Julian's Pursuit (27 page)

Pulling in a deep breath, I drew her tight against my chest, trying to think of words to comfort her. I thought about my own past relationships. I thought about how broken I was when Chelsea ended our engagement. And then I thought about how lucky I was to be holding this fiercely beautiful and intelligent woman in my arms. A woman who built a strong and stable foundation for herself and for her family with the bricks Simon had thrown at her. A woman I was falling for more and more deeply with each passing day. And I found myself saying, “Sometimes the worst thing and the best thing that ever happened to us are one in the same.”

She grew quiet for a moment and when spoke again, she told me about her dad. She talked about his betrayal, his lies, his hypocrisy, his manipulation. She said the most hurtful thing about betrayal was that it came from the people she loved. Not her enemies.

There was so much anger in her voice. And she had so much anger inside her.

I was angry, too. Angry at the men in her life who had failed her.

When she was calm again, she drew back slightly and looked into my face. “My dad never came back for me.” Tears clung to her lashes and glistened in her eyes. “But Simon… he’s back and I think he wants to see Evan. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what to tell Evan.”

I framed her face with my hands, wiping the tears away with my thumbs. “Remember what you said to me once? About why you let me come into your life and into your home?” When she gave a shake of her head, I reminded her. “You told me that the more people Evan has on his team, the better.”

In the silence that followed, I captured one of the tears rolling down her cheek. “Do you still believe that?”

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

I exhaled slowly. “As much as I already hate this guy, as much as I hate his guts, I can’t imagine a dad who wouldn’t want to be on his kid’s team.”

She gave me a grim smile. “You haven’t met my dad.”

I folded her into my chest so she could reside against my heart. “Whatever you choose to do, whatever decision you make, I’ll support you.” I pressed my lips to the crown of her head and breathed her in, feeling her whole body relax into my embrace. “I’m here for you and I’m here for Evan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” She buried her face in my shirt, nestling against me as if she wanted to burrow into my skin. “I know.”

The moon slipped behind the clouds and I was grateful for the darkness that cloaked us. I continued to hold her, not even sure what to say anymore, just knowing that I wished I could take away her pain.

Moving up against the pillows, I opened my eyes to see the red glowing from the digital clock on the nightstand. It was almost five in the morning.

Turning on my side, I gazed at Sadie’s soft sleeping form, her long, thick lashes inky against her smooth, creamy skin.

Warm, protective feelings stirred inside me as I touched her tear-blotched cheek and her soft parted lips.

I couldn’t recall ever aching like this for a woman.

She was so important to me, such a huge part of my life, and I wanted to keep this corner of my world safe.

Quietly, I rose out of bed and threw on my jeans, careful not to disturb her sleep.

Surrounded by darkness, I slipped out of her room, crept down the stairs, and let myself out into the backyard.

There, I started off my day with fifty push-ups, followed by fifty sit-ups.

During army basic training, my physical fitness regimen began at five a.m.

Now, even years after I’d left the service, my internal alarm clock still went off at five, and I found myself sticking to that same regimented routine.

After my warm-up, I practiced some Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu forms and techniques that had long been ingrained in me. The army used Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu or BJJ as a standard for teaching soldiers combative training, and it was how I trained for unarmed combat.

I began with some stretches and triangle leg lifts before moving on to the BJJ dance, which focused on kicks, knee strikes, and punches.

It was a fluid and acrobatic martial arts style, and I was constantly moving in simulated combat to avoid an attack, or to set myself up to launch an attack.

Over and over, I practiced the same basic movements, building up speed and endurance. Repetition and implementation until it became like a reflex.

Chapter Thirty

I woke with a strange new experience. A feeling of absolute contentment and peace, and with it came a realization that Julian was right. The best thing and the worst thing that ever happened to me were in fact one in the same.

While I detested Simon with everything inside me, if it wasn’t for him, if it wasn’t for that one mistake, I wouldn’t have Evan. The day my son came into my life, my entire world changed and my capacity for love deepened in unimaginable ways.

Evan was
the
best thing that had ever happened to me.

And he led me to the second best thing in my life—Julian.

A man who made me feel like all was right with this world.

In listening to me, he gave me the gift of sharing some of the burdens I carried.

In giving me love and support, he gave me strength.

And that strength and that love did wonders for my spirit today.

Snapping the sheets aside, I slipped out of bed and padded downstairs in search of him. I found him out in the backyard and I stood there in silence, forgetting to breathe as I watched him.

He was in constant motion, bending, striking, twisting, and making quick and unexpected counter moves. It was a graceful battle dance and he went at it as if he was determined to work himself to exhaustion.

The rosy-pink light of dawn cast a beautiful glow across the hard planes of his sculpted torso. I stared at the muscles in his abdomen shifting and rippling, the thick cords of sinew in his forearms as they flexed and relaxed, his sun-darkened skin shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat.

I swallowed hard. He was the most stunningly gorgeous male specimen I’d ever laid eyes on. Sexy, deadly, utterly unself-conscious and I was so painfully aroused. My nipples and breasts ached, my clit pulsed, my body craving for his touch.

Julian paused in the midst of an elbow strike and looked directly at me.

“Sadie?”

I smiled, loving the sound of my name on his lips. “Is this what you do every morning? When you leave me in bed all by myself?”

He grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Pretty much.”

I crossed the yard until the space between us closed to a mere few feet. “I want you to fight me,” I told him.

“Why?”

“I need to practice.”

His green eyes narrowed with concern. “For what?”

