Chapter 10: Micah - Keeping Knight

Self-defense lessons seemed like a good idea in theory.

I would teach Ruby some basic moves that she’ll hopefully never have to use and build her confidence in the process. What could be the harm in that?

Nothing. In theory.

What I didn’t take into consideration when I agreed to Ruby’s request was how damn hard it would be to keep my hands off her.

Every time I move her body into position, I’m tempted all over again. My hands will start out at her waist or arms, but quickly want to roam elsewhere. To the curve of her hips. The swell of her ass. Across the sleek expanse of bare skin revealed by her tank top and shorts. And her breasts. Shit. I so badly want to peel her shirt off and take her sweet breasts in my hands and mouth.

I’m not, no matter how much my body begs for it. No matter how sexy Ruby looks. No matter how much I want to follow the visible constellations of freckles to find out where they lead.

Does she have those cute little freckles on her stomach? Her thighs? Her breasts?

What about tattoos? The subject hasn’t come up, and now I’m incredibly curious. Does Ruby have a little flower on her hip? Or maybe a literary quote written in script beneath her breast?

And her nipples. What color are they? A sweetly pale pink? A deep, dusky rose?

I keep telling myself to keep my mind on the lesson. But it’s really hard.

Another thing that keeps getting hard? My dick. And he’s totally unapologetic about it.

For the most part, I’ve been able to wrangle him under control. But the constant internal reminders make me feel like I’m a horny teenager again instead of a man just a few years short of forty.

But, shit. Ruby is far and away the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.

It’s not just her body, although that’s definitely part of it. I love Ruby’s small but perfect curves and all those adorable freckles and how her curls always seem to have a mind of their own. Her amber eyes are captivating; so big and expressive and framed by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.

And her smile. It takes my breath away every time.

But Ruby’s so much more than her appearance. She’s smart. Thoughtful. Funny, in her own quiet way. Insightful. Brave. And she makes me feel like she actually likes me for me instead of what my family’s money can give her.

After all the years of staunchly insisting single was better, maybe my mom was right. I just hadn’t met the right person yet.

“Is this right?” Ruby asks as she adjusts her stance. Her legs are apart, her right slightly ahead of her left. Her posture is outwardly relaxed but alert, and her hands rest lightly on her hips.

“Pretty much,” I reply. “Just shift your hips this way—” I turn her hips slightly to the right. “And make sure your weight is distributed evenly.”

“Okay.” She pulls her lip between her teeth as she follows my instructions. Then her gaze rises to meet mine. “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Reluctantly, I take my hands from her hips. “It might feel strange at first. But you’ll get used to it.”

Ruby blows a puff of air at a runaway curl in the center of her forehead. Her nose scrunches up as she does it, which might be one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. “I guess I thought, going into it, I’d be standing differently. You know, like I’m ready to attack.”

“That’s what a lot of people expect,” I say, “because that’s what they see in the movies. But in real life, you don’t want to appear aggressive. You want to appear as unthreatening as possible. It makes a potential opponent underestimate you.”

She nods. “That makes sense.” Squaring her shoulders, she asks, “Now what?”

“Let’s practice the knee strike again,” I reply. Taking several steps away from her, I take on an aggressor’s stance, leaning forward with my chin down and knees bent slightly. “I’m not going to do anything. You come at me when you’re ready.”

This is our third lesson, so we’ve already reviewed stances, plus the classic knee strike to the groin and palm strike to the face. We’ve also discussed situational awareness—like how small cues like an awkward gait or avoidance of eye contact could signal potential aggression.

Ruby looks at me with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want a cushion or something? What if I hurt you?”

“You didn’t hurt me last time,” I remind her. And she’s not likely to. I won’t say that part because I don’t want to undermine her confidence. But the chances of Ruby actually hurting me are close to zero. Maybe if I had my eyes closed, and I was wearing earplugs, and my hands were tied behind my back… Even then, I doubt it.

“But I was just learning it last time,” she presses. “Now I’ve gotten some practice.”

“Rue.” I smile. “Don’t worry. Whatever you do, I can handle it.”

She studies me for a second. “Okay.” Then she rolls her neck and shakes out her arms. “Don’t laugh if I mess it up.”

