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“Eyes on me, Ro.”

The grind in his voice, the gravelly sound, had me following his order, and when I found his blue eyes, they blazed with fire. Something licked in my gut. An odd mix of ire and irrational desire. I drew my lips together. “You always wanted my eyes on you.”

We were so close now Brody was almost trapped against the ropes. “And you were always happy to oblige.” He threw me a lopsided smile.

Damn, I hated it when he was right. I quickly delivered three jabs, stepping into him, driving him back, the thwack of leather hitting leather. As I unleashed a fourth, he grinned and dropped his catching pads to the floor. Brody wrapped a hand around my redundant wrist. At the gentle pressure, my temper flared, and I drew my other arm back for one final blow, catching pad or not. I didn’t connect, though. In a move faster than The Flash could manage, Brody caught my other wrist, stopping my glove in front of his face.

“So violent, Rowena. So much pent-up aggression.” His voice was lower. Even more gravelly than before. Guttural. But there was no threat on his face. He enjoyed goading me. I bit my lip hard, and his eyes flashed before he brought my gloved hand down and twisted us both around, pressingmeagainst the ropes, one hand behind my back and my chest hard against his.

I sucked in oxygen. I was pinned against his solid pecs. Our bodies fit together perfectly. An ache filled my ribs.

“I told you to breathe.” His words were at my ear, his voice playful, low, and lilting.

Unable to resist, I lifted my chin. I was greeted by his unreasonably high cheekbones, a hint of stubble, and the slight cleft in his jaw. I wanted to kiss it. Wanted to kiss all of him. Taste him again. Nobody had a right to be this handsome or make my heart hammer so hard.

Our lips hovered inches away, and a sudden urge to close the gap gripped me. To stand on my tiptoes and bring my mouth to his. Blood screamed in my ears at the thought, and I parted my lips. Brody saw the movement, and his eyes darkened as if someone had pulled a hood over them.

As we stood there against the ropes, hearts beating together, quick breaths matching each other, he stared hard at my lips. Finally, he spoke, his breath grazing against the skin of my cheek.

“Ro. About that night…”

I swear my heart did a round of double dutch as his eyes met mine.

“It’s just that…”

Before he could finish, a door slammed somewhere behind us. A rough voice filled the heated air. “Okay, kids. Playtime’s over.” I let out a shuddering breath. Odd Duck was the nicest MMA fighter in the country.

Brody didn’t flinch, though. Didn’t move a muscle. He still had his gaze locked onto mine. My body screamed to be closer to his. My brain screamed to know what he’d been about to say. Was he about to say it should never have happened? He’d be right. But pressed up against him now, I’d give anything for a repeat performance.

“I need to shut the place up.” Odd Duck’s voice was more insistent now, more pressing. He strolled into my field of vision, hands on hips and wagging his head slowly. “Look, I don’t know what sort of kinky shit I’ve walked in on, but I have to close up. I’ve got a date.”

Brody’s eyebrow cocked. “Not with you, I hope, Small Fry,” he murmured.

I bit my lip and shook my head. With a hint of a smile, Brody relaxed his grip, and I stepped away, my brain spinning.

“Then I’ll get you home. I think one of us has punched above our weight tonight, anyway.”

With a flourish like a royal courtier, he held the ropes open for me to exit. As I leaned down to step through the gap, he gave me his big, sexy, damn irritating Brody Flockhart grin, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant him or me?

11

RO

After a restless night, my crochet still refused to behave or come together in any semblance of owl-ness. With a tut, I pulled at the yarn more vigorously than necessary. My entire body ached.

I’d woken at dawn with my sheets wrapped around my legs as if I’d been tossed around in a dryer of delicious anguish. While the pale morning light had crept through my window, I’d run through scenarios in my head. Outlined what could have happened had Odd Duck not interrupted Brody’s and my spontaneous bout in the ring. None had ended with a happily ever after.

I now sat on my bed with unpicked orange yarn spread over my legs. I hadn’t yet left my room in case I ran into Brody. Facing him wasn’t something I wanted to risk. Not until I’d settled my brain and traitorous body into a calmer state. One that ran less chance of me making a total fool of myself.

The door to my room thumped open, hitting the wall.

“Do we need to write an obituary?” Eve erupted into my room, all candy floss hair and sparkly hair clips. “I assume it was a mercy killing.” She gestured to the carnage in my lap.

I scoffed. “It was supposed to be an owl, but it looked more like a hand grenade.”

She slipped her bag from her shoulder and plopped down on the patchwork quilt. The sun streamed in through my curtains casting her in vivid technicolor. “What’s got you so annoyed?”

I threw her an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”