Dirty English

“What about the protective gear?”

He waved me off as he positioned himself in a defensive stance. “We’re fine for today. You won’t get in.”

Won’t get in?

I puffed up my chest and shuffled toward him like he’d shown me, hands up and ready to strike. I bounced around back and forth, angling for a spot on his body.

“Come on, Elizabeth. You’re taking too long.”

I moved around him, looking for a way inside, but each time I rotated around him, he’d pivot his body toward mine.

“Move slower,” I snapped.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Unicorn Girl. Just get a tap in.”

“Don’t call me that.”

I shifted and he followed.

“I can’t!” I yelled at him. “You’re too big and fast.”

He sighed and rolled his neck. “Pretend we’re at some party and we just met and I’m going to throw you down and take whatever I want …”

I don’t even remember lunging for him. I don’t remember telling my fist to slam his face, but it did. His head jerked back, mostly to avoid my punch, but some of it still connected.

I gasped. “Declan! Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

He blinked a few times. “Damn. I didn’t say break my nose; I said tap .”

I fluttered around him, feeling terrible. My hands cupped his face, our chests touching. “God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I ran my fingers across his jawline, fingering the stubble there. “Want me to get some ice? Maybe a bottle of water? Do you need to sit down? God, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

He wore a bemused expression. “I’m fine. You caught me by surprise is all.”

“I could have hurt you,” I wailed. “And then I’d feel horrible. You’ve been nothing but good and wonderful and sweet to me and I …” I sputtered out of words, scared at what was on the tip of my tongue. God. What was wrong with me?

“Maybe I do need water.” His voice was weird, his eyes as well, the gray taking up most of his irises.

“Declan, your eyes are dilated. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you have a concussion?”

He groaned and shut his eyes.

“Declan?”

He stepped back. “It’s not the hit, Elizabeth. It’s you .”

I hissed, something in my heart shifting as he opened his eyes and stared at me. With longing. With heat.

I imagined fireworks went off somewhere in the distance.

Change happens to all of us. Sometimes you want a new haircut, sometimes you want to try blue cheese instead of ranch, and sometimes you just want to ignore your head and go with what you desire the most. Mostly it’s a gradual process, but not with Declan. I wanted sex on a mat in an un-air-conditioned gym with a hot as hell British guy pounding into me, no matter the consequences. Fuck my silly sex rules. I wanted him.

He studied me. “If you knew what I was thinking, you’d run like hell.”

“Are you thinking about tossing me on the mat for real?”

He lowered his chin, his eyes at half-mast. “Yes.”

I felt drunk at his words. Dizzy with need.

I shivered at the heat that raced up my spine as he stood there looking at me with those molten eyes.

Wanting me .

God, I was sick of being a walking, talking dead person when it came to real emotional need. I just wanted him, hard and fast.

“Kiss me, Declan. Please .”

“I’ve been waiting forever for you to say my name like that,” he said in a low voice and tugged me against him. His hand swept over my face, pushing back the hair that had fallen forward.

I clutched him, my hand snaking around the taut muscles of his neck, my nose inhaling the scent of male and sweat. His lips took mine hard, and I moaned at the slide of his lips against mine, at the way he dominated me. His arms held me prisoner in a jail I wanted, my hands clawing at his shoulders, pulling him closer. More. Yes . He tasted like the most delicious dessert, rich and decadent.

“Yes,” I murmured and rubbed my hands over his back greedily, searching out the hard muscles and indentations, wanting to map his skin in my brain and sear it to memory.

He held my arms up and tugged my shirt off, tossing it aside without even looking to see where it went.

I didn’t care either.

Hurry, hurry , take me , I said in my brain, but he went excruciatingly slow, his hands cupping my breasts through the nude bra I wore. He palmed them with one hand while the other slipped to my back and unsnapped it.

It fell unnoticed to the floor.

He massaged me, his eyes meeting mine as he bent to take a nipple between his lips, his teeth teasing and then sucking it into his mouth. Pleasure raced over me as he tugged and twisted.

I tossed my head back and gasped, my hands tangling in his hair, clutching him tighter. I was going to combust before we’d even gotten to the good stuff.

His touch was rougher than what I was used to. More masterful. Confident. Sexy.

“This is so good,” I whispered.

“It only gets better,” he murmured and captured my peaks again, his tongue and teeth lashing at my now tender skin.

His hands were everywhere, as if he couldn’t get enough, and I loved the greedy way he touched me. He knew every nerve ending that would send me over the edge, and I strained closer, wanting more of him, my hands now gripping his broad shoulders just to keep standing.

Sensing my collapse, he eased me down to the mat and then stood over me, his eyes burning.