I didn’t care if she knew it, not when she was looking at me like that, not when an ember of hope still flickered in my chest that I might still have a chance to rebuild what I’d thought I’d lost forever. Hell, I didn’t even care if she was with Spade too, because she fucking completed me, and I’d do anything to make it so that smile never left her face again.
“You should’ve kicked his ass, instead of using that taser,” I grumbled, leaning back against the door frame. She cocked a brow in question, but her smile didn’t falter as she waited for me to continue.
It was true, I had watched that clip countless times. And despite not knowing the truth yet, I’d hated myself for letting her walk out that door, and I’d despised myself even more for the danger she’d been put in just outside while I threw a tantrum like a teenager with a broken heart.
I was beyond thankful Spade had been there and that she hadn’t been alone facing the creep. And more so that Spade had killed the fucker afterward. But I noticed how she’d relied on that taser. Yes, the satisfaction and pleasure she’d taken in bringing the piece of shit to his knees was fucking hot. But I’d taught her how to fight. Had she really fallen that out of practice that she hadn’t been able to do that on her own?
“I did watch the tape, little devil,” I internally cursed myself at the familiar nickname, unsure how she’d react to it now, but her grin only seemed to grow. “But what I didn’t see was the moves I taught you.”
I gritted my teeth as her smile faltered, hating myself for reminding her of what happened to make her fall out of practice, to lose that confidence to bring the man down with her own two hands.
“Kellan told me you want to be a part of this,” I said calmly, and her lips parted in response, brows creasing with an argument clearly poised on the tip of her tongue. “I agree, this is as much your fight as it is ours. But if you’re going to be in this I have to make sure you can still defend yourself.”
“I can,” she protested, slamming her coffee cup down on the table, the dark liquid spilling over the side and onto the light wooden table. The same one that had been in the firehouse, the furniture I’d stolen just because it had reminded me of her and that first day we discovered our home away from home.
“Then I have no intention of keeping you from this, but I have to be sure,” I growled, my lips pressing into a hard line as I stubbornly dug my feet in. But that look—the still healing bruise caused me to pause, and I pushed down the small part of me that was still hesitant to put myself out there again, knowing she deserved to hear the reason why. “I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt or worse and I could’ve done something to stop it.”
The anger fled her expression at that, her face softening as she scanned me over, taking in the loose shirt and sweatpants that barely clung to my hips. I couldn’t have her looking at me like that, not yet, not when I needed to ensure her safety first—not when I still hated myself for believing her lie.
So I turned away from her, my fists clenching at my sides as I fought back the urge to pull her to me, to see if those sensuous lips still tasted the same.
“The basement in twenty minutes,” I called back over my shoulder as I strode for the stairs already, needing to work off some steam on my punching bag before our training. Because right now I was about ready to hop in the car and drive straight to Tommaso’s place and put him in an early grave for stealing the last six years from me and the woman I never stopped loving.
Chapter twenty-three
Giana
Now
“Youkickhisass,sugar,” Spade murmured, his lips so close to mine I could smell the bitter coffee from earlier still lingering on his breath.
“Oh, I will.” I grinned conspiratorially, unable to keep the smile from my face after last night.
Spade’s own grin widened to match mine, his arm circling around my waist to pull me against him where we stood next to the basement door. A shiver of desire ran over my body as his mouth closed on mine, devouring me just as he’d done last night. Anticipation hummed through me, my body remembering the pleasure he’d wrung from it, already craving a replay despite how many times he’d taken me around that department store. One of my favorites was up against the glass display cases housing jewelry with tens of thousands of dollars. He’d thrust into me from behind, my breasts pressed against the cool glass as he’d bent me over it, our bodies rocking together as one.
“So fucking sweet,” he murmured, pulling away reluctantly. He stared down at me, his eyes far off and distant as though this kiss had been a drug fogging his mind.
But awareness sharpened his gaze at the sound of fists slapping the punching bag just below us. Spade huffed out a breath of amusement and leaned against the open basement door, lazily perusing every inch of my body in the black skin-tight leggings and bright neon-pink crop top I’d hurriedly changed into after eating breakfast—not wanting Merrick to add any extra exercises to my warm up as punishment for being late.
“Come find me after.” He winked, his hand sliding down to squeeze my ass. He jumped away as my hand raised to smack him, my palm swiping through the air as he was already striding back down the hall to the kitchen, whistling to an upbeat tune.
“Yeah, I’ll find you,” I grumbled, turning back toward the stairs and ignoring his amused chuckle that echoed down the hall.
I pulled in a deep breath, gathering my strength. My thoughts went back to the comment Merrick made in the kitchen. It was easy to be around Spade, there wasn’t a lifetime’s worth of history between us. But with Kellan and Merrick, they knew more, like how he’d noticed I hadn’t been comfortable defending myself without the taser.
My running shoes slapped against the wooden stairs as I made my way down, the smack of Merrick’s fists against the bag echoing around the wide-open space. But my steps slowed as I took in his massive form working the punching bag. He must’ve come straight down here since a thin sheen of sweat coated his muscles as they bunched, readying for his next strike.
I couldn’t help but be drawn to him, my mind working to reconcile his body compared to when I’d last seen it. He was muscular and defined; his strength honed from the years of training he’d had.
He still moved the same though, his jabs and strikes silent and deadly despite the brute force he was unleashing.
I took another step, watching him intently, but the stair squeaked beneath my foot. His eyes widened as he took me in, his gaze catching on the tight sports bra that stretched across my breasts.
“Grab some gloves,” he said, clearing his throat before he strolled over to a cart. There were supplies lined up on it including bottles of water, some tape, and a few pairs of gloves.
My eyes lit up when I spotted a pair that looked to be my size, in almost the same neon pink as my top.
“You got me my own pair already?” I asked, my smile beaming as I plucked them from the top of the pile.