by Elle Kennedy
No, thank you. She already had one selfish man-child to deal with at the moment.
Setting her jaw, Emma stood and headed toward the master bedroom of her suite. Screw working. She wouldn’t get a single thing done unless she expelled the angry energy whirling inside her. The local dojo she’d signed up at offered private classes every evening. She’d been going twice a week, but there was no way she could hold out until Monday.
She needed an emergency kick-some-ass session. Stat.
Before she gave in to the urge to hop a plane to New York and murder her “business partner” with her bare hands.
Chapter Nine
Colby phoned.
Dean hauled ass.
It had taken calling in a shit-ton of favors to get himself into position on time, but now he sat cross-legged on the workout mat, eyes closed as he calmed himself. As he evened out his breathing and waited for Emma to arrive.
The dojo was quiet. By some miracle the regular evening class had been canceled tonight, since most of the students were taking part in a competition in the city. The few members arriving to train were still being accommodated in the main room, but Dean’s friend had no problem giving him access to one of the private workout spaces, though the other man had grinned as if Dean planned to run hedonistic rituals in there.
Which meant the first thing Dean did after entering the room was black-light the security cameras so he and Emma could have some privacy. Not that he expected anything to happen, but just in case it did…
A soft whoosh sounded as the screens at the door slid aside, the barest of air currents brushing him as he remained stationary, allowing Emma to come to him.
A soft gasp hit his ears and he opened his eyes to look up at a face filled with frustration. “What are you doing here?” Emma demanded, fists pressed to her hips in the most adorable way ever.
Her glare was cute, too.
“Is that any way to say hello to your instructor?” He gestured to the mat in front of him. “The rest of the world is busy today. I assume you’d like to train?”
Emma hesitated, then wearily lowered herself to the floor as if she’d reached the end of her rope. “I’m not even going to ask how you managed this.”
Dean didn’t respond. Instead, he closed his eyes again, inhaled deeply and let it out in a long, low stream, repeating the motion until she pulled herself together and began to synchronize her breathing with his.
“At least you’re not in jeans this time,” she muttered.
He chuckled and snuck open one eye to stare across at her, taking in the crisp black uniform and the long, thick braid that lay over one shoulder. Her feet were bare, toenails neatly trimmed but without polish.
Her entire body was so much smaller than he remembered. But then, she took up so much room in his memories he forgot how tiny she was in real life.
“Any requests?” he asked, looking into her big brown eyes. “Training-wise.”
A flash of fire greeted him. “Takedowns. High kicks.”
Interesting. “Someone’s feeling feisty.”
She stood up as he did, shaking her shoulders and head as she bounced lightly on her toes. “Just make me sweat, Dean. I need to clear my mind, and if you’re filling in, I guess I’m stuck with you. Do your worst.”
The challenge to make her sweat brought back memories he really didn’t need to see played out in living color at this moment. Emma, naked on the bed, a faint sheen of perspiration making her body glow as he held her hips to the mattress and used his tongue to bring her over the edge again and again until she’d moaned his name and begged him to stop.
He ordered his cock to behave, then bowed, waiting for her to return the gesture.
For the next half hour he led her through a warm-up, moving around her as she repeated each motion until he was satisfied with her positioning. She held herself proudly as she made the minute corrections he demanded. Adjusting her stance, angling her hips more.
He slipped a hand over her wrist, turning her slightly. Running his hand up her arm until his palm settled between her shoulder blades.
“Again.” She repeated the arm motion, muscles flexing under his touch. He leaned in closer, glancing over her torso as she held herself motionless, hands frozen in midair. “Good. Now extend farther.”
“Impossible. Only a person with longer arms could extend farther, Master De…”
Her complaint was cut off as she swallowed hard, her instinctive urge to call him Master making him chuckle. “You have pretty dojo manners, Emma. And this…” he stepped behind her, bracing her shoulder against his chest as he reached over and laid his hand over hers, “…is what I mean. Move with me.”
She followed as he adjusted their position, the back of her hand and elbow pressing against his, her head turning and their cheeks brushing together briefly as he demonstrated the move.
She swallowed again, but when she spoke her voice was firm. “I see what you mean. Thank you.”
The body contact had warmed him like walking into a flash fire. “Master Dean…” he prompted, because he could.
Emma made a rude noise before giving him a you-can’t-be-serious look over her shoulder. “Thank you, Master Dean.”
He briskly moved in front of her and gave the next command. Her breathing accelerated as he increased the pace, calling for an expert-level tempo of high kicks. He watched carefully for signs she was growing tired, but instead she seemed to thrive on the challenge. Blooming before him as she reached deep to complete the set.
It was fascinating to see how far she’d come out of her shell. The girl he’d loved had grown into a strong, beautiful woman.
She stopped, hands coming to rest, feet spaced evenly on the mat as her chest continued to rock from the heavy exertion. Her expression was far more relaxed and satisfied now than when she’d stomped into the room.
“Fantastic,” he praised.
Her chin rose slightly, the edges of her lips curling upward.
“Are you ready for more?” Dean asked.