“I won’t laugh. And don’t worry about messing it up. That’s what practice is for.”

Ruby takes a step back. Her features pinch in concentration. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then, after another quick exhale, she comes at me.

As she moves, I analyze her technique. Posture is good; a little off balance but easily correctible. Her arms come up in a defensive position. When she’s close enough to me, her knee jerks up, just as instructed. But she pulls her strike at the last second, reducing the force significantly.

I block her knee from hitting me with one hand and grab for her shoulder with the other, making sure she doesn’t lose her balance. Once she’s steady on her feet, I say, “You pulled it, Rue. You don’t need to do that. I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”

She sighs. “I know. But I got nervous. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“But if I hit⁠—”

“Ruby.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Trust me. I spent years training in martial arts. I still spar with the guys a few times a month. You are not going to hurt me.”

A line of frustration etches between her brows. “You probably think I’m being dumb. You were this kick-butt Special Forces soldier. And I’m pretty much the opposite of that. I just can’t help worrying.” Her gaze goes earnest. “I would feel horrible if I ever hurt you, Micah.”

My heart tugs. “You won’t.” Then I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “Now. Try it again. As hard as you can. I know you can do it.”

Ruby stares at me. Then she gives a little nod. “Okay.”

And the next time she tries, she doesn’t hold back. I still block her knee, because I’m not really in the mood to take a hit to my balls, but her knee smacks my palm with a firm blow that would definitely surprise an unprepared opponent.

“That was great,” I tell her. “I could tell you didn’t pull your strike that time.”

Her cheeks flush with pleasure. “I almost did. But I trust you. So I concentrated on that instead of being nervous.”

A surge of warmth fills my chest. Most of the time, I think Ruby trusts me. The things she does—staying at my condo, allowing me to protect her—make it seem like she does. Still, hearing it from her is different. Better.

“If you’d done that to an average aggressor,” I reply, “instead of someone who’s not just trained, but expecting it, they definitely would have been hurting.”

“Really?” Ruby smiles. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Really. I wouldn’t tell you something unless I meant it.”

As Ruby keeps looking at me, her smile fades. Her expression turns worried. “Is it bad? That I’m happy about being able to hurt someone?”

“It’s not bad.” Taking her hands in mine, I hold her gaze. “You’re not happy about being able to hurt someone. You’re happy because you’re learning how to defend yourself. They’re two completely different things. You wouldn’t want to just go up to some random person on the street and knee them in the groin, would you?”

She shakes her head quickly. “Of course not.”

“Right. You would only do something like that if you’re threatened. And in that case, you should be glad you can defend yourself. Okay?”

The worry in Ruby’s eyes fades. Then she hugs me. “Thank you, Micah. You always know the right thing to say.”

I hug her back, cuddling her to me and pressing a kiss to her hair. “I don’t know about always knowing the right thing to say. I’m just telling you the truth. That’s all.”

“Well, it always helps.”

“Good.” As I push the little escapee curl back from her forehead, I ask, “Do you want to try again? Or take a break?”

“Hmm. Maybe a couple more times? And then we can stop for dinner?”

“Sure.” I release her and get back into position. “Knee strike again. I want you to put all your strength into it.” With a teasing smile, I add, “Show me what a badass you are.”

Ruby laughs. “Badass? I’m not sure about that.”

“Yes, you are.” I give her ponytail a little tug. “Trust me.”

And she proves it as she does the knee strike several more times, becoming more confident in the move as she goes. By the last one, my hand stings where she hits it, and her face is glowing with pride. “I didn’t hold back at all,” she says proudly.

“No, you didn’t,” I agree. “You did a fantastic job.”

Her hand comes to my arm. Heat sizzles across my skin where she touches it. “Because I have a great teacher.”

“Or I could say it’s because I have a great student.” I brush my mouth across hers. “Although a bit of a distracting one, I have to admit.”

“Distracting?” Ruby’s brows jump up. “How so?”

My gaze drags down her body, past her tight black tank top and shorts to her cute little pink sneakers and back again. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re right in front of me, looking like this.”

She blinks. Then she gives a pointed look at my chest. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Oh?” My recalcitrant dick jumps. “How so?”

