“No! I do.”
Ava brushed her fingers over her mouth as if she was shocked the words had popped out, and hell if that didn’t make the both of them a matched set. But she hadn’t flinched at his back spasm or the revelation of his injury. Brennan wasn’t about to treat her as if she was made of spun sugar, no matter how clearly stressed she was.
“Perfect.” He led the way to his apartment, praying like hell he’d remembered to make proper use of his laundry hamper after yesterday’s double shift. But a quick visual as he unlocked the door and crossed the threshold told him he was okay, just as long as they steered clear of the bed he damn well knew he’d left unmade this morning.
Right. Because just what he needed were thoughts of Ava in his unmade bed. Relieving stress in a different way than he had planned. Hard and fast and more than once.
“Okay!” Brennan barked, his face heating as if she had X-ray vision on his X-rated thoughts. “So, ah, I guess we can get started.”
He turned toward the short hallway opposite the kitchen and living room, hanging Ava’s coat in his tiny hall closet before motioning for her to follow. While he’d have to be devoid of a pulse not to notice the long, muscular stretch of her legs, in this particular moment, the observation made him a top-shelf jackass. He’d offered to help calm her down, not rev her up. Any thoughts of sliding Ava’s body-hugging jeans from her body so she could wrap those lean, strong legs around his waist would have to take a freaking hike.
Christ, he wanted her legs around his waist.
“So, what is it we’re getting started on, exactly?” Ava’s straight-to-it question jostled Brennan from his illicit thoughts, and he mentally maneuvered himself back to the task at hand.
“Well, I think you’re going to have to lose your boots, but otherwise, this might be more up your alley than yoga.” He pushed open the door at the end of the narrow hall, clicking on the light with the flat of his hand. He’d come into this room too many times to count, especially right after he’d landed in Pine Mountain, wound up and pissed off and needing release. There wasn’t much to look at in the scant, mostly unfinished space, but then again, sometimes the stuff you needed the most was right there in front of you. Hard work. Good meals. Soft bed.
Hundred-pound heavy bag that took all the anger and frustration and pain you could muster and never hit back.
Ava’s lips parted as she caught sight of the black leather heavy bag, specially anchored into the exposed joists of the utility room’s ceiling, and she stepped toward it with a look of wide-eyed surprise. “Are you serious? You want me to wail on this thing in order to relax?”
All Brennan did was nod. She might be vulnerable beneath that tough exterior, but she was still tough.
“Yup.”
Ava flashed him with a smile both grateful and wicked as she kicked her boots from her feet. “Then you’d better hope your ceiling beams are solid, because I have had one hell of a week.”
Of all the places Ava could imagine spending a stress-busting Sunday afternoon, her ex-boyfriend’s glorified closet was certainly not on the list. But the deep layer of dread that had taken root this morning at the Sweet Life had anchored into Ava’s chest with frightening fierceness, to the point that she’d planned to do nothing but scour every inch of the Blue Ridge until she turned up a killer story that would save her job. Though she hadn’t wanted to ditch out on the lakeside winter hike she’d planned for their afternoon, driving to the marina to offer Brennan a quick gotta-work excuse had been no more than a technicality in Ava’s brain. Or, at least it had been right up until she’d arrived, and the feelings she’d jammed down all morning—hell, all week—finally spilled over and cemented her to the parking lot.
The career she cherished was on the line, she was perilously close to having to leave the only family she’d ever known, and damn it, as desperate as she was for a story, she was even more desperate for comfort. Not just any comfort.
The minute Ava had seen Brennan, striding up the snowy hill from the edge of the marina wearing that look of dark, powerful intensity, she’d craved comfort from him.
Brennan’s mouth tipped up at one corner, bringing Ava back to the here and now. “I hear you, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Have you ever hit a bag like this before?”
“Oh. Um . . .” A ripple of panic spread out in Ava’s belly. As soon as she’d seen the heavy bag hanging from the open-beamed ceiling, she’d been dying to jump right in and pummel away her frustrations. But maybe if she admitted the truth about her lack of experience, he’d think she was too much of a rookie after all and make her take some unfulfilling swings at the air like her kickboxing instructor at the gym had.
