Caged (Mastered, #4)(19)
“Will you continue taking private boxing lessons with Fisher now that you and Deacon are happening?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“If Deacon hated you spending time with Fisher before you two got together, he’ll really hate it now. I just worry he’ll dictate stuff like that to you.”
“He can try. But I’m not the pushover I used to be.” And it was a moot point since Fisher had been too busy to work with her one on one in the last month.
“Good.” Presley looped her arm through Molly’s. “Speaking of dicks . . . Any idea what size he’s packing?”
Molly groaned. “That’s your segue way into discussing his penis? From dictate to dick?”
“Hey, I’m an artist, not a wordsmith. As a woman who’s been around that fine f*cking specimen of manhood, I’m curious, Mol. And maybe a little jealous.”
She stopped walking and faced Presley.
“What? Now that you’ve got Deacon in the bag, I can admit he’s the one guy at Black Arts that I’d consider bagging.”
“And you’re telling me this . . . why?”
“Full disclosure. Deacon is a five-alarm-fire kind of man. The body, the tats, the chiseled face, the shaved head, the facial scruff, those blue eyes, the pissy attitude. You think it’s escaped anyone’s notice that he could be Daniel Craig’s younger, better-built brother? No. As far as looks and physique, he’s the total package. But he’s always been kind of a dick, so that lowers his stock value.”
She snorted at the phrase stock value.
“But in class he had eyes only for you. It never made sense why he stood you up after he finally asked you out. So after the shit went down in the strip club, I assumed he’d walk away when you didn’t just drop your panties for him. But he came after you. That he apologized? Hot. The way he looked at you in the gym last night? Hotter yet. I don’t have to tell you Deacon defines intense, and that’s scary.” Presley reached for Molly’s hand. “I have to ask if you can handle that about him.”
Presley had been her friend for long enough that relaying the issues from her past probably wouldn’t earn her pity. “The truth?”
“Between us? Always, Mol. You know that.”
“I grew up believing no one wanted me. After my mother died, my grandma did her duty and took me in. As I grew up, I was shy, overweight, bookish. I never rocked the boat, never shared my opinions. That made me a ready target for my bitchy cousins and everyone else. I survived. In college I became . . . me. The me I’d always wanted to be. My life is better than I’d ever imagined. But the one thing I’ve never had?” Molly met Presley’s concerned face. “I’ve never had a man look at me the way Deacon McConnell does. So no. It doesn’t scare me; it thrills me. Can I handle it? You bet your ass I can.”
“If I haven’t said it enough, I’ll say it now. You amaze me.” Then she yanked Molly against her in a fierce hug.
Molly squeezed her back. “I doubt this thing with Deacon will be long-term. And guess what? I don’t care. I will be well versed in covering up hickeys all over my body by the time this ride ends.”
“Good attitude.” Presley hooked her arm through Molly’s again as they started down the sidewalk. “And not to make this about me, but you being with him is a bonus for me.”
“How?”
“Because you’ll be so distracted by thoughts of going all ‘hi-ho, Silver,’ riding Deacon’s naked bod all the time, that I’ll sneak in some funky design concepts, rope in new clients, and become Amery’s new favorite.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
? ? ?
AN hour of kickboxing coated her entire body with sweat.
Despite the heat burning her face, the pulse pounding in her throat, in her head, and in her hands, she stayed focused.
Somehow Molly had ended up sparring with Shihan Beck at the end of class. It surprised him when she didn’t fall for his abrupt switcheroos and could adapt on the fly. She gave herself a mental high five.
“All right. That’s it. Wrap it up and return to the mat.”
They gathered around Shihan.
“Starting next week we’ll rotate instructors. I’ll be gone from teaching this class for a month.”
Grumbles sounded. Mostly from Liv, who had a massive hard-on for Beck. And Molly suspected it was an actual hard-on. Although Liv dressed like a woman, her body was ripped like a man’s, and no woman had an Adam’s apple that prominent.
Molly wiped her face with a towel and started for the door. It might make her a masochist, but she loved the rubbery legs and tingling arms she got from working out, followed by the gradual cooling of her skin.
Shihan fell into step with her. “Impressive as always, Molly.”
“Thanks.”
“I won’t give up on getting you into our jujitsu program.”
In the hallway, Molly saw Deacon propped against the wall, waiting for her, giving her a hell of an eye f*ck.
“It’s all about showing up for class,” Shihan said, oblivious to Deacon advancing on them. “Consistency assures you won’t develop bad training habits. You could be an instructor in no time, if you put in the time. Isn’t that—”
Deacon grabbed the ends of the towel draped around her neck, pulled her against his body, and laid a possessive kiss on her. After he staked his claim, he murmured, “Sweet and salty. My favorite combination, babe.” Deacon tucked her against his side and looked at Beck. “Shihan.”