying about the comfort of strangers.”
“Actually, you are known for that. By me.”
He scoffed. Mostly to distract himself from the twinge in his chest. “How so?”
The instructor glanced Autumn’s way and she nodded, as if paying close attention to his demonstration. “That’s what these three dates are about, aren’t they? Making sure I’m comfortable enough in your Blackbeard presence for you to tie me up?”
That was only a fraction of his reasoning, but Blake wasn’t going to clue Autumn in on the rest. “How is that going by the way?”
She gave him a flirtatious shoulder roll, peeking up at him through her lashes. “Pretty good.”
Blake felt a heavy pull in his groin. Yeah. His control was nearing the end of the road. If they were the only ones in the gym at that moment, he’d be working himself into her pussy from behind, using the punching bag to prop her hips up. “Anything I can do to help convince you?”
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