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She perches on a crate inside the training barn, listening intently as Brett explains the newest maneuver. When he’s done walking her through it, he grabs her at the waist and lifts her down onto the ground. “And you promise you’ll tell me if anything causes you pain?” he asks, holding her gaze, his hands still on her.
She nods once but he continues to hold eye contact, searching for any hint that she’s wavering on the promise. When he’s satisfied that she’s truly agreeing, he drops his hands and motions for her to follow him onto the mat.
They get back into the routine quickly, and Laurel throws everything in her new arsenal at Brett. Soon, she finds that she’smost successful striking with her legs, but still unable to bring him down. “You know,” he starts as he dodges a punch, “there’s a move I taught you that you haven’t tried yet. It would take me out. Is there a reason you’re avoiding my groin?”
She drives her foot into his side, ignoring his smirk. “I haven’t tried to gouge your eyes either. Maybe I’m not ready to play dirty.”
He dances around her. Despite being the target in this practice, he still moves like the predator rather than prey. “Or is there a reason you’re trying to preserve that region?” He motions between his legs.
Laurel rolls her eyes and again drives forward, intending to attack with her leg once again. Brett realizes this though and grabs hold under her knee, pulling her into him as before. Both are breathing hard from the physical exertion, their chests heaving against one another.
She tilts her chin up at him, saying, “you’ve had me here before. What’s your plan this time?”
“What is hurting from training today?” he asks, ignoring her question.
“Nothing.”
Brett growls at her in response.
“I’m not fragile,” she says, leaning into his hold, pressing herself against his hips. Brett tenses in response but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she feels a flicker of response between them.
Running his knuckles along her cheek, Brett replies, “no, you look so delicate, but you’re not fragile. You’re full of fire. Aren’t you, killer?”
She shivers at his gentle touch. “Brett,” she pleads.
Something in him breaks at her plea and he drops her leg, sliding his hand up and around to the small of her back, pinning her to him. His body is strong against her, and she feels herselfalready melting as his other hand comes to cup her face and brings it to his.
This time, there’s no hesitation. Their mouths crash against each other with urgency and she savors the taste of him. Strong and sweet. Nothing else matters in this moment, just taking him in. She whimpers with delight as Brett sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, the light scrape of his teeth sending another round of shivers through her. He releases her mouth long enough to smile at the noise that escaped her and then he’s back on her, kissing her deeply.
Laurel opens to him as he slides his tongue inside. Her hands clawing at his chest holding him to her with fists in his shirt. His hand on her back has shifted to have a firm grasp on her hip, keeping them pressed firmly against each other. She feels her whole body heat with need for him. Then, with a flick of his tongue another whimper escapes her, the heat turning into molten desire. Their mouths part for air, both breathless.
Brett presses his forehead against hers, attempting to regain control of himself.“Fuck,” he breathes, “those lips.” Running his thumb across her bottom lip, now swollen from the kiss, he lifts his head to look into her eyes.
Laurel smiles at the heat she sees in his gaze. They can hear the men outside now and both know that this has been the signal for training to end, for Brett to rejoin his team. But neither move away.
His arms wrap around her, tucking her in and kissing the top of her head.“I don’t want to go,” he says, his voice husky.
“But they’ll come find you if you don’t,” she finishes.
Brett slides a single finger under her chin and tilts it towards him. Then he brings his lips down onto hers once again. The kiss is less frantic this time, but just as deep and toe-curling.
“I’ll see you at dinner?” she asks when they pull apart again.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he agrees taking her hand and pressing a kiss into her palm. Taking a few steps back off the mat, Brett attempts to adjust his pants after having reacted to her in an obvious way.
Laurel leans back against the wall, feeling unable to hold herself up. He notices and shoots her a sly grin as he places his signature Stetson atop his head. Dipping the brim at her, Brett disappears into the bright sunny day outside.
After a moment, Laurel pulls herself from the wall, still whirling with heady need.I am so in trouble, she reckons, bringing a hand to touch her lips. She wants to feel more of him on her.
Deep in thought, she begins the walk back up the hill slowly, sore from training. Any illusion that she could stifle her growing feelings for this man is now shattered after a first kiss like that. Brett had gloated once about being good at everything, and if she could feel like this from a kiss, she could only imagine what else he could do. She imagines the look in his eyes after the kiss, hungry and wild, but this time pictures him looking at her like that while on top of her in bed. Laurel becomes so lost in thought, she’s taken aback at a popping sound and her body stumbling to the ground.
A strangled cry of pain escapes her, and she examines her ankle that just caught and twisted in a cavity in the land. It’s already swelling and she knows she needs to get inside for ice and to wrap it. With effort from her other sore muscles, Laurel pulls herself up and limps the rest of the way to the house.
Once inside, she grabs a plastic bag and fills it with ice before limping upstairs. Collapsing on to her bed, she again examines her ankle, grimacing at the swollen sight. She places the ice on it and lays back.Sleep, I just need some rest, Laurel thinks as she catches a look at her sweaty, matted self in the mirror on the dresser.Maybe a shower first.
Peeling off her workout clothes Laurel limps to the bathroom to turn on the steaming hot shower, dropping the bag of ice in the sink on her way. She slides in and leans against the tile wall for support, letting the water wash over her. The shower is a relief for her aching muscles and by the time she turns the water back off she’s feeling more like herself again. Still exhausted, she pulls a flannel and her satin sleep shorts over her bare skin and crawls under the fluffy white bedding.
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