Page 7 of Burn for You (Flirting with Forever 3)

Jake wonders aloud, “Well, I don’t know where they are. They’re usually here during their planning period.”

Then Principal Smith questions, her voice muffled, “Maybe they’re in their rooms or the copy room. Maybe we should wait a few minutes?” Oh, no. She wants to wait?

Oh my God, we’re going to get caught in here listening. Worse, when they find us, they’ll think there’s something going on here, the two of us crammed into this tiny closet. In the dark. Alone. Together. I’m never going to live this down.

I get a little light-headed at the thought and sway, suddenly off balance in the dark. Damon grasps my hip firmly with his hand, steadying me. I can’t tell if he’s not letting go on purpose or what, but the heat of his hand seeps right through my skirt, and I can just imagine how those firm fingers would feel on my bare skin.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Piper. What is wrong with you? Now you’ve missed what Jake said. I angle my head back toward Damon, agitated. “What did he just say?”

He tucks his face near my head and whispers softly right next to my ear. “I think Jake said they didn’t have to wait for us—he’d really give it some thought and would be watching us carefully in the next few weeks.”

I suck in a deep breath just as I realize my face is frighteningly close to his neck. What a terrible mistake that was. His scent is intoxicating. It’s masculine, potent, and uniquely him. My stomach flutters. What. The. Fresh. Hell?

“Whatever. I’ve got this in the bag.” I can’t help sniping at him.

He chuckles quietly, provoking me yet again. “I’m just wondering why you’re wasting your time in the first place.”

“You wish. I’ve been running circles around you, Damon.”

My gaze flickers up to his as he edges in close, his lips not two inches from mine. If I’d thought my heart had been pounding before, I was wrong; that was child’s play. It’s beating so hard right now, I swear it’s going to burst free from my chest and race right out of the closet, outing us hiding in here.

His breath fans over my face, warm and minty. I just barely resist the urge to inhale his air. He’s not at all gross, damn him.

A deep laugh reverberates through his chest. “Let the suck-up war begin.”

My eyes flare, lips pursing. “Bring it.”

Chapter 4

Damon

Breathe deeply. Focus. Frank comes at me with an elbow just like I’d taught him to do. I block and kick at his knee with my shin. He jabs, I feint with my left, strike right. Around and around the mat we go.

Frank is eighteen and has dreams of being an MMA fighter. When he came to me a few months ago, I’d suggested we start him with Muay Thai training to see just what he was capable of. I wasn’t sure if he’d stick with it, but once he got a taste for sparring, all bets were off. And the kid is good. Better than good, really. He’s going to be amazing. We go back and forth trading jabs, kicks, and elbows one for one, giving him a chance to learn to strike, then defend.

Soon, we move onto two for two and three for three so he can learn different combinations, and understand how to defend himself against whatever body part I decide to hit him with next.

To be clear, none of this is at all easy for me. Let’s face it, I’m twenty-nine and no longer have the endurance of a teenager. I just happen to have experience on my side.

There’s plenty of noise in the gym today—a bunch of rowdy men over at the weight equipment; the feet of a half-dozen runners pound off to our right on the treadmills; the constant whir of the treadmill belts never letting up for more than a few seconds as members take turns on them. There was a spin class going earlier, but that’s just stopped, thank goodness. The woman leading it, Mary, has a shrill-as-hell voice, and I’d felt my muscles tense up every time she’d shouted an instruction at her class. Speed up, spin warriors! Faster! Faster, now! Push hard! You can do it!

I shake my head and give Frank my attention again. Jab, block, jab, block, front kick, block. We circle each other. Knee, block, jab, block, cross, block. Sweat trickles down my chest.

The front door of the gym creaks loudly as it opens and the sound of several feminine voices drift to us. I glance once, catching sight of a couple women out of the corner of my eye. A few more join, and the whole group heads toward the classroom at the back where a barre class is scheduled this afternoon.

Ballerinas. I chuckle to myself, though I know I shouldn’t laugh. I know I shouldn’t. That shit is way harder than it looks.

That’s when it happens. The one voice I wasn’t expecting to invade my safe place catches my attention. Has my focus faltering. Makes me turn my head because surely it can’t be who I think it is. My arms drop to my sides, defensive stance abandoned.

And I catch a glove to my jaw.

I blink. Piper. What the hell is she doing here?

I blink again and shake my head. We’re only sparring at about fifty to sixty percent since Frank has a fight coming up, but damn, that still hurt.

“Sorry, man.” Frank stops, wincing.

“No worries, that was my fault. Give me just a second.” I shuffle on my feet, looking around the gym, trying to pinpoint where Piper is because I know that was her voice. I hear it all day long like a tiny bee buzzing in my ear. It was definitely her.

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