Page 27 of Pack Obsession

"Better." His steel-gray eyes lock with mine. "But your attacker won’t let go so easily."

"Neither will you, apparently," I quip as my heart hammers against my ribs.

He releases me with a low chuckle. "You’re a quick study. Ready to try again?"

I roll my shoulders, pushing away the lingering warmth of his touch.

"Bring it on."

"Careful what you wish for, sugar." There’s something dangerous in his smile that sends a tingle down my spine, and I’m not entirely sure it’s fear.

Before I can remind my lungs how to work, the heat of him sends electricity zipping across my skin.

"You give it a try now." There’s a playfulness in his tone this time, as if he knows the effect he has over me.

Maybe it’s his smug smile that makes me reckless, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me like I’m a mystery, but I make a rash decision in my mind. The move comes back to me in a flash—my brother taught me some moves on the beach years ago, showing me how to use someone’s height against them. Before I can second-guess myself, I pivot, ducking low for the sweep?—

Before my leg can connect, his hand clamps around my ankle, stopping the momentum cold. Fuck, he’s fast. My balance wavers, and in that split second of vulnerability and losing my balance, his other arm snakes around my waist.

He’s coming down with me.

I feel the ground disappear beneath my feet as he pulls me against his chest, his body already turning in the air.

I cry out.

Time seems to slow—the flex of his muscles against me as we’re both falling over. His shoulder takes the impact first, then his back hits the ground, cradling me against him as we fall. I land sprawled across his chest with anoof, my palms pressed against the solid wall of his torso, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath my hands. His arms are still wrapped around me, one at my waist, the other now curved protectively around my shoulders, and for a moment, I’m surrounded by his warmth.

Our gazes clash. We’re so close. His mouth is just there, his lips pulling into a devious smirk.

Instantly, I roll off him onto my stomach, drawing in my knees. But in one fluid motion, he rolls on top of me, pinning me face-down on the cool grass. My breath catches as his weight settles over me. I gasp as air escapes my lungs.

"Nice try, sugar," he murmurs in my ear. "But your timing needs work."

I try to wriggle free, but he captures my wrists one at a time, gathering them above my head in one large palm. His other hand skims down my arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. The grass is cool against my stomach where my tank top has ridden up, a sharp contrast to the heat of him pressed against my back. To the thickness cradled against my ass, and I swear he’s not even fully hard but so big. Is he grinding against me?

Shit!

"Hard to trust instincts when a trained killer’s trying to crush me," I gasp out, finding it impossible to ignore how his thighs bracket mine, how his chest rumbles against my back when he chuckles.

"If I was..." He shifts his weight slightly, showing how much he’s been holding back, and suddenly I can barely breathe. "You’d know it."

For a moment, the training session feels like something else entirely. His thumb brushes my wrist where he has it pinned, and my pulse jumps beneath his touch.

"You always manhandle your students like this?" I manage to get out, proud that my voice only shakes a little.

"Only the ones who try fancy moves without warning." His lips are close enough to my ear that I feel them curve into a smile. "Where’d you learn that one, sugar? Doesn’t seem like standard self-defense."

"Perhaps I’m just naturally gifted." I try to sound nonchalant, but it’s hard with him pressed against me like this in a position that has arousal spiraling through me. Fuck, my body betrays me because all I can focus on is his hardness, which is wrong. He holds me at his mercy so easily, and I wonder what it would be like if he took me right now, right here?

"Gifted at getting yourself pinned? Not sure that’s the kind of talent you want to advertise."

I wiggle experimentally, but his hold doesn’t budge. "You seem pretty comfortable up there. Getting tired? Need a break, old man?"

His low laugh sends heat pooling in my belly. "Careful, sugar. You’re not in the best position to be mouthing off."

"And what position would that be?" The words come out breathier than I intended.

He shifts slightly, and the friction makes me bite back a gasp. "The vulnerable kind." His voice drops lower, darker. "So tell me, what will you do now? When someone has you on the ground like this, how will you escape?"

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