And that’s when Rick’s big hand accidentally grabbed her breast, sending a spark of lust right down to her core. It was definitely an accident. Even in the heat of their battle, Grace knew that.
Tell that to her libido, though.
The attraction she’d been trying to deny for weeks slammed into her like a wave at the shore. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to drown in it. It was too overwhelming. Her skin tingled where he touched her, her senses on overdrive because of just how close he was.
She couldn’t do this anymore.
Just when she was about to slip out of his hold and put some much needed space between them, Rick reacted. He bowed his large body over hers, reaching behind her to get a handful of her hair. And then he pulled.
It hurt so bad, she was momentarily blinded by the agony. It passed in a few seconds, but those were some godawful seconds. He released his hold on her hair almost as quickly as he grabbed it, leaving Grace to drop to the mats, curling up to protect herself before she could fight back.
She didn’t want to. Let him have this round.
“Mercy,” she ground out.
Rick backed off. It annoyed her that she was panting, trying to breathe through the aftershocks of that jolt of pain, while he wasn’t even a little out of breath. He mumbled a quick apology—something he usually did when his strength got the better of him—and she waved him off. The pain was already receding. She’d live.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to bitch at him for it. “That wasn’t fair.”
“Yeah, but what have I told you before?”
The words were automatic. “If I’m in a fight for my life, there’s no such thing as fair.”
“That’s right, Tiger.”
He could have sounded smug. As much as her head ached from his grab, her pride hurt worse. So maybe she was distracted. Distraction could get her killed, she knew that. And it was a rookie move to let him get close enough to incapacitate her by grabbing her hair.
At that moment, it became clear to her. Grace knew that it was either give up on her training—or give up on her hopeless crush on a man she couldn’t have. And there were so many reasons why she needed to get over her crush. First, because she was almost thirty, he was well past that, and the world “crush” made Grace feel like she was back in middle school again.
Then there was Tommy. One way or another, it always came back to Tommy.
It was ridiculous anyway. She knew she was being ridiculous. Having given up everything she had in order to escape one obsessed ex, she definitely shouldn’t be falling for a man she met a little more than a month ago.
So what if he was big and strong, yet infinitely patient and kind? Even when he was tossing her around like a ragdoll and reminding her that she had to fight dirty if she wanted to survive, it was more instructive than mean and he always—always—made sure to gentle her falls so that she never suffered more than a few bruises as she learned.
Grace also knew that his yank on her hair wasn’t supposed to ache as much as it did. With his shorter cut, Rick probably had no idea just how much it hurt to have his hair pulled. He probably saw it as another lesson: if an attacker can take advantage of something, no matter what, it was a weakness.
Because focusing on her hair was so much easier than thinking about how crazy Rick made her, Grace mused out loud, “My hair could get me in trouble. There’s too much of it, and if someone grabs it hard, I don’t know if I could block the pain out long enough to fight back.” She picked up a hunk of it, eyeing it closely. “Maybe I should cut it. What do you think?”
“What? Cut your hair? Why would you—No.”
“No?”
Rick shook his head. Was it her imagination or was he purposely not meeting her gaze?
“I don’t think you should cut it,” he said. Then, as if he forgot for a single second that he was supposed to be her instructor, he added, “Maybe try a ponytail instead.”
High ponytails and slicked back buns were relics of her performing days. Since she retired from the ballet, Grace celebrated by growing her hair out and wearing it loose; even though she knew it was silly to do so during training, she refused to pull her hair back. It had almost killed her—emotionally, that is—to give up dancing. Since the new length and strength of her mane was the only good thing to come from retiring, she didn’t really want to cut it off.
But she also expected that her do anything to avoid being a target Marine mentor would be all for it. The way he balked at the idea was so out of character for him, she found it kind of funny.
She glanced up to tell him so, pausing before she got the chance. She blinked.
Oh my god.
Was he blushing?
Rick turned away, but not before Grace could spy the flush of color riding high on his cheeks. His neck was tomato-red.