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“How would you get out of a hold like this?”
I focus only on making sure she doesn’t panic, ignoring how much more intense the scent of vanilla is this close to her, how petite she is, how all I want to do is press into her from behind.
No, I’m here to help her. Not hit on her.
“I…” She swallows hard, her fingers gripping my arm tighter for a moment before relaxing her hold. “The only place I’m trapped is around my neck. My arms are free so I could elbow you in the gut. If there was enough space between us, I could also swing a fist behind me and hit you in the balls.”
“Good.” I let go of her neck and take hold of her arms, bringing them behind her, then encircle a hand around her crossed wrists. “What if your hands were bound behind your back?”
I can’t resist the impulse to sweep a thumb across the delicate skin of her inner wrists, the hitch in her breath making my belly dip low for a moment. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“My legs are free, so I could stomp on your feet.” She mimes picking up a foot and lightly presses down on the top of my shoe. “That might distract you enough that you would loosen your hold on me and I could slip out.”
“Yeah, great.” It takes me a moment to let go of her, not wanting to lose that connection.
“What if my arms and legs weren’t free?” she asks, turning to face me. “What could I do, then?”
“What kind of hold would that be?”
“Maybe pressed against a wall or something?”
Or a bed.
Fuck. Stop thinking like that.
“Did you want me to…”
Her cheeks flush. “No. Like you said, it’s theoretical.”
“If they’re close enough, you could slam your head back. Catch their nose and hurt them.”
“That’s a good plan.”
We keep going through practice holds, but it doesn’t get any easier as we continue. I show her different ways she could strike me, but all I can think of is her gentle touch from earlier. How soft her fingers had been. I don’t know what she was talking about having rough skin. It felt like velvet to me.
How she could keep touching me, her delicate fingers traveling down, down…
God, it’s going to be a long fucking night.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
TESSA
I countout the dollar bills on the table and stuff them in my apron pocket, silently thanking the couple that just left for leaving a twenty percent tip. Combined with everything else, it was actually a decent Monday night.
“You ready to tackle the dishes?” Lexie asks, locking the front door.
“Yeah, let me wipe this table first.”
If the dishwasher calls out one more time, Lexie and I should revolt. Why should we have to cover his job?
Then again, the cook still has to clean the grill and mop the whole restaurant. I guess what Lexie and I have to do isn’t so bad.
She’s already spraying down the glassware from tonight in the sink when I bring the last of the dirty dishes into the back.
“Did Kate ask you about covering Irene’s shift Friday night?” she asks me, now loading the first tray of glasses into the dishwasher.
“No.” I only get one day off a week between school and work. And even that’s taken up with studying, catching up on housework, and all the errands I have to run. “Why does Irene need off?”
