He tossed his head back and laughed. “You’re a little spitfire. And I did dance with you on your balcony, remember?”
Fine.
He put on his Ray-Bans and grinned. “Don’t like surprises, I take it?”
“No. Just tell me,” I groaned.
He nodded. “Okay. We’re headed to an intervention.”
That didn’t sound fun at all. “For what?”
His gray eyes caressed my face when we stopped at a light. “I promise, you’ll like it.”
Oh shit. Lightning strikes went straight to my core.
We hit the open road and the wind made my hair crazy. It was exhilarating, but I yelled as I tried to wrestle my hair and hold it back. I needed a ponytail holder.
He reached over and opened the glove box and pointed at a pile of hair bands.
It scared me that he read my mind, but I shot him a sour look as I selected a black one. “Nadia’s?”
He shrugged in that effortless way of his I’d come to recognize. Noncommittal. Mysterious as hell.
I glared at him.
But my anger only made him grin. “Jealous?” he asked.
“Yes,” came out before I could stop it.
He shot me a surprised look and then turned quickly back to the road, but he kept sending me little glances as he drove, his eyes roaming my face.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. Simple words. Heavy weight. “There’s no reason for you to be jealous of her. You’re everything she isn’t, and I like it. A lot.”
When I watch romantic movies or read a book, there comes a point in the story where the two love interests are perfectly synced. He looks at her and his eyes soften. She looks at him and realizes he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Kinda like when Elizabeth looks past Darcy’s awful marriage proposal and sees the real man underneath the rich veneer. Or when Romeo first sees Juliet at the party and knows life will never be the same.
It happened for me just as the wind caught his dark hair and ruffled it, and in that tiny millisecond, the carefree way he smiled, the way he held the steering wheel with strong hands, the way he sent me a little searching glance as if gauging my reaction—it was enough to make me second guess everything.
But then I told myself to get my head back on straight.
He was a fighter for goodness’ sake.
He was wrong for me.
Anyone was, really.
Because my heart was locked up tight, the key buried deep in my soul. And no one, not even Declan Blay, could pick that lock.
WE BARRELED DOWN the highway and she gave me the oddest look when I told her she was beautiful.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head as if to clear it. “You know this isn’t a date-date, right?”
I shrugged. “I just got out of a shitty relationship myself.”
“I don’t mean friends with benefits either,” she said.
“Did I ask you for sex, Elizabeth? Have I made a move on you?” My voice had tightened.
A soft “No” reached my ears.
“Right. I have plenty of girls willing to shag me. I don’t need to go begging.”
She licked pink lips, and I found my eyes lingering there, imagining my cock sliding in …
“Will you stop staring at me and watch where you’re driving?” she said sharply.
I couldn’t stop the grin on my face. She made me happy, and I didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the way she’d looked when I’d walked up to her at the bookstore—blushing like a schoolgirl, yet with a wicked gleam in her eyes that went straight to my dick. Maybe it was the way she filled out that T-shirt.
But, maybe it was more. Deeper. I sensed a kindred spirit in her, a loner who ached to find someone to love for real. Like me.
Just one glance from her and I wanted to kiss her and make her mine. People laugh when you talk about one look at someone and you’re in love, and I’m not saying that’s what this was, but damn, something weird was at work here and it had me scratching my head. Was it because she was so wrong for me that I wanted her even more? Yeah. Fuck. Elizabeth Bennett had her pretty little claws in me, and God help me, I wanted her to dig them in deeper.
I pulled the Jeep into the carpark of the Front Street Gym, although she wouldn’t know that since the signage hadn’t been hung yet. The work crew had left for the day, so it was quiet as I hopped out and looped around to help her climb down.
She stepped down on the pavement and looked around, wary eyes taking in the two story building. “What’s this place?”
I grinned. “It’s my new gym.”
“How can you afford all this?”
I shrugged. “I used the inheritance from my mum to buy the place, and my fighting money helps with the remodeling.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Did you think I fought for fun?”
She licked her lips. “I—I don’t like fighting.”
I sighed. Whatever.
We stepped inside the dark foyer, the smell of sweat and rubber mats piercing my senses like a balm of cool wind on a hot day. We were both quiet as I flicked on the lights and watched her take in the wide space, imagining how she’d see it through her eyes. It was old and musty and most of the workout equipment hadn’t been updated, but the boxing rings were new.
She stared at the posters in the hallway. I pointed at one of Max with his gloves in the air as the ref put on his championship belt during a mixed martial arts championship. “That’s Max. He’s my personal trainer, and he’ll be one of my trainers here when I open this place in a few months. We’ve been friends for a while.”
Her eyes searched mine. “You really love this place.”
“Yeah. If it wasn’t for this gym—for training—I’d be, I don’t know, crazy? Pissed off all the time, for sure. It gives me focus.”
She chewed on her lip, unease on her face.
I ignored it. “Ready for your surprise?”
She sent me a nervous look. “Yeah.”
“Come on, then. Let me show you something.” I took her hand and led her over to one of the red sparring mats. “I can’t help but notice how wary you are with certain people, and I think you might be more confident if you really knew how to defend yourself. You need to know more than just how to make a fist. You need to know how to use it.”
She looked down at the thick mat. “We’re going to wrestle?”
I grinned at that image. “We’re going to do Krav Maga. Ever heard of it?”
She shook her head.
“Translated it means contact combat, and I’ve been teaching it at various gyms in the area for a couple of years. Basically it’s a form of self-defense developed by the Israeli military, fast, aggressive, and very effective with just a few moves.”
“Does this mean you’ll be touching me?”
I blinked. “Yeah. A lot.”
She debated for a few seconds, a small smile curving her mouth. Full and plump, those lips on mine had been my fantasy way too many nights. “Okay, but only if you let me take you down a few times. Like flip you over my shoulder, toss you to the ground kind of take down. Maybe sit on you.”
I exhaled, picturing that little scenario, and I couldn’t stop the little grin on my face. “You can sit on me whenever you want.”
She smirked. “Funny, Englishman. You better be nice if you don’t want me to hurt you.”
I laughed. This was the girl I wanted to see. Sure of herself. Sassy. Not the scared girl at the frat party.
She walked around on the mat and hopped a little on her heels. “Okay. This is going to be fun. What’s first?”
“I need you to take your clothes off.”
OF COURSE HE was teasing me.
He chuckled. “You can close your mouth. I meant that you don’t want to ruin—or rip—your jeans.” He pointed to the back of the gym where the lockers and restrooms were. “Come on. I’ve got some extra pants for you to change into.”