“Now you,” I say when he starts to look less stunned. “Turn around.”
He raises a brow. “You want to grab me from behind?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“It’s already weird.”
“Knight.”
He sighs but turns. His back is broad, the fabric of his shirt pulled tight over his shoulders. I step in close, loop my arms around his torso, and lock my hands.
“Now,” I say, “you get to be the prey.”
He snorts. “Never going to happen.”
“Commit to the bit,” I scold. “Okay. First problem—you’re taller, stronger, center of gravity higher. You can drop your weight, but you’ve also got options for leverage.”
He shifts experimentally.
“Try this,” I suggest. “Step behind my leg with yours, pivot, and use that momentum to throw me instead of just shrugging me off.”
He does.
Too well.
One second I’m behind him, the next my world tilts. He twists, grabs my arm, and I end up on the floor, back hitting the rug, Knight braced above me to keep from crashing his full weight down.
We both freeze.
His hand is on my shoulder.
His other is planted beside my head.
His knee is between my thighs, not touching anything it shouldn’t, but not…nottouching either.
Our breath mingles.
His eyes are wide, pupils blown.
My heart is doing drum solos.
We stay there for one long, electric second.
Then another.
Then another.
“Good.” My voice sounds a little strangled. “That’s… good leverage.”
He blinks, like he forgot what we were doing.
“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” He shifts his weight, careful now, pushing himself back onto his feet. Then he offers me a hand.
I take it.
His palm is warm and callused, fingers wrapping all the way around my smaller ones.
He hauls me up like I weigh nothing.
