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She couldn’t help it—her teeth went to her bottom lip. The breath she drew was audible and shaky, and she knew every Devil in this room instantly picked up on it. Filthy thoughts flooded her mind, and she was too lost in them to feel embarrassed by any whimpering that slipped out, or by any of the faces she was making.

The sound that rose from deep in Darien’s chest was a cross between a sigh and a growl. “Alright, I can’t do this, you’re going to have to leave.” He waved a hand at the guys and barked, “Get out of here, unless you’d like to watch.”

While Jack and Tanner promptly gathered their things, Travis stayed seated and continued to stare, mouth stretched into a wide grin. “I like to watch, if you know what I mean.”

All four of them burst into laughter that bounced against the walls and low ceiling. Loren felt her face turn red as Tanner grabbed Travis by the back of his collar, dragging him to his feet and out of the room.

As soon as they were alone, Darien looked up at her again. He finished taking off her second shoe, set it on the mat, and stood, hand trailing off the arch of her foot. Without the added height from her heels, he loomed over her, intimidating as ever.

She idly smoothed her skirt, palms warm and sweaty, mouth drier than a desert. “What are we doing?”

“I’m going to teach you how to throw a punch.” He grabbed her by the chin and kissed her hard on the mouth. When he broke the kiss, he kept his face close to hers, hand still grasping her chin. She could feel his breath on her lips when he growled, “And then you’re going to make a mess on my cock. How does that sound?”

“Good.” The word wobbled on her tongue.

Darien stepped back several paces and held up his hands, palms facing her. “Take a swing at me.”

She glanced about. “Shouldn’t we use that punching thing?”

He gave her a look of exaggerated disappointment. “Loren, baby, come on, that punching thing is for hard hitting.” He beckoned her forward with a crook of his index finger. She took a step closer, mat dipping under her feet. The air electrified the closer they got to each other. Loren imagined that if it were possible to see sexual chemistry, there would be a full-blown storm between them. “We’re going to start slow. I think I can handle your little knuckle bumps until we get into the real deal.”

“I’ll show you hard hitting,” she grumbled. That made him smile.

She wound her arm back and struck his open palm. When the thud of flesh connecting with flesh was barely audible, she realized how lightly she’d hit him. When she tried to pull her fist back, his fingers closed around it, holding firm.

“Lorennnn,” he tsked, shaking his head. He pointed at her fist that was still clutched in his hand. “This is all wrong. This isn’t how you break someone’s jaw, it’s how you break your thumb.”

She blinked up at him. “You really think I can break someone’s jaw?”

“Sure I do. You just haven’t been taught how.”

“Me? Break a jaw?” She yanked her fist out of his hand and flexed her right arm in the air, looking pointedly at the lack of muscle there, feeble as a noodle. “With these bad boys?”

He barked a deep laugh that echoed, the attractive sound filling the basement. “You’re adorable.” He snatched her hand back into his and moved her fingers around, gently bending them this way and that, until they were forming a fist that satisfied him. He held up his hands again and stepped back a pace. “Try again.”

She rushed forward and struck his right palm.

“Better, but you don’t need to leap like a frog every time you punch, Rookie. What am I, a lily pad?”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Grinning, he backed away again and dipped his chin in a prompting nod. “Again.”

The lesson continued for about ten minutes, and by the time they were done, she was out of breath, her knuckles red and stinging. She wasn’t even hitting that hard. Clearly, it would take a lot of practice before breaking a jaw became a possibility. She still thought Darien was wrong about that.

When she was on her last hit, Darien’s fingers closed around her fist, holding her still. The look on his face could only be described as devilish, a handsome smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

He abruptly let go and bent down, just low enough that he could grab her around the backs of her thighs. She gasped as he hoisted her up, hooking her legs around his waist. The dimple in his cheek was showing off as he smiled up at her.

“You are a bully,” she teased, lowering her mouth to his, grazing but not kissing. She dragged her nails up his back, feeling the chiseled muscle beneath his smooth skin.

“And you’re a brat.” His hands were now cupping her bottom, fingers digging into her flesh. “You know what I do to brats like you?”

She greedily ran her tongue across his lower lip. “Show me.”

Holding onto her with that same strong grip that never faltered, no matter how long he carried her for, he pushed her up against the wall, pinning her to it with his hips. She could feel his erection pressing between her legs, hard and demanding. The need to be closer to him swallowed her whole, and her heart began to race, her insides clenching tight. She grinded on his length, desperate for any bit of friction she could get.

“Fuck, you’re bad,” he panted through his teeth. His lips slammed against hers. He rubbed his cock into her clit, the wall digging into her back. Her skirt bunched up, exposing her ass to the cold surface. The temperature raised a chill on her skin, the heat from his hands making it feel even colder. Just as she was whimpering into his mouth, he was groaning into hers. “You drive me crazy,” he mumbled against her lips.