“Micah.” Ruby smiles. Her tone is lightly scolding. “Look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many muscles on someone.” Tentatively, she lifts the hem of my shirt, her gaze checking in with mine as she does it. “I didn’t think people actually had eight-packs before. I thought it was just something made up for books.”

My stomach muscles quiver when she touches them. Desire surges. “I told you, I work out a lot. For my job.”

“I know.” Her cheeks flush a deeper pink. “And I’m not complaining about it.” After a beat, a slightly flustered expression moves across her features. “I mean, I like you even without all the muscles. I don’t want you to think that’s all that matters to me. I like everything about you. Your biceps and eight-pack are just a little extra perk.”

A laugh rolls out of me. There’s just something about how she says it. “An extra perk?”

Ruby ducks her head. “I think I’m making things worse.”

“No.” I touch her chin, tilting her head up to look at me. “You are most definitely not making things worse. I just thought it was funny how you said it. But you’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yes.” Dipping my head, I press a kiss to her lips. “I think you’re beautiful, Ruby. No, I don’t think. I know you are. But I like you for all the other stuff I can’t see. How you look is just a perk, like you said.”

“Oh.” A slow smile curves her lips. Her gaze heats. Then Ruby grasps my shoulders, rises onto her toes, and kisses me.

It’s not a tender kiss this time. It’s demanding. Hungry.

As much as I want Ruby, I’ve been trying to let her set the pace. Knowing what she’s been through, is still going through, I don’t want to do anything that might make her uncomfortable.

That doesn’t mean I don’t kiss her. Or hug her. Or find excuses to touch her all day. I’m just careful not to let things go too far. Not yet. Not until I’m absolutely sure Ruby’s ready.

But when she kisses me like this?

I wanted Ruby before all of this happened, and in the week and a half she’s been staying with me, it’s grown exponentially. It’s not just attraction. It’s near-obsession. I think about Ruby all the time—lying in bed while I try to fall asleep, in the shower, during my workouts, when I reluctantly go into the office for something I can’t do remotely… Even when she’s sitting right next to me, I’m thinking about her. Wanting her.

Flattening my hand against Ruby’s back, I pull her against me. My erection is hard and throbbing as it juts into her belly. Her hands come to my neck, and she drags her nails across my skin, just the way she’s discovered I like it.

Ruby kisses me harder. She nips my lip, bringing with it a flash of pain, before stroking it away with her tongue.

I reach beneath her shirt to feel the silken heat of her stomach. As my hand moves to her breast, she sucks in a breath and arches her back. Her breast pushes into my hand. Her nipple tightens into a hard peak.

Ruby grabs the back of my head and holds on tightly. She keeps kissing me; her tongue thrusting desperately. Her hips press against me, moving erratically. When I flick my thumb across her nipple, she moans, and I capture the sound with my mouth.

I want her breasts bare. I want to see her nipples. Want to taste them. But she has this weird tank top bra contraption, and it seems determined to keep me out.

“Micah,” Ruby groans when I flick her nipple again. “I want⁠—”

“What?” I ask roughly.

“More. I need your hands… Oh.” Her hips push against me. Her eyes are half-lidded and glazed with desire. “More. Please.”

“Your shirt?” I ask. Because as much as I want her, I’m not doing anything to screw this up.

“Yes.” She pulls at it, but the silly thing gets stuck.

“Here.” I grab hold of her tank and pull it up and off. “I’ve⁠—”

But the sight of her gorgeous breasts steals my voice.

Ah, shit. I imagined. But this is so much more.

Palming one breast, I lower my mouth to the other. “Such a pretty pink,” I murmur before taking Ruby’s nipple between my lips. She shivers as my breath whispers over it. “So pretty.”

“Micah.” Her voice is a sultry rasp. “Oh—” My lips close around her nipple. She moans and arches her back. “Micah.”

Using my hands and mouth, I keep touching and tasting her, but I can’t seem to get my fill. She’s just so perfect—no, more than that. Exquisite.

Ruby’s hands are in my hair, alternating between tugging and stroking. At one point, her legs wobble, and I wrap my free arm around her, holding her steady.

My body aches for her. It begs to be inside her.

Oh, do I want to be inside her. I want to know how Ruby feels when I’m so deep I can’t tell where one of us ends and the other begins. I want to know how tight she is. How slick. How hot.

