"Yes, that's it," she cooed with sarcasm. "Instead of showing me how to increase my impact and speed, Fisher ties me to the heavy bag and fucks me in front of the whole dojo. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it."
He forced himself to focus on the challenge dancing in her eyes rather than hooking an arm around Fisher's neck and choking him out right there in the booth. Every time he inhaled, Molly's flowery scent floated to him.
"But if you're so desperate to prove your dick is bigger than his, I'll bring a ruler next time."
He laughed. "Better bring a yardstick for me, babe, not a puny ruler."
"I'm surprised you can get pants on over that monster-sized . . . ego."
Speaking of monster-sized. Jesus. All night he'd tried to keep his gaze off her truly spectacular tits. Something had prompted her to ditch the modest clothes she usually favored. And it made him fucking crazy to think she'd dressed differently because Fisher was here.
Needing to push her a little, Deacon lifted his hand to twine a long, shiny brown curl around his index finger. As his finger wound the spiral higher, the backs of his knuckles brushed the creamy swell of her full breast.
Molly's refusal to slap his hand away intrigued him. As did the way her pulse hammered in her throat as he touched her.
"Tell me why you need to take more classes to increase your hitting power?"
"Are you asking if I'm still afraid of my own shadow?"
"From where I'm sitting, you've made great strides in confidence and the ability to defend yourself."
She didn't look like she believed him.
"What?"
"Do you know what I did today? I helped teach a self-defense class. I stood in front of fifty girls and told them about being attacked. How I'd felt like an idiot for being oblivious to my dangerous surroundings. How I'd felt lucky that at least I hadn't been raped. Then I confessed I couldn't go outside by myself after dark for more than a month after it happened. Even if I'd forgotten something in my car, I couldn't make myself leave the safety of my apartment. A big, strong, tough guy like you doesn't have any idea how it feels to be frightened out of your fucking mind. So getting to tell those girls today that I took control of the fear by enrolling in self-defense classes made me feel ten feet tall."
Shit, he knew what was coming.
"But according to you, I'm still traumatized from that attack. I shouldn't speak out publicly about what happened to me. I shouldn't share the precautions other girls can take so they don't end up in that situation." She glared at him. "You think I'm weak. That's why I didn't ask you to teach me. Fisher has never seen me as a victim."
When she attempted to pull her head away, Deacon held tightly to the piece of hair wrapped around his finger. His gaze encompassed every inch of her face. From the fire flashing in her big brown eyes, to the wrinkle in her brow, to the heat and alcohol turning her cheeks rosy, to the pursed set of her lips.
"Let me go."
"You've had your say; now I'll have mine. I told your friends not to assume you'd want to help with the class. The reason I said that? Because you've never spoken to me or anyone else at the dojo about the attack. So I assumed it still had a hold on you. That mistake is on me and I'm sorry. But I've never ever thought you were weak-especially since you faced down your fears and have been kicking them in the teeth. Do I tell you to toughen up in my class? Yep. But I tell everyone to push harder.
"The real reason you didn't ask me to teach you? Darlin', you're afraid of this pull between us." His focus momentarily slipped to her cleavage. "The thought of being alone with me, with my hands all over you, my body in tight behind yours, my voice in your ear . . . sent you running. But here's a warning, babe: Don't think I won't chase you." Another round of shots had arrived, breaking the moment.
Molly didn't speak to him the rest of the night.
And he hadn't found the balls to ask her out for another year. A year. Talk about fucking pathetic. He might be fierce in the ring and in his classes, but he was a chickenshit when it came to man/woman personal stuff. So when Molly had skipped his kickboxing class three times, he'd seized the chance to turn their teacher-student relationship into something more. He'd loaded his portable fast bag and other training equipment and shown up at her apartment.
The look on her face when she opened the door to him? Priceless.
But then she'd tried to bar him from entering. Rather than laughing and shoving her aside, he'd asked if she really wanted to drop his class. Because the only way he'd allow her to return was to make up the hours she'd missed.