"Like this?" She rotates her hips in a little circle that looks more like a playful dance than combat. "I feel like I’m trying to hula hoop away the bad guys. Do you think they’d be distracted by my terrible rhythm?"
The image of her doing exactly that pulls another low sound from my throat. I step behind her to demonstrate the full body mechanics. My chest brushes her back. The contact is electric. "Like this." I cover her hand with mine and guide the strike again. Her ass presses back against me for a brief second as shefollows through. My cock thickens instantly. I bite back a growl and create space. "Better. Now try it faster."
We drill the palm strike for several minutes. She improves with each repetition. Her cheeks grow flushed from the effort and the heat of the stove. A fine sheen of sweat makes her skin glow in the firelight. Every little gasp and determined huff she makes winds me tighter. I want to praise her properly. Want to reward that focus with my mouth on hers. Instead I circle her slowly. "Good girl. Again."
Next I move on to wrist escapes. "If they grab your wrist. Don’t pull straight back. That plays into their strength." I wrap my fingers around her slender wrist. Her pulse flutters wildly under my thumb. So fragile. So alive. "Rotate your hand toward their thumb. The weakest point. Yank and step away."
She tries. Her small hand twists in my grip. The friction of skin on skin sends fire racing up my arm. She steps back but stumbles slightly on those fuzzy socks. I catch her elbow to steady her. "Sorry. I warned you about the coordination thing. My feet have a mind of their own sometimes. Especially when a tall dark and growly marshal is holding my wrist like that."
Her words hit me low. I release her slowly. "You’re doing fine. Focus on the rotation. Try again."
We run through the escape again and again. Left wrist. Right wrist. I switch grips, changing the pressure, forcing her to adjust. Each time, she breaks free and steps back into position, her body brushing mine in the process.
The repetition should make it easier to focus. Instead, it does the opposite.
My control frays a little more with every pass.
My cock stays hard, impossible to ignore. I force my attention back to the lesson. Back to her stance. Her footing. The mechanics of the move.
Anywhere but the way she feels against me.
"Choke hold from behind next." I move behind her. "This one is common in close quarters. Wrap your arm around my forearm like this." I place her hands where they need to be. My front presses fully to her back now. The curve of her ass nestles perfectly against me. Fuck. I can feel the heat of her through our clothes. My arm rests lightly across her throat for demonstration. Not squeezing. Just enough to show the threat. Her breath hitches. The sound goes straight to my groin.
"Drop your chin. Tuck it. Then use both hands to pull my arm down. Step out and elbow to the ribs or face." I guide her through the motions. Her elbows are sharp and determined. One connects lightly with my side on purpose. She giggles. "Did I get you? Tell me I at least bruised a rib. I want to feel like a fierce library warrior."
"You did good." My voice comes out rugged. I step away before I do something stupid like spin her around and kiss that smile off her face. "Again. Slower this time so you feel the mechanics."
We run the choke defense multiple times. Each repetition brings more contact. Her back to my chest. Her hips brushing mine. Her hair tickling my jaw. Sweat dampens the back of her neck. I want to lean in and lick it. Want to taste the sweetness of her fear turning to strength. My hands ache to slide down her sides and pull her tighter. I keep them strictly instructional. Professional. Even as my body burns for her.
After the choke work I teach her elbow strikes. "Elbows are your best friend in close range. Harder than fists. Less chance of breaking your hand." I demonstrate on the air then position her. "Throw from the core. Drive it back like you mean it."
She practices with cute little grunts. "Take that you imaginary cartel goon. And that. This is surprisingly cathartic. I might start elbowing people at the library next time someone returns a book with coffee stains."
Her quirkiness pulls at something deep in my chest. I adjust her stance again. Hands on her hips to square them. The touch is necessary. The way my fingers spread over her curves is not. Heat surges through me. My cock throbs insistently. I imagine bending her over right here. Gripping those hips and sinking into her from behind while she gasps my name. I force the image away and step back. "Solid. Now knees. Lift and drive upward. Groin target if it’s life or death."
The knee-strike drill puts us face to face.
She raises her leg, careful and controlled, but the movement brings her closer than before. Close enough that I catch myself noticing things I shouldn't. The flush in her cheeks. The quick rise and fall of her chest.
Her balance falters for a split second.
Instinct takes over. My hands land on her waist, steadying her before she can stumble.
The contact lingers.
Neither of us moves right away.
Her breath comes a little faster now. Her lips part as she looks up at me, and something shifts in the space between us. The room suddenly feels smaller. Quieter.
Every second stretches taut.
I should step back.
Instead, I find myself holding on a moment longer than necessary.
I clear my throat and step back.
We combine the moves into short sequences. Palm strike into wrist escape. Choke defense into elbow and knee. I call out scenarios. She responds with growing confidence. Each successful execution makes her light up. "I feel like I could take on a whole room of bad guys now."
