Connor owned her kitchen like a rock star owned a stage-even in track pants and a plain white T-shirt. His back rippled as he shifted pans across the stove. He threw a handful of something into a pan and the contents sizzled, as if he were playing an instrument. Her mouth watered but not for food.
She'd gobble up just about anything he dished up.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Sit down."
Connor ducked his head toward the kitchen stools and she plopped onto one. Plates, cutlery, even coffee waited on the counter.
What the hell was happening? Had she stepped into an alternate universe where hot, bossy men waited on her? She picked up the coffee and took a gulp and tried not to choke on her overeager swallow. Connor carried a pan from the stove and slid two eggs onto her plate and four onto his own. She stared at the perfectly cooked eggs.
The closest she usually got to breakfast was a takeaway coffee and a muffin. If he was angling for a marriage proposal he was on the right track.
Connor returned with more pans and loaded her plate with bacon, mushrooms, and beans in a thick sauce. "Homemade baked beans. Eat up, they're good for you." He put the pan into the sink and slid onto the stool next to her.
"I'm surprised you could find what you needed to make them in my pantry."
Her plate could barely hold the food piled onto it. She glanced at his plate. He may as well have dished it up in a serving platter. He scooped up a fork of steaming beans.
"I'm resourceful. Don't be shy-you're going to need your energy for what I have planned."
Her cheeks warmed. Why was it everything he said sounded dirty? Obviously they were going to work out again. Charlie picked up her knife and fork and cut a chunk of bacon. "More kick-boxing?"
Connor chewed then gulped coffee. "Not today, just self-defense training. If you're still into that?"
"Sure."
Maybe he could pin her down a few times … just saying. She tried not to grin.
He set his cup down and gazed at her. "It'll be intense but by the end you'll be surprised at what you can do."
Charlie nodded. Apart from unrealistic expectations of kinky floor-wrestling, she looked forward to learning to kick some ass. When she'd been on the girls football team, she'd relished pushing herself that way-to the brink-feeling the hurt and delivering it too.
Not to mention, if she was actually in danger, there wasn't any harm in developing a better left hook. Better than getting taken by surprise again.
She took a small scoop of baked beans, not really her thing but hey, he'd bothered to make them and that was better than anyone else had done for her since she could remember.
Flavor exploded across her tongue. Garlic with smoky undertones and a hint of sweetness. Scratch that-she freaking loved baked beans. Her eyes shut and she chewed slowly.
"But it's the fucking you're going to need your energy for."
Her eyes flew open and she coughed up a bean. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth, her fingers shaking. "What?"
He held his fork in front of him and it kind of looked as if maybe he was going to scoop her up with it. "If you're going to eat my food like that, I'll be forced to feed you something else. So behave or the fucking will come first."
Her clothes seemed to shrink around her. Either that or her accelerating blood flow was expanding her skin. "I have work this morning."
Connor's stormy blue eyes shifted across her face-lips-eyes-lips. She had to fight the urge to touch her mouth.
Had she really just said that? Because if she didn't get the fucking presented to her just like this awesome meal, she had little confidence that she'd be capable of performing her job anytime soon.
He leaned closer. "Which is why I've already texted Lia that you're going to be running late.
She leaned into the warmth of him, drawn to the way his bottom lip glistened. Late? She'd never been late. Now she wanted to cancel the entire workday.
He straightened and returned to his breakfast. "Now eat."
Charlie studied her plate. How in the heck was she supposed to eat another bite? She'd seen this coming-hell, she'd asked for it the night before. But in the clarity of morning the idea made her heart want to crash its way out of her body.
Why should what she wanted be so completely damn terrifying?
They finished breakfast and did the dishes like a couple. He washed and she dried and put away. They made use of her mostly empty living room for training, standing barefoot in the middle of the room.
Charlie glanced at the hardwood floor. "Wouldn't this be safer on the rug?"
"We won't be doing throws today." He circled her, walking around her three times. "I'm going to show you simple techniques, and at the end I'm going to test you."
She frowned. So much for kinky floor exercises. "Like a quiz?"
"No, like a challenge. We see what you've remembered. Get you to think on your feet." He stopped in front of her. "If you pass the challenge, you win-trust me, you want to win."
Charlie folded her arms, and raised a brow. "Am I expected to beat you, Conan?"
He grinned a devilish smile that reminded her just how quickly he could make her heart race. "All you have to do is prove you were paying attention. It's not a contest, it's a challenge-a high stakes challenge."
She uncrossed her arms. "How high?"
"At the end of this I'm going to fuck you." He slinked closer in his prowling way of moving. "How I do that is up to you. Either you get to fight me off, put up your best resistance, or I own you and you do exactly as I say without hesitation. If you win, you get to choose how it happens."
Submission or force.
Whichever fantasy she wanted …
Charlie took a breath then reminded herself to breathe out. Told her hands not to shake at her sides.
"But if you fail, I'll take you how I want."
How he wants? Her body rushed with adrenaline. Part of her wanted to lose just to see which option turned him on. She wanted him rough. As crazy as that sounded, as much as it fell outside what she'd done before. But even for a fantasy this was different. This was asking out loud. This was conscious choice, deliberate.
"Where's the win for me in this, really?"
He closed the distance, made her look up at him and made her breathe in the clean scent of his body. "Because what you want, kitten. You've got to admit it."
Her tongue fumbled in her mouth, which had apparently found new saliva glands. "What if what I want is to boss you around?"
"You want to negotiate for that?" His gaze narrowed tauntingly.
Her mind flashed-his hand in her hair.
The sweet sting.
Holding her hands down.
The way his eyes had sparked knowingly when he'd seen the way it turned her on.
He knew.
"I don't have all day, Conan."
He smiled, just briefly-the only acknowledgement that she hadn't answered his question. And what that meant.
He stepped back and positioned himself two feet in front of her. "Then let's get started."
He ran her through exercise after exercise. Showed her the vulnerable places on the body to target, how to sneak a hit to the throat before an attacker saw it coming and how to break every kind of hold. More importantly, he showed her how to look around. How to stop the world from closing in and see the things around her, things she could use to protect herself.
Her muscles ached by the end but she knew she had this.
"You been paying attention, kitten?" Connor asked.
"Does it look as if I've fallen asleep?"
He grasped her wrists. "You mean like you did last night? You're going to pay for that you know. I'm still aching."
Was he? Did he ache for her?
Her insides flooded with warmth but she twisted her arms free. "So was that score one for me?"
He chuckled and laugh lines dimpled his cheeks. "Sure. Are you ready for the next one?"
She nodded and stepped from foot to foot. He had her ducking, twisting and even landing a hit to his "sensitive" place. Not that he reacted-the bastard. She was ready to savor the sweetness of victory when he caught her from behind, twisted his fist in her hair.
Breath evaporated from her chest. She almost fell to her knees, hardly caring which way this went. When did she become this girl who liked getting her hair pulled?
He laughed behind her.
Air flooded back into her lungs. She slammed her heel into his foot, her elbow into his stomach and twisted-breaking the grip on her hair. She dropped to the floor and rolled out of reach.
Connor pursued with his slow, confident swagger. "Congratulations, you did well. So what is it, baby? Are you going to fight this?" He tucked up the legs of his sweatpants and crouched in front of her. "Or are you mine?"
SEVEN
Her heart leaped into its exit strategy the same way a toddler tries to beat his way through the floor with his fists-by having a full tantrum against her ribs. Connor hovered above her sprawled body. His hungry gaze reminded her of what would come next.