Page 44 of 1 Last Shot

I don’t stop thinking about his offer for the rest of the day. The only thing that puts a pause on my obsessing is walking out of my apartment the next morning to find a gift bag on my doormat.

Confused, I reach down to pick it up. There’s no tissue paper, or note, or anything else that you’d normally find in a gift bag, so I peek inside to figure out what it is and who might have left it.

As soon as I see what’s inside, a smile stretches across my face, so wide it almost hurts. I’ve received plenty of gorgeous, expensive gifts in my life, but none as thoughtful as this one. And knowing someone thought of me, that they deliberately went out to buy something that would make my life even a little bit easier, fills my chest with an overwhelming sense of happiness.

I put the pepper spray in my purse and leave to start my day, my steps lighter than they’ve felt in a long time.

* * *

When I walk into the gym, I'm surprised to find it empty.

I'm not sure what I pictured when Kane offered his gym as the location for our lesson, but I realize I never considered it would just be the two of us when I accepted. Not because I'm scared of him, but because I've never seen the gym anything less than filled with sweaty, grunting people.

I'm just about to call out his name when I hear the sounds of fists hitting a heavy bag in the other room.

I follow the sounds to the door at the end of the mat. When I hesitantly push it open, I come face to face with a very shirtless, and very sweaty, Kane.

I'm just as mesmerized by the sight as I was the first time I saw him.

For a moment, it's all I can do to stare at him. To watch as his muscles ripple with every punch, as his sweat shines over every fine inch of him. He’s two hundred pounds of perfect,malespecimen, and I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

It’s also the first time I can take my time admiring his appearance. I’ve been wanting to ask him about his tattoos, simply because he has somany, but since they're visible to me right now, I let my gaze drop over his body.

All of his ink is black. One of his arms is covered in a full sleeve, some kind of cohesive image from chest to hand that features a detailed dragon in the center of it. His chest and stomach are a mix of images and what look like quotes, and he even has a tattoo of an olive branch at the base of his throat. I can’t see his back from here, but I know he’s got a full back tattoo that stretches into whatever the tree is that’s on his ribs. The only part of him that’s not tattooed is his legs.

I have no idea how long I salivate over the sight of Kane: maybe a second, maybe a thousand. But when his gaze eventually meets mine, it still doesn’t feel like long enough.

"I didn't hear you come in," he says, his tone apologetic. He wipes the sweat from his eyes with his boxing glove. "Come in. I'm just finishing up."

When I finally force myself down the stairs, I see him striding toward his gym bag and grabbing a towel from it. He hurriedly runs it all over his arms and chest. Then he's reaching for an extra t-shirt, and I realize I'm disappointed when he pulls it over his head.

"I got a little carried away with my workout," he admits sheepishly. "I wasn't planning on being sweaty for our lesson."

I force down the urge to let my ridiculous crush turn me into a drooling idiot. "It's okay," I rush out. "I'm an athlete too, I'm not scared of sweat."

My comment causes his eyebrow to rise, and for his gaze to slide over my body.

"Trust me, I know," he says in an absentminded murmur.

And just like that, heat lights in my body and I can’t stand still.This may have been a risky idea.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get started.”

Definitely a risky idea.

I make my way down the steps to the mat area, trying desperately to not give away how excited I am about spending time physically close to Kane. Dropping my bag on one of the chairs, I toe my shoes off and step onto the mat.

“So, the biggest part of self-defense is awareness,” Kane starts, taking up his place in front of me. There’s still plenty of space between us, but you’d never know it based on how my body is vibrating from his proximity. “That’s why no headphones in, no walking down bad streets, and you need to have eyes and ears open regardless of where you’re walking.”

I nod, knowing all of this is common sense but also remembering that I was lost in my thoughts—of Kane, ironically—when I was attacked. I don’t tell him that, though.

“Even if someone is already in front of you, awareness also means beingawareof their body language, how close they are, what their intentions might be. So even if I’m just standing in front of you talking, you have to be aware of what Ilooklike. Am I staring at you? Do I look agitated? Does it look like I want to be closer to you?”

God, I hope so.

I can’t bring myself to speak. I just stare at Kane, silently begging for all of that to be true. Even the memory of Kane pressing against my body has my breath coming quickly, and I know if he comes closer to me right now, the lesson is going out the window because I’m not pushing back.

“So, when I start to crowd you,” he continues, his voice low, “you’re already ready for it. Ready to react.” He takes a step closer, and then another.

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