I reach out, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
For the next week, until she leaves for Boston and I hopefully getting good news about heading back to Vegas, we’re going to be together.But what will that look like? Will she be able to be free, to be who she wants, if we’re here in Sugar Creek?Because people will talk and they’ll speculate, and some might even tease her if we went into Piper’s together for dinner. I’m not sure if that’s the best way for her to find her confidence, and I know how nice it would be for me to get the hell out of here.
“Are you doing anything particular that means you need to stay at Gray’s cabin next week?” I ask.
“Um, I was hoping I’d be doing …” She smiles as her voice trails off. “No. I have nothing happening that means I need to stay at Gray’s. Why?”
I return her smile. “What if we get away? Me and you. We can take a road trip and get away from everything and everyone. We’ll just relax and have fun.”
“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
Me, too. “As long as I can find a babysitter for my son, we’re good to go.”
She pulls back, her eyes wide. “Your son? You have a kid?”
“He’s five. A terror, really.” I roll my eyes. “If I knew how much of a mess they’d cause, I might’ve thought about it before I brought him home.” I fight a grin. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, no. No. No problem. I think single dads are sexy.”
“Great. You’re going to love him. His name is Otis. He’s orange with the best whiskers and the longest tail that he uses as a feather duster.”
She bursts out laughing before she smacks my chest. “A cat? Otis is a cat?”
“And the love of my life.”
“You’re rotten.” She giggles. “A cat?” She shakes her head, getting back into position. “Okay. Hands up, elbows tight. Now what?”
She really does want to learn this.I respect the hell out of that.
We go through the basics—how to stand, position your feet, and to always keep one hand up by your face. She’s a great student, listening intently and trying everything I suggest with maximum effort. Seeing her so interested in the one thing I know how to do is amazing.
“You’re doing great,” I say, encouraging her. “Now, watch me throw a cross.” I extend my arm in slow motion. “See how I’m pushing off my back foot and rotating my hips and shoulders?Your palm should face down once your arm is fully extended. See?” I do it again. “Your left hand stays here, by your face, to guard.”
She watches me and then tries it herself.
“Not bad,” I say, circling her. “Shorten your stance. You want to feel solid on your feet.”
Her ponytail swishes across her shoulder blades. “This doesn’t feel natural.”
I know what would feel natural as fuck.
“Relax your shoulders,” I say, watching her carefully. “A punch should feel natural, not mechanical. Think of your body like a whip. The power starts in the ground, right? You push through your feet, drive through your legs, and turn your hips. The power goes through your torso and shoulders, then down your arm. Your fist is the snap at the end.”
“Thinking of it like a science project doesn’t help much, unfortunately.”
I step closer. She watches me out of the corner of her eye but keeps throwing her cross. My body hums as I make a choice that I hope I don’t regret. Because I promised myself that I wouldn’t touch her tonight, that I’d wait and make sure that we established this first. But I need to touch her to help this lesson … and if I touch her …
I slide behind her. Her scent tugs the ends of my frayed restraint, enveloping me in a warm, slightly floral wave. Heat ripples off her and pummels me. It lures me closer, licking at my resolve.
“We want to rotate as we go forward,” I say through a parched throat. I tap her hip with my fingertip.
“Okay.”
Her voice is breathy, overflowing with the same desire that’s currently threatening to overtake me. Her shoulders relax and her body pulls toward mine like we’re unable to stay apart. It’sthe most natural, the most honest attraction I’ve ever had to someone and I’m not quite sure what to do with it.
I brace myself and then wrap my fingers around her hips. She shudders at the contact, and my cock twitches. She fits perfectly into my hands, her curve nestling into my palm like God used me as a mold to create her.
Or, maybe vice versa. Either way, it’s a match.
