Page 11 of Princess

I want to jump into some actual moves, but he thinks it’s better to start with a strong foundation of fighting skills. So we spend forty-five minutes practicing basic punches, blocks, and kicks.

I’m in great shape from swimming, but this is repetitive and tiring, and it doesn’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. When I mention this, Grant asks me curtly if I thought I could learn an entirely new skill in one sitting.

Of course he’s right.

But this is going to take forever. And all that time learning, I’m going to have to be in close quarters with Grant.

He’s polite and businesslike through most of it. There’s nothing friendly or soft about his behavior. But I have the strangest reaction to being this close to him.

I can’t think of anything but his body. He’s wearing old sweats and a white T-shirt, and the more we work the sweatier he gets. It doesn’t bother me. I’m sweaty too. And the sheen of perspiration seems to highlight the carnality of his physical form.

He’s got powerful arms. Thick thighs and a deliciously tight butt. He has dark hair on his forearms and bristles on his jaw, and his brown hair becomes more and more mussed since he likes to push his fingers through it when he’s feeling impatient.

Most of his impatience is aimed at me. I know it even though he never says anything to express it.

My preoccupation with his physicality gets worse as the practice continues. Until finally he comes behind me to show me how to position my arms better for a jab. He presses his front into my back and reaches around my body with both arms to move mine the way he wants them. It feels like he’s embracing me. The hard, hot shape of him fitting snugly against mine.

My blood throbs. In my throat. My ears. My fingertips. And arousal pulses between my legs.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like arousal, and it comes on so quickly it almost hurts.

It scares me. I take a quick step forward. My back immediately feels cold at the absence of his body.

Cold and empty.

“Sorry,” he mutters, evidently reading my reaction. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crowd you.”

I’m too embarrassed to look him in the eye. He obviously recognized I needed to get away from him, but maybe he doesn’t know why. Please, please, please don’t let him see I’m turned on right now.

“I think we’ve done enough for tonight anyway,” he says, sounding brusque and efficient again while I’m still washed with hot waves of arousal and mortification. “We can pick it up again tomorrow. Assuming you still want me to teach you?”

“I do.” This is important. Too important to give up. Which means I need to make sure I don’t feel like this again. “Same time?”

“Same time.”

“Okay. See you then.”

I grab a towel to wipe perspiration off my face and arms, take a swig of water from the bottle I brought, and then head toward the door.

I need to get out of here, but I’m planning to come back.

A random physical response isn’t going to keep me from doing what’s necessary so that I don’t feel so vulnerable again.

3

Six months ago

“So we’re actually comingout of lockdown?” I ask the question breathlessly but not because of the intensity of the topic. Grant and I have been training now for thirty-five minutes, and I’m sweating and panting from the effort.

Automatically I make note of Grant’s stance—poised with feet apart, knees bent slightly, hands up in a defensive position. He’s been teaching me to fight and defend myself now for a year and a half. I know what I’m doing, and he tells me I’ll be able to hold my own with most attackers. But I still can’t get the better of him.

His eyes never stop moving, taking in the smallest flicker of my arms and legs and the tiniest twitch of my expression, but he has no trouble answering my question. “Pretty soon, yeah. Not sure of the exact day, but we can’t hold off so many people who want out for much longer.”

The mood in the bunker has been getting increasingly tense for the past year, with more and more people wanting to get out of here and take a chance on the outside world. According to the latest readings, the air quality isn’t quite back to what it was before the asteroid hit, but it’s not a serious health risk anymore. So the main dangers we’d be facing would come from other people. I’d love to get out too, but I trust Dave and Dr. Willoughby and Grant and everyone else who knows better than me about the likely risks when we open the door. So every time we’ve had a vote about the issue in the past year, I’ve sided with them.

“But those people are still being outvoted,” I say.

“Sure, but it’s almost neck and neck now. And once you have that many people who want out, they’re going to make it out one way or the other. We don’t want them trying to go around us and putting everyone in danger. If we take charge of it ourselves, at least we can control how it happens and make sure everyone stays as safe as possible.”

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