Page 19 of Rescuing Rebel

“Maybe after training?” Holy hell, what have I done?

“After training, it is.”

She’s our most advanced trainee, demonstrating skills far beyond what she openly admits. She’s holding back, and I want to know why. It would be great to push her myself, but the last thing I need is more one-on-one time with Rebel.

Before we begin self-defense training, I strategically pair her with Hank rather than myself. Sam’s warning toKeep my head in the gameruns through my mind.

I intend to do exactly that.

I try to focus on showing Daisy, my student for this session, a proper choke hold, but my eyes keep cutting to Rebel. Hank makes her laugh as they spar and tangle. They’re having too much fun, but when she trails a suggestive finger down his arm, leaning in to whisper into his ear, something snaps within me, a simmering jealousy erupting into a full boil.

She meets my stare knowingly. Oh, she’s playing with fire, that minx. The beast in me rages to reclaim those smirking lips and erase all traces of another man’s touch from her supple skin.

“That hurts.” Daisy, my sparring partner, cuts through the red haze.

My grip tightened painfully on her wrist without me realizing it. I release her, clearing my throat, ashamed of my distraction.

“My apologies. You executed that technique well.”

Fuck!

I avoid Rebel for the rest of the training session. She stirs a dangerous possessiveness in me, and my lust for her is beyond reason. If I don’t get a grip on myself, we’ll both end up burned. After training, I don’t head to the cliff to meet her as promised.

Instead, I stay late into the afternoon, long after my team leaves, pretending to work, trying in vain to steer my thoughts from Rebel.

Desperately hoping she’ll circle back around this way.

I stare blindly at training reports, pen poised in mid-air, my thoughts far from tracking the progress of the women we train.

The memory of Rebel’s touch haunts me—her soft curves gliding beneath my palms, her silken hair sliding between my fingers, and her lavender scent flooding my senses.

The woman drives me wild.

I shift in my seat as desire tightens my body, almost painful in its intensity. I can’t keep thinking this way. I flip the page in my notebook, and a folded note flutters to the ground. My pulse spikes when I read the hastily scrawled text.

Meet me at the trailhead down to the beach at sunset.

Bring condoms.

~Rebel

My hand shakesas I read Rebel’s note for the tenth, twentieth, and thirtieth time. I should throw it away. Toss it in the trash.

I should walk away.

Instead, I bring it to my nose and sniff to see if any trace of her perfume lingers. It does, and a low groan escapes me. This woman… I can’t explain her effect on me.

Animalistic hunger tangles with visceral want, turning me into a prowling beast. I pace the courtyard, arguing with myself as the sun dips toward the horizon. The day’s heat disappears, swept eastward by the prevailing winds coming off the ocean, but my blood boils with raw, carnal desire.

This is reckless.

Dangerous.

My thoughts of her are madness.

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I find myself striding toward the cliffs, my pace quickening the closer I get. Marching like a fool toward disaster. Running to my doom.

Racing toward Rebel.

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