“Of course.” Her gaze darted to meet his, her smile growing suspiciously into something close to a smirk. “Workout too hard for you?”
“I was too busy admiring the scenery,” he admitted. “Don’t worry, I’ll work up a sweat during our combat stage.”
He listed a series of defensive moves, then commanded her to perform them slowly in order. The third time she repeated the set perfectly he joined in, adding the countermove for her to block. Crowding her as she knocked away his jabs and elbow blows, ducking as she snapped up a foot.
She hesitated for a second too long while still off-balance and Dean reacted, tilting her over his hip and sending her windmilling toward the floor.
In spite of the fall, she planted one foot back on the ground, swept her free leg around, and suddenly he was the one lying flat on his back as she pinned his elbows to the floor with her knees.
He stared past the hand she held inches away from his throat, meeting her gaze. With her legs spread to lock him in place, her hips hovered over his chest. The heat of her pussy was like a laser torch over him. He was tempted to say something dirty—hell, he was thinking something plenty dirty—but he resisted the urge, instead letting what he imagined show on his face.
Her eyes widened, focusing on his mouth as he involuntarily licked his lips, wishing there was some way to convince her to get naked. Naked, and then move forward about six inches until he could lick something far more interesting—
Emma scrambled off him and back to her feet. Back to ready position, her eyes firmly fixed on his chest as he moved opposite her.
“Well done on the takedown,” he complimented her.
“Again?”
Glutton for punishment, although now he didn’t know which of them he was referring to. “Second set. Watch your balance.”
“Watch yours,” Emma taunted as she repeated her earlier motions, this time keeping herself firmly in position for the entire set.
He mig
ht have started the exercise tonight as a way to prove he’d changed, but Dean found himself grinning from ear to ear as they sparred. It was good to have someone to play with like this. And if there were times when they ended up in a tangle on the floor and neither of them seemed in a rush to get untangled…well, he wasn’t going to complain about those moments either. Not one bit.
Minutes later? Hours? Emma fell to the mat yet again, her palms slapping the surface as she caught herself and rolled out of the way. Dean was holding back—he had to be—but at the same time she was having such a marvelous time she didn’t care. It didn’t feel at all as if she was being catered to, especially since she’d managed to get the drop on him a few times as well.
Slowly as they trained together, the frustrations and anger she’d carried into the dojo faded, replaced with a pounding pulse and grim satisfaction at what she’d accomplished. She was capable, and she was talented, and she damn well knew how to kick some ass.
Lorenzo was a problem she would deal with another day, because right now she was focusing on where she was and who she was with…
…and that last part scared her.
Along with all the good things she sensed at that moment, there was another equally strong emotion, one that wasn’t as welcome.
Sexual attraction.
Lust.
Maybe it was because of the mood she’d started in. It was a small step from rage to raging hormones. But no matter what she wanted to call it, there was no doubt who had caused it—the sexy, bold man who was challenging her on so many levels.
The bastard knew it, too. There was that look in his eyes, the one that said he was playing with her and relishing every minute of it as much as she was. And with everything she’d been dealing with and everything she’d denied herself for so long—
It was tempting, very tempting to take what she was pretty sure Dean was offering.
“Are you ready?” he asked, the words whispering past her cheek as he waited. He held her against him, gripping her tightly as his body called out a siren song.
Was she ready? Her body was. Achingly so. Every time they came into contact desire blasted through her entire core. An innocent hip check had sent a pulse racing between her legs. She still tingled at the lingering touch of his fingers when he’d helped her to her feet after dropping to the mat with her, their limbs entwined before he’d politely rolled and given her space.
A fever burned in her veins and the temptation to let nature take its course was rising by the moment.
Dean raised a brow, waiting for her answer.
She gave him one by slipping to the floor, rolling and knocking him off balance. She reversed direction before he could recover, scrambling to straddle his torso once again.
Only this time she planted a hand on either side of his head and leaned in close. Closer. Still closer, until she was only inches over him and their lips were nearly touching.
“Am I ready?” she whispered. “I don’t—”
He curled up and captured her mouth, stealing her voice. Stealing her breath. She’d failed to trap his hands and now one cupped the back of her head, holding her in place as he tasted and teased and drove her absolutely mad. His other hand slipped down her back and pulled her more solidly to him, and the heat she’d felt all evening flared like a storm wind over the desert.
It might be crazy, and it was all kinds of wrong, but right now? There was something oh-so right going on as Dean’s kiss triggered a body-pulsing fever.
His teeth dug into her lower lip briefly, the smack of pain eased by the sheer pleasure she was experiencing. She wanted to roll under him. Have him settle between her hips and start all sorts of other mischief. This wasn’t going to be enough.
Even as the thought registered, it was with a kind of relief. She was a grown woman. He was a grown man.
This didn’t have to be enough.
She planted both hands on his chest and pushed, and he reluctantly let her go, just far enough she could look into his eyes. She found no amusement there, nothing that would say he had been driving her crazy simply because it was a fun way to pass the time. What she saw was as much desire as she felt. Longing and control swirled together as he held her in position over him.
