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Reed grunted, momentarily winded, and I capitalized on his lowered guard. I ambushed him with a controlled takedown, bowling his legs out from under him and watching as he landed on the mat with a thud.
I mounted him.
Straddling his chest, I locked our eyes together, a triumphant smirk playing on my lips. “Predictable, huh?” I taunted, my breaths measured. My thighs clenched around him as our gazes held firm. His chest heaved underneath me, his shirt sliding up his torso as I inched forward.
My own guard collapsed, the bricks slipping out of place, one by one. I wondered how it’d feel to be in this position sans clothing, me on top of him, grinding, sliding up and down on his?—
“Oof!” I gasped a surprised breath when he snatched me by the wrists and twisted our clasped hands, leveraging his strength to reverse our positions.
In an instant, I was on my back.
Reed towering over me.
Overpowering. Dominating.
In control.
Flustered, I kicked my legs underneath him, squirming with pathetic fight, a mix of defiance and surrender in my eyes. “You like being in control, don’t you?” My voice was husky, laced with challenge. A thinly veiled dare.
He grinned, slow and calculated.
Without breaking eye contact, Reed shifted, his weight pinning my wrists to the mat as my back arched up, my body wanting to get closer to him, instead of wiggling free to escape his hold.
My breath hitched as he leaned in, our lips hovering dangerously close together. “Control is a delicate dance, Comet,” he murmured, his voice a low timbre that pulsated through me. “And I intend to lead.”
I swallowed, going lax in his grip like a pulled spring finding its release.
Flashes of Christmas morning from six weeks ago swirled through my mind.
His chest that’d been flush with my scarred back, his warm breaths beating down on me, thawing me, as his hand had palmed my breast and I’d moaned darkly, imagining those hands exposing every soiled inch of me. And then the moment that had followed; my own fingers sunk deep inside my flesh, guiding me toward a fiery pinnacle that had doused me in both humiliation and completion.
I was still flicking the ashes off my skin.
Popping my hips upward, past a ninety-degree angle, I felt Reed’s grip on my wrists loosen as he shot forward, over my head, and slapped both palms on the mat to catch himself before face-planting. I quickly tilted my head to the left to avoid getting smashed by his weight, then linked my arms around his midsection, pressing my cheek to his chest. In a two-second flash, I lifted up, climbed him like a tree, and moved his arm to gain the upper hand, successfully flipping him over.
A slow smile unfolded as I embraced my victory.
On the mat, I was in control.
But I knew, if I was ever in his bed…
I’d let him destroy me.
Out of breath, I climbed off of him and rose to my feet, staring down at Reed sprawled out on the blue mat. I pushed back my damp, loose hairs and allowed the adrenaline to die out.
Reed pulled up to his knees, shoving back waves of his own disheveled hair. “You’re getting really fucking good.”
The compliment warmed me from head to toe, nectar sliding through my veins. He was proud of me.
I was proud, too.
“Thanks.” I extended a hand to help him up.
He took my hand and slowly moved to his feet, towering back over me, unable to squash the half-smile that curled on his lips. Our eyes caught and seized, the song having morphed into another by the same band.
Reed’s gaze shifted over my head to where Scotty must have been standing. A swallow bobbed in his throat as his features hardened, the smile slipping into a flat line. “See you next week,” he bristled, before moving around me to the far wall, as if a switch had been flipped. “Enjoy your dinner.”
I blinked, gnawing on my lip.