He showed her how to break a wrist hold, how to drive her thumbs into soft targets—eyes and carotids—how to rake nails across skin, and pivot out of a choke hold. There was a lot of physical contact. His hands guiding her, their bodies brushing, heat sparking wherever they touched. More than once, the solid proof of how much it was affecting him pressed up against her. She was officially one more bear-hug-from-behind escape drill away from combusting.
The last move he showed her was how to disarm a man with a gun.
“I really hope I won’t need this one.”
Alec’s jaw flexed. “Not more so than me. Let’s go.”
She lunged, trying to surprise him. He caught her wrist easily and had her arm bent behind her before she could react.
“You’re distracted,” he chided. “Focus.”
When he released her, her gaze dropped to the erection straining the front of his pants.
“Easier said than done with your weapon constantly nudging me,” she joked, pulse jumping.
He didn’t deny it. “Try.” He raised his hand as if aiming point-blank. “Let’s run it again.”
She ducked under his arm and pressed close, grinding her hips against him. “Need me to get serious?”
His eyes darkened. “Need me to turn you over my knee?”
She gazed up at him, lips parted, considering that option a little too long.
“Emily,” he warned. “I need you to concentrate.”
“Sorry, but we’ve been at this for over an hour.”
Wanting to end this, she dropped low, swept his leg, and took him down. He hit the mat with a thud, eyes widening for just a second before she straddled his chest and pinned his hands above his head.
Panting, flushed, and feeling mighty proud of herself, she grinned down at him.
“Where did you learn that?”
“Did you forget who my brother was?” Her gaze dropped to his mouth as his tongue swept across his lower lip. She cleared her throat. “Still think I need a lesson?”
“Fuck yeah,” he rasped. “But not the kind you have in mind.”
Alec rolled them, reversing their positions. His mouth found hers, and the kiss—hungry, urgent, perfect—melted away a week’s worth of coiled tension.
The door banged open.
They both jumped as Leland and Mateo stepped in, gym bags slung over their shoulders.
“Are we doing this in here now?” the younger man asked.
“Gives me ideas for a new theme room at the club.” Leland snorted, tugging on gloves and tossing a pair to Mateo. “Subbies have to be naked, though.”
“If you score a knockdown, just remember where we are,” Mateo grumbled. “I’m not kissing you, old man.”
Emily laughed, mostly at his horrified grimace.
“We’re done here,” Alec announced, hopping to his feet and helping her up.
“You can regroup and try again next time,” Emily teased.
Mateo glanced at Alec—six-foot-three, 230 pounds, and all muscle. “You let a five-foot-nothing, 110-pound girl beat you?”
Alec didn’t answer, but Emily did.
