Page 10 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“It’s life,” she replied easily, shrugging her shoulders. “It is what it is.”

He’d read once that someone who used that phrase was a dangerous individual, because they’d had the worst that life could throw at them and learned how to accept it. Nothing fazed them anymore, which summed up the blonde pixie pretty damn accurately.

“These are your options as I see them,” she informed him, staring straight up into his eyes. Not a trace of fear or bullshit in hers, just crystal-clear confidence and a little bit of madness. “One: you step aside, let me pass, and we both go about our day. Two: you try and stop me from leaving, and we both end up in considerable pain for the foreseeable future. Three: you pull that gun, attempt to capture me, and I kill you.”

“The contract—”

Annoyance gleamed. “If I decide to fulfil the contract, I’ll make it fast. That’s all I can promise.”

Resignation swamped him. This was where things boiled to a head—he couldn’t let her go, and she wasn’t willing to spare a life—which meant she was leaving him with no real options at all.

They stared at each other, balanced on a delicate precipice, each reading the situation exactly how it was, and neither making a move to strike.

Tabitha smiled slowly. “Always figured it was hard for a good man to hit a woman first; not that I know many good men. I was taught how to defend myself, and how to attack. I’ll make this easy for you.”

Pain erupted in his sternum, her small fist plowing into the weak spot between the two halves of his ribcage. It knocked him back a step; the next blow snapped his head back. She barely gave him time to absorb the hits before she took his legs out from under him.

The hard hat skittered across the floor.

“Don’t feel bad,” she told him, poking her lip out in a sympathetic pout. “That wasn’t even close to beating my personal record for a takedown.”

Refusing to groan, Grit laid on his back for a full ten seconds. Obviously, he’d underestimated how strong she was for her size; that wouldn’t happen again.

“Bye-bye.”

As she stepped past him, he lashed out and curled his fingers around her calf, just above the boot. Catching her mid-stride, he yanked, rolling and banding his arm around her leg. A quick twist and he brought her down to her knees, lunging forward using the breadth of his chest like a battering ram and weight press in one.

Forcing her cheek to the unfinished floorboards, he locked her head down with a forearm over her slender neck, pinning her down with his superior bulk. “Bad girl.”

She growled. Actually fucking growled at him like a rabid tiger cub.

“Stay still,” he ordered, a touch of his Dom voice coming into play.

Of course, crazy didn’t respond well to orders—or her brand of it, at the very least. Laughing like a demented hyena, the slight form beneath him began to hump and squirm, doing things to his libido he had no control over.

He was, after all, a man who loved women. Their scent, their softness, their willingness to submit. Really, it was no surprise that his body responded… favorably to the stimulation of her ass on his cock—but her reaction certainly came as a shock.

Tabitha froze, her breathing stuttering in panicked bursts. Little hands curling into fists, she made a noise that might have been a whimper.

“Easy, Tabitha. Easy, little tiger,” he murmured, his protective instincts surging to the fore. Never would he have imagined—

The thought cut off abruptly as his words triggered an explosion. She didn’t scream—the sound was too low and fraught. She coiled beneath him, then bucked, ramming her elbow repeatedly into his side.

The fear he sensed in her evaporated, replaced with an unholy fury capable of singeing his goddamn eyebrows off. He was fond of them, so he doubled his efforts to keep the furious wildcat beneath him.

Disbelief ricocheted through him as she bucked again, kicking her legs toward his ass. The chunky heel of one boot smacked against the back of his thigh; the other skimmed up the inside of his legs, grazing his balls with enough pressure to make him flinch.

Apparently, that was all she needed.

Swinging her arm around, Tabitha rammed her fist into his side; awkwardly, but sufficiently angled to strike the soft spot between his ribcage and hip. Her knuckles jammed under his lowest rib, forcing him to twist to evade the sharp pain, and then… somehow, she was free.

“The fuck?” he muttered.

The little tiger was furious, he thought belatedly as her boot connected with his midsection. Goddamn it if she hadn’t donkey-kicked him as she squirmed away.

Wheezing slightly, Grit attempted a second grab for her leg, but anger seemed to make her faster, and a hell of a lot meaner. She landed on his back, her knees jammed into the joints where his arms attached to his shoulders.

Swearing a blue streak, he tried to push up, only to find she was using her full weight to prevent it. She couldn’t be more than one hundred pounds, maybe one-twenty at most, but she knew how to use it to her advantage.

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