Page 83 of Ruthless Touch

“Again,” Gun growls, circling me on the loft floor. We’re both barefoot, slicked with sweat, huffing air into our lungs.

We’ve been at this for an hour—sparring, training, pushing each other like we’re preparing for war.

…which we basically are if the two of us are going up against the Cheongryong.

His promise still hangs in the air between us:

I’m with you on your quest. If you say it was the Cheongryong, then it was the Cheongryong. And if you say it was my father, then we’ll hold him accountable too. Okay?

It’s hard to doubt Gun when he sounds so sincere, so damn earnest.

Ibelievehim when he says these things. And I trust him even more as we spar together.

So I throw myself into the fight, battling Gun as if he’s still my enemy.

I feint left, then drive my knee up toward his ribs. He blocks, but it doesn’t matter because I’m already following up with another move. My elbow flies out for a strike to his throat. He catches my arm and twists, spinning us around.

Suddenly my back is to his front and I’m at his mercy. We’re breathing even harder, bodies pressed up against each other, the tension rising.

“Yield?” he pants, his breath warm against my cheek, his grip tight on my arm.

“Never.”

I hook my leg behind his knee. We both go down hard, rolling across the hardwood with arms and legs entwined.

I end up on top, pinning him down, my thighs bracketing his hips. We’re peering into each other’s eyes, faces inches apart.

“Yield?” I breathe.

The corner of his mouth quirks, dark almond-shaped eyes gleaming. “Never, Goyangi.”

He bucks his hips and flips us, reversing our positions with relative ease.

Now he’s the one pinning me, his muscled weight pressing me into the floor, one hand clenching my wrist.

The tension rises, the heat intensifying. It feels like we’re in a room that’s been set on fire instead of two fierce fighters facing off.

“You’re getting sloppy,” he teases. “You should’ve seen that reversal coming a mile away.”

“You’re getting cocky,” I shoot back, pulse hammering in my throat. “You think I don’t have any options, Rhee?”

Icouldwrangle my way out of this; I could flip the script on him again and score another point.

But as we hover inches apart, his gaze drops to my mouth. Lust pools low in my belly, melted by the heat between us.

I make a snap decision, arching up to kiss him.

Gun’s ready for me, clearly the same thing on his mind. He meets my lips with the same kind of aggressive intensity he’s fought with.

The result is a kiss that’s frenzied and desperate. It’s mouths open and tongues thrashing. It’s us entering into the next round of our sparring.

Gun produces a thick sound low in his throat and releases my wrist to grab my face, kissing me like he’s been starving for it.

Like he’s been ravenous for a taste of me.

I feel it in how he presses his lips press against mine. How he thrusts his tongue into my mouth and ravishes me like only he can.

His hard, muscular body weighs me down, his weight more than welcomed. My hands fist at his shirt, and I grind my hips against his as our kisses only grow hotter and more feverish.