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“Got it.” Constance’s voice came out a little thin, and her pulse rose. Maybe being so open to Rhett’s energy hadn’t been such a good idea.
“Your body delivers the strike.” Rhett’s torso just barely touched her shoulders as he guided her punching arm forward. “Use this hip. Deliver. Then pull straight back. Good.”
Rhett came back around in front of her, leaving her body to feel cold and oddly weak. He peered down at her. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now aim for anything vulnerable on my face. Eyes. Nose. Jaw. Throat.”
Constance thought through all of the instructions, started, stopped, adjusted herself and started again. She stopped just short of Rhett’s jaw, which sported about two days of dark growth.
“Not horrible,” he said. “Just needs a little practice.”
“You’re so tall,” Constance pointed out. “In a real situation, I don’t see myself getting near your face.”
“You will if you nail me in the groin first. But don’t use your toes, like they do in the movies. Aim with your shin. Broader surface, much more likely to score a hit. Go ahead and try, but please—” he held up a hand and smiled “—stop just shy of your target.”
Constance chuckled as she got into her fighting stance. She turned, using her body, and pantomimed the move, stopping her shin just inside Rhett’s thighs. He bent double, as if she’d really scored a hit. “Now aim for my jaw,” he instructed.
She swung, again turning into the move and aiming with her first two knuckles. Constance tapped Rhett’s jaw and he acted like he was going to fall sideways. He caught himself on his knees and smiled up at her. “Simple stuff, right?” He took her wrist and brushed her knuckles over his jaw. “Here,” he said, “or here.” He tapped her hand to the side of his face near his eye, then his throat. “Anywhere below the forehead, which is likely just to hurt your hand.”
Constance’s increased pulse warmed her back up, but she still felt shivery. Like the flu, but also absolutely nothing like the flu.
“Hey.” Rhett snapped his fingers. “Where’d you go?”
Constance blinked rapidly. Rhett was in front of her, still on his knees. His eyes sparkled in the dim light, his brow creased with concern. His scents, heightened up close, filled her. His laundry soap mixed with his shampoo—a hint of lavender and something woodsy. A few heartbeats passed, which thrummed in Constance’s ears and burned around the back of her neck. She didn’t even realize she’d uncurled her fist, which he still held, until Rhett’s thumb grazed her palm.
“This is bad fighting form.” His voice dropped an octave as he waggled her hand.
Constance stood only a few inches away, her hand loosely inside of his, her fingertips against his throat. She studied his eyes, sparkling in the dim light. His pupils were large, the heartbeat in his neck strong.
The tension in his body changed, loosening in some places and tightening in others. “Well?” There was no longer humor in his voice. “What now, Stanzi?”
Constance couldn’t move. Rhett Santos didn’t start where his body began; the beginnings of him were well outside his physical presence, that deep, dark energy throbbing all around her, an unseen shadow that held her captive.
His thumb stroked the center of her palm again.
Constance slid the fingers of her open hand behind his neck. The hair at his nape, which curled a little bit, was cool and silky. The feel of it sent a shiver through her body that raised goose bumps over her skin.
Rhett’s free hand went behind the small of her back and rested there.
She leaned in close, pausing near his cheek.
Rhett’s entire body stilled.
Constance gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth. She lingered long enough to feel where the tenderness ceded to the rough stubble on his upper lip. The only part of Rhett that moved was his hand. His warm fingers, rough with calluses at the base of his fingers, slid down to her forearm.
Oh, hell. Constance drew back slowly.
Rhett’s eyelids fluttered open. “And,” he said, his voice low, “she goes for the kill.”
They studied each other in silence for a moment, the complete quiet of the gym so unusual it heightened the significance of what Constance had just done. Rhett released her and rose to his feet. Constance drew a deep breath to steady herself. She wasn’t sure what to say or even how to feel. She still couldn’t move.
Rhett ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “C’mon,” he said. He nodded toward the doorway. “I think we’d better not do any more tonight.”
“Right,” Constance agreed, the word mostly a whisper. She thought about apologizing, but she wasn’t sorry.
They said nothing as they stepped out into the cold and Rhett locked up the gym. He walked her to her car and opened the door for her. Constance climbed in and waited. Rhett’s hand was still on the top of the door so she couldn’t slam it shut.
