I’m comfortable here. There’s no need to look down.
“Thanks for coming,” I say to Jax as I walk toward the room where my class is. He follows me.
I stop walking when I get to the far corner of the room. It’s less crowded there.
“Are you planning on kicking my ass?” he says, his lip tugging up on the right side.
“That’s the goal,” I retort. Using my sarcastic humor to hide the emotions going haywire inside me.
There are few reasons that my stomach churns.
One is that every time I’m here, it reminds me of why I’m trying to get strong.
It reminds me of why I’m running.
Hiding.
Biding my time.
Two is that sometimes when I’m here, my fear gets the better of me. I don’t want to be weak, and I don’t want Jaxson to see me as weak.
“What’s wrong?” He takes a step closer to me.
I school my features. “Nothing. I’m thinking of a way to bring you down.”
But that thought makes my pulse race because bringing him down means we’re touching.
“Where do you want me?” His brow lifts seductively, and now I’m sure I won’t be able to do this. Because he looks too good standing in front of me.
He’s wearing gray sweats, which should be illegal. No man should be allowed to wear gray sweats in public.
It makes women want to do crazy things.
His T-shirt is black, but the tee isn’t much better, as it showcases his lean but apparently ripped chest.
Jeez.
I always knew he was hot, but this is beyond.
“Okay, does everyone have their sparring partners?” I hear Shay ask, and it brings me back to the here and now.
Shay fires off the moves we need to do. I punch, and Jaxson blocks. Then we work on a hammer strike. I pretend to hold my keys in my hand as I attack.
But it’s not until Jaxson has to get me into a hold to practice the bear hold attack that I realize the precarious situation I’m in.
He’s behind me, his front to my back, and he wraps his arms around my stomach. I’m supposed to get low and shift my weight before striking, but the feeling of him wrapped around me has the opposite effect.
Instead, butterflies start flying in my stomach, and my heart pounds in my chest. I try to ignore how my skin tingles at his touch, and I sigh in relief when I hear Shay’s voice.
“Now, I want you to practice how to escape when being pinned to the ground.”
Without looking at Jax, I lie on my back flat on the floor. Slowly, like a crouching tiger, he crawls up my body until his knees are on either side of me. When he leans forward, the smell of his cologne wafts up through the air. The crisp smell of citrus and wood. He smells delicious.
It’s too much.
His proximity to me is too much.
My eyes close of their own accord as I try to calm the beating of my heart. Instead, it ping-pongs around inside me, rattling like the ball inside an old pinball game.
I don’t have to have my eyes open to feel him, though, and I do. I feel him everywhere.
Having my eyes closed hasn’t helped lessen my need and desire. Instead, without my sight, it has amplified all my other senses.
I feel him when he leans closer. When his hands lightly grip my neck.
Again, I know I should fight him. I should push him off, but instead, my eyes open.
He’s staring down at me. The way he looks at me ignites a flame inside me, and the longer we stare into each other’s eyes, the more on fire my body feels.
Burning me up to the core.
Ready to explode.
His hands tighten and pressure inside me builds.
Need and want.
Desperate to rise and meet his lips.
He must feel it too because his Adam’s apple bobs as he leans forward, his fingers slowly caressing my skin.
Down.
Down.
Down.
His face is so close now, I can feel his breath on mine.
He might kiss me . . .
I hope he does.
“Now strike.”
As if cold water is dumped on us, Shay’s voice rings through the air.
Making him lift his body off mine. Making me realize what we almost just did.
That was close.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jaxson
After I went with Willow to her self-defense class, I expected her to call me. But now, days later, here I sit in my office, and all I hear are crickets.
I’m not sure why her silence bothers me. It’s not like we’re fucking. It’s not like we’re anything.
The realization hits me. I miss hanging out with her.
I’m not sure how it happened, but in trying to get to know Willow, I grew attached to her. And as a friend I care about, I wonder what she’s doing.
A tiny voice in my head says it’s more.
But I shake it off.
I can’t be micromanaging my thoughts on Willow because I have way too much work to do.