Page 30 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

R J turns to me as we pull out of the neighborhood. “You’re going to have to be my eyes. I’ll drive. You look for a tail.”

“How do I look for a tail?”

“Pay attention to each car around us. The longer they stay nearby, the more likely they’re tailing us. And they can be in front of us, not just behind.”

“I can do that,” I say, grateful yet again to have a task. But in the dark, nearly all the cars look the same. “Maybe I should drive,” I mutter.

“You’re better at seeing details and danger.”

“I’m not so sure about that. My brain feels like it’s made of static.”

The cat in the duffel bag chooses this moment to yowl, his paws scrabbling at the zipper.

“It’s okay, Fluffington,” I say. “Trust me, this was the better option, as uncomfortable as it is.”

The bag continues to twitch, and I shoot RJ a panicked look. “Can cats open zippers?”

“No idea.”

“What would a panicked cat loose in a car do?”

“Nothing good.”

“Shit.”

A car tucks in front of us, and I’m pretty sure I saw it a block ago, too. “Watch that one,” I say, pointing.

“Got it.”

“Where are we heading?”

His lips twist in the shadows. “The dojo. It’s a place we’d go this time of night, and a duffel bag wouldn’t be a weird addition. The backpacks are odd, but we’re students.”

“A study slash fight session? In the middle of winter break?”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just normal enough to not set off any alarms. The goal is to get away, not to create a sustainable lie.”

I nod, watching the car that somehow keeps turning the same way we are, only before we do. It’s like we’re following them instead of the opposite.

We pull into the parking lot, the cat making enough of a ruckus that it’ll look like we’re hauling a sea creature if anyone looks closely.

“Act normal,” RJ says, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or himself.

“I’ll take the cat,” I say.

“No. It’s more natural for me to have the duffel. Just stay close. We can stay here for a bit; make it look like we’re going to spar. Maybe they’ll get bored enough for us to slip out the back.”

The car we followed here is parked a ways down the street, lights off, almost blending in with the night. But now that I’ve seen it, I can’t miss it.

Is it the same tail that’s been taking pictures? Or a different creep? I never expected to have a surfeit of creeps snapping photos of me, but I guess that’s life now.

Or at least, that’s what it was. Now, though?

Who knows?

RJ leads us to the front door, his hands shaking as he gets his key in the lock, the space dark and quiet. Until the cat throws a full on fit in the bag, then RJ can hardly keep it on his shoulder as we stumble into the room.

“Damn it, cat, I’m not trying to hurt you,” he grumbles, setting the bag carefully by the mats as I set my backpack next to the wiggling duffel.

“What now?”

RJ flicks on the lights, and even though he says nothing, I know he’s saying goodbye. It’ll probably be the only goodbye he gets. Then he turns, dropping his backpack next to mine and unzipping his coat.

“Now we spar. In an hour, we’ll sneak out the back door and walk to the house.”

“I can get behind this plan,” I say, my nervous energy needing an outlet more than anything. This will help.

We both strip down to our street clothes, and I hope whoever is out there doesn’t realize how strange that is. RJ grabs some pads, and I meet him in the middle of the mats.

My first few strikes are sloppy enough that even I can tell they’re shit, but after a few corrections, my body remembers what it’s been learning, and soon, sweat collects against my skin.

“Switch?” I ask.

“Sure. Make sure you keep your knees bent and let your arms break with my hits.”

His hits have more power than I expect, and I’m reminded again that while I know this man intimately, there are years of his life that I still know little about.

Years spent in places like this, learning to fight, teaching others to fight.

He might be a quiet hacker, but he’s an athlete too. He just doesn’t flaunt it.

His warm-up lasts twice as long as mine, but then he’s tugging the pads from my hands and throwing them across the mats. “Want to learn some take downs?”

“Why not?”

He walks me through a series of moves that will have him on his back on the mat and me pinning him down if I do it right, and we spend a while practicing it slowly until I have it down.

“Ready for real?” he asks.

“Nope, but come at me.”

He does, and my body does exactly what I just schooled it to do, and with surprising dexterity, I have him flat on his back, pinned under me, both of us panting. And as the moment stretches, the miasma of fear and nervous energy morphs into something with a hell of a lot more purpose.

I press my lips to his cheek, eyes wide, hoping he’s in the same headspace I’m in.

One second later, we’re tearing each other’s shirts off, my bra yanked down, my nails scraping over his bare chest as he licks and nips at my nipple, his hands dragging me over the growing ridge in his pants.

We both groan, the pure need pounding through my veins unlike anything I’ve felt before.

The connection, the meeting of skin to skin, the honest, base, unfettered desire surges, and I yank off his pants before struggling out of mine.

Then I’m back on him, rubbing against him, every stroke over him making him harder and my clit zing with pleasure.

The cat yodels from the side of the room, but we both ignore it, caught up in each other. “I need you inside me,” I say.

“God yes.”

The stretch and burn of him pressing in with no preparation has my body on fire. A searing reminder that I’m here. I’m free to be with who I want, when I want. My life. My body.

RJ shudders as I rise and lower again, working him deep inside me as he chases my breasts with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, wet and needy. Then he hikes up onto his elbows and stays transfixed as I finally sink all the way down, our pelvises meeting.

We stay, panting, his gaze locked on where we’re connected as I ride him, grinding against him every time I drop, taking my pleasure from him as he watches, his breath short and his skin glittering in the harsh light.

I’m controlling this, not with force, but with aching purpose and a steady rhythm.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel it.

Power.

Power over myself. Dominion over my body, my pleasure, my wants taking precedence over other’s needs.

My orgasm is hot and slow, like a forest fire inexorably gobbling up every small obstacle in its path. And RJ joins me, his murmured “Oh, God,” on repeat as he spasms inside me, coating me from the inside with evidence of what I’ve done to him. What I’ve taken. What I’ve given.

He collapses back on the mat, his golden-tinged eyes bleary, his hands stroking my thighs idly. Running my palms over the scrapes I’ve left on his chest, I bite my lip, uncertain once again.

But a smile stretches across his face, easing my momentary worry. “Not what I planned, but damn, girl, you know how to pass the time.”

Giggles erupt from me, his cock twitching inside me as my muscles squeeze him unintentionally, another “Oh, God,” falling from his lips.

Then, chaos erupts.