She brought her knee up. He blocked it easily, catching her thigh.
"Harder," he said. "You're still being polite. I need you to hurt me."
"I don't want to hurt you."
His jaw clenched. "If someone has you like this, Grace, you hurt them. You don't stop until you're free."
She drove her knee upward with everything she had—fear, anger, humiliation, all of it channeled into the strike.
Luke moved to deflect it?—
—but he was a fraction too slow.
Her knee connected solidly.
The sound he made wasn’t controlled. It was rough and involuntary, ripped straight out of him. His grip faltered. His body folded, breath punching out of his lungs.
Grace froze. “Oh my God—Luke?—”
His face had gone pale. “Perfect,” he wheezed. "Exactly like that."
They ran through it again. And again. Luke showing her how to get free from different holds, different angles. Each time he talked her through it—calm, patient, relentless.
By the fifth time, she managed to get her heel into his thigh hard enough that he let out a sharp breath and rolled off her.
Grace sat up, chest heaving. "Did I hurt you?"
"Yes." Luke pushed himself up on one elbow, rubbing his leg. He was grinning.
"I'm sorry?—"
"Don't be." He stood, offering her a hand. "That's exactly what you should do."
She let him pull her up. They were both sweating now, breathing hard.
They stood there, both breathing hard, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him. Sweat. Exertion. The specific aliveness of having used her body for something real.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
Luke tilted his head slightly. "Teaching you to?—"
"No." She shook her head. "All of it. Me being here, in your house.” She gestured between them. "You didn't want me in your life two weeks ago. Now you're—" She stopped herself, jaw tightening. "What is this, Luke? Because I need to know if this is guilt.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Something moved across his face that she didn't quite have a name for.
"It's not guilt," he said.
The silence stretched between them, warm and complicated.
Grace looked down at the mat. Then back up at him.
"I should shower," she said.
Luke's voice was rough. "Yeah. Okay."
She turned, walked down the hall toward the guest room, heart beating a little too fast.
She didn't look back.
