“Oh. Okay.” I’d seen him fight twice now. No way this would be anything but a warm-up exercise for him.
“We need to get you spewing,” he said.
“Well, keep up with that Aussie garbage, and we won’t need to fight.”
One eyebrow tweaked, and he waved his fingers at me. “Come at me, Angel.”
I called upon my limited knowledge and approached. Very cautiously, keeping my weight on the balls of my feet while eyeing Matt’s impressive form.
Just breathe—don’t think,I reminded myself.
Rather than circling, he simply stood there and waited for me. That his expectations were so low fired something deep within. It lent a bounce to my stride and disengaged my racing thoughts from my body...
I aimed a clumsy kick at his belly that he dodged with ease. But something inside me acknowledged how it set him up—I launched into a spin and whipped my other leg around to nail him in the jaw.
He staggered back, his eyes widening, while I stared in shock. Had I really just done that?
“Wow, girl,” he said. “Where did that come from?”
I really had no idea, and I was properly horrified. I’d hit him so hard that my foot ached. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”
“No worries. That was bonza!” His eyes lit up, and he moved, now, circling me. “Okay. Gloves officially off.”
Crap. I backed away, not liking the sound of that.
He came at me, a blur of feet and hands. Too fast for me to think at all. I was on the ground in an instant but levered him off me with my arms and legs, flipping us over. I avoided his strong, expert grasp by twisting clear and rolling back to my feet.
Matt was already on his again, and all over me. Yet he landed only a glancing blow to my ribs—enough to drive the breath from me, but I evaded the follow-up shot while landing a series of rabbit punches to his side before ducking clear once more.
We circled. “Stop holding back,” I panted at him.
His eyes were permanently emerald now. Gleaming with a fierce joy that echoed through me. “Who’s holding back? You’ve been holding out onme.”
And in a single bound, he re-engaged. He might not be sprouting claws, but his speed and power were pure shifter. My only defense was agility. If he got those arms locked around me, I was a goner, and I knew it.
As we grappled again and I evaded him by the barest skin of my teeth, we both knew the truth. He was, by measures, the better fighter. I had the moves—I had no idea how—but only subconsciously. Every time my brain got involved, I screwed up.
I was existing mostly on surprise and the fact that, despite his claims, hewasholding back. Pulling his punches, moving slowly, giving me chances to squirm free. With each encounter, my heart pounded harder, and as I writhed free of yet another half-hold, I inhaled hard.
His scent surrounded me, powerful, heavy with his animal. I met his gaze, and what I saw there pierced straight through me.
It wasn’t entirely Matt that looked back. His remarkable eyes gleamed with his beast. Intense, focused, but it wasn’t rage, and it resonated with something deep within me. It expanded from my core, and my entire focus shifted.
The fight became a dance. A sliding of bodies against each other, before a teasing, tantalizing separation. Our breathing grew labored, and his canines lengthened. It wasn’t until I heard clothing tear that I realized his fingers had grown claws—they snagged my shirt, ripping it away, leaving me in just my sports bra.
I should stop this. A part of me knew it, but it was a tiny breeze against a hurricane. I clawed at his shirt, but my human fingernails were inadequate to the task—he reached up and shredded it himself. I stripped off my bra with impatient hands, and pressed against a chest made of stone, his arms a caress as he let me slip through them...
I breathed him in.
Deep within me, an indefinable something writhed, as though eager to be set free. My thoughts blurred as my body took over, my hands drifting of their own accord to cup the impressive bulge in his sweats, my thumb caressing along his length...
It pushed him past the point of reason. A shuddering groan tore through him. His hands, with the fingertips sprouting claws, grabbed me. Twisted me as he flung me to the ground on my belly, one arm finding its way around my waist, pulling my hips up against his as he fell to his knees behind me.
I’d never wanted anything or anyone as much as I wanted him. As he hesitated, his breath hot on my neck, I pushed my hips back into his.
“Angel?” he rasped the question, as a shudder passed through him.
“Yesss,” I pulsed the word, punctuating with playful bounces against the rigid, straining flesh pressed against my buttocks. I felt as though my very soul teetered on the edge, that if I didn’t have him now, I would die.
