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A shiver wracked my frame.
“Just picture this as someone you hate.” He took a step aside and let go of the bag.
“Someone I hate?”
“Yeah. Just take your anger and frustration out on it.”
My throat tightened, and I shook my head. “I don’t hate anyone, don’t even dislike anyone enough to want to hit them.” God, I felt so out of my element… again.
His grin turned soft, and I felt my heart jerk in my chest, felt my belly churn with emotion.
I love this man. I love him, and I can’t ever tell him. Can I?
“No, I can’t imagine you ever hating anyone.” His voice was soft, gentle even.
“What do you mean?” My voice shook, because I was afraid of what he’d say.
He waited a moment before he said, “You’re too sweet to have that kind of emotion in you.”
The air stilled around me before thickening, and I felt a thrill fill me. He looked at me like how I imagined I looked at him.
With want and need and desire all rolled into one.
He ran a hand over his nape and tipped his chin toward the punching bag again, as if he was embarrassed, which in turn had me smiling. “Okay, well imagine it’s someone hurting another person. Take your anger out on that.”
“Okay,” I whispered, the music playing above us from the speakers seeming so loud all of a sudden. I took my place in front of the bag and breathed out slowly. “What now?”
“Brace your legs apart.”
I did what he said.
“Lift your hands and make fists right in front of your face.”
I did that too and looked at Braxton. He was watching me with a weird expression on his face, one that I couldn’t place but definitely made me feel fuzzy inside.
“Good stance,” he finally said and straightened, that expression fading as he got back into instructor mode. “Now swing. Focus your thoughts and emotions, and throw your fist out.”
Tightening my hands, I breathed out, focused on the gray in front of me, and only concentrated on that. And then I swung forward, connecting with the bag. Pain radiated from my knuckles and went straight up my arm. A sharp gasp left me, and my eyes widened.
Braxton came around to stand in front of me, took my hands in his, and looked down, his brow furrowed. He was gentle as he brushed his fingers along my knuckles. I felt weird in this moment, and that arousal was still there, but it was the emotion that rose up in me, that love that wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed tightly.
“Par for the course and all that, right?” I whispered, and should have taken my hand out of his grasp, but I liked his touch, the way he kept brushing his fingers against me, the pain leaving, and comfort and pleasure curling around me.
“It's already starting to swell,” he murmured, the frown still in place.
His words had that pain surfacing. That throbbing started in my hand, but it still wasn’t as strong as what else I felt right now.
“Maybe I should just be your shadow so you don’t get hurt and don’t have to worry about any of this.” His voice was soft but still deep, and I wanted to think about the deeper meaning behind his words and how serious he looked, but before I could analyze it, he glanced up at me and smiled. He gave my knuckles one more gentle sweep from his fingers before letting my hand go. “Let’s get you some ice for it.”
I was about to argue, but his face hardened, and I knew he wouldn't be swayed in this.
He led me out and back to the hallway before we entered another room. This was smaller, clearly a staff room. He had his hand on the small of my back as he led me over to an empty chair and gestured for me to take a seat. And then he went to the small white fridge and grabbed a gel pack out before coming back to me and taking a seat in front of me.
He reached out and curled his big hand around my wrist. It seemed so small in his grip, and I hissed out when he placed the cold pack on my knuckles.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmured but kept the pack on and didn’t let go of me, which was fine by me. My hand might’ve been getting cold, but my body was heating up.
We sat in silence for the longest time, but I felt like there was something on his mind. I was staring at the ice pack he kept pressed to my knuckles, too afraid to say anything and break the quiet.
“Let me take you out, Amelia.”
My breath caught, and I snapped my head up. My heart was racing, slamming against my ribs. Could he hear it? God, it sounded like a war drum in my head. “W-What?” I cleared my throat and sat up straighter.
