Page 63 of Allure

“No, why?”

“I figure it would be better to type up what you plan on demonstrating to show to Sensei.”

“Oh, right.”

“Be right back.”

He leaves, and I sit cross-legged on the mat, trying to ignore the fact that I can still smell Declan. I rub my face and realize even my hands smell like him. Closing my eyes, I inhale, breathing him in. I don’t know how it happened or why, but I’ve missed this, missed working with him one-on-one, and it almost seems like we really have crossed a hurdle.

Like we could be friends if I let us.

Hell, we might even be able to be more than friends if I wasn’t standing in the way.

But I can’t allow that to happen. I’m too damaged, and Declan isn’t the ass I thought he was at first. He deserves a girl who can completely open herself up to him, not just her legs, but her heart and her soul.

I can’t bare my soul to anyone, or else they’ll see me for what I truly am.

I’m not a bully, but I’m a monster just the same. The things I’ve done…

Declan returns with his laptop, and I start to type, but considering I don’t know the names of all the moves, Declan ends up taking the laptop back, and we’re done so much quicker that way.

“That everything?” he asks.

I read over his shoulder. I'm squatting just behind him, and I place a hand on his right shoulder.

“Yes, that’s everything,” I say, and then I slip my arm over to choke him.

He playfully whips me over his shoulder, away from his laptop somehow, and he jumps on top of me, grabbing my wrists and pinning me into place.

I so badly want to lift my chin, to kiss him, and I even do lift my chin, but I also feign struggling to free my wrists as I worm out a leg, trying to gain half guard, but he slides his lower half over to trap me entirely again, his entire body pressed against mine, and I’m trying so hard to not pay attention to a certain part of his anatomy. I refuse to try to feel if he’s growing hard, but there’s no doubting that I’m growing wetter by the second.

“Never start a fight you aren’t willing to finish,” Declan says softly.

“Oh, this isn’t fighting,” I assure him. “If I was fighting you, it would be much dirtier.”

His eyes glitter as he smirks. “Go ahead. Talk dirty to me.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Get off me, you perv.”

Is it my imagination, or did a flicker of hurt flash in his light brown eyes? I don’t know because if it was there in the first place, it was gone in seconds, and he releases his hold on me and straightens, holding out his hand to help me up.

Figuring there’s no harm in accepting his aid, I slip my hand into his. He guides me to my feet and then squeezes my hand before releasing it.

I swallow hard, not wanting to acknowledge that there is still unresolved sexual tension between us even though we already had sex. What the hell? I don’t have time to worry about all that. Sex and boys and dating… that’s something a normal girl worries about, and I am anything but normal.

We head off the mat when Declan abruptly stops. Without turning to look at me, he murmurs, “Do I make you uncomfortable, Brooke? If I do, I don’t mean to.”

“You don’t now.”

“So I did at some point?” He faces me, his expression blank for the most part.

But his eyes? He looks tortured.

Now that is unexpected.

“Come on, man. You bullied me from the first time we met. You judged me, what, based on my looks? Couldn’t stop talking about my ass, having your friends gang up on me too…”

“So dinner… and dessert… didn’t make up for all of that?”

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