Page 147 of Saving Her

“Now,shorty.”

“Okay, you don’t need to bark at me.” I walk forward, my heart fluttering wilder the closer I get, the furious beat only increasing when I stop a few feet away from him. “What do you want me to do?”

He doesn’t meet my gaze as he repositions his stance on the rug, spreading his legs a few inches apart. “I’m going to teach you some basic moves first.” He brushes his hands together, his biceps flexing beneath the cuffs of his T-shirt. “When someone’s coming at you, you want to be assertive and as loud as possible. Obviously, aim for the groin if you can. That tends to drop a guy like a sack of shit. But if you can’t, you can try a hammer punch.” He clenches his fist and makes a predictable hammer movement. “Or your elbows. Or the heel of your palm. You want to use—”

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I learned these basics in high school. I don’t need to go through them again.”

“Good.” Finally, he meets my gaze. “Practice on me, then.”

That rampant heartbeat falters. Stutters. “I don’t wa—”

“You don’t want to. You don’t need to. I’ve heard it all before. Let’s not have this argument again. Just because you think you don’t need to learn doesn’t mean you shouldn’t practice. So throw a swing. Get out some of the built-up aggression you have toward me.”

“I don’t have built-up aggression toward you.”

“The outline of the gun barrel in my stomach says otherwise.” He beckons me closer with a jerk of his chin. “Come on. Let me have it.”

I sigh and lunge forward, attempting to hit him with a gentle elbow.

“Seriously?” He bats me away. “That’s all you’ve got? What happened to the woman who slapped me across the face in Greece? Or the one who attempted to stab me with a syringe?”

I flinch at the reminder.

Even when I didn’t know Luca, I hated hurting him. There was always the slightest sense I was doing something wrong. Like I could see his kind soul through his aggressive and dark demeanor.

“And don’t forget the tiger scratches you lashed my chest with the other day,” he continues. “My cheek, too.”

Oh, God.

My gaze snaps to his face, my hands instinctively reaching for the damage hidden beneath his growing stubble. It’s an uncharacteristic move, my yearning for touch feeling shockingly natural. “Is that why you haven’t shaved?”

He stiffens, his nostrils flaring. “I didn’t think it was a good idea to advertise our fight.”

“I’m sorry.” My fingertips graze over the rough hair along his jaw, the prickle spreading under my skin. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”

He doesn’t respond, just stares back at me, expression tight, shoulders tighter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I trace the fading red line that stretches from his cheekbone to the side of his chin. “I wasn’t myself.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” He jerks away, rejecting me with the sudden retreat. “Now, let’s get back to business. Throw a swing that would make Rousey proud.”

“Rousey?”

“Forget it. Just take a swing. Don’t be a wimp.”

I launch at him, showing just how un-wimpy I can be. I swing and jab and elbow. One after the other, each move defended and dodged with effortlessness that is both enticing and incredibly annoying.

“Good.” He nods in encouragement. “But like I said, be assertive. Don’t let an attacker think you’re meek.”

I grunt with my next hammer punch. Yell with an elbow strike.

“Good… good… good…” He continues to placate me with fluid movements and profound skill. “That’s the warrior I know.”

I’m no warrior. I can barely keep up with my own punches, my energy almost fully drained.

I step back, panting, and slump over. “I’ve had enough of these moves. Can you teach me something involving blades or bullets?”

“We’ll get to that. But can we kick it up a notch and try a choke hold?”

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