I want to know what sounds she makes when she’s getting close and how she looks when she comes. I want to feel Ruby come apart around me.

Is it too soon? The primal part of me says no. That if I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom right now, she wouldn’t protest. In a matter of minutes, I could be buried inside her.

But what about after? Would Ruby be okay with it then? Or would she wish she’d waited? Would she resent me for taking for more than she’s ready for?

I can’t risk it. Not with Ruby.

Instead, I keep touching her. Kissing her. Lavishing attention on her mouth and breasts. I remind my body that Ruby’s the important one right now, and I’m more than capable of waiting.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but it’s long enough for my cranky knee to complain and for Ruby’s stomach to let out a soft rumble. She claps her hand over her stomach and turns the cutest shade of pink. As I lift my head from her breast, she exclaims, “That’s not very sexy, is it?”

I stand, flexing my knee several times to loosen it. “It’s very sexy,” I tell her.

Her gaze shifts to my knee. Worry creases her brow. “Are you okay?” Leaning over, Ruby touches my knee. “I didn’t think. You were kneeling for so long...”

“It’s fine.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Just gets a little sore sometimes, is all. One of the bad parts of getting old.”

“Old?” Ruby blinks at me. “You’re not old.”

“Thirty-seven. Or, as my mom loves to remind me, closing in on forty.”

“That’s not old,” she insists. “You’re only five years older than me. And I’m not old.”

“No.” I kiss her again. “You’re not.”

“And neither are you.” As Ruby’s gaze drops to her chest, she makes a little ooh face. “Oh. My shirt.”

“You didn’t mind that I took it off, did you?” I ask.

“Oh, no.” She reaches for the discarded tank, but I snag it first and help her put it back on. “I seem to recall asking you to help me get the dumb thing off. It’s just…” She glances at her bare breasts, lightly marked with pink from my kisses. “I guess I feel a little vulnerable. After the heat of the moment. With you seeing my breasts like this.”

“You don’t need to,” I reply. Hugging her to me, I add, “You’re beautiful, Rue. With and definitely without clothes. If you want to walk around without your shirt on all the time, that would be just fine with me.”

Ruby stares at me for a second. Then she giggles. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

I give her a wolfish grin. “Nope.”

“Then you’d have to walk around with no shirt on, too,” she points out. “To be fair.”

I nod solemnly. “Seems fair.”

As Ruby looks at me, her smile fades slightly. She doesn’t look unhappy. Just thoughtful. “You call me Rue,” she says. “Is it weird that no one’s called me that before?”

“I don’t have to say it,” I reply quickly. “It just came out. But if you’d prefer I only use Ruby⁠—”

“No, I like it.” She takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you’re cute.” I tug one of her curls. “So that makes sense.”

“What about you?” she asks. “Where did Knight come from? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

A weight settles in my gut. I’m used to the nickname by now, and when my friends use it, I don’t mind. But I don’t love remembering how it came about.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ruby adds quickly. “If you’d rather not. Or if it’s some confidential Army thing. You can pretend I never asked.”

“No, it’s fine.” Leading Ruby over to the weight bench, I gently tug her down beside me. “It’s not a secret or anything.”

She traces the line of my mouth. “You don’t look happy about it.”

“It’s not that.” Turning to face her, I continue, “I don’t mind the nickname. You know we all got one when we served. Like Nico is Rogue. Jaxon is Jester.”

She nods. “Jester because he used to play pranks on people.”

“Yes. So, sometimes the nicknames would come from stuff like that. Little quirks people had. It might be something about their appearance. It might even be ironic. Like Grump wasn’t grumpy at all. He was really cheerful, actually. Like overwhelmingly cheery. So the guys jokingly called him Grump.”

“Grump? Was he on your team, too?”

“He was. It was me, Rogue, Jester, Houdini, Wraith, and Grump. On our Delta team, I mean. Wraith left a couple of years before we did to join the CIA. Then Grump joined. When Rogue decided to separate from the Army to start Fox & Falcon, he asked all of us if we wanted to join. Me, Jester, Houdini, and Wraith said yes. We were all ready for a change. But Grump was younger. He wasn’t ready to leave yet.”

“So he’s still in the Army?” Ruby asks.

