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Chapter Seven
“Excuse me?” Hannah blinked.
“You’ll need to partner up for sparring. Let me be your first one.”
Oh, dear god in heaven. The way he said that, and the places her mind went, sent heat flooding through her body.
“Yeah. Sure, that sounds great.” Did her voice sound breathy? It sure felt breathy. “Go easy on me?”
“Well, now, I can’t make any promises.” He did a lopsided grin thing that had her heart tripping. “Let’s go line up and review a few things.”
She followed him back to the floor, every nerve ending alive with anticipation.
His gaze, so confident and male, had heat spreading to every inch of her body.
“Remember, Taekwondo is a noncontact sport.”
So much for the fantasy of him pinning her to the ground.
“Okay.” She shrugged and gave him a teasing smile. “Probably better that way. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
That had him laughing as he showed her the stance to have her body in when they begin.
Her uncle counted down before giving the command to start sparring.
“You want to block my attack.” Eric did a lightning-fast front kick that grazed her uniform.
Her eyes rounded. “I thought this was no contact!”
“To the body. Contact with the uniform is a point.” He lifted his hands into a protective blocking position. “Block me. Like this.”
This time when he came at her with a front kick, it was slow, giving her enough time to understand the way to block him.
“Yes, good job. Try and get a point on me.”
Yeah, like that was even remotely possible. She hid a snort and glanced around at what others were doing. Seeing something that looked within her ability, she aimed a punch at his chest.
He deflected with his wrist, sending her arm careening harmlessly to the side. Which kind of just pissed her off.
With a growl, she attempted to land one of those front kicks near his stomach, like he’d done to her.
But—of course—he stopped it. Not just deflecting it, but catching her ankle in a strong grasp.
Hot and cold washed through her at the touch of his calloused fingers on her skin. The air rushed from her head, and she told herself it was simply because she was trying to maintain her balance.
She hopped on her one foot, trying to pull her other foot free from his strong fingers.
Oh, please tell me I shaved my legs this morning.
While she was distracted by the internal debate of how hairy her legs may or may not be, he scored a point with a kick to her side.
“Ooh,” she gasped and finally pulled her foot free. Then immediately fell. The hard studio floor rushed up to meet her back and she braced for it.
Before she could hit, his arm swung out to catch her, snapping her upright with enough force that she fell into his arms.
It felt like minutes that they were locked together, uniform to uniform, staring into each other’s eyes. But in reality, it was only seconds before he released her, steady on her feet again.
But that one interaction had rocked her to the core.