Rather than tell an all-out fib, Ava settled for jacking her balled-up fists to chin level and prayed she looked passably competent. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She took a quick shot at the bag to prove her words, letting out an involuntary yelp as the impact reverberated all the way up her arm.
Brennan was next to her in less than a breath. “Are you okay?”
Although she fought it with every fiber of her being, Ava’s eyes stung from the unexpected bolt of pain. “Oh my God, do you have bricks in this thing?” she asked, turning to glower at the barely swaying heavy bag.
“A hundred pounds of sand, actually.” He grabbed her hand, laying her palm over his knuckles for a closer inspection. “Looks like you’ll live, but why don’t we wrap you up before you get all yippee ki-yay again?”
“Okay,” Ava admitted, albeit without dropping her chin. “I could probably use a pointer or two.”
To her surprise, Brennan simply shrugged. “Sure. But something tells me once your hands are protected, you’ll be a natural.”
He took a few steps back, reaching toward a small wooden shelf nailed up to the vertical frame boards lining the rear wall. Grabbing a pair of what looked like long strips of light blue fabric, Brennan returned to her side, close enough that she could smell his crisp-breeze scent mixed in with one of laundry detergent.
He shook one of the strips out while draping the other over the shoulder of his black thermal shirt. “These are mine, so it’ll take some extra wrapping, but it’s better than going bare knuckled.” Brennan paused to drop a smirk over the hand he’d just recaptured, pushing up the sleeve of her gray V-neck to fully expose her fingers and wrist. “Obviously.”
Ava’s laugh filled the tight space around them, deflating the stress banded around her rib cage on its way out. “I get it. I was impulsive. So what do I need to do first?”
“You need to hit with more than just your hands.”
She wrinkled her nose and looked up from her halfway mummified right hand. “I’m sorry?”
Brennan spiraled the thick cotton all the way over her wrist, tapping it into place with the Velcro at the end before swapping Ava’s right hand for her left. “Your knuckles are just the point of contact between you and the bag. If you really want to get cathartic about it, the punch needs to come from your whole body. Like this.”
He pulled a beat-up pair of padded, fingerless gloves from the shelf, slipping them into place over his hands as he stood at arm’s length from the heavy bag. There was barely enough room for them to stand side by side in the confined space, but no way was she shying away from this now. Ava glued her eyes to Brennan’s frame with a determined nod, a twinge of heat pulsing through her veins as he faced off with the menacing black leather. With scissor-sharp focus, he measured the heavy bag with an unyielding stare, shifting his stance over the concrete floor just slightly as all the muscles from his shoulders to his waist coiled tightly beneath his shirt.
The resulting pop-pop-pop on the bag turned the heat in Ava’s veins into a blast of uncut want.
“Oh,” came her breathy whisper. Brennan’s body was a study of lean lines and hidden power, quickly reharnessed as he stepped back from the heavy bag to look at her over one shoulder.
“See? You’ve got to grab that strength and energy
from the ground up and let your whole body do the work. Put your back into it, so to speak.”
He rolled his eyes, likely at the jab he’d taken at his injury, and the reference propelled Ava’s thoughts right past her already questionable brain-to-mouth filter.
“So letting loose on this thing doesn’t aggravate your back?” The rapid-fire string of punches he’d just thrown hadn’t seemed to bother him, but clearly, he had hiding his injury down to a finely honed skill.
“Not usually. Not if I control it,” he added with a shrug. “You want to give it a try?”
Ava stepped up to the heavy bag, enticingly close to both it and Brennan. “Sure.” She folded her elbows upright over her chest, mirroring his setup, and threw a semi-awkward punch that rattled up her forearm. “I thought the point of hitting the bag was to lose control.” Ava cranked her brow down low and threw another punch, this time using her shoulder to direct the move. Nice.
