Understanding dawns in Ryder’s eyes, followed by guilt. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Cora. I didn’t think.”
I take a shaky breath, steeling myself. “No, it’s... It’s okay. The next attacker won’t give me a warning either, right?” I wipe my eyes. “Let’s go again.”
Ryder watches me closely, still kneeling beside me. His expression softens, concern etched in the lines of his face. “You sure you want to keep going?” His voice is gentle, but there’s something else too—worry.
I nod, swallowing the last of the panic. “Yeah. I need to.”
He stands and offers his hand. When I hesitate, he doesn’t push, just waits, his presence steadying the storm inside me. I take his hand, his grip firm but careful, and pull myself up.
“You’re tougher than you look,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Little Trouble.”
The nickname settles over me. This is the second time he’s called me that, but this time it doesn’t irritate me. It feels like a challenge, like he’s saying I can handle more than I give myself credit for.Little Trouble.It’s not just teasing—it’s a reminder. A spark of strength lights up inside me, growing with each passing second.
I cling to it, letting it ground me. His words, the way he says them, make me feel safe. Secure.
I glance up at him, feeling the tension ease just a little. “Thanks,” I whisper, the weight of his steady presence chasing away the last of the fear.
This time, he telegraphs his movements, approaching slowly. His hands encircle my throat, but there’s no pressure—just the warmth of his skin against mine. His thumb brushes my pulse point, and I suppress a shiver.
“Okay?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.
I nod, suddenly breathless, for entirely different reasons.
“Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”
I send one hand to grab his arm, and with the other, I strike toward his face to break free.
“Good,” Ryder says, his eyes sparkling. “Again.”
We practice again and again. With each repetition, I become more attuned to Ryder’s movements, to the strength coiled in his muscles. Sweat trickles down my spine, plastering my tank top to my skin.
“Getting tired yet, old man?” I taunt, trying to ignore the way my body responds to his proximity.
Ryder chuckles, the sound sending vibrations through me. “I could do this all day, Trouble.”
During one hold, he pulls me against him, my back flush against his chest. Unlike with Jimmy, every point of contact sends sparks through me. My skin tingles, my breathing quickens, and it has nothing to do with exertion.
I break free and spin to face him, our eyes locking. The air between us feels charged, electric. My entire body thrums with an energy I can’t quite name.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if we surrendered to this attraction. His strong hands on my waist, pulling me close. His lips crashing against mine, hungry and demanding. Our bodies moving together, no longer incombat but in a different, more intimate dance. He must feel it, too, this undeniable pull between us. What if we just gave in, consequences be damned?
The fantasy is so vivid, so tempting, that I almost reach out to make it real.
Ryder steps back, breaking the connection. His face hardens, all business once more. “That’s enough for today,” he says, his voice clipped.
“What? But we’ve barely started,” I protest.
Ryder shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. “You’ve learned the basics. We’re done for today.”
Without another word, he turns and starts walking toward the exit. Something inside me snaps. I’m tired of being dismissed, of being treated like I’m made of glass.
Before I can think better of it, I charge at him, intending to show him just how much I’ve learned. But Ryder’s reflexes are lightning-fast. In a blur of motion, he pivots, catches my arm, and uses my momentum against me.
The world spins, and I’m on my back on the mat, Ryder’s body covering mine. His hands pin my wrists above my head, his face inches from mine. Heat radiates off him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat.
For a moment, I think he might... But then he blinks, and the spell is broken.
Ryder releases me and stands in one fluid motion. “Next time,” he says, his voice rough, “don’t telegraph your moves.”
