Page 30 of Covert (Ruthless Love #2)

Chapter twenty-seven

Maddox

I walk past the hallway that leads to the garage and laundry room, but I do a double-take when I see Nikki kneeling in front of the washing machine, next to a pile of clothes.

I simply watch her.

She's biting her lower lip in concentration, but her brow is furrowed in confusion.

She turns over the bottle of laundry detergent and reads, then looks back up at the washing machine.

"You can't tell me you've never washed clothes before, right?"

Her head whips to the side when she hears me, and she lets out a disgruntled huff.

"I grew up with a housekeeper who did it, and then I didn't want to leave my apartment unnecessarily, so I washed my clothes in the bathtub.

I'm just afraid of using too much or too little or doing something wrong that ends up breaking your washing machine.

" Her voice got louder and higher-pitched as she ranted, clearly stressed and panicked.

"Hey, Bougie Princess, you're alright. I'll teach you."

We load the clothes together, I show her how much soap and where to put it in the slide-out thing, close the door, and explain the different settings to her.

"Huh. That was easy."

"I get why you'd be nervous, though, if no one ever explained it to you. "

I reach out my hand and help her to her feet.

Once she's standing, however, she shifts her weight back and forth on her feet like she's nervous about something.

"Actually, I have a favor I was going to ask you or Axel."

"Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"I don't feel comfortable going to my gym by myself anymore, and I saw you have one here. Would you mind sparring with me?"

"Sparring? What kind of sparring are we talking about?"

"I go to a Brazilian jiu jitsu gym weekly. It wouldn't be anything formal, just like wrestling. Like self-defense."

I nod. "Sure, I can do that. I'll get changed." Any chance to spend more time with her and get closer to her when I don't have to maintain my walls.

We retreat to our separate rooms to change, and my throat dries when she walks into the gym in nothing but a sports bra and tight athletic shorts.

I take a swig from my water bottle before placing it on the floor.

"Alright, so how do we do this?"

She squats a little, getting into a fighting stance. I mimic her stance. She presses her fist to me, and I bump hers gently with my own. A sign of respect.

"Just come at me like you want to hurt me. We can work on some take downs to warm up."

I straighten my posture. "I'm not going to hurt you."

That's a hard line. Wrestling with her, sure. "Trying to hurt her" means I might accidentally hurt her. A controlled BJJ practice is a lot different than a man much larger than her trying to hurt her .

Her plump lips tick up on the side. "You're right, you won't." She bounces a little in place and shakes out her neck. "Come on, big guy, do your worst."

I roll my eyes at her, annoyance simmering just under the surface of my skin. I walk forward slowly, attempting to grab her shoulders, but she darts around to the side and takes out my knees with a single brutal kick. I land awkwardly on my ass.

"Fuck."

"You weren't even trying. Come on, Mad-dog. I've been taking self-defense classes since I was a teenager.

I push to stand. "Alright."

I rush her, my shoulder down, ready to tackle her like a football player. She side-steps me with an agility I'm not expecting and slaps both hands against my upper back, forcing me, once again, to the floor. I'm not used to humiliation, and my cheeks flush with heat.

Instead of giving her the chance to recover and stand again, I rush her knees, wrapping my arms around them and successfully taking her down with a tiny 'oof'.

As she falls, though, she wraps her legs around me, pinning my arms to my sides and effectively neutralizing me again.

It has the unintended result of my face practically falling against her pussy.

"Not sure this is the way to fight off a bad guy, Princess," I grumble, my lips pressed against the fabric of her shorts. She releases me with a tiny gasp.

"I'm so sorry," she says, and when I look up at her, I love how her chest is rising and dipping just a little more than normal. Her pale cheeks are flushed with exertion, and she looks just the same as she did freshly fucked .

"I'm not. If you wanted me between your thighs again, Princess, all you had to do was ask."

She goes to crawl away, annoyed with my teasing, but I wrap my hand around her ankle and tug her back to me. The move causes her shirt to catch on the mats and reveals a sliver of belly to me.

I let the teasing and the hard-ass exterior I usually wear fall away. "No, Nikki, I mean it. I'm glad to know you can take me down. It eases something in my chest."

And I know she hears exactly what I can't say: that maybe if my sister had taken self-defense classes, she wouldn't have been taken.

A small, warm hand rests against my cheek.

"It's a scary world out there, Mads. Especially for women. But we can't control what other people do or don't do. We can only control how we react to it. Your sister was taken, or maybe she left. The police are looking for her. All you can do is mourn. Have you let yourself mourn?"

I sigh and look down, which just so happens to put my face in her crotch again. "I don't feel like I can. There isn't a body. No funeral. For all we know, she's still very much alive."

The look she gives me is one of pure pity and sympathy, and it makes me angry. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want her sympathy. I'm a grown ass man with grown-ass man problems, and I can deal with it by myself.

Her thumb strokes my cheek, and it softens the anger.

"You can mourn the loss of your sister, even if she is still very much alive.

I mourned the loss of my brother when I left.

He was my person. My everything. But when I left and he was no longer a part of my life?

It's like a death in a way. Even if the person is still very much alive.

" Her voice is soft, caring, and so goddamn sweet.

I sigh again, giving up the fight and just resting my cheek on her pussy.

I know this. I've thought of this. But mourning her feels like I'm giving up on her.

It feels like I'm moving on and doing her a disservice.

I love my sister. I loved her. We went through a lot together, with an absentee father and a mother working three jobs.

Poverty can bind people together like nothing else.

I took on the roles of provider, protector, and mentor, even before I was old enough to know what those roles were.

And to lose her? Feels like a failure I may never recover from.

Nikki runs her fingers through my hair, pulling a warm hum from my chest. "I know you feel responsible for her. But she was an adult, making adult decisions. You couldn't have stopped her from going out if you tried."

Again, logically, I know that. But every cell in my body wishes it weren't true.

"When did you get so wise?" I grumble, uneasy at being forced to face the things I already knew.

I can tell she's about to say something emotional and deep again, so I do what I do best and deflect.

"I don't want to talk about my sister when my face is between your thighs, Princess," I say, flicking her clit with my tongue.

She moans, but scurries backward. "Ew. I'm all sweaty," she complains. She's not, really, but I understand she's uncomfortable.

So, I stand and hold my hand out to her.

"Was that enough sparring? "

She takes my hand in hers and lets me tug her to stand. "Or can we skip that part and head for a shower?"

Her brown eyes darken, and she drags her tongue across her lower lip before nodding eagerly.

"Shower sounds good."