Maybe she was making a big mistake, but to hell with it—she’d made enough of them in her life, so what was one more? This one would only last one night. Maybe it would be enough to help her forget some of her troubles.
“Am I ready?” She repeated his earlier question, only this time she smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t you come by my place later and find out? Around nine?”
Dean’s slate gray eyes widened for a split second before shock dissolved back into sexual arousal. “Should I knock or come in by the balcony?”
Emma laughed as she stood, offering him a hand even though it was clear he didn’t need it. “Surprise me.”
He trailed his fingers slowly over her wrist before guiding her back to the center of the mat, where he faced her.
“Thank you for the lesson, Master Dean,” she said softly, bowing in respect. Even with a new kind of unanswered tension racing through her veins, she had to admit he had done a great job tonight. Well, two great jobs, if she included driving her wild as one of his accomplishments.
He bowed in return, but his gaze never left her face. What was on his mind as clear as if he’d said the words.
They weren’t finished for the night. Another shot of desire rippled through her. They were headed toward contact of a far more intimate nature, and if the rapid pulse in her chest and between her legs meant anything?
There were no doubts whatsoever—she was ready.
Colby
Colby had just contacted Dean after tracking Emma Lee to her downtown dojo when the call came in. He abandoned his post and headed to Suz’s apartment near the bay like a bat out of hell, because when a woman texted you SOS followed by fourteen—yes, he’d counted—exclamation points, you didn’t stop to question it. You went to rescue her ass.
Except when the door swung open and Suz appeared in the threshold, he quickly realized that he’d broken every traffic law imaginable for no good reason.
After conducting a rapid assessment with his gaze to make sure she wasn’t bleeding, drunk, or replaced by a pod person, he met her big green eyes and said, “What the hell is wrong with you? I almost killed five pedestrians racing over here!”
“I hope you didn’t shoot any of them.” Lips twitching, she gestured to his hand.
It took a second to realize that he’d drawn his weapon and was pointing it directly at her very delectable chest. The white tank she wore was so thin he could make out the outlines of her nipples, and those booty shorts? Jesus. Kill him now.
Breathing through his nose, Colby holstered the Beretta and bulldozed his way into the apartment. “I thought you were in trouble,” he grumbled. “Because that’s what S-O-fucking-S means, Susanna!”
“Oooh, you just full-named me. You must be pissed.”
She brushed past him and headed for the living room, and he cursed his traitorous eyes for following the seductive swing of her sexy ass. The woman had a body made for sin. She wasn’t rail-thin like so many of the girls he saw around town. No, she had more curves than a Formula One Grand Prix racetrack. Her wavy golden hair and gorgeous face only rounded out the fine-ass package that was Susanna Jones.
“I am pissed,” he said bluntly, and although he didn’t continue, they both knew he was talking about a lot more than her bogus distress call. But he was too wound up to get into everything now, so he stuck to the topic at hand. “You can’t just fake an emergency to get me over here.”
“I didn’t fake it,” she protested. “I am most definitely in the midst of an emergency. A catastrophe, actually.”
She heaved out a dramatic sigh he’d come to expect from her. Suz could be a total drama queen at times. Though, he had to admit, he loved that about her. That¸ and her unabashed open-minded attitude toward sex.
Sex. He could barely remember what that even was. Ever since Suz had snaked her way into his blood, the idea of getting naked with anyone else had become unappealing.
But celibacy? Also unappealing.
Suz settled on the couch and stretched her long bare legs in front of her, and Colby amended his previous thought. Celibacy was torture. Pure fucking torture.
“Fine, I’ll humor you. What’s the emergency?” He sat on the opposite end of the couch and tried to ignore the bare feet and red-painted toenails that were three inches from his thigh. Christ. She even had sexy feet.
“I need a date,” she moaned.
Colby blinked. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me. I need a date, okay?” Annoyance and distress mingled in her eyes. “It’s my turn to placate the folks, and my insufferable brothers refuse to give me a pass.”
Some days when he interacted with Suz, Colby felt like he was in a foreign country where he didn’t understand the local dialect. Today was one of those days.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he informed her.
She dragged both hands through her hair and sighed again. “I told you about the monthly Jones family gathering, remember? Well, the next one is this Saturday, and it’s my turn to bring a date.”
“Still not understanding, babe.”
“My parents are all lovey-dovey, okay? They’ve been married for like a million years, and it drives them crazy that my brothers and I are all still single.”
Suz lifted her bare feet into Colby’s lap, and despite his better judgment, he started kneading them, rubbing his thumbs into the soles.
“Oooh, keep doing that,” she begged. “It feels awesome.”
He kept doing it.
Son of a bitch. He was such a pussy when it came to this woman.
“Anyway, my folks are so desperate for grandbabies and in-laws they go a little nuts whenever one of us shows up with a date. A couple years ago Mike brought a chick from his vice unit, and my mother spent an hour questioning her about the viability of her eggs.” Suz grinned. “The poor woman got so freaked out that her childbearing years might be dwindling that she dumped Mike and eloped with her ex-boyfriend within the month.”