Liam Davis & The Raven (Love Inscribed 1)

“Try harder. I’ll help where I can too, just like I was helped.”

His Adam’s apple jutted hard. “You—you don’t seem surprised. I guess I expected, if you ever found out, that you’d be more . . . well, surprised,” he finished lamely.

“Once I put all the facts together, it just made sense. It was right under my nose the whole time”—I shrugged—“I should have seen it sooner.”

“And you’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

So he didn’t tell me? No big deal. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean we’ve made promises to share all our secrets.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Our gazes held and he came forward, pushing a thick wall of tingles and goosebump soup with him. I wanted to submerge myself in it, wrap myself up in his strong arms, taste him all over again, but then I looked up. His eyes were ringed with shadows and tension, and I knew his calendar enough to know he had an early morning start tomorrow.

“Is there anything else, Liam?” he asked, a mixture of soft and tired. “Anything you might like to say to me tonight?”

I shook my head and veered around him toward my bedroom. “No. I think that’s it.”

“If you find yourself pinned to the floor, there are a few things you can do.”

I hurried in, five minutes late for my self-defense class. The mats squelched underfoot as I made my way to the semi-circle watching Quinn’s instruction, detouring briefly to dump my bag and jacket on the bench.

A quick glance at today’s participants told me Shannon wasn’t teaching today.

“First throw him off balance,” Quinn said. My gaze was drawn to him as he beckoned to Cheddar to come forward and straddle him. “Hold my wrists to the floor.” Cheddar pressed down, locking him tightly. I shuffled around the others until I could see Quinn better. His serious gaze was focused intently on Cheddar.

“Draw your attacker in,” he continued. “Likely any attackers are expecting you to shove them back, push them away, struggle. They’ll be off guard if you do the opposite. Instead”—he slid his arms over his head, effectively closing the gap between him and Cheddar—“bring them closer. As soon as they’ve lost their center of balance, thrust your hips up, like this, at the same time as you sweep your hands in an arc to your legs, and shove your attacker to the side.”

Quinn sprung to his feet and offered a hand to pull Cheddar up, who grinned like a kid. With a cursory glance around the semi-circle, Quinn stopped on me a long moment. “Partner up, and practice.”

A quick calculation told me there were an odd number of students. I had an easy solution for that and, after removing my glasses and setting them next to my bag, I headed for Quinn.

“Let’s do this,” I said to a bland stare.

His jaw clenched, muscles rippling. “I have to annotate the others.”

“Annotate them after you’re done with me, then,” I said, lowering myself to the mat.

Quinn stared down at me and swallowed. With a mutter and a grumpy expression, he straddled me, thighs gripping my sides tightly and hands firmly pressing my wrists to the mat.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“What’s up?” He shook his head and the blond tips of his hair glittered from the light above like a halo. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m frustrated.”

“Why?”

“You’re acting like nothing’s happened between us!”

“We jerked each other off. I liked it.” I shoved my hands up like he showed us; he collapsed with a warm, solid weight against me and our noses bumped. “I didn’t realize it was mandatory to broadcast it the entire week.”

His gaze dipped to my lips. He looked poised to say something about that, and then shook his head. Instead he said, “This is the part where you’re meant to buck me off.”

“Yes. I just don’t want to.”

“God, Liam. What are you doing to me?” His lips tilted toward mine and then he huffed out a groan and rolled himself off.

He lay on his back a while, rubbing the heel of his palm on his forehead. “I always fall for the wrong damn guy.”

I frowned at that, and sat with my arms around my knees as he picked himself up off the floor and moved around the room, commenting on other partners. I tried to fish for his attention with long looks his way, but he wasn’t biting. He didn’t for the rest of the lesson.

Did it mean he needed more space? That I should find my own way home today?

After we finished, I grabbed my stuff, tucking my jacket tight to my neck and my hands deep into the relative warmth of my pockets. The streets were already dark outside, but at least there was a bright moon tonight.

Shadows from the trees made me jumpy, and I recalled our first self-defense lesson. I pulled my hands out of my pockets, straightened my shoulders and walked with purpose. Assertiveness.