“He is. Still kicking ass and taking names. But he knows he has an open invitation to join F&F whenever he wants.”

Ruby nods thoughtfully. “So, Knight. Was it because you were always being a gentleman?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Not quite. The guys who originally gave me the nickname didn’t do it to be nice. It was their way of reminding me I wasn’t like them.”

Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed, my family has money. My dad founded Sutton Aeronautics. They have contracts with the US government and private corporations all over the world. So he’s done well for himself.”

“Okay?”

I hesitate, trying to think of the best way to explain without making myself sound like an ungrateful ass. But there isn’t a good way to do it, so I just jump straight into the unvarnished truth. “When I was young, I was resentful of my family’s money. It sounds ungrateful. I know it does. But I didn’t like the way people treated me. I didn’t like the way the kids acted at my private school. I grew up in Bethesda, and I got into playing club ball—baseball, that is—with a bunch of local kids. Kids who went to public school and thought private school kids were a bunch of snobs.”

Ruby rests her hand on mine. “That doesn’t sound ungrateful. It sounds like you were a kid, and you wanted to fit in with your friends.”

“In hindsight, yes. And really, I don’t think they were wrong about the kids at my school being snobs. When my classmates found out I wanted to enlist, they made fun of me. They said I was stupid for throwing my life away like that when I could just work for my dad. They looked down at the guys I played ball with and called them losers, too.”

“That’s stupid,” she says fiercely. “Enlisting isn’t throwing your life away. It’s brave. Honorable.”

“I know that now,” I agree. “But as a stubborn teenager, I just got pissed instead. And I rebelled against my parents for a while. Told them I didn’t want to have anything to do with their money or the company.” I chuckle. “Clearly, I changed my mind. Or I wouldn’t have this condo. It was my parents’ originally. They’d had a thought of moving to Manhattan but didn’t like the cold weather. So it was just sitting, and when I moved here to join F&F… It probably makes me sound like a hypocrite.”

“It doesn’t.” Ruby squeezes my hand. “My dad bought me my apartment after college. It’s not as big as this place, but still. I’m in no position to throw stones. And if your parents are anything like mine were, I bet it made them feel good, being able to help you like that.”

“Probably,” I agree. “But anyway. To make a long story short, when I was eighteen, I didn’t like talking about how much money I had. Or my parents had. I just wanted to be one of the guys. I wanted to make my own way instead of relying on my dad’s success.”

“That makes sense,” she replies.

“But one of the guys in Basic found out about my family. He was kind of an asshole, so as soon as he discovered it made me uncomfortable, he started messing with me. Talking about how I could buy my own army, how I couldn’t know what hard work meant because everything had been given to me. Shit like that.”

Ruby scowls. “What a jerk.”

I shrug. “It happens. But then he found out that my dad had been knighted.”

“Knighted?”

“By the British royal family. My dad was born in London, but moved to the US for college. He has a branch of the company over there. So they knighted him for his contributions to the country.”

“Micah, that’s cool. Why would someone make fun⁠—”

“Because the guy was a jerk,” I remind her. “And it was another way of pointing out how different I was from everyone else. But that was a long time ago. I don’t care anymore. And my friends don’t use the nickname to be jerks. It’s just how they know me.”

Ruby goes quiet. Her brow pulls into a little scowl. Then she huffs. “Well, that guy was a jerk. But your nickname? I think it’s perfect. Not because of your dad. Or his money.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Because—” She kisses my cheek. “You are like a knight. A real one. Knights back in medieval times were heroes. They were courageous. They were chivalrous. All those things? They describe you.”

My heart thuds hard. “Ruby.”

“It’s true. I call you Micah because that’s how I got to know you. But I like Knight, too.”

Though I’ve had decades to move past some immature jerks from my past, I can’t deny the burst of pleasure that comes from Ruby’s comparison. “I’m not quite like an actual knight,” I protest. “I just do my job, is all.”

“No.” Ruby palms my cheek and leans in to kiss me. “You are so much more than your job. You’re all those things I said, Micah. And more.” She kisses me again. “I feel so lucky to have met you. I don’t care about money or being knighted or any of that. I just like you.”

“Rue.” I haul her onto my lap and kiss her hard. “I just like you, too.”