I gave a careless shrug. “No reason.”

In truth, something about Tim had me on alert. When he’d cornered me in the parking garage the other day, it scared me more than I liked to admit.

But I wanted to spare Julian the worry. “C’mon,” I urged. “Fight me.”

He hesitated a moment, then relented. “All right. But you might get hurt.”

“Oh yeah?” I said with sass, taking on a sideways ‘guard’ stance. “You might get hurt, too. But I’ll try to go easy on you.”

“Oh, really?” A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement as he settled in an all-too-comfortable fighting stance. “Go on.” He nodded once to indicate that he was ready. “Hit me.”

I approached cautiously but deliberately, then lunged at him, thrusting my fist toward his torso.

He blocked swiftly, parried my return cut, and blocked me again.

Before long, we had an audience. Mom stood by the grill in her pink robe and bunny slippers, scratching the eagle nest on her head. “Is this MMA fighting?” Her voice was ripe with mockery. “You know, I’ve always thought MMA looked sort of homo-erotic, and now watching the two of you go at it with your sweaty bodies, I’d say it’s damn near hetero-erotic, too.”

“Mom,” I grunted. “Go away.”

What have I gotten myself into?

My lungs were burning and sweat was trickling down my breasts.

Now it was Julian’s turn to attack. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, moving calculatingly, with no wasted motion, his eyes never deviating from my face.

Stepping sideways, I ducked and backed lightly out of his reach. “That’s it,” he said encouragingly as I began circling him with an unwavering focus.

When he came at me again, I blocked his swing and dodged to the side.

Soon I started to get the hang of it. At close range, he could subdue me with his size and sheer strength, but if I moved fast enough and stayed alert, I had a chance.

Little by little, Julian allowed me to get closer.

I attacked. He easily blocked every blow.

By now my lungs were so raw from the exertion that I thought they might explode.

And I was so drenched with sweat that it soaked through the thin material of my tank top and the cotton fabric clung to me like a second skin.

My breasts tingled and my nipples hardened, anticipating each contact between us.

Every time our sweat-slicked bodies brushed up against each other, I savored the slippery friction of skin against skin.

While I held nothing back, Julian seemed to take special pains not to hurt me.

The next time I rushed forward with a right-hand strike, he neatly deflected and caught my arm, pressing it firmly against my back.

He was positioned behind me and I couldn’t see his face, only felt his hot breath as he panted in my ear.

My neck arched and my nipples puckered, desire snapping through my body.

All of my senses sharpened.

The warm air enclosed me and I felt his thighs tightening, his hard abs flexing, his sinewy cords of muscles rippling against my back as he tightened his hold. “Now if your attacker has you in a stronghold, what do you do?”

“Go for the eyes?” I panted, fighting to breathe.

“Yes, that’s one way to get him to pull back and let go of you. He will reach for his eyes, which will give you room to kick and move away.”

“Like this?” I formed my free hand into a ‘scissors’ shape, turning it palm down.

“Exactly. Now extend your fingers and press them tightly together.” He paused while I adjusted my fingers. “That’s it. Now you’re ready to gouge someone’s eyes out.”

“Sounds simple enough,” I said smugly. “If I can punch an elevator button, I can poke someone’s eyes out.”

“You got it. Always aim for the parts of the body where you can easily inflict the most damage—the eyes, nose, throat, groin, knee, and legs. Now depending on the position of your attacker and how close he is, that will determine where you will strike. Don’t step in closer, say, to strike his nose with your hand, when you can reach his knee with a kick.”

I felt a faint smile tugging at my mouth. “That goes without saying.”

“All right, Miss Know It All. Now if your assailant grabs you from behind, what do you do?”

“Knee him in the groin?”

“That works. But it’s more effective if you employ SING.”

I frowned at his words. “Sing?”

“SING,” he said, and went on to explain. “Solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin.”

“Solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin,” I repeated.

“Yes, remember that. You elbow your assailant in the stomach, stomp hard on his instep, follow it with an elbow to his nose, and finish it with a hard kick to his groin.”

“Um…” I hedged. “Okay.”

“Now,” he instructed, “try that on me.”

“No!” I balked. “I’m not doing that to you.”

A weary sigh broke free from his chest and he loosened his hold on me.

Quickly, I slid from his grasp then feinted to the side. “But I’ll do this to you.”

My training rose up and took over and I caught him off guard, delivering a kick into his standing knee, breaking it backward. Then, leveraging all my weight on one foot, I grabbed his arm, twisted my body, and whipped him over my shoulder.

The next moment, Julian landed on his back with an impact that shook the ground.

In an instant, he flipped to his feet with surprising speed and agility. “Where in God’s green earth did you learn to do
that?
” His lips turned upward in a semi-grin. “Were you trying to kill me?”

“No.” I was panting so hard but I felt exhilarated. “I took Krav Maga classes a couple years ago. It’s been a while, but it’s all coming back to me now.”

His eyes lit up. “Let me get this straight, you took up a martial art that was developed by the Israeli army—the Israeli
paramilitary
—for the purpose of contact combat?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Why not? It’s the best martial arts for self-defense. It incorporates Western boxing punches, Karate kicks and knees, Greco-Roman wrestling, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu ground fighting, Muay Thai throws and grappling, and bursting adapted from Kung Fu.”

Now it was Julian’s turn to be Mister Know It All. “Pssh! I know all that. My question is why?” Without waiting for my answer, he limped stiffly over to the patio seating area, wincing at the pain in his knee.