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“Every day. And now I’m going to teach you.” I feather my thumb over the skin of her inner wrist, where her pulse is racing. She’s impossibly silky smooth. Her eyes are wide and trusting as I wrap her other hand.
“Why do I need to learn?” She steps away as I grab the gloves. “Though I admit it would be helpful for when celebrity bodyguards get handsy.”
My fist clenches around the gloves. Because I would have killed that man this morning for touching you. “Because this morning came way too fucking close. And I know you won’t listen if I tell you to stop, so this is the next best thing. You’ll train with me every morning. Until you can beat me.”
“Beat you?” She sounds incredulous, and I smile.
I duck into the ring and lean against the ropes. I give her a cocky grin that I know will spur her to compete. “I’ll tie one hand behind my back, but it won’t be easy. And I expect you to train with me even when you’re done working here.”
Her tongue pokes out of her mouth as she slips the gloves on and enters the ring. “I’m game. I’ve always wanted to punch a billionaire in the face.” She smacks her gloves together and winces.
I bark a laugh. “You won’t get your chance today, I promise you that. We’re just learning. No sparring yet. You don’t even need gloves, but you can wear them if you want.”
“Boring.” She mimics leaving and warmth bubbles up in my chest.
“Watch and learn. This is your ready stance. I’m left-handed, so my left leg goes back. You’re right-handed, so you’ll do the opposite. Keep your knees bent and your weight evenly distributed.” She nods, watching me intently. “I’m going to run through the punches now. No defense. Just watch.”
My right hand snaps out, followed immediately by my left, as my hip carries me through the punch. Jab. Cross. The motion is as natural as breathing for me. Right elbow crooked and my body turns into the front hook. The left hook is more powerful. A heavy bag would be shuddering with the impact, but I have no bag in the ring. I step in for an uppercut, following with my right hip and then my left.
When I turn back, I’m preening a little. Callie’s eyes are wide. “You’re going to teach me to do that?”
I grin. The gym always puts me at ease. “Well, maybe not that. I’m known for the speed of my punches. It takes time to develop the fast twitch muscle. Come on, Thompson. Ready stance.”
She awkwardly mimics my stance. “You’re going to be a yeller, aren’t you?” she grumbles.
“A yeller?”
“You know. Like a football coach. Come on, Thompson. Faster. One-two. You look like a girl out there.” She growls the final words and a surprised laugh bursts from my chest.
“I’ll let you be the judge,” I say mildly. “Hands by your face. When you’re done punching, your hand should come back to guard your face.” She lifts a hand and I growl, “Closer. Touch your ear. We don’t want that pretty face getting ruined.”
“You think I’m pretty?” Her eyes track me as I circle her.
I wince where she can’t see. That wasn’t supposed to come out. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yes. You did. You think I’m pretty.” She’s practically wiggling with excitement.
“It’s not nice to gloat.”
“You likeeee me,” she croons. “You want to kiss me.”
God help me, I do. And I can’t remember the last time I kissed anyone.
“Thompson,” I bark. “Focus.”
“Guess you are a yeller,” she grumbles.
I step in toward her and her eyes widen. “You’re an insubordinate trainee. I’m going to make you run laps around the building if you keep this up. Do you want to be punished?” Her tongue darts out to lick her lips and my groin tightens in response. “Don’t answer that.”
Her eyes are laughing at me as I lean against the ropes, a safe distance away. I bark orders at her as she runs through the punches. She’s a fast learner and she takes direction well. I can tell she’s actually trying to improve.
“Good job,” I tell her quietly, when her form on a cross looks particularly good. She does a little dance of excitement.
“Am I a natural, coach?”
“You’re paying attention. And trying. That’s half the battle.”
“I believe in taking the opportunities you’re given,” she says, practicing the jab-cross combination again. I startle. Me too. Callie Thompson, the woman who might be my polar opposite, holds the same values I do. Shock keeps me stock-still against the ropes as I watch her.
