Page 60 of The Quiet Witness

Second time. That sweet notion of control, that had allowed her decent sleep for once. Shook.

The third time. It cracked like an egg.

Ten times in, and there was nothing left of it to salvage.

Yes. Kate wished she’d have swallowed that “Teach me.”

But here she was. Black leggings hugging her tightly, white T-shirt ending at her waist. Crumpled on the floor like a pretzel.

His hand floated in front of her. An invitation to get back up. Again.

Her teacher was nothing if not a stickler for gentlemanly manners, to help her back up after wiping the floor with her. Oh, and did she mention patience?

Lucien basically owned the word. As well as an innumerable amount of weights. The black discs lined the walls like shadows. And that boxing bag. The heavy sack kept swinging, silver chains rattling softly in the breeze coming in from the window he’d insisted stay open. It didn’t help her growing irritation.

“Backing down so quickly, sweetheart?” That grin on his face. Oh, if only she could wipe it off of him. Those freaking quips. She gathered her feet, taking his hand to have him pull her up again.

“Let’s try something else for a bit.”

Yes. Else she’d bite down on her tongue. To keep it from saying stupid stuff like teach me. There was one silver lining to today’s torture though. Boxing. It had worked… not perfectly, by a long shot. But it felt fitting. Hitting those pads, when she managed to hit them squarely in the middle. That sound. Yes, she may have fallen in love with what Lucien had called an art form.

Lucien fixed her with a stare. “Earth to Kate.”

“Yes, dear teacher?”

“That move you used yesterday?”

“Um, that hip thing?”

He chuckled. “Yes, that hip thing.”

Well that hip thing asked for a whole lot of personal space invasion. But it seemed like most things self defense would ask her to cross that threshold. That high, canyon-wide, gaping threshold.

Step by small step. For every time she took his hand without flinching, her confidence grew.

“Yes. Let’s do the hip thing. As you so elegantly phrase it.”

She hesitated, biting her lip, feet frozen to the black floor. It would mean he had to put his hands on her, ensnare her like he’d done yesterday. Her heart tightened.

Lucien strode over to his water bottle, chugging it down. Seconds, he was giving her precious seconds to regain her composure. Kate closed her eyes. Four in, hold for seven, out for eight.

The mats creaked, fingers clasped around her shoulders. A second later his chest touched her back, arms coming up to encircle her. Their waists touching. She stiffened. They couldn’t be getting much closer then this. No, don’t think that. Breathe.

“Relax.” He let an arm hang loose, coming up to rest on her upper arm, tracing a slow circle over her skin. She shivered, goosebumps rising below his careful touch. But she exhaled softly, step by small step.

“Good. Now relax those shoulders.”

She tried, letting her breath ease the gathering tension.

“Hips are next.” His breath tickled her neck. She ignored it. Digging a deep mental hole to bury what it made her feel in it, deep, deep down.

“Hmmhmm. Think of what you did yesterday.”

The closeness was overwhelming, her brain screeched to a halt. Yesterday… what had she done again? His hand stilled, pulling her even tighter against him. He leaned in, resting his chin on her neck to whisper softly. “Shouldn’t let me get this close.”

She bucked her hips harshly, twisting around like a horse. He lost his grip. But so did she. With no hand to hold her up this time, she tumbled unceremoniously onto the mats. Again.

He stood above her. Smug grin staring her right in the face. “Excellent. We’ll have to work on the landing a bit. But pretty damn good nonetheless.”