She shakes her head. “I’m a terrible fighter. I always will be. I can’t defend myself, let alone anyone else. I can’t throw a punch. I have terrible aim with a gun. I can’t even run fast enough to shield someone else with my body.”
“Well, sulking in bed all day will definitely ensure that you can protect others.”
She glares at me.
I grin smugly, loving that I stoked some of that fire within her. She’s a spitfire, and as much as she drives me crazy, I’d rather her be fighting with me than ignoring me.
“I’m a good teacher.”
“I doubt it.”
“Want to make a bet?” I wiggle my eyebrows, knowing her well enough to know she doesn’t like to back down from a challenge.
“No, I don’t. Last time I made a bet with you, I had to surrender. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Is it really so bad to carry one of my babies? I know you’d prefer to carry Kit’s baby, but if a child of yours is to have a chance at surviving in this world, it’s a good thing to have my genes.”
“So the baby can drive me crazy too?”
I laugh at that. “Fine, if you’d rather us spend the day in bed trying to make that baby, then—”
She pops out of the bed before I can finish my sentence. She knows she lost the bet. She knows that I can tell her I want to start trying for a baby, and she’d have to oblige per our deal.
It’s not that I want a child. I’ve never thought of myself as a father. Although, the thought of seeing her stomach growing with my child inside does make me hard and possessive. But then I think how crazy Beckett has been going now that Ri’s pregnant, and I think better of it.
But knocking her up would help my relationship with Vincent and his men. With an heir on the way, they’d see that I could fulfill my duties.
Rialta heads to the closet and emerges a few seconds later wearing black leggings and a red sports bra.
Damn.
I chew on my lip, wanting to peel the clothes off her body.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. You’re showing me how to fight, remember?”
I pout. “Yes, I remember.”
I turn to lead her to the gym when she swipes her journal off the bed. I raise an eyebrow, wondering why she’s going to need a journal.Is she planning on taking notes or something? That’s not going to help her.
“So what are you going to show me? Self-defense? Boxing? How to use a gun?” Rialta asks, putting her journal down on one of the weight benches and then stretching.
I can’t take my eyes off her.
I want her—desperately.
One time together wasn’t enough. I want more. And not because of any arrangement or bet—just for myself.
And then I immediately hate myself for having those thoughts. If I could love her, I’d welcome the dirty thoughts, but my feelings are pure lust.
“No, I’m not going to show you any of those things.”
“Why not?”
“For one, my shoulder is still healing, and it’s painful to move, let alone physically fight you.”
“I’m pretty sure you could still win even with a hurt shoulder. Or are you trying to get me to have some sympathy for you? Because Gage and Hayes suffered far more serious injuries—”
“I’m not looking for sympathy,” I cut her off.