until later.
The music was hard and angry—sort of like the rippling waves of emotion I was trying to keep in check—with guitars and drums and screaming rock, so I knew Isabel wouldn’t be able to hear the ding of the bell over the pulsing from the stereo system.
Even then, I could’ve turned around, locked the door behind me with my key, and left her to work out in peace. Once I knew that my state of mind was hardly polite, hardly civilized.
But I didn’t do that either.
“What the hell is she thinking?” I muttered.
When she avoided me, I let her be.
When I caught her dumping out the cup of coffee I bought her, I didn’t push.
When she continued, over and over, to do things that seemed completely at odds with what Amy had told me, I didn’t engage in the way I wanted to.
When I caught myself watching her, studying her, fighting the urge to pick her apart until I understood all these things that I didn’t seem to understand, I’d let her be.
But as I rounded the corner and she came into view, I knew I should have left. Something inside me screamed to turn and go. Leave her be now when it matters.
Because the first thing that came into my head when I noticed the graceful strength in her body, with hair unkempt, limbs and back coated with the sheen of unbelievable effort was, I could watch her do this all night.
I’d been lying to myself that I was only curious about her as my employee.
It wasn’t polite or professional as I stood and watched her. This had sharp, snapping teeth and a voracious appetite, something I hadn’t tapped into before.
Like shaking a limb that had fallen asleep, wincing through the pins and needles as the blood flow returned because for so long, that side of me had been silent.
I stopped to watch Isabel draw her left arm across her body to deliver an explosive back fist to the bag, followed by a right hook and, with a quick snap of her arm, an elbow strike.
Her technique wasn’t perfect, but when emotion took over, it was rare that anyone held their body correctly.
Finally, finally, I was seeing the real her. And I knew the truth of that bone-deep.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tried to fight the warring emotions behind my ribs.
Leave now was the thought battling for dominance, but my curiosity and the completely mesmerizing way she moved held my feet firm on the ground.
No. Not curiosity. Attraction disguised as something far more innocent.
My gaze caught the edge of her high cheekbones and the sculpted line of her jaw. Even from where I stood, I could see how tightly she clenched that jaw, and I wanted to lay my hands on her shoulders and tell her to relax and breathe.
If I tried hard enough, I knew exactly how it would feel if I did. If I drew my thumbs down the line of her neck to unlock the muscles she was holding so tense. She’d go pliant if I did that. If I treated her with softness.
But I didn’t want to see her melt. Didn’t want to see her go into some sweet, tender place.
The fire in her was palpable, and I knew I was about to walk into it.
It was that instinct that had me leaning down to snatch the focus mitts that laid on the ground next to the ring. The remote for the stereo was on the floor by her bag, and as much as I didn’t want to get a roundhouse kick to the face from Isabel Ward, my own seething anger at her leaving the door unlocked had me approaching from her blind spot.
Just to see what she’d do.
Just to see what would happen.
It was stupid. And nothing, not a single thing, had excited me this much in two years.
If this was my chance to see the real, unguarded version of her, I would not waste it. And later, I could curse myself for a moment of weakness.
I shoved my hand into one focus mitt and rolled my neck before sticking the second one on.
When she drew her leg back and kicked the bag with such force that my eyebrows popped up, I held one mitt up to protect my face and touched her shoulder with the other.
With a roar fit for an Amazon, she whirled, glove aimed right at my face. I yanked my hand to catch the right cross