The first skill was the palm heel strike, which, according to Zane, was safer than a fisted punch because there was less risk to the hand. Because there were an even number of women, Bonnie sat out of that activity.
Which was fine. It allowed her to work on her don’t-stare-at-Zane strategies. They all sucked. She stared at him far too often.
After twenty minutes, Zane demonstrated the knee strike.
The women did great. And not only that, they seemed to be having fun. More fun than at the yoga session she’d organized a few days ago. But then, Bonnie would choose this over yoga too.
When Zane called the group back together again, Bonnie was so deep in her own head that she missed her name being called.
“Bonnie?”
Her gaze shot up to Zane. “Yes?”
“I asked if you’d like to help demonstrate a wrist grab escape?”
“With you?” Shit, why was her voice so high-pitched?
“Yes. With me.”
She nodded, probably far too vigorously. “Yes. Sure. Of course.” She crossed over to the front of the group.
“You’re okay with me being the attacker?” he asked, his eyes finally on her. “That way the women can see how to get out of the hold of someone bigger than them.”
Zane touching her. Yeah, she could do that without turning to a puddle on the floor. “Absolutely fine.”
“Okay, I’m going to grab your right wrist with my left hand.” He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. His touch was warm, fingers overlapping.
“If someone grabs you like this,” Zane said to the group, “it’s important to stay calm.”
Calm? While he was touching her? Ha. That was like asking her to remain calm in the middle of a hurricane.
He looked at her again. “Keep your feet shoulder width apart, knees soft and no panic. The thumb side of the attacker’s grip is the weakest point. You want to rotate your wrist soyourthumb points toward the attacker’s thumb. Do it quickly, then step back to add body weight to the movement.”
Bonnie twisted her arm and stepped back. Zane immediately released her.
He nodded. “Good. Again, but faster.”
The second his fingers wrapped around her, she twisted her wrist and stepped back.
“Good.” He faced the women. “Then you get your ass the hell out of there. Pair up.”
Bonnie bit her bottom lip as she watched everyone get back into pairs. She could still feel the imprint of Zane’s fingers on her wrist. Her skin felt hot and tingly, and it was taking everything in her not to run her finger right over where he’d touched her.
Don’t look at her.Don’t fucking look at her.
The words had been on repeat in Zane’s head since Bonnie stepped through the door. But listening to those words was killing him. She wore this skintight white top and leggings that showed every damn curve. But it was her eyes that stole his fucking sanity. That beautiful hazel that had a million emotions running through them.
He needed to stop. Stop thinking about her. Craving her. Dreaming about that damn kiss.
He couldn’t kiss her again. Not right now. Not while Monty was planning something from his cell, and certainly not when that fucking reporter had threatened to write his story.
His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket to see Ethan’s name.
Finally.
He moved over to Stetson. “I just need to take a call. Are you good here?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m actually enjoying this.”
