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But this is going to take forever. And all that time learning, I’m going to have to be in close quarters with Grant.
He’s polite and businesslike through most of it. There’s nothing friendly or soft about his behavior. But I have the strangest reaction to being this close to him.
I can’t think of anything but his body. He’s wearing old sweats and a white T-shirt, and the more we work the sweatier he gets. It doesn’t bother me. I’m sweaty too. And the sheen of perspiration seems to highlight the carnality of his physical form.
He’s got powerful arms. Thick thighs and a deliciously tight butt. He has dark hair on his forearms and bristles on his jaw, and his brown hair becomes more and more mussed since he likes to push his fingers through it when he’s feeling impatient.
Most of his impatience is aimed at me. I know it even though he never says anything to express it.
My preoccupation with his physicality gets worse as the practice continues. Until finally he comes behind me to show me how to position my arms better for a jab. He presses his front into my back and reaches around my body with both arms to move mine the way he wants them. It feels like he’s embracing me. The hard, hot shape of him fitting snugly against mine.
My blood throbs. In my throat. My ears. My fingertips. And arousal pulses between my legs.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like arousal, and it comes on so quickly it almost hurts.
It scares me. I take a quick step forward. My back immediately feels cold at the absence of his body.
Cold and empty.
“Sorry,” he mutters, evidently reading my reaction. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crowd you.”
I’m too embarrassed to look him in the eye. He obviously recognized I needed to get away from him, but maybe he doesn’t know why. Please, please, please don’t let him see I’m turned on right now.
“I think we’ve done enough for tonight anyway,” he says, sounding brusque and efficient again while I’m still washed with hot waves of arousal and mortification. “We can pick it up again tomorrow. Assuming you still want me to teach you?”
“I do.” This is important. Too important to give up. Which means I need to make sure I don’t feel like this again. “Same time?”
“Same time.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I grab a towel to wipe perspiration off my face and arms, take a swig of water from the bottle I brought, and then head toward the door.
I need to get out of here, but I’m planning to come back.
A random physical response isn’t going to keep me from doing what’s necessary so that I don’t feel so vulnerable again.
