Bound to the Bachelor (11 page)

“Awesome idea. Two frozen thumbs up from me.” She gave him a two thumb Fonzie salute, and something inside him relaxed when he saw she was back to her usual self, her dark eyes bright with intelligence and interest.

She’d been shaken last night, but she was tough. Nothing was going to keep Lily Taylor down.

“Do you need to change?” he asked as he led her into the work area.

“I’m good,” she said.

He heard the hiss of a zip opening, and when he glanced over his shoulder she was shrugging out of the long puffy coat, revealing what she had on underneath. He nearly fell over his own feet as he took in skintight, black workout leggings and a body-hugging, long-sleeved black Henley, which did stupendous things for her breasts.

Sweet holy hell.

He’d always known Lily had a good body, but seeing her like this was confirmation he really didn’t need. How on earth was he supposed to teach her close-quarter body combat when the body he was going to be in close-quarters with was so smokin’ hot?

Lily draped the coat over the back of one of the chairs in the kitchen zone before dumping a gym bag and unwinding the scarf from her neck.

“So. Where do you want me, master?” She gave him a little mock-Japanese bow. “Do I start with some wax on, wax off? Or are we going straight to The Crane?”

Normally, he was the first to appreciate a
Karate Kid
reference, but it was taking all his energy to stop himself from staring right now.

“We should warm up before we do anything.” He crossed to the work out area and grabbed two of the skipping ropes stowed next to the free weight rack.

“Fancy,” she said, taking in the honed aluminum handles and swivel connection.

“You’re only as good as your equipment.”

“Funny, we had the same saying back in my stripping days.”

For the life of him he couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to her body then. Her breasts were high and full, her hips a sweet feminine curve. And her legs… he’d need a whole day to fully appreciate her long, athletic legs.

Her “equipment” was world-class, there was no doubt.

He cleared his throat, grateful his workout shorts were on the baggy side.

“Five minutes skipping, then some stretches and we’ll get into it.”

Lily gave him a little salute, then took herself over to one of the floor mats and started skipping with efficient competency. He allowed himself one look at her bouncing breasts before dragging his gaze away and walking across to another mat. Eyes fixed on the wall, he started to skip, quickly increasing the pace until the rope was a blur in the air.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, however, he couldn’t kill the awareness burning through his body.

He wanted Lily Taylor. He’d always wanted her, from the moment he first laid eyes on her. It didn’t seem to matter that he couldn’t have her, or that she was his kid sister’s best friend, or that she was here today because she was feeling vulnerable and unsafe. His cock didn’t care about any of those things.

Tough shit, man. It’s not going to happen
.

For lots of good reasons. All that was going to happen today was teaching Lily a few effective self-defense moves, then he was going to do his damnedest to help her sort out her problems with her stepbrother. Once she was safe, he was taking a big step backward. Away from temptation. Away from her compelling, purple-brown eyes, full lips, husky laugh, and incredibly fuckable body.

Good luck with that
.

He ignored the inner voice. He’d kept his hands to himself where Lily was concerned for years. There was no reason for things to change now.

No reason at all.

*

Lily kept glancing
across at Beau as she jumped rope. He was working it so hard and fast, his feet were a blur. It was tempting to try to keep up, but she knew a face-plant of epic proportions would be the inevitable result. Much better to just do things her way and preserve her dignity.

When he was finished, he stashed the ropes back where they’d come from and started on a series of stretches. Her body was warm from the aerobic activity, and she moved easily into the poses. She’d always been blessed with natural flexibility, and she pushed herself hard, reveling in the pain/pleasure of her muscles releasing. She’d been running around like a chicken with its head cut off ever since she’d come up with the idea for the bachelor auction, then there’d been the unaccustomed exercise yesterday on the snowfields, and Darren’s attack… she’d always been the sort of person who carried tension in her body, and she gave a low moan as she stretched out her glutes. It felt so good.

“Everything all right over there?” Beau asked.

She glanced across at him. “Sorry. It’s been a while since my last yoga class. Feels good to stretch.”

“You make those noises in yoga class?”

“Not usually.”

He grunted, his gaze quickly returning to the spot he’d been focusing on the wall. Because he wasn’t looking at her, she took the opportunity to look at him, checking out his long, muscular legs and bare arms. She’d always had a thing for men’s legs. The muscles, the hair, the hard planes. Beau had runner’s legs, with powerful thighs that culminated in a truly excellent backside. Really, there wasn’t an inch of the man that wasn’t perfect.

She frowned, registering her own thoughts. Okay, she needed to put a lid on the lusting-after-Beau thing
right now
. For starters, he’d made it perfectly clear that while they had some serious sexual chemistry going on, he wasn’t up for anything with anyone right now. And she certainly wasn’t about to launch into a short-term fling with a self-professed commitaphobe.

She was almost certain of it.

Concentrate on what you’re here for, idiot
.

Good advice. She had only to remember Darren lunging at her for a cold wash of fear to prickle its way through her body – an excellent cure for unwanted, inconvenient lust.

She was here to learn how to protect herself. Period.

“How are you feeling? Loose enough?” Beau asked.

She straightened from the downward dog pose she’d been holding and rolled her head from side to side. “Yeah. I think so.”

“All right.” Beau moved toward her, stopping in front of her on the vinyl floor mat. “Let’s start by checking out what you’ve got. Make a fist for me.”

Lily did so, curling her fingers into her palm. Beau’s mouth flattened and she realized he was trying not to smile.

