Page 29 of Erik's Redemption
“You want to know how to hit the bag?”
“Yes.” She lifted a shoulder. “It might come in handy one day.”
He paused for so long she thought he was going to say no. Then he turned and dropped his gloves into a box before pullingout another pair. The second he touched her wrist, her skin tingled.
“Knowing how to hit effectively is important. But there are other things that are important too.”
“Like what?”
“The other night, when you woke to my hands around your neck…” She felt the guilt in his words as much as she heard it. “You can fight that by grabbing one of my fingers, just a single one, and pulling it in the opposite direction.”
She nodded, even though the idea of having to fight off a person who was strangling her was horrifying.
“And if someone’s on top of you, bring a knee up, or your hips—anything to create space so you can get away.”
Instead of strapping her other hand straight away, he lifted her wrist and read her glucose reading. Obviously, he was okay with what he saw, because he slipped off her watch and did up the other glove.
Once the gloves were on, his hands smoothed up her arms, one hand continuing its journey to brush some hair from her face. “Ready?”
She nodded because sometimes her voice was another thing she lost when he touched her. The words in her throat literally got stuck.
He shifted to the side, and she stepped toward the bag. Immediately, she felt him behind her, his heat covering her back, his arms around her.
“Stand with your left foot forward, and visualize a line on the ground between your legs.”
She nodded, trying to absorb the instructions. To not focus on the gravel of his voice.
He lifted her arms. “Hands by face, chin down, and elbows tucked. That’s your boxing stance.”
She nodded again.
“When you step forward, keep your knees loose, and step with your front foot first.” His breath brushed her cheek. “Ready for a jab?”
“Yes.”
“Your left hand is going to go straight out, and you’ll turn your hips into the move.” With his fingers wrapped around her forearm, he moved her fist forward so that it lightly touched the bag. “Exhale on the end.”
“Exhale…got it.”
“Try that on your own and in real time, then I’ll show you the cross punch.”
He stepped back and she wanted to protest. To turn around and demand he put his hands back on her. Instead, she forced a deep breath into her lungs, then threw a fist into the bag. It was like hitting a brick wall.
“I can’t move it like you.”
His deep chuckle slid into her veins, heating her blood. It had been so long since she’d heard him sound relaxed.
She swallowed and jabbed the bag again.
“That’s good.” When his heat returned to her, the rhythm of her heart changed, speeding up in her chest. His hands returned to her wrists. “For a cross punch, send your right fist straight forward, again turning your hips.”
For a second time, he guided her fist to the bag. “Ready to try it on your own?”
Absolutely not.She nodded.
He stepped back, and she took one steadying breath before shooting her right fist forward. Again, the bag didn’t move. Still, she reset herself and hit it again.
“Good. Now try a combination. Two jabs, then a cross punch.”
