Page 46 of 4th Degree

Unfortunately, I can’t continue not touching her, which means my hands have to move to grip her waist.

“Knee behind the butt, then push your hips back until their guard breaks. If that doesn’t work, sit up and reach back with one hand to break their grip that way.”

She nods, but she looks winded before we’ve even started. When she opens her mouth to say something, no sounds come out, so she swallows thickly and tries again, her eyes staring everywhere but at me.

“A lot of times I feel like I can’t get to a sitting position to do that,” she admits. “If they have a grip on my neck that’s keeping me tight to their body, I can’t get to the position you’re in right now.”

Fuck, she’s amazing. Even after everything, even though she’s obviously distracted, she’s still trying to put it all aside so she can learn.

Respect blooms in my chest, and the need to fuck her into the mat dissolves. Slightly.

“You can do it from a low position, too,” I explain. “If they’re holding your head down, put your hands on their biceps and push them away from there. Once you’ve created a little bit of space, you can put your knee behind their butt and go back to hands on their waist to straighten up.”

I shift forward to move my hands from her waist to her biceps. Biceps are safe—biceps don’t mean anything.

But then I have to lower my head as if I was being kept tight to my opponent’s body. And typically, that means my forehead goes right on their chest.

I can’t quite bring myself to do that, but I can lower my upper body to simulate it. Without meeting her eyes, and without letting anything touch that’s not my hands on her biceps or her legs wrapped around my waist, I stretch out above her so there’s only an inch or two between our bodies.

And yet, when I feel her hand slide behind my neck to hold me to her, my body reacts as if I were nine inches deep inside her.

She’s not doing anything that isn’t a normal jiu-jitsu move that we do a dozen times a class, but just feeling her skin against mine…it drives me fucking crazy.

I shove my hands against her biceps to break her grip and immobilize her arms. I’m frustrated with her, for being so tempting, at my body for reacting.

Which makes my movements more aggressive than they need to be. I’m not gentle or teacherly as I slide my knee against her butt to brace her body while I drop my hands to her hips and push my upper body higher.

She shudders under my hands.

I freeze where I am, not quite in an upright sitting position. Which means I’m looking down at her face, only a few inches between us.

She’s staring directly at me, her pupils blown black and her breaths coming quickly.

Her thoughts couldn’t be more obvious if she vocalized them.

“Stop it,” I order through clenched teeth, too on edge to make another move.

Her throat bobs on a swallow. “I can’t help it,” she whispers.

I let out a sound of surprise.

Then I’m pulling away from her and saying, “Fine, we’ll work your armbar then. You going to get hot over my arm, too?”

I’m being a dick. I can’t help it.

She’s off-limits. