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One.
I swore as he pinned me down. He had a hold on all possible parts of my body. His arms pinned mine above my head, his legs were a cage around mine, and his chest collapsed on my own. He was using his body weight to hold me to the floor.
Two.
I panicked, not just at the closeness of his body, but also at the fact that I might lose. That I could fail. It may have been a low blow, but I took the only space I had to my advantage—the room between our hips. I brought my knee up inside his caged legs and struck hard at his groin. He yelled, losing his grip, and I was up and out of it before the third second. I threw myself at him, bringing him to the floor and collapsing my body on top of his. He winced as my waist met his.
One.
I used every bit of strength I had in my body to keep him on the floor.
Two.
My head was throbbing, but I didn’t allow it to distract me from the body underneath mine.
Three.
Bennett didn’t struggle to get up. He continued to lay there, unmoving. Our chests rose and fell against one another, and our breaths merged into one. My muscles relaxed and I prepared for him to shove me off, but he didn’t.
He laid there on the mat, sweat starting to glisten on every part of his visible skin, with me on top of him. And I allowed it. Tiredness, or the thrill of victory, must have clouded my judgment.
What the hell am I still doing on top of him?
When I finally came to my senses, I pushed my hands against his chest and rose until I was in a sitting position.
“I win,” I said coldly.
He smirked back at me, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Oh, my stars.
Both of my thighs were on either side of his waist, and my hands were still on his chest. My hair had unraveled out of its bindings and now fell across my face.
Bennett cleared his throat and my eyes widened as I realized I was still on top of him. I quickly rolled off of him and onto the mat. Heat crept up my face and traveled down my body.
“It’s about time,” he said sarcastically. “I thought you would never get up.”
Unsure of where my courage for nasty comments had come from today, I responded with, “So quick to dismiss a defeat, Bennett?”
“I would hardly consider you using my balls against me as a victory, but if you insist.”
I bit back defensively, “You shouldn’t have left them wide open!”
I cringed at what I just said, placing a hand over my face.
“Well, I think I’ve had enough of this conversation, and I don’t plan on sparring again with someone who cheats anytime soon.”
I whipped my head to him. “I didn’t cheat, and if you think that then you’re a very sore loser.”
“Whatever makes you feel better, Rhiannon,” he said nonchalantly.
My heart stuttered at the sound of my name on his lips. The first time I’d heard it in eight years, and it made my skin prickle. He was up and out the door before I could counter with another snarky remark.
I sprawled out on the mat like a snow angel and stared up at the ceiling. Guilt began to seep into my heart, and I knew I shouldn’t be thinking this and there was absolutely no reason I should, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking he may have been right. Maybe I did cheat, and he won.
The thought of me on top of him made me squeeze my eyes shut and cringe in embarrassment. At that moment I vowed to just avoid Bennett from now on. Every time I saw him I felt weak, and I was not weak. I would never be weak again. So, I didn’t care if this was the cheat way out of dealing with him. If I just avoided him, our conflict would resolve on its own, eventually.
Hopefully.
