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“What about for you?”
I smile, dipping my gaze down to my knees. “It was bad, but I don’t remember that much of it, thankfully. I don’t know if that’s a trauma response or if it’s just because I was young, but I think about it a lot more these days.” I take a sip of coffee. “I went through this huge, traumatic thing when I was a kid, right? And I… Well, I’m really lucky to be here. A lot of people aren’t that lucky. I want to live my life bearing that in mind. I want to live it to the fullest, while I can, because if I did get tested one of these days, and I had to go through that again, and my family had to go through that again, I would want to have lived my life with no regrets.”
The rain picks up. I continue eating, but Savage has stopped.
“What?” I ask, smiling.
“You are an amazing person.” And then he gets up, grabs my empty coffee cup, and goes to refill it.
I’m too stunned to say a word.
Sixteen
SAVAGE
She’s trying to kill me. This woman is trying to kill me, either via a heart attack or because all the blood has spontaneously left my brain and rushed to my dick.
Hannah is stretching before we spar. In the middle of the living room.
We’ve just had a great breakfast, a talk that made my chest ache for her, and then she ran off to get changed for our self-defense class. The last thing I expected was to walk back into the room and find her bent over in the middle of it, her ass in the air, the perfect outline of her pussy on display.
I’m going to hell.
She’s in downward dog, and the view is immaculate.
Hannah is never going to happen, and the reasons are mounting. Not only is she my fucking kryptonite, and not only do I have nothing to offer her, but she’s been through enough. She deserves a full life, not one hidden out on a ranch, away from her hopes and dreams and future.
I will NOT touch her.
Hannah moans as she stretches her ass upward, and I’ve got to stop myself from punching the door jamb.
I clear my throat.
Hannah snaps upright. “Oh, hey. You ready to kick some ass?”
I frown.
“I mean, teach me to kick some ass?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the, uh, mild-mannered spirit, I guess?”
Mild-mannered? Is that what she thinks? I pull my shirt down so that my cock, which is tucked into the waistband of my sweatpants, isn’t on display.
“So, what are we going to do?” she asks, clapping her hands together. “Teach me everything you know.”
What’s wrong with my brain? It’s insistent on torturing me. Every word she says sounds dirty, and I’ve already fucked my hand to the image of her this morning. In my shower while she was asleep in the next room.
“We’re going to start with the basics. Fighting stance, how to throw a punch, that kind of thing.”
“Oh.” Hannah wriggles her nose. “I thought you’d be teaching me how to break out of a chokehold or something like that. You know, since stalkers don’t generally throw down their gloves and challenge you to a bout of fisticuffs.”
“Fisticuffs?”
“Huzzah. Put up your dukes.” She lifts her fists and pumps them back and forth.
I smile.
