Page 120 of The Heart Breaker

I snort. “Hard to do that if they hit you first.” Lifting my own fists, I show her the motion. “Start with a jab. Straight out, straight back. Keep it quick, and turn your fist over right before you land.”

I drive my fist into the bag, then step aside.

She moves in and copies me—or tries to—because it’s sloppy as hell and too slow. I catch her elbow and tuck it in closer. “Keep your elbow tight. You swing wide like that, you leave yourself wide open.”

She lets out a long, dramatic sigh and drops her hands. “I give up. I’m not built for anything athletic.”

I shake my head, reach over to the wall, and grab one of the pads. “Nope.”

Her eyes narrow. “Nope?”

I turn back and hold the pad up in front of her. “Hit this.”

“You’re bossy.”

“Hit the pad, Prescott.”

She rolls her eyes, but squares up again, shifting her weight before she throws a jab that lands against the pad so softly, I barely feel it.

I just stare at her.

Her eyes flash at that, exactly like I knew they would, and she squares up again before driving another jab into the pad. This time, it’s hard enough to shift me on my feet.

“There you go,” I say, lifting the pad again. “Again.”

She hits it three more times, each one better than the last, and I watch the sleep start to leave her. Little by little, her shoulders loosen, and she stops getting stuck in her own head and just throws the punch.

“Good,” I say, keeping the pad up. I can’t help the satisfaction that pushes through my chest when I see it click for her. “Now double it.”

She lowers her hands and blows a strand of hair out of her face. “Why do I need to know how to do this?”

I lower the pad, feeling my body tense. “Because I’m not letting anyone hurt my girl ever again.”

She freezes, all that attitude gone in a second as she drops her hands and just blinks up at me, her eyes widening.

“Your girl?” she repeats.

I step in and hook two fingers under her chin, tipping her face up. “You heard me,” I murmur, my thumb brushing her jaw before I lean down and kiss the startled look right off her face.

A few weeks ago, saying something like that would’ve scared the shit out of me. Maybe it still should. But lately, when it comes to Aurora, I’ve been doing a lot less thinking and a lot more just taking what I want when it’s standing right in front of me. So far, it’s been the best decision I’ve made in a long time.

My hand slides to her waist and I pull her into me, kissing her until I forget what the hell we were even talking about. I think we’ve kissed more than we’ve had sex, which is acomplete mindfuck considering how this started. Not that I’m complaining.

Because I love kissing her.

Love her mouth. Love the way she melts into me. Love the quiet little moan she gives me when I deepen the kiss, and the way her hands come up around my neck like that’s exactly where they’re meant to be.

I pull back, my thumb brushing once over her bottom lip before I let my hand fall away.

“Come on,” I say. “I’ve got to leave in like thirty minutes.”

I step in behind her and fix her stance again, turning her a little more toward the bag.

She throws another couple of punches, taking a breather. “Did you only start boxing to protect yourself?” she asks, breathless.

My jaw tightens before I can stop it. “Yeah,” I say while I guide her arm back into place. “Pretty much.”

She glances at me over her shoulder, waiting for me to continue. I shift my hand from her shoulder to her elbow and nudge it up.