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“You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I grumble, not really sure if I can do this.
Or if I should.
No, I definitely should. After what happened last week, a woman should know a few basic self-defense moves.
Nick heads over to the bench and unties his belt, dropping it on the bench beside my bag. Then, he strips off his white jacket.
My jaw hits the floor.
Unlike our time on the boat Monday, where he wasn’t wearing a shirt, this time he’s wearing a white tank top underneath, and if it’s possible, I think it makes him hotter. It hugs his very hard, very muscular upper body in a way that I’ve only read about in books. (Or saw one time when Linkin stripped for my sister, Lexi.) His shoulders…my word, his shoulders. The definition and muscles are like a work of art. Nick turns back to face me. “Is this okay? It’s hot.”
Yep. Definitely hot.
“Umm, sure. Whatever. Fine.” I know I try to sound casual, but really, it just comes out like a bumbling, blubbering teenager.
“Good. Now come here,” he instructs, and the tone goes straight to the apex of my legs (which are practically shaking, by the way). Why does it sound dirty?
“I’m going to show you just a few moves to help you escape an assailant. The first is an open hand strike. You’re going to use the heel of your hand to strike some of your assailant’s most sensitive areas,” he teaches, demonstrating the move. “Aim for the eyes, nose, mouth, or neck.” He stands in front of me and holds my hand, positioning it and showing me the correct ways to execute. “Here,” he adds, moving my hand to his face.
I can feel his breath on the palm of my hand as I slowly shadow his movements, practicing without actually striking him.
“Good. Now, if he comes at you from behind, your elbow is a valuable weapon. It’s hard, and when thrust into his face, neck, or stomach, you could definitely buy some precious time to get away.” He moves behind me and I immediately thrust upward with my elbow. He easily dodges the blow, as mortification tinges my cheeks.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to try to hit you, it just…was a reflex,” I insist.
“You’re fine,” he chuckles. “It’s good for you to actually practice the moves. Well, except this next one. No need to practice the knee to the groin. Just know it’s one of the most effective ways to disarm an assailant. If done right, your perp will be lying on the ground, crying for his mommy while you run away,” Nick teases, holding his hand over his…area.
Of course, my eyes drop down.
Why wouldn’t they?
He was just referring to someone’s…package.
“Yeah, no need to practice that,” I quickly reply, again a blush burning my neck and cheeks.
Is it hot in here?
“Let’s go over a few ways to block a punch or slap,” he says, showing me a few techniques using my arms and hands, before finally demonstrating what to do if the assailant gets me down on the ground.
Yep, I’ve officially lost my mind. I’m practically rolling around on the mat with Nick, who is trying to teach me moves that might one day save my life. And all I can think about is the way his arms feel when they wrap around me or the way his package brushes up against my thigh, not once, but five times.
Five.
Yes, I counted.
“Okay, that’s the basics. I want to do a few of them in a real-life situation. Stand over there, and I’ll come at you. I want you to take me down.”
“Wait, what? I can’t take you down. You’re…big.”
And, cue the blush…
Nick chuckles. “I’ll be okay, honey. Promise.” Then he winks at me, and my entire body seems to catch fire. “Ready?”
No. I’m definitely not ready for this.
But before I can give the idea of Nick attacking me another thought, he moves and is on me. He tries to pin my arms, but I block his hold and thrust the heel of my hand into his stomach. It’s hard and unforgiving, and doesn’t have the effect I thought it would.
