Page 34 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Yourfirst line of defence is to run,” he tells me, staring down at me until our eyes lock. “But if you’re cornered, it would help if you could fight your way out.”

“That’s why I have a gun,” I deadpan, pressing my palms against his chest and pushing away before I can do something stupid, like stroke him. He lets me go, the hand stroking my back coming up to his mouth as he swipes his thumb over his bottom lip.

Is he tasting my sweat?

That thought alone should have me running for the hills . . . but it causes a pulse to thread through my centre.

“Then I’m dead.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance as I rest my back against the treadmill and grab the bottle of water he offers me. The lid is already off, so I tip the contents down my throat, swallowing greedily.

“Princess,” he groans, scrubbing his palm down his face. “Death isn’t much of an option for you these days. You’re too important. So you’re going to learn real self-defence, without weapons.”

Scoffing, I ignore his “important” comment and grab the shirt I tossed on the floor earlier. The white crew neck slips off one shoulder when I put it on, but I don’t reposition it. “I am five foot two and weigh approximately 130 pounds, if I’m weaponless, then I’m dead. No amount of training is going to save me.”

“That sounds very defeatist,” he comments, his eyes narrowing as he watches me.

“Nope, it’s just a fact. Papá tried to teach me to fight. Even brought some friends in, but every single time they got the upper hand. I’m not strong enough to win.”

He watches me curiously, cocking his head for a moment before he tugs at the hem of his black shirt, pulling it over his head—so fucking slowly—and dropping it to the floor. My mouth dries at the sight of his bare chest. Tattoos cover every inch of his visible skin, the black and grey inked perfectly over his rippling muscles.

A lion on one side of his chest, a lioness on the other with swirls and designs I don’t understand—but I appreciate the artwork anyway. My eyes trace over every single line, moving downwards until I notice the eight pack he’s rocking.

A thin line of hair draws my eyes to the waistband of his joggers, my breath hitching when I take in the V at his hips. A cough from him has me snapping my head back up, my cheeks flushing when he smirks at me smugly.

“Your father wasn’t a good teacher,” he tells me, walking towards a ring in the corner of the large gym. He hops up, his back muscles straining as he jumps over the corded ring. “I can guarantee you I’m better. So, get your ass up here.”

“I’d rather not,” I mumble, my nose wrinkling when he widens his stance and stares at me with a challenging expression. Not only do I know that he can easily take me down with little more than a handshake, I’m also sure being up close and personal to him when he’s half naked is not a good idea.

The urge to climb him like a tree is far too overwhelming.

I take a slow step backwards, then another, my eyes never leaving his. There’s a flicker in his jaw as he rolls his shoulders, taking a single step over the leather mat before I spin on my heels and run. Footsteps follow me, slow and measured, while my already aching legs push me down the hall and towards the foyer.

Margo fiddles with the post at the main door, shock filling her expression when I run by. She shouts hello, but I ignore her. The need to get away from Leonardo is too high to stop and reassure her.

I’m halfway up the stairs when his heavy arm bands around my waist and tugs me into his chest. He tuts in my ear, his mouth pressing against the lobe when he speaks. “Running away isn’t very nice, Princess.”

My mouth opens, but only a squeak comes out when he spins me, his hands cupping the curves of my arsecheeks before tossing me over his shoulder. Melodic laughter follows us as he carries me back towards the gym, his hand moulded to my arse the whole way.

At least Margo is getting some joy out of this.

Traitor.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He drops me on the mat, laughter spilling from his mouth when I land with a harsh grunt. My head bounces off the leather, my vision blurring for a second before I regain my composure.

Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I scowl at him, though he only laughs more, his smile widening into a thing of pure beauty as he stares down at me. With a deep breath, I force myself to stand, mirroring his position with my legs at shoulder width and my arms hanging loose at my sides.

He tilts his head, his eyes travelling lazily over me. The intensity in his stare has me tensing while heat coils in my lower stomach travelling towards my centre. He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, leaving a glossy sheen.

With no warning, he wraps my ponytail around his hand as he pulls me towards him, my hands fly out, landing on his chest with a slap to steel myself.

He loosens his grip on my hair, his fingers tugging at the ends for a beat before he spins me, locking his arm around my neck. His breath tickles my ear as he leans down, tightening his hold on me. His lips graze my neck, sending tingles down my spine. The hair at the nape of my neck stands to attention, goosebumps travelling over my body.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out in a breathy wheeze. The grip isn’t tight enough to stop me from breathing, but it’s making it very difficult. Leonardo chuckles, his five o’clock shadow tickling my cheek when he opens his mouth.

“We’re training, Princess. You need to get out of this hold before you die.”

“You won’t really kill me.”

“Won’t I?” he murmurs.

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