Oh my god, did I just admit my hearing issues to this complete stranger? A gorgeous stranger, but still, a stranger.
Killer frowns, but answers my question after clearing his throat. “I started training ten years ago. In Thailand.”
Those mesmerizing gunmetal eyes keep glancing up at me from whatever spot on the institutional tile floor he’s found so fascinating.
“Very impressive.” I lean back in my chair. Now that he’s speaking at a normal volume, I realize how close together we’re sitting. My knee is a hairsbreadth from touching his. I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Laundry detergent mixed with his body wash, plus his undeniably male scent hits me every time I inhale, causing my head to spin.
Killer grunts at my compliment and begins picking at a tiny fray on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt.
Okay. Not much of a conversationalist, at all.
“Muay Thai then?” I ask, turning to check with my computer. “Gabriel said you did jiu-jitsu.”
“Both,” he mumbles, the tiny hole now a bit larger. “Moved to Brazil after living in Thailand for five years.”
My head whips up. I’m astonished. “You studied in both countries? For five years each?”
Killer nods, still focusing on the fabric in his hands. By now, the bottom of his sweatshirt is unraveling from those digging fingers. Nervous tic. I’m quite familiar with those, having dealt with an involuntary one after my surgeries.
“I’m impressed,” I admit. “What about injuries? Anything major?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Minor?”
“Few sprains, aches here and there. Nothing big.” Those haunting eyes lift to mine again and he lifts a dark eyebrow. “I broke my arm once. Does that count?”
“Yeah,” I smile. “It counts.” Reluctantly, I pull myself away and roll my chair back behind the desk so I can enter the information. “Which bone?”
“Left humerus.”
“You’re right-handed, though. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Any problems with your arm since the injury?” I glance up when he doesn’t answer. “Killer?”
“No.”
“Mind if I ask how you broke it?”
The clouds must part and the angels are singing because a miracle happens. The man smiles, and it’s so beautiful it’s worth every irritating grunt and nonverbal answer he’s given so far to be able to witness what I assume is a rare event. A single dimple appears on one cheek and the teeth he reveals are perfect. I hold in a gasp. With one smile he takes years off his face and appears a heck of a lot less scary.
“I refused to tap out of an arm bar.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Ah, he’s stubborn. Good thing I am too, or else the handsome but intimidating man would trample all over me and my swirling hormones.
I add his cause of injury to the file and stand up with the intention of asking a few more basic questions. Killer reacts by leaping to his feet in a motion so quick and so soundless, I stumble back over my own shoes, headed for the floor. His massive hands shoot out, wrapping around my shoulders to keep my clumsy self from going down.
Oh my god.
I find myself paralyzed in his arms, our eyes locked, my heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. Unable to move, I examine this strange, beautiful man, with his secrets and his quiet, gruff voice and intriguing eyes. His scent overpowers me, seeping into my skin and causing a flare of lust to spark.
Close up, I notice a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He appears almost vulnerable, not the hard-edged, take-no-prisoners fighter he claims to be. For me, there’s a serenity in being in his arms. A peaceful calm I haven’t felt since before “the incident.”
“What’s your real name?” I whisper, our faces so close his soft breaths fan across my face.
A gust of air hits me as Killer releases me, jumping back. My skin is cold without his heated touch. I didn’t realize how much I would miss the unapproachable man’s embrace until it’s gone.
He stands a few feet away, hood pulled so far over his brow I can no longer see the silver irises that say so much about a man who says so little. His hands are fisted at his sides and his head is tilted toward the floor.
“My name is Killer.”
My pulse is still racing, my poor heart not yet recovered from being so close to this man, a man I shouldn’t let affect me. But with that blissful calm combined with intense desire, being in his arms could easily become an addiction. To be able to let go, to shut off the anxiety, the worry, the fear… it’s tempting to dive in headfirst and worry about the repercussions later.