Page 4 of My Special Ops Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #4)

Before Yvette could process what that meant, his arms came around her from behind, not tight enough to hurt but secure enough that she couldn't easily break free.

The position pressed her back against his chest, and she could feel every inch of him.

The solid wall of muscle, the hardness, the way his heart was beating just a little too fast.

"Feel how I'm holding you?" His voice was rough velvet against her ear. "Most attackers will squeeze tighter, but the principle is the same. You need to drop your weight and create space."

She tried to focus on his instruction, but her body was responding to entirely different stimuli. The way his forearms pressed across her ribcage just below her breasts. The way his chin nearly touched her shoulder. The way she could feel his breathing change when she moved in his arms.

"It's like breaking through firewall protocols." Yvette tried to force her mind back to business. "You don't attack the strongest point. You find the system's inherent weaknesses and exploit them."

"Drop your hips," he instructed, his voice noticeably huskier. "Use gravity to your advantage."

She tried the technique, but the movement pressed her more firmly against him, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. Her own breaths were becoming unsteady as awareness coursed through her. Awareness of how perfectly she fit against him, how right this felt despite the training context.

"Good," he said, but his voice was strained. "Now drive your elbow back into my ribs."

Yvette executed the movement slowly, not wanting to actually hurt him, but the motion made her hip brush against his and she felt his whole body tense.

"Harder," he instructed, his arms tightening involuntarily around her. "In a real situation—"

"Vincent," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He went completely still behind her. "Yeah?"

"I think you should let me go."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to do something that has nothing to do with self-defense training."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Yvette could feel the tension radiating through his body, could feel the war between his professional control and something much more primal. His arms loosened slightly, but he didn't step away.

"Yvette..." he warned.

She turned in his arms, which was a mistake because now they were face to face, his hands settling automatically on her waist. "I spend my days breaking into secure financial networks, cracking encryption that's supposed to be unbreakable.

I'm used to being the person who sees through deception, who finds the truth hidden in layers of digital obfuscation.

" She looked up at him. "But with you, I don't need to look for hidden truths.

Everything about you is exactly what it appears to be. "

"We should continue with the lesson," he said, but his hands tightened on her waist instead of releasing her.

"Should we?" Her own hands had somehow ended up on his chest, and she could feel his heart hammering beneath her palms.

"You need to know how to defend yourself," he said, but he was leaning closer as he spoke, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

"I need..." she started, then lost her train of thought completely when his thumb stroked along her ribs.

"What do you need?" The question was barely a whisper, his mouth inches from hers.

The basement suddenly felt too small, too warm.

Vincent's tank top clung to him with sweat, and Yvette could smell the clean scent of his soap mixed with the musk of exertion.

When he'd positioned himself behind her for the chokehold demonstration, she'd felt every muscle in his torso, every breath.

"You said I should trust my instincts." She reached up to touch his jaw. "What are your instincts telling you right now?"

"That I want to kiss you until you forget your own name." The admission came out like a confession. "And that doing it would be a massive breach of professional conduct."

"You're not my bodyguard. You're my neighbor who's keeping me safe because it's the right thing to do."

"I'm the only thing standing between you and the people who want you dead. That creates a power imbalance—"

Yvette silenced him by rising up on her toes and pressing her mouth to his.

He went rigid for a heartbeat, then his control snapped. His arms came around her waist, hauling her against him as he took over the kiss with hungry intensity. This wasn't the grateful peck from last night. This was the kind of sweet chemistry that made thinking impossible.

He kissed like he fought. With complete focus and overwhelming skill. When his tongue swept across her lower lip, she opened for him with a soft gasp.

Backing her against the wall, he caged her in as one hand played with her hair and the other spread across her lower back.

The cool concrete against her shoulders contrasted sharply with the muscles of his chest pressed against hers.

When he tilted her head to deepen the kiss, she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing closer.

This was nothing like last night's kiss. That had been soft, tentative, born of gratitude and proximity. This was fire and demand and the kind of raw attraction that had been building between them since he'd first appeared in her bedroom doorway.

He kissed down to her jaw, then her neck, finding the sensitive spot below her ear that made her arch against him. She could feel his breath against her skin, could feel the hunger in the way his teeth scraped lightly along her throat.

"This is crazy," she said, but her hands were already sliding under his tank top, exploring the hard muscle of his back.

"Completely insane," he agreed against her neck, then captured her mouth again.

His hands roamed her body with the same focused intensity he brought to everything else, mapping the curve of her waist, the line of her spine, the soft skin just above the waistband of her yoga pants.

When his thumb brushed the underside of her breast through her t-shirt, she made a sound that was half gasp, half plea.

When he pulled back to look at her, his breathing was ragged. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her hands were still gripping his shirt like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go.

"We should stop," he said, but his voice lacked any conviction.

"Should we?" Yvette tugged him closer, until their foreheads were touching. "Or should we see where this goes?"

For a moment, he looked like he was seriously considering it. Then his phone rang, and reality crashed back. Federal investigators. RareCore. The fact that someone had tried to kill her less than twelve hours ago.

He stepped away reluctantly. "That's probably the feds. They want to meet in an hour."

She smoothed down her t-shirt, trying to compose herself. Her heart was still racing, and she could feel the blush in her cheeks. "Right. Work. The case."

"We'll continue this later," Vincent said, heading toward the stairs.

"The training?"

He paused at the bottom of the steps, looking back at her with eyes that held promises. "All of it."