Page 32 of Bourbon Truths
She cocked her arm back and geared up for what seemed like was going to be the whammy of all punches. Before she could do serious damage to herself, I grasped her arms and stopped her.
“Hey, I was about to gut this bastard.” She nodded at the bag.
“Yeah, and you were about to most likely snap your wrist while doing it.” Standing behind her, I wrapped my arms around her upper half and held her wrist. “See this?” I breathed into her ear. “This is a weak little wrist that can break if you’re not careful. You don’t have any wrist stability on, and by the way you were about to hammer out a punch on this bad boy, you were going to snap something.”
She leaned into me, her hair brushing my shoulder and her face turned toward mine. “Okay, so teach me how to knock things out.”
Her voice was breathless, and a faint flowery scent wafted from her hair, practically bringing me to my knees.
I wanted her.
I ran my hand from her wrist up her arms, feeling the effect I had on her from the goosebumps that instantly rose on her skin. With my hand on her elbow, I pulled her arm back and showed her the proper technique for punching, all the while holding tightly to her hip.
“So just pull back like this and let go?” she asked, her face turned toward mine, slaying me with those green eyes of hers. I nodded to confirm, not able to open my mouth in case I said something stupid.
“All right, look out.”
With the biggest wallop she could muster, she cocked her arm back and let it fly, making contact with the punching bag. An immediate cry escaped her as she bent and gripped her wrist. She sat on the floor and started to rock back and forth, holding her arm.
“Are you okay?” I asked, sitting on the ground next to her and pulling her onto my lap so I could take a closer look at her hand.
“Remove these,” she said, referring to the gloves.
Quickly, I took off the left glove and chucked it aside. Then I went to her right one and held it steady as I took off the strap and pulled it, fearing I was going to find a bone popping out of her skin. To my surprise, everything was fine. There was no bruising or swelling. I looked at her to see where she was hurting only to find her smiling at me with an evil grin.
Before I could even move, she straddled my lap and pushed me back on the floor so she hovered over me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting you into a position I know we both enjoy.”
“Are you hurt?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes away from the obvious cleavage shot Lyla was handing me on a silver platter.
“No.” She lowered herself so her face was mere inches from mine. “I just wanted to get you in a position where I could entice you.”
“Not going to happen, Lyla,” I gritted out, annoyed she’d faked an injury to top me and annoyed I’d fallen for it.
“Oh, really?” Her hand seductively found its way down to my crotch, where with one stroke over my workout shorts, she had me growing in seconds. It was impossible not to when I was presented with such a gorgeous and enticing woman. “Looks like your dick is singing a different song,” she teased.
“What do you expect when your shirt is hanging open like that?” I nodded toward her shirt. She looked down and smiled right before she pulled on the hem of her shirt and took it off, revealing her perfectly toned body.
“Is that better? I don’t want my shirt distracting you.”
“It was the contents inside, not the shirt itself.”
“Mm, I love it when you get all moody.” She ran her hands up my bare chest, gradually running her fingernails over my skin.
“Lyla,” I warned, starting to lose control.
“Take me out to dinner tonight,” she demanded.
I wouldn’t have been more surprised by her demand if she’d kicked me in the dick. “What?” I asked, confused from the change of subject, from her change in attitude.
“Take me to dinner, Kace. Take me out on a date. It’s the least you can do.”
She was now lying flat against me with her elbows propped up on my chest, looking down on me. If I paid close attention, I could feel the weight of her breasts on my chest, which was turning me on even more.
“It’s the least I can do? How do you see that?”
