Page 7 of Sapphire

“Seamus will train you in the next few weeks while we plan the attack.”

I started to feel heat run up my throat as the thought of being in close contact with Seamus. My body would betray me and he would know how much I wanted him, and I don’t want a weakness, and he would be one for me. “No. I want someone else.”

Cara raised her eyebrow. “Seamus is the best and that is who I am offering for your own protection. I would have thought the man who saved you deserved some more respect from you.”

“I’ll make sure Kamilla is ready.” Seamus said as I glared at him. “We start tomorrow 6am.”

Seamus nodded at Cara and turned and walked out of the room.

I jumped when I felt Cara’s warm hand on mine. “He is a good man. He is just what you need.”

I nodded, knowing I wanted the Russian crown. Not for me but for Natasha when she was ready to step into her rightful role. She is the one reason I will do this. To make sure that when she is queen in a few years, that she will not be subjected to any mans needs.

Chapter 7: Seamus

The early morning sun slanted through the high windows of the training room, casting Kamilla in a soft, buttery glow. She stood before me, braced, in her form-fitting leggings and tank top, her feet bare on the polished wood floor. It was her eyes that captured me. Those brilliant sapphire orbs, burning with anger that was currently directed towards me.

Circling her slowly, I let my gaze rake over her taut, supple curves, assessing her stance, her balance, the small tells of her body.

"First lesson," I said. "Never take your eyes off your opponent. Not even for a second."

Not giving her a chance to respond, I lunged at her, my fist hurtling towards her face. She reacted instantly, twisting aside just enough for my knuckles to graze her cheekbone. That simple caress of her skin against mine sent a jolt of awareness shooting down my spine, even as she retaliated with a sharp elbow jab to my solar plexus.

I dodged the blow, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. Christ, she was fast. Faster than I'd expected, her reflexes honed by the cruelties of her past. The darkness inside me rose up, hungering to hunt down every bastard who'd ever laid a hand on her.

We continued traded blows in a flurry of strikes and counterstrikes, our bodies moving in sync, circling each other. Sweat slicked my bare chest and gathered at the base of Kamilla's throat, her breath coming hard and fast as she met me strike for strike.

I kept my strength leashed, allowing her to test her own limits. She needed to learn to trust her body, because only then would she be ready to face Piotr again.

But Christ, she was a woman. The sight of her like this, flushed and panting, her sapphire eyes ablaze with the thrill of the fight, made me harder than fucking granite. I wanted to tackle her to the ground and bury myself between her thighs, to sink into her sweet, slick heat until she screamed my name.

As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Kamilla faltered, her gaze darting to the swelling bulge straining against my sweatpants. I seized the opening, sweeping her legs out from under her and following her down to the mat, pinning her beneath the weight of my body. She struggled wildly, her hips bucking and her nails digging into my sweat-slicked skin.

Fuck. I needed to concentrate.

"Dead," I said. "You would be dead, sweetheart."

"Only because you're not fighting fair," she gritted out, her body arching up into mine in blatant challenge.

"Fair's got nothing to do with it. You think Sokolov and his goons will hesitate to use every dirty trick in the book to put you down? You think they'll go easy on you because you're a woman, because you're Anatoly's sister? Get up. We do it again."

We circled each other again on the training mat, my eyes never leaving her face. She was glaring at me, her sapphire eyes cold, but I could see heat simmering there also. She wanted me. Wanted me just as badly as I wanted her, even if she was too stubborn to admit it. I could see it in the way her gaze lingered on my body, could practically fucking smell it on her, the musk of arousal mixing with the sweet, sharp scent of her sweat.

She just needed to lower those sky-high walls she'd built around herself. I got it. I really fucking did. She'd been through hell and trusting someone, but it went against every instinct she had.

It was lucky I was a patient man. A persistent one, too, when I wanted something badly enough. And I wanted Kamilla. I wanted to lay her out before me like a fucking feast. I wanted to worship every inch of her, to show her with lips and tongue and teeth just how much I fucking adored her. She just needed to stop pushing me away, to stop throwing up those walls every time I got too close.

But right now? I had to get through this goddamn training session without popping a boner again and embarrassing myself like a fucking teenager.

"Again," I barked, falling into a fighting stance. "And this time, try to actually hit me, Princess. I'm starting to think you're not taking this seriously."

Kamilla snarled, her lip curling up to bare her teeth. "Fuck you, Seamus. I'm taking this plenty seriously. Not my fault you're too fucking slow to keep up."

I laughed. "Big words, baby girl. Care to back them up, or are you all talk and no action?"

She lunged at me, her fist aiming for my face. I was ready for her, had been waiting for the tell-tale tension in her body that signaled an attack. I sidestepped easily, catching her wrist and using her own momentum to spin her around and pull her back against my chest.

"Too slow," I murmured, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You telegraph your moves, Kamilla. Might as well be shouting them from the fucking rooftops."

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