Her brows knit together slightly. “Start what?”
“Training.”
That earns me a look. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
She studies me for a second, then huffs out a small breath, but there’s a flicker of determination behind it. “Fine.”
We dress quickly and move into the small open space in the living room. I keep it simple at first. Basic stance and balance. She listens closely, mimicking my movements. Her focus is sharper now, like she needs something to hold onto.
“Feet apart,” I instruct, adjusting her position slightly. “You need a stable base.”
“Like this?” she asks, shifting her weight.
“Better,” I say, stepping back slightly to observe. “If someone grabs you, your first instinct shouldn’t be to panic.”
“I don’t panic,” she mutters.
I raise an eyebrow. “You will if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She rolls her eyes slightly but doesn’t argue.
“Again,” I say, stepping forward. “I grab you, you react.”
I reach for her wrist, not hard, just enough to demonstrate. She tenses at first, then remembers, shifting her stance the way I showed her, trying to twist free.
“Too slow,” I correct, adjusting her movement. “You hesitate, you lose.”
She tries again. Better this time.
“Good,” I say.
A small smile tugs at her lips. “I’m learning.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” I reply.
She huffs softly but steps closer again. “Show me something harder.”
I study her for a second, then nod. “Fine.”
I move behind her this time, guiding her arms into position, showing her how to break free from a hold. My hands linger a second longer than necessary. Not intentional at first, but then she shifts slightly, her back brushing against my chest.
And everything changes. The air shifts. Thickens. Her breath catches just slightly, and I feel it.
“Focus,” I say, though my voice has dropped.
“I am,” she murmurs, but it’s not convincing.
I should stick to the training.
Instead, my hands stay where they are, sliding just slightly as I adjust her stance again. My hands glide down slower this time, more deliberate. Her body responds instantly, tension building in a different way now.
“Daddy…” she breathes, turning her head just enough that the word ghosts against my jaw.
That’s all it takes.
I turn her toward me, the shift quick but controlled, my hand coming up to steady her before she loses her balance. For a second, we stand there, close enough that I can feel her breath. Her pulse. The way everything between us has already crossed the line we were pretending to hold.
