POV Owen
It was exactly six a.m. The house was deadly quiet.
I stood in the kitchen like an idiot, staring at the back door where she was supposed to be standing ten minutes ago—ponytail up, leggings on, mouth already running.
But no sign of Noelle. Not a single peep.
The coffee hadn’t been touched either, which was criminal considering she usually worshipped that machine like a damn altar.
I took one last sip of my water, slammed the glass on the counter before refiling it, and headed up the stairs. If she thought skipping out on self-defense was gonna fly, she had another thing coming.
I didn’t bother knocking. I twisted the knob and barged in, glass in hand, ready to turn her spoiled ass into a soaked mess.
The room was warm and dark. She was curled under her sheets like a damn burrito, dirty-blonde hair fanned across the pillow, mouth slightly open.
“Wake up, Angel,” I muttered.
No answer. Well then…
I stepped closer and dumped the glass of cold water right onto the lump of covers. She shrieked like I’d shot her, thrashing and kicking the blankets off and then it happened.
Everything froze.
She was naked. Gloriously, completely, skin-on-fire naked.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” she screamed, yanking a pillow over her chest.
I stumbled back, eyes wide, throat dry.
“Where are your clothes— Jesus Christ, Noelle!” I swore, turning on my heel and bolting out of the room like it was on fire.
Slamming the door shut behind me, I leaned back against it, heart hammering like I’d run a marathon.
Holy shit.
Those tits. Perky didn’t begin to cover it. They were round, full, taunting me like two ripe peaches made for sin.
The kind of tits a man dreams about sucking while the world burns around him.
They were burned into my skull now, vivid like a branded image I couldn’t scrub out. My jaw clenched.
I rubbed a hand down my face and tried not to think about how tight my boxers had suddenly gotten.
“You’re such a perv!” she yelled from behind the door.
“You were supposed to be down ten minutes ago!” I shot back, my voice rougher than I wanted it to be.
The door flung open again. She was now in black leggings so tight they looked painted on, and a cropped Lululemon jacket that did nothing to hide what I already knew.
“Hope you enjoyed the view,” she snapped.
I kept my gaze strictly on her face. Didn’t trust myself otherwise. She looked down and then smirked like a fucking devil.
“Mmh, I do think you did. ’Cause your morning wood is literally waving good morning at me.”
Fuck me. Heat rushed up my neck.
“Turn around and get your ass downstairs,” I growled.
“Ugh, stop looking so embarrassed. They’re just tits,” she said, brushing past me with a smirk and muttering something about needing coffee.
I followed after her like a soldier going to war.
We started in the gym, mats laid out, a small collection of gear stacked neatly in the corner. I’d cleared the room before she got down, needing something to focus on that wasn’t the feel of her skin or how pink her nipples had looked in the morning light.
“Alright,” I barked, ignoring the way she was stretching like a damn siren on a yoga mat. “We start with a range of motion. You’re stiff.”
“You don’t know that,” she muttered, then added under her breath, “though I guess you did get a full look earlier.”
I ignored her. Barely.
“Neck rolls. Shoulder circles. Arms up. Good. Stretch it out.” I stepped behind her, adjusted the angle of her shoulders.
My fingers grazed her collarbone, and I felt her shiver.
Every time I touched her, my brain screamed ‘don’t’. But my body? It was leaning in like she was gravity.
Her scent, warm skin, grapefruit and something sweet, wrapped around me until my self-control felt paper thin. I wanted to bend her over the stretching bench, slide those leggings down her perfect thighs, and ruin her.
“Stop thinking pervy thoughts, Tate,” she said without looking back, smirking like she knew.
I stepped away too fast, fists clenched. “Onto basic stance. Center of gravity low. Bend your knees.”
She copied me, but her legs were too wide. I reached down, nudging her foot with mine, then dragged her other leg an inch forward with my hand.
“Better. You don’t want to trip over yourself when someone grabs you.”
“Like this?” she said, stepping closer.
Way too close. Her breath ghosted over my cheek.
My gaze dropped to her lips. We were toe to toe. Her mouth parted slightly, and for a second—just one insane second—I forgot everything.
My past, her last name, what I owed to her father. To my old friend. It all blurred.
Then I snapped back.
In one clean move, I hooked her wrist, pivoted, and flipped her over my hip. She landed flat on the mat with a yelp, hair fanning out, her mouth falling open in shock.
“Hey! What the hell?!”
I knelt beside her, breath steady. “Always stay focused.”
She glared up at me, chest rising fast. Her cheeks were flushed, lips red, legs splayed from the fall.
I stood before I could do something really fucking stupid. Like kiss her.
Or worse—let her know she was the only thing in my head since 6:03 a.m.