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He put his hands around her throat again, snugly but without pressure. She could feel the tension in his hands and arms.
“Now,” he said, “Tighten your neck. Grit your teeth and think about making the tendons rise up. Good. Now, shift your weight to your strong side—you’re right-handed, so your right leg—drop your head like you’re about to start headbanging, like you mean to do that thing where your hair starts flying, so your shoulders are in it, too. Go straight down, and as soon as you feel your head clear my arms, pivot on your strong leg and step out of reach. If it were a real attack, you’d start screaming and run like hell. Now, just take a step or two, like I did. I’m going to resist you as hard as I can.”
Her first attempt wasn’t powerful enough—or coordinated enough—and she didn’t break it.
“It’s okay,” Cooper said, still holding her. “You just need to move a little faster, a little fiercer. In a real attack, adrenaline will help you out. Try again.”
She did, and this time a touch of self-directed anger added some oomph to her attempt, and she broke away. She tripped over her own feet trying to do the last part and get away, but still, she grinned and did a little clap-hop. “I did it!”
He laughed—not at her, but enjoying her excitement. “You did. That was good. You want to go again?”
“Can you show me a different one? Like, if a guy comes up from behind me in the dark? And why would kneeing you have been risky?”
“Sure. I’ll show you a few, and we can perfect them as we have more sessions. And the thing about kneeing a guy—you gotta get it right on the first try, or you make everything a lot worse if you don’t.”
“Because he’ll be pissed I tried?”
“Sure, that. But it’s more that you’ve only got those six seconds, and you just used two, maybe three, between the strike and the reaction, and if you missed the strike, you also exerted a lot of your waning energy. A missed groin strike is the end of the fight, and you lost. Plus, even if you strike true, if the dude is on something, or just pumped on adrenaline, maybe it doesn’t disable him. And, if it’s somebody like me, with any kind of fight training, they’ll block it. You’ll telegraph the intent and end up driving the front of your knee into the side of his—a fucked kneecap for you, maybe an irritating bruise for him. The risk-reward scale is not in your favor. Better to break and run.”
“That’s a lot to think about in a moment like that. I don’t know how I’d do it.” The words came out in bursts; though she hadn’t really exerted herself all that much, she was panting. The crazy mix of arousal, anxiety, and adrenaline had her heart speeding and her head chasing after it.
“Practice,” Cooper said, coming close to take her hand and lift her arm. “Muscle memory. That’s all it ever is. Using a gun, your body, a fucking sword, whatever. It’s always muscle memory. Not the size of your muscles but the way you use them. Your body has to know what to do when your mind isn’t helping.”
Cooper’s obvious deep knowledge and his calm, respectful,goodteaching manner practically had cartoon hearts and flowers dancing in Siena’s eyes. Her body knew what it wanted to do right now—and to feel physical arousal this strong, after thinking she’d never feel it again, was wonderful and terrible all at once. Her want for this man drew the truth in bold lines: he couldn’t possibly want her in return. He was a spectacular example of masculine beauty, and she was barely a woman at all.
Then he released her arm and reached out to brush his finger over her cheek, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear, and Siena thought she’d weep. She was drowning in feelings virtually unknown to her foryears.
And god, he was touching her as if hedidwant her. His hand was warm and strong and gentle. His palm was firm and a little rough, pleasantly so. He was a mechanic, she remembered. Worked with his hands. Made them do all kinds of things, from brute force to fine adjustments.
His hand fell away, but his eyes stayed fixed on hers and warm with his smile. “You ready to try breaking a hold from behind?”
She should say no. Make up an excuse, get out of this room, out of this house, back to her own. Just saylook at the time!and get back where she belonged. She didn’t need self-defense training. It had been a stupid idea that had brought her here, where danger of another kind lurked.
Her head screamedrun, but her body didn’t want to give up these feelings it had gone so long without.
“Yeah,” her mouth said. “Please, show me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Everything about Siena—posture, expression, vocal tone, everything—screamed that she was scared. Cooper was running out of ways to try to make her feel safe. She’d said she knew she was safe, she’d said shetrustedhim, for fuck’s sake, but her body language was not conveying that trust. When he’d had his hands around her throat, her pulse had been going so fast and hard he’d felt it without gripping her.
To be fair, he was pretty uptight himself at the moment. This whole training idea had not been one of his smarter brainstorms. Siena was too suspicious, too scared. He supposed he could maybe use that, since they were talking about how to protect herself from an attack, and her discomfort now might be like the diet version of the fear she’d feel if she did get grabbed.
But her nerves were having the weirdest effect on him. He felt guilty and even a little hurt. It mattered to him that she felt safe with him.
