Beyond Control(34)

She hadn't expected this weird, tight feeling in her chest, and how much worse it got when he smiled.

Hell, she'd missed him. A lot.

One of those smiles curved his lips now. "You're pulling your punches. Afraid you're going to mess up my pretty face?"

He didn't have a pretty face, not like some of the men. Mad and Ace and even Dallas, when he wasn't scowling. Bren's face was rough, all flat, hard lines and crooked angles, like a dozen bar fights had already tried to mess it up but had only made it more appealing.

Appealing. Fuck, she was obsessing over his crooked nose like some soft city idiot. Six tried to summon her usual glower, but it felt wrong, because the corners of her mouth kept fighting to pull up. "Someone beat me to it."

"Pun intended?" He lunged then, grabbing her hand and spinning in an attempt to twist her arm up behind her back. Pivoting with him, she attempted to break his grip by rotating her wrist, but he knew how to press close and kill the leverage she needed. So she kept going, twirling in a dizzy circle as she shifted her balance and freed up one heel to drive toward his ankle.

He caught her leg with his other arm, hooking his elbow under her knee and pulling it high. Pulling her off balance.

Christ, he was fast. Squirming only toppled her back against his chest, and her only play there was the back of her head against his nose.

So she took it.

"Fuck." He released her and stumbled back, his hiss of pain turning into a laugh. "That hurt, sweetheart."

"You should have stopped me," she chided, uncomfortable with the flutter of worry in her stomach. She turned to examine his face, but he was smiling through the thin trickle of blood trailing from one nostril.

"I deserved it," he said simply.

"Yeah, a little." Her skin still prickled with awareness, the heightened sense of focus that always came with a fight. She could feel his phantom warmth at her back, the memory of his chest, pressed tight against her, and she hated how much she missed that. Clenching her fingers, she buried confusion under action and lunged at him.

Not a graceful attack, and he defended easily, spilling her to the mat beneath him. "You have to take time to think," he whispered, his lips against her ear.

The prickling changed to tingles, and she rasped in a hoarse breath. She didn't like being under him--not when it meant she'd lost--but she didn't hate it as much as she should have. The stinging of her pride was balanced by a deeper satisfaction at his skill.

She'd learn from Bren. She'd get better. And, in the meantime, nothing would touch her because he was magnificently dangerous.

She had to swallow twice to make her voice sound natural. "Speed's the only advantage I have. I need to learn to think faster."

"Couldn't hurt." He shifted his weight and rose on his knees. "But you're being hard on yourself. Fighting me isn't really fair."

"That's why I want to do it." She missed more than some vague impression of warmth this time. She missed the solid weight of him, the feeling of being surrounded on all sides. "I need to learn."

"And I'll teach you. You know that, right?"

She wet her lips, unsure what he was asking. There was suddenly no safe place to rest her gaze, not with him still straddling her hips and her own disobedient body beginning to take a keen interest in his. "You are teaching me. It's helping."

He climbed to his feet. "It's not just fighting. It's understanding when you have to, and when you don't."

"I guess. You have weird rules here. Do any of the other women fight at all?"

He brushed that aside with a shake of his head. "I mean who you might have to fight. You're treating all this like an immediate mission goal. Like you're in danger here." A quick nod indicated the cavernous warehouse around them. "Here on the compound."

There was no safe answer to that. The people here were his friends, his brothers. For all the wary respect in their eyes when they watched him, there was also affection. That was as foreign to her as the idea of women having each other's backs because of some crazy devotion to the idea of sisterhood. So she shrugged and stared at his boots. "I guess."

He watched her intently. "Those lessons are important to learn, too."

"I can't--" She clenched her hands until her ragged nails bit into her palms. "He told me it was safe to stop fighting."

"Trent." There was no doubt in Bren's voice, no question.

At least she wouldn't have to say his name. "He didn't lie, not really. It was safe to stop fighting. He just never bothered to tell me how much worse it would be when he got bored of keeping me safe."

Bren closed both hands around hers and tugged her to her feet. "Tomorrow," he whispered. "Same time. We'll fight harder."

No words urging her to trust, or chiding her for not being able to. Just an offer, the only one that could possibly help. Her heart lurched into her throat, and she spent an endless forever standing there, trembling with the urge to lean in. It wouldn't be hard. Just one step. Only one.

If she did, she could steal a little more of that warmth. Maybe he'd wrap his arms around her. She'd seen him hug others, the back-slapping hugs between the men, the softer, lingering hugs for the women. His arms were thick with hard muscles and solid flesh. He'd had them around her enough times in practice, but never like this. Just two people, standing oh so close, trading warmth and comfort and the air between them.

Her heart hammered hard enough to make the room throb with it as she eased his hands apart and stepped between his arms. He stood there for a moment, unmoving, then slid his arms around her with a low sigh.

This was a different hug than the others she'd seen. His arms barely touched her, their strength held in reserve. He was giving her a way out, the chance to retreat, and that was what made her press forward.

His breath stirred her hair, and he rubbed the back of her shoulder gently. "You'll be all right. Someday."

"Someday," she echoed, surprised at her own tone. She almost sounded like she agreed with him.





Chapter Thirteen



Maybe she should have known better, but the last thing Lex expected was for Dallas to waltz right into her room without even f*cking knocking.

Her heart shuddered and then started to pound as he stood in the open bathroom door, his gaze tracing every bit of naked skin visible above the water of her bath. Smiling slowly, he dropped one hand to his belt and quirked an eyebrow. "Got room for one more in that tub?"

The question might have ruined the fantasy of intrusion--if he'd meant it as a question at all. Dallas owned everything, and that ownership showed in every easy line of his body.

The steaming water sloshed as Lex lifted one leg to rest on the edge of the tub. "We might have to get close."

"That better be a promise." He'd already discarded his boots somewhere, and the rest of his clothing ended up in a messy pile twenty seconds later. He prowled over to sink his hand into her hair, tangling the damp strands around his fingers as he leaned down to kiss her once, hard. "Scoot forward," he said against her lips.

He slipped into the tub behind her, driving the water level up almost to the lip of the ancient porcelain tub, and Lex leaned back against his chest. "Did you want something, O'Kane?"

"Needed to tell you I won't be around tonight." He splayed his hand across her abdomen under the water, right over the ink spelling out his name. "Jas and I are meeting up with some guys from Three."

"Routine shit, or is something going down?"

"Just testing the waters. Trent had a few men who kept their heads low and seemed half reasonable. I think I can talk them into making themselves useful."

"Ah." Lex dipped one hand under the water to stroke his leg, then raked her nails over his skin. "I wouldn't have cried myself to sleep because you weren't here to hold my hand."

He chuckled against her ear. "No, you probably would've crawled into Noelle's bed to keep her warm. You still can, if you want, but only if you tell me everything you do to her afterwards."

"Dirty f*cker," Lex breathed. "She's been expanding her sweet little horizons lately, you know. She'd probably be on me, not the other way around."

"Oh yeah?" Dallas gathered her hair in his free hand and twisted it aside, leaving the back of her neck vulnerable to the warmth of his breath. "No wonder Jas is so f*cking smug. He doesn't have to imagine it, does he? He's been watching."

"Jealousy's an ugly thing." She kept her voice light in spite of the dangerous heat curling through her belly.

"Is it?" The hand in her hair jerked tight without warning, craning her head to the side. He licked her throat with a low laugh that prickled over her skin. "I don't believe you."