Page 33 of Taming Achilles

His chest collapsed, and he wheezed as the air was pushed from his lungs.

“You asked for it.” He lunged into me, a hand coming to shove at my shoulder. I took the approaching wrist in my hand, following his momentum. I turned and planted my feet wide apart, thrusting my hip out. Using his momentum against him, he doubled over, falling over my torso. His weight toppled him over, his legs flying up until he landed flat on his back with a loud thud.

I felt triumphant, seeing him on the ground, his eyes shocked, until his arms reached up as he rapidly came to his feet. He grabbed me under the arms and lifted me with brute strength, tossing me onto the bed.

He jumped over me so we were stomach to stomach, his legs heavy on top of mine. He used his superior weight to crush me onto the mattress, his face in the crook of my neck so I couldn’t land an effective strike against head.

His hand grabbed my wrists and planted them on the bed, and his breath was hot against my skin.

His scent, spiced whiskey and smoke, wafted over me and my traitorous body forgot that we had been in the middle of hand-to-hand combat. No, my body thought we were in the middle of foreplay. Stupid body.

I wasn’t squirming to get out of his hold anymore. I moved to get him closer. I spread my thighs and invited him home, where he belonged. Not with Simona Amapoker. With me. In me.

He grabbed both of my wrists in his one hand. His crushing weight planted me further into the mattress and I couldn't pull from his hold. With his other hand, he undid his tie. He pulled it off, and wrapped it around my hands until it was so tight, they were like handcuffs.

“You have a girlfriend,” I reminded him through gritted teeth.

“Had.” He corrected, and I stilled. “But you’ve ruined that too. Just like everything else that you poison.”

His words hit me right in the heart. Stabbing me between the ribs.

Had? Past tense? I didn’t know what to say. How to interpret that. Did I even believe it?

“Now, you English witch,” he said, as if that word started with a b instead of a w. “Care to tell me when you, a woman who supposedly abhors violence, took up combatives?”

Chapter 15

Geordie

When the fuck had she turned into Mohammad Ali? When had the pacifist Pippa Fox taken up Krav Maga? The bitch had a left-hand jab I could still feel in my teeth.

Who was this violent woman? If she got mauled by a feral dog, she would have let it bite her head off, rather than cause another living being harm. Now she was a female Hulk Hogan?

She stilled, her breath hitching in her throat. She shook her head.

“I-I…” She shut her mouth.

“Answer me,” I demanded.

“I took a kickboxing class or two.” More fucking lies. “For fitness. Functional and fit is in fashion right now.”

Disappointment grew inside me. She had the choice to come clean. To have an honest moment with me. But she chose not to, and it chipped away at the fragile thing that we could have between us. I didn’t know if there ever could be anything anymore. No matter how much I wanted it, longed for it, craved it with every fibre of my being.

“You will never be honest with me, will you?” I lifted my head and looked down at her, her gorgeous, lying mouth in that natural pout. “You don’t have an honest bone in your body.” My eyes drifted up those elegant arms to the gorgeous sight of them tied together by my tie.

Her eyes looked pained as they glanced up at me. They were green today. Her eyes were the colour of sea foam on the Atlantic. Those eyes were like mood rings. Green meant she was unhappy.

“If I lie, it’s for a reason.” Her voice was quiet. Barely a whisper.

I chuckled, and the sound of it made her shrink away.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it punched you in the jaw,” I told her, running my nose down the side of her face, taking in that lily scent. The same Venetian perfume she had worn years ago on the canal.

“You don’t care to know the truth.” She tilted her head away. “Especially if it might redeem me.”

I looked down at the woman, my finger tracing the pulse at her throat. It was slow, strong, and steady. Unusual for someone who was lying. But maybe she was so used to deception it no longer affected her at all.

“What truths could possibly redeem a vulture like you?” I snarled, placing a kiss on that pulse point, smelling her musk and tasting the salt of her skin.

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