Page 41 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
Damn it. I had totally ruined our sexy knife-fight vibe, but it was better to have this conversation now than later. Our first fight. Or misunderstanding. Either way, I knew his insult was unintentional and desperately wanted to get back to where we were, so I stepped in to him, jabbed his chest with my rubber knife, then kissed the spot where I’d fake-wounded him.
“I am forgiven?” His voice rumbled low. Uncertain. Hopeful. Turned on.
It was as if I felt his emotions floating through me. This connection between us…I didn’t quite trust it yet, but it was like a heady drug taking over my body, my emotions, my very soul. There was danger ahead. This was a man who could break me. I’d be risking so much giving my heart to him.
But like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t help myself.
“You are forgiven.” I tilted my face up, closing my eyes and pursing my lips.
He didn’t hesitate, lowering his head to kiss me. Once more, he began with a soft brush of his lips, those tusks smooth as cool ivory on my skin, then he pulled me to him,devouring my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine. I felt heat rise through me as I ran my hands over his chest, skating them around his sides to the hard muscles of his back. Then I stabbed him right where his kidneys should be.
“Dead!” I shouted, jumping back from him and raising my arms in triumph.
He laughed, the sound resonating from deep in his massive chest. “Clever fe…woman! Take every advantage in a fight. Although I would not be happy to know you used this tactic with someone other than me, Iwouldbe happy that you defeated your enemy and returned to me alive with his head as a trophy.”
This orc wasnotan incel. Not at all.
Ozar lunged at me, taking me by surprise. The rubber knife swiped diagonally from my right shoulder to my left boob before I could jump back.
“Keep fighting,” he commanded as he lunged again.
I swung my knife like a crazed woman, frantically retreating until I felt the wall at my back. He went to jab his knife into my stomach, and I dropped, hitting the floor hard and scrambling between the tree trunks of his legs. On the way out, I reached up and stabbed his ass.
“Good,” he roared, swinging around and bending low to slash again.
The movement put him off balance, so I kicked his knee, rolling away before realizing what I’d done.
“Oh God! I’m sorry.” I stood, holding my hands up. “Time out, time out! Did I hurt your knee?”
This wasn’t the sexy knife-play I’d envisioned. Something about Ozar’s size and skill had spiked my adrenaline and made me act as if I were really under attack.
He reached out, grabbed my wrist, and spun me arounduntil my back was against his front, held there within the bands of his muscled arms.
“No, you did not hurt my knee, but you would have disabled an attacker.” He kissed my temple, then bent his head low to nibble gently on my neck. “I love that you are fierce and clever. You would not hesitate to protect yourself and your family. You would fight side by side with your mate, protecting your offspring.”
I leaned against him, tilting my head to encourage him to continue with the kisses and bites. Compared to him, I was fragile and weak. I hadn’t expected him to compliment me like this, and I had no doubt that he truly did believe me fierce and clever, a warrior worthy of fighting by an orc’s side. Regular gym attendance and an athletic youth meant I wasn’t built like the stereotypical nerdy dentist, but I didn’t consider myself particularly buff.Stephaniewas, but some of that came from her being a shifter. Willa was more likely than any of us to fit into a human-warrior role since she made her living as a personal trainer, butme?
“It’s more than muscles,” he murmured as he uncrossed his arms and slid his hands down my waist to my hips. “Fighting is about being smart, thinking quickly, and using your advantages.”
I laughed, standing on my tip toes to rub the top of my butt against his very obvious erection. “This is the only advantage I have.”
He chuckled. “You have more advantages than this.”
Spinning me around again, he put his hands on my shoulders, holding me arms’-length from him. I pouted at the distance.
“Try to reach my shoulders,” he commanded.
Right.
I put both arms forward like I was in a campy ’60s zombie movie. The best I could do was grab his biceps.
“You will always have a shorter reach than your opponent,” he told me. “So, you must reduce the distance. Your fighting needs to be close. Run forward quickly, before he has a chance to swing.”
“Like this?” I rushed him, stabbing at his torso.
“Yes,” he praised even as he blocked my swing with a rubber knife he’d quickly pulled from his waistband. “Get inside my reach and force me to be always acting in defense with no time for attack.”
I tried to do as he said.