“Mmm. Shooting first and asking questions later will only get you into trouble. Or hurt.” Brennan edged past her, angling his body behind the bag to hold it steady. He watched her throw another punch, then one more before nodding his encouragement. “Hitting the bag requires a ton of focus, even when you do it for release. See the difference between that first punch you threw and these?”
Ava paused to accommodate her rapidly increasing need for breath before leveling the bag with another satisfying thwack. “Well, yeah,” she hedged. “But the whole point is to let go, right? To take all those emotions and get rid of them by punching the bag?”
“No.”
“No?” She pulled up halfway through her swing, tightly wrapped knuckles just barely grazing the edge of the black leather. “Then how is it supposed to relax me?”
Brennan let go of the bag to take a step toward her, dangerously close. “By letting you control your emotions and turning them into something that’ll help you.”
“You like control, don’t you?”
Ava heard the suggestive slant of her words only after they’d escaped, and her cheeks filled with a heated flush. Brennan angled himself behind her, placing a hot exhale by her ear that said he’d heard the innuendo loud and freaking clear.
“And you still like asking questions,” he said, his voice honey over gravel. Ava’s heart pounded a wild rhythm in her chest, but before she could point out that he hadn’t answered, he finished, “Yes. I like being focused. Now let’s see if you like it too.”
Fitting his stronger frame over her lithe one, Brennan showed Ava exactly how to throw a jab that incorporated the strength of all her muscles. Guiding her arms tight to her rib cage, he walked her through each move with a fluid ease, and she repeated them with growing enthusiasm. The friction of his callused fingertips on her bare forearms and thinly clad shoulders lit her up and spurred her on, the tension from her terrible day melding in with the all-out stress of her really terrible week.
Ava’s unease rose up like a sudden tide, but with each full-bodied punch, she found herself channeling it rather than shoving it away. All the frustration over Gary’s ridiculous demands, having to prove herself with a blockbuster story, leaving Pete and Lily—all of it became focus rather than fear, and she poured every last ounce of that laserlike attention into hitting the bag again and again and again.
“Holy crap,” Ava gasped, finally stopping to catch the breath she’d long since lost.
Brennan orbited around her, steadying the heavy bag on its shiny silver chains before grabbing a hand towel from the shelf on the back wall. “You okay?” He passed the towel over and methodically removed his gloves, but his eyes measured her the whole time.
“Are you kidding?” She pressed the soft terry cloth to her cheeks and forehead, but hiding her laughter was impossible. Every one of her nerve endings tingled with a rush of power like nothing she’d ever quite felt before, as if she was both energized and serenely calm at the same time. “That was amazing. I feel great!”
“You really got the hang of it,” Brennan said with a smile, reaching up to unwind the skein of now-damp cotton from Ava’s left hand. “I told you you’d be a natural.”
“Well, yeah, but only because you showed me how to start. Without you, I never would’ve made it past that first punch.”
“Glad I could help.” He gestured to the bag with a tilt of his darkly stubbled chin. “But really, I don’t think you need me for getting your frustration out.”
Something unspoken and hotly impulsive made Ava curl her fingers around Brennan’s, halting his ministrations. In that moment, her mind couldn’t deny what her body already knew.
She wanted Nick Brennan. And she wanted him right now.
“I do need you,” Ava whispered, sliding her arms over the strong ridge of his shoulders to brush her heated body against his. He stiffened, the plane of his chest immovably firm even through the dual layers of cotton between them.
“Your emotions are all over the place from hitting the bag, that’s all,” he said, but Ava shook her head, pressing even closer.
“No. My emotions are all over the place from you, Brennan. I want you. And I’m tired of fighting it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brennan’s mouth was on hers the instant she finished her sentence, and dear God in heaven, Ava felt his kiss rake over every inch of her sensitive skin. Pressing the balls of her bootless feet into the cool concrete, she maximized the contact of her mouth, her chest, her everything against Brennan’s body as she parted her lips in a reckless request for more.
