“And if I can’t run?”
“Then you fight until you can. But you’re not built for prolonged combat, Sierra. You’ll tire. You’ll probably be up against someone bigger.” The words sit wrong in my mouth. Like I’m admitting I might not be there when she needs me. “So you break the hold, you create distance, and you get help.”
She nods, all business now. Good. I need her focused.
“There’s also the most important self-defense technique.”
“Which is?”
“Kick him in the balls.”
Her laugh echoes off the walls, bright and startled. She slaps my chest, and I catch her wrist before she can pull away. Her pulse jumps against my fingers.
Her pupils dilate. Breath catches.
Hunger.
Every damn time she looks at me like that, my cock stirs.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I say, my voice dropping, “and we’re not getting through this lesson.”
“You’re the one who grabbed me.”
“Yeah.” I tighten my grip. “And I’m still holding you. Want to learn how to fix that?”
The playfulness drains from her face. She nods.
“Men grab wrists. It’s instinct, easy control.” I adjust my hold, showing her where my thumb creates the weak point. “Most people pull away. Wrong move. You twist toward the grip, use leverage against the thumb, and you’re gone before he reacts.”
She tries it. Clumsy at first. I walk her through the angle, the sharp rotation, the immediate step back to create distance. By the fifth attempt, she’s getting it. By the tenth, there’s real force behind the break.
“Good. Now the choke hold.”
I move behind her. Show her the choke break. I hate putting my hands around her throat—even without pressure, it feels wrong. Her neck is so small in my grip. Fragile. The thought of anyone else doing this, actually squeezing?—
I force the thought down and explain the technique. Arms around the outside of the attacker’s elbows. Drive down on the joints. Break the hold.
She nods, practices the motion. Until I can feel the potential force behind it, enough to actually work if she needed it.
“Last one.” I move behind her again, wrapping my arms around her torso this time, pinning her arms to her sides. A bear hug. “Get out.”
She thrashes. Tries to headbutt me—would’ve connected too, if I wasn’t expecting it. Then she goes still for a second before popping up on her toes, arching her back.
Her ass drives straight into my groin.
I’m already half-hard from having her pressed against me. That move turns me to steel.
“That’s not the technique,” I growl against her ear.
She does it again. Slow and deliberate this time. My arms tighten around her reflexively, pulling her closer instead of letting go.
“Seems effective to me.” Her voice has gone breathy. “Tell me you don’t want to throw me down on this mat right now.”
I groan. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go.” She bites her lower lip, eyes locked on mine.
Fuck it.
