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Just as I’m about to tell her to fight me off, I feel her tiny body twist in my arms and almost disappear moments before I take a shot to my face. “Fuck,” I mumble, staggering back a step.
“Holy shit!” she exclaims, running toward me. My hand is covering my nose and lip, the faintest taste of blood fills my mouth.
“Holy shit,” I reply as she grabs my hand, moving it out of the way, and touches my split lip. “You’re supposed to be running away, not tending to your assailant’s wounds, Marissa,” I chastise, though secretly loving the fact that she’s doctoring up a fat lip.
“I hit you,” she groans.
“Yes, and you were supposed to.”
“But I didn’t realize I was actually going to hit you. You were supposed to…block it or something!”
“I’m fine, Marissa. Not the first shot I’ve taken,” I reassure her, grabbing her hands and holding them at her side.
It’s right then and there, I realize how incredibly close we’re standing. We’re practically chest-to-chest, and even though she’s much shorter than I am, the position feels natural and so fucking amazing. All I want to do is wrap my arms around her waist and pull her flush against me. Maybe even feel her legs wrap around my back moments before I kiss the hell out of her.
But the tender throbbing in my lip lets me know there won’t be any kissing anytime soon. At least not right now.
We spend the next thirty minutes going over a few moves. I’ve taught karate and self-defense classes for ten years, and in all of that time, I’ve never had as much fun as I do with Marissa. She’s attentive and quick to learn. She asks questions when I’m explaining a series of movements or stances. She teases me here and there, offering a shy and innocent grin that I think is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
When our time is up, I grab my bag and reach for her hand. I don’t know why, other than I want to feel her skin against mine. She doesn’t pull away – which surprises me a bit, considering there really isn’t a reason for me to hold it – so I make no sudden movements to keep from spooking her. I lead her out of the room we used, past the wall of treadmills, by the front desk where Staci beams from her stool, and right out the front door. I don’t stop until I’m at the parking lot beside the gym.
Glancing around, I have no idea which car is hers. “Over there,” she says, pointing to a used Chevy Malibu at the edge of the lot.
When we reach the car, she opens the back door and drops her small bag inside. She turns to face me, my heart starting to pound a strong beat in my chest. Our eyes remain locked, our fingers entwined, and I decide to make a move. I know it’s a bad idea. Hell, I’ve talked myself out of this exact situation a dozen times since I met her.
But right here, right now? With her fingers linked with mine?
I just don’t fucking have it in me to push her away.
Stepping into her personal space, I pin her body between mine and her car. I release her fingers, but only long enough to bring my hands to her face and thread them into her hair. Her breath catches and her wide eyes lock on mine. There’s a bit of nervousness there, but that’s not the emotion that dominates. Oh no, that’s excitement. She’s trying to decide which side of the fence she wants to play on: the safe side or the dangerous one.
All it would take is one little kiss to convince her, but that’s not what I want. I don’t want any regrets filtering through that pretty little mind of hers. I want her to be all-in, go balls to the wall, and give as good as she gets.
When her tongue slips out and wets her lips, I have my answer. It takes balls of steel not to bend down and take. Take her mouth in a bruising kiss. Take her in my arms and possess her. Take everything she wants to give and push her to her limits.
But I don’t.
Jesus, as bad as I want to, I don’t take.
Instead, I savor.
Keeping my eyes open until the last possible second, I witness the way her eyes dilate right before they close. I see the way she inhales deeply and holds her breath. I know the moment I won’t ever be the same again, and it’s right now, the second my lips touch hers.
This kiss is gentle, yet anything but innocent. She wastes no time opening her mouth for me, allowing my tongue to slide inside and taste her for the first time. I’m immediately hypnotized. I know it won’t matter how many times I have my mouth on her, it will never be enough.
I feel her hands on my back, gripping at my shirt, and as badly as I want to, I muster up every ounce of willpower I have to keep from deepening this kiss. It would be too easy to get caught up in the moment, to throw her on the hood, and make her come ten ways to Sunday. But I won’t. Not today.
Instead, I let my lips savor her taste, her feel, for a few more seconds before reluctantly pulling away. Her eyes remain closed, but her mouth is open, wet and swollen from my kiss. Her breathing is a light pant that fans across my face, those little puffs of air calling to me for more. Yet, I don’t.
“Meghan and Nick will be here soon. You’re having dinner with your family, right?”
Her eyes finally open, glossy and a bit out of focus. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Will you still go out on the boat with us tomorrow? If you pack a light bag, we can stay out tomorrow night too.” She starts to give me a look, and I realize how that probably sounded. “You can have my make-shift bed. I’ll sleep on deck in a chair.”
“I can’t do that,” she argues.
“I’m giving Nick and Meghan the master bedroom. There’s a sofa that turns into a bed downstairs, kinda like a futon, and it’s yours. I can take a chair.”
