Nodding to Bobby, who lounged behind the reception desk, he asked, “Is she in her office?”
“Down the hall and to the right, but I think she still has someone in with her,” Bobby called out as Miles ignored the hint, pivoted and strode down the hall.
Feminine voices came through the slightly ajar door to Hope’s office, one firm, one weepy. He paused a moment, straining to hear what he was tempted to interrupt.
“I can’t help you, Meg, not if you insist on going back to him again. This makes three times.” Hope’s soft voice held a note of warning.
“He says he’s gotten help, things will be better now.”
“He said that last time. You do know he tried to scare me into letting him see you a short time ago. Trust me, he hasn’t changed.”
Miles mentally shook his head. He admired Hope for trying but knew only too well how women wanted to believe their abuser could change. His irritation with her slid away. How could he fault her for trying to keep this woman from making a big mistake?
“You want me to return to Montana, don’t you?” the young woman said on a long-suffering sigh.
“You’d be safe with your family. There’s a reason Davidson talked you into moving down here with him. The further away from your law-enforcement family, the better. Go home, Meg. Start over before your chances to do so run out. And take a self-defense class, so that the next time a guy swings his fist at you, you have a chance against him.” He heard a chair scrape back, and figured Hope was ending their talk. “You’ve got a plane ticket, and Bobby has offered to get you to the airport. Either get on that plane and don’t look back, or return to Davidson, but I can’t keep a bed for you if you choose him again. I’m sorry.”
“I-I understand.”
Miles remained leaning against the wall as Hope opened her door the rest of the way and a young woman, no more than twenty, stepped out with red-rimmed eyes. “I agree with Ms. Wallace. I met your ex, you won’t fare well with him, ever.” He nailed Hope with a look before adding, “Her advice about learning to defend yourself is good. Listen to it.”
Meg cast a swift glance at Hope, who stood behind her. Before she could blast him for listening in, Bobby approached with a fatherly look and attitude toward the young woman.
“Let’s go, Meg. You know you don’t have a choice.”
Her narrow shoulders drooped, but she nodded her head and followed Bobby out the back door to his car, much to everyone’s relief. Miles waited until they were outside before telling Hope, “Tough love is harder than hell, isn’t it?”
Hope saw compassion and understanding reflected on Miles’ hard face, and her initial displeasure at finding him loitering outside her office fell away. She suspected he understood better than she did.
“Yes, but sometimes necessary. You’re here because I missed class.” She found herself wishing he’d stopped by just to see her, but until she got up the nerve to tell him about Craig, she knew it would be best if she reined in such wayward thoughts.
Miles nodded. “Why is it you’re having such a hard time taking your own advice?”
“I’m not a victim.” She never thought of herself in the same terms as some of the women who ended up in the shelter. Her actions, going to that club, agreeing to submit to a man she’d never met before, had always, she’d felt, meant part of the blame for Craig’s anger fell on her shoulders. She accepted that and worked daily to atone for it.
“Since I’ve known you, you’ve been assaulted once, been on the cusp of being assaulted again, and you’ve got a scar proving you were a victim at one time.”
She wanted to tell him she hadn’t run from an abuser, like some of these people, but wasn’t that what she’d done by leaving Atlanta? “That was… different, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. I have time to give you a private make-up class now. Do we need to wait until Bobby returns?”
Hope wasn’t surprised when her body went hot and soft again, this time just from the word ‘private’, said in that hard, commanding tone. She shook her head, anticipation rushing through her body with the speed and exhilaration of a body-jarring carnival ride. He didn’t ask, which made it even easier for her to stand and let him take her elbow. “No, the night manager has already arrived.”
“Let’s go then.”
Dom, my butt, he’s a damn sadist. Hope blew out a breath, wiped her damp brow with the back of her wrist and glared at Miles. As soon as she’d changed into the gi, leaving off her underwear per his instructions, and entered the now empty gym, he’d been putting her through a grilling routine. Between the warm-ups, a run-through of what she’d learned thus far followed by teaching her three kicks, she was out of breath, her skin damp from her exertions and her muscles quivering. The constant torment of low-level arousal from bouncing and rolling around with him didn’t help. Her breasts were too large to go braless much, and the loose tunic and pants emphasized her nakedness under them, a distraction she did not need.
“You need to aim higher on your axe kick. Remember, you’re shooting for the head or clavicle. Try again.” Miles crossed his arms, those bare, sexy feet braced apart, his black-eyed, direct gaze daring her to defy him.
“Not all of us have years as a champion under our belt,” she returned, miffed he criticized that last kick, which she thought had been perfect.
“You could, if you came to class and practiced.”
“I told you, my work—” He held up a hand to stop her.
“Master, or Master C. Forgetting again will land you in trouble.” That stern mouth softened when he caught the instant pucker of her nipples, and she didn’t know whose reaction affected her more. “This might help. Come over here.”
Hope followed him to a hanging punching bag where he stepped behind it and held onto the sides. “Pretend this bag is the person who gave you that scar. Remember the pain, and the fear, then put your determination to save yourself behind your moves. Come at the bag with an axe kick first.”
Drawing a deep breath, she pictured Craig’s face suffused with rage, replayed his cutting words as he came after her. Fucking, whoring cunt. Did you think I wouldn’t find out where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing behind my back? He had given her no time to answer or defend herself, grabbing her as soon as she entered the apartment. Taking one step forward with her left leg, she lifted her right an
d kicked straight up toward the top of the bag. The whack forced Miles to take a step back with the bag from the jarring impact, the surprise on his face comical before he wiped it clean.
“Good. Again.”
The desire to see and hear that approval again was as strong as the urge to pretend she was taking Craig down, making him suffer without killing him. She delivered another successful kick then followed Miles’ instruction to switch to a back kick. Remembering her ex’s soft abdomen and the way he used to belittle her efforts in bed, she pivoted, stepped back and swung out, her heel landing in the middle of the bag with a solid punch.
“Again. Aim lower, for a kneecap.”
Another spot-on connection, followed by two spinning back kicks that were just as successful, the second one more so because of his suggestion, “There’s always the groin.” She was panting, her heart pumping in a mad rhythm of over-charged adrenaline when Miles called a halt. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started to sink down onto the mat when he came around the bag and pulled her flush against him. His hard mouth covered her gasp of surprise, then she was melting into him, leaning on all those strong muscles, trusting him to hold her up when her legs went weak in surrender to his rough possession.
God, what the man can do with his mouth ought to be illegal. The skillful way he used his lips, tongue and teeth to take and explore every inch of her mouth reminded her of how he’d used the same techniques between her legs. Would she ever get enough of him and this journey into exploring her submissive cravings, or would she be left to continue craving more long after they split? He released her mouth with a low groan that vibrated deep inside Hope. His next words had her shoving aside her last unanswered question in favor of answering a much easier one.
“Stay the night.”
Giddy with pleasure at the invitation, even if it meant a sleepless night followed by rising early, she couldn’t help teasing him a little. “Okay, Master C, but I’ve got to warn you, I don’t have any strength left for any more… extra- curricular activities. You’ve already worn me out.”