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The punch connected before Elliot could slip it, the burst of pain in her cheekbone going farther to wake her up than the black coffee she’d had half an hour ago. Good. Restless night or not, she should be awake enough to avoid Dain’s strike. She’d trained her team from the beginning not to pull their punches with her—she could take anything they dished out, often allowing a hit if it meant getting inside her opponent’s guard—and the swelling on her face would remind her to keep her head in the ring and on her opponent.
Normally a reminder wasn’t needed. She fought more fiercely than any of the men. This morning, though...
“Where’s your head, Otter?” Saint growled from the sidelines.
Thanks for pointing out my mistake, dickhead.
“Right here.” Before the last word was finished, she swept her foot toward Dain’s front leg. He shifted around, avoiding her sweep but not the elbow to his ribs—or the back fist to his face, right on his prominent cheekbone.
Dain cursed around the mouthguard protecting his teeth.
“Payback is such a bitch, isn’t it?” she asked, shifting on the balls of her feet as she waited for Dain’s retaliation. The man knew his stuff too—he didn’t bother replying with words. A flurry of punches and kicks flew at her. Dain’s size meant he could overpower her if she let him drive her back to the edge of the ring, but she held her ground, blocking his fists and going low to grab a leg as it came up for a kick.
Dain landed on his ass.
“Nice one.”
Deacon’s voice jerked her attention to the side just in time for Dain to grab her ankle. Next thing she knew, she was in the air. Instinct made her drop to her ass as best she could and curl her back, minimizing the impact and keeping her head from slamming into the mat.
Dain was laughing, splayed out on his back. He knew what had happened—she’d let herself get distracted. By a fucking man. Embarrassment added heat to her cheeks and spark to her fighting instinct. Scissoring her legs, she flipped to her side and grabbed Dain’s head between her knees. When she squeezed down, he choked on his laughter.
“Gotta pay attention, right, Boss?”
The rich sound of Deacon’s laughter behind her mixed with Saint’s and sent an unfamiliar flutter through her belly. She released Dain’s head in favor of facing this new opponent on her feet.
Why she thought of her attraction to Deacon as an enemy, she didn’t know, but it was.
She turned to exit the makeshift boxing ring Deacon had set up in his home gym. The place was bigger than some official gyms she’d been in, taking up the whole top floor of the three-car garage attached to the back of the house. In addition to the ring, there was an area covered in mats for wrestling or jujitsu, a treadmill and elliptical machine, weights, and a rowing machine Deacon was currently walking toward. She told herself not to stare at the man’s ass in his slick jogging shorts, but damn... Staring wasn’t optional when a man’s backside looked like that. Her fingers curled as if gripping the firm slopes of each cheek, startling her. She’d never thought of herself as particularly sexual or having the same kind of cravings as other women; she was around sexy men every day and night, and she’d never fantasized about fucking them. They were more like brothers, comrades, friends. Deacon was...an aberration, apparently, one she seriously needed to get a handle on.
She grabbed her water bottle from the bench against the wall, trying to look like she wasn’t eyeing Deacon’s bulging muscles as he rowed. And failing miserably, if the side eye she was getting from both Saint and Dain was any indication.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
As images of just that rose behind her clenched eyelids, she realized she needed to find a new favorite word, damn it.
She snatched her towel from the bench. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”
“Library, one hour,” Dain called after her as she stalked toward the stairs. She raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back. That would be a disaster, because she felt Deacon’s hot stare on her back, and seeing it, knowing what she felt was, in fact, happening would only drag out this stupid infatuation even farther.
If infatuation was even the right word. Strong attraction, maybe. Very strong. And stupid, don’t forget stupid. She’d known the man all of four days, for fuck’s sake.
But that kiss...
Don’t think about kissing, Ell. Just don’t. A cold shower—that’s what she should focus on.
The shower helped...some. She spent a good bit of the time pushing away thoughts of Deacon coming through the connecting door while she was naked. Running the towel across her wet skin, she realized how sensitized it was, how her nipples stood out—and not from the cold. Her lower belly felt warm, heavy. Empty. When she pressed her palm against it, the muscles clenched, grasping on nothing and yet making her far too aware of what it would feel like to clench on something.
No, this was not good at all.
A shudder went through her, part unbearable arousal, part revulsion. The only time she’d allowed herself to pursue a man, to give in to desire, it had been a pale shadow of this hunger. She’d been a teen, barely sixteen. Dating had been forbidden in the general’s compound, but teens being teens, there’d been plenty of sneaking around. Elliot had done it only once, with a boy a year older than her. Josh. A clumsy fumbling encounter in a closet had divested her of her virginity, though not of her ignorance when it came to the opposite sex. When General Ingram discovered them, he’d locked her in solitary for a week. She’d emerged, embarrassed and still angry, only to find Josh was no longer in the compound.
She’d never heard what happened to him. And she’d never allowed herself to think about another man the way her teenage self had thought about Josh. No illusions, no fantasizing, and definitely no sex. Her attraction to Deacon didn’t seem like it would comply with the rules she’d laid out for herself.
It had to stop. And if her body wouldn’t listen to her, she knew just who it would listen to. The only man she’d ever willingly followed orders from.
Dain was alone in the library when she arrived, fifteen minutes ahead of the daily briefing. He glanced up at her entry, his hair still wet from his own shower. Elliot watched the greeting on his lips die as she locked the library door behind herself.