“That’s not a fist,” he said.

“What is it, then?”

“I have no idea. This is a fist.” Beau put his hand in front of her, palm up, and slowly curled his fingers into his palm. She was about to protest that she’d done exactly the same thing when she realized she’d tucked her thumb inside her fingers, while his was pressed against his knuckles, the whole forming a formidable-looking mass of bone, flesh and tendon.

“You tuck your thumb in like that, you’ll break it when you hit someone,” he explained. “What you’re aiming for is a flat surface here.” He tapped the plane he’d formed beneath his knuckles. “All the power and strength comes down your arm through your bones. That’s what you’re punching with. You want to hit with this.”

He tapped the points of his knuckles. Lily tried again, curling her hand, locking her thumb on the outside of her folded fingers this time. Sure enough, she’d created a smaller version of his fist.

“Good. Let’s try some punches. Hit my hand.”

He held up a hand, palm out in front of him. She drew back and flung her fist at his palm, giving him about fifty percent of what she was capable of because she was worried about hurting him.

“Bullshit,” was his immediate response. “You’ve got more than that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s my problem, not yours. I want to feel the power behind your punch.”

She tried again, this time giving it her all, and the thwack of her fist connecting with his palm resounded in the large space. To her immense satisfaction, he shook his hand out a little afterward.

“Much better. Now we just need to get your body weight behind your fist.”

For the next twenty minutes he drilled her on the best stance to take in order to throw as much of her body weight as possible behind her punch. He showed her how to use the biomechanics of her shoulders and arms to transfer the maximum amount of power and momentum to her fist. Then he collected two large leather mitts with flat padded surfaces – focus mitts, he called them – and made her practice jabbing at them, left and right, right and left.

She was hot and sweaty and no doubt red-faced by the time he dropped the mitts and called a break. He brought her a bottle of water from the fridge, and she stripped down to the tank top she’d worn beneath her Henley. She was conscious of Beau’s eyes dropping briefly to her breasts, and the awareness that was always there between them ran hot for a few taut minutes.

He killed it by beginning to drill her on how to use her elbows to defend herself, which was followed by kicking drills. When he was satisfied she had a basic repertoire, he put her in front of a long punching bag and called out instructions while she went at it with firsts, elbows, knees, and feet.

She was trembling by the time he let up on her, sweat rolling down the valley between her breasts. Her tank top was glued to the small of her back, and strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail to stick to her damp face.

“How are you doing?” he asked as she drained the last of her bottle of water.

“I’m still breathing. That’s about it.”

She was pretty sure she was going to be in serious pain tomorrow. She hadn’t made it to the gym for weeks, and he’d been working muscles she didn’t even know she had.

“You ready to go again?” he asked.

She groaned and put her head in her hands. “Really?” she asked between her fingers.

“We’re almost done,” he promised.

His hand settled on her back between her shoulder blades. She knew he was trying to be reassuring, encouraging, but every inch of her skin burned with awareness of the fact that he was touching her.

In the middle of her back.

She couldn’t think of a more innocuous part of her anatomy. Imagine what he could do if he were really trying.

We’ve had this conversation before, I believe. Not. Helping
.

Beau’s hand dropped away, and she let out a sigh that was half relief, half regret. Which just went to show how much pheromones messed with a person’s IQ. She didn’t want anything to happen with Beau. An ill-advised romance doomed to failure was the last thing she needed right now.

Deliberately clearing her mind, she shook out her arms and legs. “What torture do you have in store for me now, Drill Sergeant Bennett?”

He stood in front her. “Let’s talk about target points. If someone gets close, you’re not going to be able to kick or punch them effectively. You might get an elbow in, if you’re lucky. If that happens, you want to go for soft tissue. You want to smash the nose, use your fingers in the eyes, chop at the throat, try to get a knee into the groin.”

She winced, and he shook his head, his expression very serious.

“You can’t hold back, Lily. If someone is coming at you like that, they want to hurt you. You have to fight for your life.”

“I know. I guess I’ve just never thought about inflicting the maximum amount of pain on someone before.”

“You sure about that?” His mouth quirked up at the corner, and she knew he was thinking about all the times they’d sniped at each other.

“Oh, sure, I wanted to hurt
you
sometimes, but only enough to make a point,” she said. “I didn’t want to blind you or turn you into a soprano.”

“I’m going to feel so much safer around you now.”

They smiled at each other, and just like that, the awareness was back, making her heart thump against her ribcage, stealing the air from her lungs. He was standing a few feet away, his big body loose and warm. She could smell his deodorant, see the outline of the powerful muscles of his chest beneath his tank top. All she could think about was how good it would feel to be pressed up against all that male hardness. There would be nothing forgiving about him, nothing soft or malleable. He would be pure demand and need and want.

A decadent throb started up between her thighs, and the knowledge she was wet for him sent heat into her face. The man hadn’t even kissed her and she was so turned on it was ridiculous.

“We should, um, you know,” she said, taking a step backward and waving a hand vaguely in the air between them.

Beau’s gaze broke with hers, and he half turned away from her, a frown on his face. “Yeah.”

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, her gaze stole down his body to his crotch. The fabric of his workout shorts was baggy enough that it concealed whatever might be going on there. She wondered if he was as hard for her as she was wet for him. Then she wondered what he’d do if she simply closed the distance between them and slid her hand beneath the waistband of his shorts and grabbed his cock.

Her sex tightened as the idea took hold in her mind. She could almost feel him in her hand, thick and hard and long –