Page 27 of Kidnapped Bratva Virgin

“Hmm, an easy ride.” I shut down the paper, looking at the time.

“Ava. I know what you’re doing. I’ll handle you later,” I warn, about to figure out how to rearrange my schedule for a quickie, but Viktor bursts my bubble.

“Hey, we’ve got an eight o’ clock meeting and we need to be on the other side in less than half. We better head off now.”

Viktor knows I don’t like being late. If I’m early, I feel as if I have the upper hand in meetings. “Ava. Meet me in the gym at six thirty. Don’t be late.”

“Okay.” She winks and I know I’m going to be wound up for the rest of the day, and by the end of the day, I’m looking forward to training Ava. I find her in the gym stretching on the floor mats.

I’m changed in shorts and a tank top, and she’s in Lycra leggings to show off her fuller figure and a form-fitting top. Fuck.Who organized this? Smiling at her, I take a hardline approach, so as not to give in and take her on the mat. I have to ignore how sexy she looks in order to train her first.

“Get up,” I order with my hands on my hips.

“Good evening to you too,” she giggles, but I hold on to my authority.

“No time for that. We’ve got three laps around the mat as a warm-up. Come on, because I’m going to put you through your paces, and we can’t do that with cold muscles.”

Ava licks around her lips in a challenge to me, my staunch façade breaking as I smack her hard on the ass, starting off the run. That’s enough to get her to run after me and propel us into the warm-up.

“Hey! That’s not part of the training.”

“Oh yes, it is.” I grin, dropping back to run alongside her on the large mat. The gym’s state of the art and some of the Bratva come to train in it. Lined up along the walls are boxing gloves, sticks for hand-to-hand combat, knives, punching bags, and a section with treadmills, step machines, and weights.

By the end of the warm-up, Ava has a nice sheen of sweat on her skin. Again, I must ignore how good she looks, her hair sticking to the frame of her round face. We stretch out as I ask her to attack me.

“I want you to defend yourself as if I was an attacker down a dark alley. Let me see your natural defense mechanisms, and then I can train you on your weaknesses,” I tell her as she jumps to her feet, and I tackle her from behind. She does what so many do. She tries to wrestle my hands free from around her waist, but I squeeze tighter, my biceps straining.

“Let go of me!” she yells.

“Come on, Ava. What are you going to do?” I taunt in her ear as she surprises me, lifting her arms, and stomping hard on my foot, then elbowing me in the lower gut. The punch isn’t enough to do any damage, but her series of powerful moves beforehand give me reason to believe Ava’s hiding more than I think she is.

“Oh. Not bad, Ava. So, you do have some moves.” I stretch out my toes, my foot throbbing slightly as she covers her hands over her face.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Cutting my eyes at her, I shake my head.

“Never feel sorry for your attacker, that’s how you wind up getting hurt worse. I’m fine, but we need to refine that elbow jab. It needs to be to the face, then my stomach. Watch, I’ll take you through the steps. And how to twist the man’s arm and break it.”

For the next twenty minutes, we run the drill repeatedly until Ava can perform it in one smooth motion.

“No!” she screams in command, then the pointy end of her elbow aiming to connect with my cheekbone and then my stomach as she steps out twisting my arm in one lightning-fast motion.

“Good, Ava. Better. But this is a drill. You’re still a step too slow. What if they have a knife. Quicker next time,” I demand with authority. Ava looks at me as if she wants to wring my neck, but I need her to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Okay, shut up and stop yelling at me!” she fires back, a blaze lighting in her eyes.

“Good. Use that aggression. Show me, Ava. Because next I’m going to teach you the eye gouge.” She learns quickly, converting the knowledge I’ve taught her into gems she can useon the street, but by the end, we’re both sweaty and frustrated for two different reasons.

Her head is lowered as she pulls back her quads leaning against the wall for support, sweat dripping between the cavern of her breasts. Fuck. She looks good.

“I hate you,” she says quietly, breaking the thick air of tension between us.

Laughing hard, I sink my eyes into hers, her nipples showing through her sports bra, her brown locks sticking to her face as she pants from exertion. “I had to make sure you would work hard. I don’t want you getting hurt.” But Ava’s still not over it.

“How about I hurt you instead? You’re too bossy.”

“No, I’m not,” I quip, moving closer to her, her parted mouth wanting to smile.

“Yes. You are!” She glowers, her eyes glinting with desire.

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