The second guy, in a leather biker vest and greasy jeans, was smaller, thinner, but sinewy and tough. Skye turned as he approached and shoved an elbow into his stomach, eliciting a grunt, then shot out with her good leg and sent him flying into a chair that tipped over backward, knocking his head against the scuffed wooden floor.

“We just want to leave,” Edge said to the remaining two men.

As the big guy got back on his feet, the third guy jumped into the fray. Lowering his shiny bald head, he charged like a bull in an arena. Edge caught him around the neck and turned, slamming him headfirst into the wall. The bald guy slid down to the floor, his eyes rolling back until only the whites showed.

Hearing a commotion, Edge turned to see Skye boxed in by the fourth guy, pale-faced and ugly, and the big dude in the FUCK OFF T-shirt.

Time to get serious.

He caught Skye’s glance, and she nodded, dropped to the floor on her back, and rammed her boot into the pale-faced guy’s kneecap. With a scream, he twisted away, grabbing his leg and whining like a baby. Edge stepped in and used the side of his hand in a quick carotid chop to the big guy’s neck. He dropped like a stone, and the fight was over.

“We just want to leave,” Skye said, and then she smiled. “Okay with you gentlemen?”

The kneecapped dude made a whimpering sound, but none of them moved. Edge ushered Skye to the door, and they stepped out into the night. No one followed.

“No idea why that felt so good,” Skye said.

“It’s been a while. Maybe you needed the practice.”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin.

His gaze ran down her body. “How’s your leg?”

“I’m wearing my brace.” She smiled as she climbed into the truck. “It feels just fine.”

Ten minutes later, they were back in the cabin, both of them still pumped. A hot look passed between them. There was something about standing up to a challenge and winning that heated your blood.

Edge reached for her at the same time Skye stepped into his arms. His hand slid into her thick dark hair to anchor her in place as his mouth crushed down over hers. The kiss was hot, wet, and deep. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. It was just the heat of battle that had them both desperate for release.

“We don’t have time for this,” he said when they came up for air.

“We’ll have to hurry.” Skye reached for his belt buckle, then unzipped his fly while Edge unfastened her jeans. In seconds, her boots were gone and her jeans with them. A wet kiss kept them both occupied while Edge eased her panties down over her brace, turned her around, and bent her over the arm of the sofa.