Gray’s lips twitch. “No, it’s not just about punching people. Though that can be effective in the right circumstances.”
He positions himself in front of me, close enough that I can smell the clean sweat on his skin.
“First, we’ll work on breaking holds. If someone grabs you, your instinct will be to pull away. Don’t. That’s what they expect.” He reaches out. “I’m going to grab your wrist. Don’t tense up.”
His hand wraps around my wrist, warm and firm. My pulse spikes beneath his fingers.
“Now, instead of pulling back, you’re going to rotate your arm like this,” he demonstrates with his free hand, “and step to the side while pushing my hand away at the weak point—my thumb.”
I try the movement, but it feels awkward and uncoordinated.
“No, like this.” Gray adjusts his grip and physically guides me through the motion, his body close to mine. “Feel how that works?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. His proximity is doing dangerous things to my concentration.
“Good. Let’s try again.”
We repeat the drill several times, Gray grabbing different parts of my arms, showing me how to break free. Each time he touches me, it gets harder to focus on the technical aspects and easier to focus on how much I want him to touch me elsewhere.
“Now let’s try a front choke defense,” Gray says, stepping closer. “This is important because it’s a common attack.”
He raises his hands. “I’m going to place my hands near your neck, but I won’t apply pressure. I just want you to feel the proper response.”
His hands come to rest lightly on either side of my throat, his thumbs just grazing my Adam’s apple. It’s not a choke at all, barely any pressure, but my breathing quickens anyway.
“When someone grabs you like this, you need to create space immediately. Raise your arms between theirs, like this.”
He guides my arms up, breaking his hold.
“Then strike the vulnerable areas—eyes, throat, groin—while stepping back.”
We practice the movement slowly, his hands returning to my neck each time, my arms breaking his hold. But with each repetition, the air between us grows thicker, charged with something neither of us is acknowledging.
“Let’s try a different scenario,” Gray says, his voice slightly strained. “What if someone grabs you from behind?”
Before I can respond, he steps behind me, one arm wrapping around my chest, the other around my waist. My back is pressed against his front, and there’s no way he can’t feel how fast my heart is beating.
“This is a common hold,” he says, his breath warm against my ear. “The attacker immobilizes your arms and can control your movement.”
I can barely focus on his words. All I’m aware of is the solid wall of his chest against my back, the strength in his arms as they hold me, and the unmistakable hardness pressing against my ass. Gray is aroused—as aroused as I am—and there’s no way to hide it in the position we’re in.
He clears his throat, continuing as if we both can’t feel what’s happening. “To break this hold, you need to drop your weight suddenly, create space, and strike backward with your elbow.”
I try to focus, to follow his instructions, but when I drop my weight, my ass grinds against his erection. A small, choked sound escapes him. It’s so quiet I almost miss it.
“Sorry,” I mutter, my voice embarrassingly hoarse.
“It’s fine,” he says quickly. “Let’s try again.”
But when he wraps his arms around me this time, we’re both hyperaware of the contact. I can feel him trying to keep his hips angled away, but it’s impossible in the position we’re in.
This time when I drop my weight to break his hold, I deliberately press back against him. His hands tighten reflexively on my arms, and for a moment, neither of us moves. We’re frozen together, both pretending this isn’t happening, both achingly aware that it is.
“That’s, uh—” Gray’s voice cracks. “That’s good. You’re getting the technique.”
He steps back suddenly, breaking contact. I turn to face him, and we both pretend not to notice the obvious tents in our shorts. His face is flushed, whether from exertion or arousal or both, I can’t tell.
“I think that’s enough for today,” he says, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “You’ve already done a lot for your first real workout.”