“What’s wrong?”
She crossed the room to the table where he sat, holding her breath the whole way. All it did was make her light-headed; no answers appeared in the ten seconds her steps took. “Dain...”
Those dark brown eyes had seemed menacing when she hadn’t known him. Added to the thick Mohawk that striped his head, the light brown skin, and the hawkish features, Dain was an intimidating man, but he’d never intimidated her. This was the man who’d found her when she was lost and given her a place to belong. She opened her mouth, not completely sure what would come out.
“I have a problem.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I don’t?” Dain knew her better than anyone. If he said she didn’t have a problem, maybe she was hiding it better than she’d thought.
“No. You don’t have problems, do you, Otter?”
I never have before.
“This is definitely a problem,” she argued.
“With Deacon?”
How did he know that? “Fuck.”
Dain laughed.
She punched him in the arm, cutting off his laughter but not his amusement. “Don’t make fun of me, asshole.”
He raised his hands in defense. “I’m not making fun, I promise.” He grinned. “I’m just relieved.”
“Relieved?” What was there to be relieved about? And why wasn’t he helping her? She needed help, not encouragement—that was the road to hell, one she wouldn’t allow herself to take.
“Relieved.” Dain’s stare felt like a microscope searching out her innermost secrets. Or maybe a spotlight. He was revealing things she really didn’t want revealed, even to herself.
Seeming oblivious to her turmoil, Dain slid back in his seat—just out of punching range, she noticed—and continued. “I was beginning to wonder if you even had a libido. Figured it was all channeled into extreme aggression.” He shrugged. “I’m a bit relieved to realize you’re normal.”
“I’m...” She sputtered for a moment, not sure how to react, then settled on a growl. Dain rolled back in his chair, clutching his belly as laughter spilled out.
“Only you would take being normal as an insult, little Otter.”
The truth slapped her hard. “I— No, it’s not an insult.” Was it? Maybe she’d taken a bit more pride in being different than she’d realized. Her identity had been tied up in being a kick-ass female for so long. “I didn’t— I—”
Dain stood then, moving toward her. She felt the hug coming, felt the instinct to shrink back, but she clamped down on her muscles, refusing the urge. Dain’s arms came around her shoulders, and when he tugged her out of her seat, she let her hands settle on his chest. No zing, nothing sexual, just warm comfort. It was at once odd and familiar—confusing—but she let it happen anyway.
Dain held her for no more than a moment before stepping back to pin her with the intensity of his stare. “Yes, you’re normal. You always have been. Normal doesn’t mean all the same. You may feel even more out of the loop because of your background, but that doesn’t negate your normalcy; you’re human.”
She nodded, at a loss for words.
Dain plowed right on like he hadn’t just thrown a bomb in her mental playground. He sat, gesturing her back into her own. “So...Deacon.”
“Deacon.” Her closed throat strangled the name.
“That’s not a problem, Elliot. That’s natural.”
“Not for me, it isn’t.”
“Apparently you’re wrong.”
His grin made her want to punch him again, hug or not. That frustration mixed with the emotions already churning in her chest, forming a compound she was pretty sure would cause a big fucking mess when it exploded in her face. “You’re not supposed to make this okay, Dain. You’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong, shut that shit down, fix whatever’s wrong with me before I make a mistake on the job and put everyone in harm’s way because I can’t keep my hormones under control!” The words were hard and ragged, but she couldn’t hold them back.
And yet Dain was shaking his head like she was a not too bright child. “There’s nothing wrong with you other than the fact that you are completely clueless—about this, anyway.” He reached over to grip her forearm tight. “If there was any question in my mind that you of all people would ever actually lose control and put your team or your charge in danger, you wouldn’t be working with me.”
She dropped her gaze to his grip, the only thing keeping her from breaking apart. “So I can, what? Flirt? Make goo-goo eyes at the client when I should be keeping my focus on Sydney?” She couldn’t keep her irritation hidden. Dain’s amusement made her want to kick him. But that grip—she didn’t want him to let go.
“Have you been doing that?” he asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve done fine despite the obviously mutual attraction between you.”
“‘Obviously mutual’?”
Dain quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’m male. I can see his reaction to you, Elliot. Yours took a little longer, but it’s definitely there.”
Great. Having this conversation was bad enough. She really didn’t need to know Dain could tell what she felt. Really. It was a bit like being stripped naked; she preferred her naked privately.
Dain’s smirking didn’t help. Her cheeks went supernova hot. “Damn man.”
“Elliot...” His smile faded, became tinged with worry as he stared at her. That look made her wish she really was normal like he’d said. “Stop being so hard on yourself. And stop worrying. I don’t. As long as you’re not fucking on duty—which I’d never doubt—you aren’t doing anything wrong.”
That wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was going to happen; she wouldn’t allow it to.
So why did that not make her feel any better?
“Stop. Worrying, little Otter.” Dain’s hand came up. She knew from the trajectory that the bastard was going to pat her head. The block was instinctive, as was the lunge out of her chair. She hated having her head patted, and he knew it, damn him.
Dain laughed when she growled at him. “Go unlock the door.” He waited until she was halfway across the room to add, “And Elliot? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That covers pretty much everything,” she muttered, reaching for the doorknob.
“Yep, pretty much.”
She was still shaking her head when she opened the door.