Page 43 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
I will take him up on the offer to hit back, though. Using my smaller size, I duck under a lazy fist he throws in my direction and jab a sharp punch into his side. I’m banking on the fact that he might have somewhat less muscle coverage at the side, but I'm thwarted when it feels like I'm hitting rock.
Hawke chuckles and returns the favor with a hit to my gut which I have no hope of dodging. His closed fist meets my weak abdominal muscles and the air rushes out of me as I fall to the floor.
"Get up, Natalia," Hawke orders, but there’s a trace of mocking in his voice. "I didn't even hit you that hard. Come on."
I'm incapable of words as I clutch my belly and try to find my breath again, but I'm nothing if not a stubborn bitch, so I push back to my feet and glare at Hawke. My trainer. Call me crazy, but when the guys had said Hawke would be training me today, I'd sort of thought he'd be training me in something else. Something requiring a whole lot less clothing and hopefully the inclusion of those ropes on the altar.
I heave a sigh. Yeah, pretty sure I was wrong on that front. These bastards really do mean to train me in how to fight.
Hawke and I circle each other, trading a few more blows for a while until my whole body feels black and blue. Hawke's strike rate compared to mine is laughable, but that’s sort of the point, isn’t it?
"Okay, I'm done," I declare, collapsing onto the mat. My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps and I'm drenched in sweat. Not to mention the fact that my body feels like it's been shoved in a barrel and tossed over Niagara Falls. Everything hurts.
"We're not done yet," Hawke tells me and I groan. He's standing over me and unstrapping his gloves. The fucker isn't even sweating! "Hop up, it's time to stretch out your muscles or you'll lock up tomorrow." I let out a dramatic sob, but take his hand when he offers it to me, pulling me up from the mat.
"You'll need to remove your sweats," Hawke continues, leading me over to the altar which this morning I'd seriously thought was set for some kinky bondage sex play. Now, though, I’m pretty sure it’s as boring as Hawke said. Stretching. "I need to be able to see your muscles."
Fighting a smile, because I'm a dirty bitch who’s still thinking about sex, I drop my sweatpants and strip my shirt off. This leaves me in just my panties and sports bra, and I hear a low whistle from the choir balcony.
"Don't mind me," Arsen snickers, perched on the edge of the railing. "Just came to watch."
Hawke flicks a glance up to him and grunts a noise in his throat. "Ignore him. I do. Come on, hop up." He taps the flat top of the altar with the palm of his hand, and I climb up as gracefully as I can manage.
"Uh, isn't this a little bit sacrilegious?" I tease, laying down on my back the way Hawke indicates.
"What? Using the church altar to stretch you out?" Hawke puts an odd emphasis on that word that has my mind straight back in the gutter. "Considering Arsen is sitting up there in the choir balcony wearing his priestly robes while smoking a cigarette, this isn’t near as bad, right?"
I smile, remembering the sacrilegious things I did with Colt only a few nights ago. "You're right. Proceed, oh great combat master. Give me your worst."
"Careful what you wish for, Natalia," he chuckles, moving around the altar to take one of my wrists. He extends my arm away from my body and secures it with the rope attached to the top corner. The cord is soft, silken, and I suspect it’s been borrowed from somewhere else within the church. Too bad Mace left hours ago. I’m already missing him, and I’d like to see his reaction to this, see if his eyes might sparkle with lust, or his pants tent in excitement.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, a little breathlessly as he takes my other wrist and does the same to that side. The angles tug a little at my muscles, but it’s basically just like an intense pilates workout so far.
Hawke gives me a little smirk, but doesn't respond as he moves around to my feet and then climbs up onto the flat surface with me and grasps one of my ankles. He locks eyes with me as he lifts my leg up high, straightening my knee and pushing my leg closer and closer to my face.
Silly Hawke must not have done his homework on the mob princess, though, as he looks impressed with the range of flexibility in my leg.
