Page 47 of Strength of Desire

Cory pushed up from the mat, ignoring Sean again. “Well, that was my two tries,” he said to the group at large. “Someone else’s turn.”

“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time,” Sean said. “You should try again.”

“I think I’m okay.” Cory shot him a dark look. “Wouldn’t want to hold things up.”

“But learning is important, Cory.” Sean’s voice was solicitous, his face pious and earnest. “The rest of us might only need two tries, but if you need more, there’s no shame in that. Or are you too chickenshit, even for this?”

I found myself wishing Cory would tell him to fuck off. The truth was, Cory could stand to try the sequence again. It was worth learning how to do it correctly. But I knew that wasn’t what Sean cared about.

I could feel Cory’s anger and embarrassment build, as if it were happening in my own body. When his jaw jutted out, I knew he’d decided he wasn’t going to let Sean bully him. Instead of backing down like he clearly wanted to, he placed himself in front of the punching bag again.

His fists were even lower this time, and he didn’t take the time to ground himself. He shifted to his left foot immediately and raised his right leg. He didn’t fall this time, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Instead, he kicked the punching bag, and then seemed paralyzed with surprise that he’d managed it. So paralyzed that he failed to get out of the way as the bag swung back and knocked into him, making him fall over backwards.

Sean was laughing openly now, elbowing Paolo. “Did you see that?”

Cory’s face was red with fury and shame, and before I’d fully thought it through, I’d pushed through the group and joined Cory at the mat. His eyes widened as he saw me looming over him, but I didn’t wait for him to say anything. I just extended a hand.

“Here. Let me help you.”

His eyebrows rose, and he looked at my hand like it might bite him. He didn’t take it, and pushed up to standing on his own.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping off the mat. “I didn’t mean to waste everyone’s time.”

“It’s not a waste,” I barked, and Cory looked like he wanted to jump back. I softened my tone. It wasn’t Cory I was mad at. It was Sean—and under that, myself.

I turned and glared at the rest of the group.

“The point of this exercise is to learn. Not everyone’s starting from the same place, and it will be harder for some of you than others. That’s fine. I don’t care if you succeed. Not at first, anyway. I care that you follow directions, and that you try.” My gaze narrowed in on Sean. “Some of you might not struggle to learn the maneuver, but you definitely need to learn how to be decent to your fellow classmates.”

Then I turned back to Cory. “We’ll do it again. Together.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to slow things down for the rest of the group.”

“They’ll get their turns. But I want you to get the full benefit of yours. You’re trying, and you’re almost there. I want you to feel what it’s like to do this the right way.”

Successfully completing the combination would help instill some muscle memory into Cory’s body. But I also wanted him to get a win. After Sean’s heckling, he deserved it.

I motioned for Cory to join me on the mat. He eyed me warily, then walked forward. I directed him in front of the bag, then took a deep breath and stepped up behind him.

This close, his scent was intoxicating. Clean and fresh, with a hint of dark berry sweetness. Standing behind him, I had a view of his neck and shoulders, and the beginning of his left collarbone where it poked out of his shirt. I ached to touch him there, to bend down and press my lips and teeth to the soft skin of his neck.

I closed my eyes for a second, reeling from the heat between our bodies. How was Cory not feeling this? Or maybe he did feel it. Maybe he was just better at controlling himself than I was.

Get a grip, I told myself.You’re acting like some lovesick teenager, and the actual teenager is the one who’s calm and composed.

I raised my hands. Much as I wanted to stroke them along Cory’s shoulders, I moved them to his hands instead. I still felt a shock wave run through me when our hands met. This was the first time I’d touched him since the moraghin attack, and my body cried out to prolong the contact.

“Make fists,” I said as my hands closed around his. He did, and I raised his hands to just above chin height. “Good. Now take a minute to center yourself before you move to your left foot. Take a breath, let it out, then move.”

I let my hands fall away from Cory’s. Or perhaps I should say, I forced my hands to fall away from Cory’s. It wasn’t easy. He looked over his shoulder nervously.

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m right here. I won’t let you fall.”

He nodded and faced forward again. I watched his shoulders rise as he inhaled, heard the audible exhale. He shifted his weight to his left foot, raised the right one off the ground, and immediately started to wobble.

My hands shot out. I was about to grab his waist, but corrected myself at the last instant and took hold of his shoulders instead. Nothing I was doing was out of bounds for helping a student, but I really shouldn’t be touching Cory’s waist. No matter how right I was sure it would feel to hold his slim frame there, to slide my hands down his hips and onto his ass.

---