“Ava.” He hooked his fingers into the belt loops on her jeans, thrusting against her hips in one long, sinuous slide before taking an infuriating step back. “We can’t just jump into this.”
But she reclaimed the space between them in an instant. “Oh yes, we can. It’s not like we’re strangers.” The thought was as foreign to Ava as breathing grape jelly instead of air. “I want this, Brennan, and I think you want it too. Even if it’s just for today. Be with me.”
He bit out a curse as she strung a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. “You’re really killing me here.”
Ava shifted to look at him, confused. The rock-hard erection pressing tight to her belly left little guesswork as to his desire, and his kiss had been hungry to the point of need. Still, a tendril of doubt flared deep in her gut. “Do you not want this?”
Brennan’s eyes glittered, nearly black beneath the scant light overhead, and something unspoken broke loose as he pinned her with a stare so dark and unrelentingly sexy, Ava lost her breath.
“I want this more than you can imagine.” The muscles in his jaw went taut as he dropped his forehead to hers, his mouth barely an inch away. “I want to kiss you until I’m out of air,” Brennan whispered, his lips feathering over hers in the barest sweep, and Ava nearly whimpered from the want pulsing underneath her skin.
“Brennan, please, I—”
“Shh.” He cut her off with another brush of his mouth, and she exhaled, hard and hot. “Let me finish. Yes, I want you. I want to touch every last part of you until we both scream. Damn it, Ava, I want to bury myself inside you so deep and so sweet, you can’t tell where I end and you begin. But I can’t.”
“Why not?” she rasped, her voice so thick she barely recognized it as her own.
“Because.” Brennan’s palms slid up her arms, a corresponding shiver climbing the length of her spine. “If we do this, it won’t be once. I’ve wanted you beneath me and screaming my name for the last seven years. This happens”—he paused, his fingers flexing into her shoulders with just enough pressure to make her knees wobble—“and it’s not going to be fast. It’s not going to be impulsive, and it’s not going to be just today. Do you understand?”
Ava’s breath caught in her lungs, and she tilted her head to look up at him, catching the intensity in his gaze full-on. “I understand,” she said.
But instead of walking away, she kissed him.
“Ava.” He ground out her name, the vibration melting
against her lips as he coaxed them open with his tongue. Testing her lower lip with barely there flicks, Brennan explored the sensitive bow of her mouth, tasting and teasing until Ava was certain she’d explode. She tightened the knot of her arms around his shoulders, molding their upper bodies even closer as she swept her tongue over his in a bold push. He responded in kind, cupping the back of her neck with one palm while gripping her hips closer to his with the other. The heat, the friction, the pure, unfiltered desire building like an out-of-control wildfire between them—all of it pushed Ava higher and harder and faster, until finally they broke apart, gasping for breath.
“Come with me.” Without waiting for a response, Brennan grabbed her hand and carved a direct path toward the door, but Ava slipped in front of him for another greedy kiss.
“Why?” she asked, nipping his bottom lip. She’d wanted his hands on her for the last nine days. The idea of waiting even nine more seconds felt like an eternity.
“Because the next thing on the list is to touch every last part of you until we both scream, and I’m not making you come in my utility closet.”
Brennan had her halfway into the hall before she could process the movement, walking her backward with his arms banded under her rib cage to guide the way. Her shoulder blades bumped against a cool surface, but the easy give and continued motion told her it had to be the cracked-open door she’d seen across the hall on their way into the utility room.
Muted sunlight edged past the stark white window blinds in the new space, surprising Ava with its late afternoon slant. She registered details in tiny clips—the soft carpet under her feet, the brisk, ocean-like scent of Brennan’s skin on hers, the sleep-rumpled navy blue sheets suddenly surrounding her body as he laid her on the bed in the center of the room.
The way he could make her delirious with nothing more than a simple touch.
“Christ, I missed you,” Brennan said, kneeling in front of her on the bed. She parted her knees in a wordless bid to bring him closer, and he angled his hips over her center, leaning in to frame her face with both hands.
All Wrapped Up (A Pine Mountain Novel) Page 16
