Page 21 of Knuckles & Knives

The turning point comes when Axel overcommits to a spinning backfist that would have taken my head off if it connected. Instead, I duck under it and sweep his legs, using his own momentum against him. He goes down hard, and I follow up before he can recover, mounting him and drawing back my fist to finish it.

We freeze like that, both of us breathing hard, my fist cocked and ready while he stares up at me with something dark and hungry in his eyes.

“Yield,” I say quietly.

“Make me.”

The words are a challenge and an invitation rolled into one. The smart thing would be to follow through, to prove my pointand end this before it becomes something else entirely, but there’s something in his expression that stops me, something vulnerable beneath the wild bravado.

There’s defiance in his eyes but also something raw. Seeing it makes me realize I don’t want to beat him.

I want to break him open.

So instead of throwing the punch, I lean down and kiss him.

It’s nothing like kissing Dom. Where Dom was consuming fire, Axel is electric chaos. His mouth moves against mine with desperate hunger, his hands fisting in my hair as he reverses our positions with fluid grace. Suddenly I’m on my back on the canvas, staring up at him as he braces himself above me.

“That’s cheating,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I thought there were no rules.”

“There aren’t.” His smile is pure sin as he settles his weight more fully against me, letting me feel exactly how much the fight affected him. He’s rock hard, his erection digging into me. “Which means I get to do this.”

He kisses me again, deeper this time, his hands mapping the curves of my body with reverent desperation. When his teeth catch my bottom lip, I arch against him, drawing a low groan from his throat.

“Fuck, Raven,” he breathes.

“If that’s what you want…”

That’s all the permission he needs. His mouth trails down my throat, finding the sensitive spot where my pulse hammers against my skin. Every touch is electric, sending sparks of heat through my nervous system until I’m trembling beneath him.

When he looks up at me, his eyes are wild with want and something deeper, more dangerous.

“This changes things,” he says quietly. “You know that, right?”

“Everything’s already changed.”

“Not like this.” His thumb traces my bottom lip with surprising gentleness. “Dom’s going to lose his mind. Marcus is going to see this as a complication to his plans. And me…” He pauses, vulnerability flickering across his features. “I’m going to want things I can’t have.”

“What if you can have them?”

For a moment, I see past the wildcard facade to something raw and real underneath. Then, his expression shifts, becoming unreadable.

“Then we’re all fucked,” he says simply. “Because I don’t share well with others.”

Before I can respond, he’s moving, rolling away from me and standing in one fluid motion. The sudden absence of his warmth leaves me cold and slightly disoriented.

“You won,” he says, offering me his hand. “Fair and square. Strategy over strength, just like Marcus would approve of.”

I let him pull me to my feet, hyperaware of the way his fingers linger against mine. “And what you promised to tell me?”

“The game I’m playing?” His smile returns, sharp and mysterious. “I’m trying to figure out if Vincent Blackwood’s daughter is worth the chaos she’s going to bring. The jury’s still out.”

“And what would convince you?”

He steps closer, invading my personal space in a way that makes my pulse spike. “Keep surprising me. Keep fighting like you just did. Keep being the kind of woman who can make me forget why getting attached is dangerous.” His voice drops to a whisper. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll tell you what I really know about your father’s death.”

He stole my breath again without having to kiss me this time. My knees even go weak. “You know something about?—”