Page 80 of Twisted Truths

“Feet shoulder-width apart,” I instruct. “A good stance is important. Low centre of gravity. You want to be hard to move, hard to knock down.”

Hadley nods and adjusts her position.

I circle her slowly, correcting the angle of her stance, explaining each move as I go. My hands graze her waist, her wrist, her elbow. They’re brief touches, clinical in nature, but each one sends sparks racing up my arms like static.

I step back quickly.

“Are you ready?”

“Hit me,” she says confidently, releasing a steadying breath.

My lips quirk up. “You want me to hit you?”

She arches a brow. “You’re teaching me self-defence, so you’re going to have to put hands on me.”

I swallow heavily, the images of exactly how I want to put hands on her flooding my subconscious. None of them remotely related to teaching her self-defence.

Fuck.

This is a bad idea.

Suppressing those urges, I reach out and grab her wrist—light, but firm—and wait for her to react.

Hadley hesitates, then twists like I showed her. She breaks free, but barely, and stumbles back a step.

I steady her with a hand on her lower back, dropping it quickly.

“Try again,” I grunt out.

We go again, and again. The converted barn fills withthe sounds of heavy breathing and low gasps, and I push down my intrusive thoughts of capturing those sounds with my lips.

Her skin glistens with sweat, cheeks flushed, eyes burning with intense focus as she takes on my feedback and gets stronger and faster with her moves.

Pride swells deep inside me, along with another appendage, and I subtly adjust myself before heading over to the fridge in the corner, grateful that Paul or Rylan continued to keep it stocked with bottles of water. I toss one to Hadley, then guzzle the contents of another.

“Now, what if I grab you from behind?” I ask, my voice a little rougher.

She nods, and I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her torso, leaving room for her to break free.

Instead of going through the series of moves I taught her to get out of this position, she tenses in my hold. I move to release her, but she clutches at my arm, stopping me.

“Wait,” she chokes out. “I want to learn it. Just … give me a second.”

I don’t say anything, simply waiting. My chest rises and falls against her back, torturously close.

Hadley exhales, then moves. Elbow strike, heel stomp, twist. I let her go, and she spins around, eyes wide.

“That was good,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady.

She doesn’t answer. Our gazes lock on one another as we both drop our hands to our hips and try to regain our breath.

For a second, everything blurs except the heat burning between us, the gravity pulling me towards her, even though I know I shouldn’t. I take a step towards her, then hesitate.

I can’t do this to her. She deserves more than someone who has one foot out the door. Unless … I ask her to come with me.

Hadley hasn’t broken eye contact, and I feel her heated gaze deep within. She trusts me, and that realisation is intoxicating.I want to be the one who takes care of her, the one who shows up for her the way she keeps showing up for me. Hadley grounds me and makes me want to be a better person.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and despite how hurt I was when I found out she kept Franklin’s existence from me, I can’t bring myself to stay angry at her. I’ve always been hot-headed and impulsive. If I had found out about my nephew’s existence before today, I would have done something reckless … something that would have got all of us killed.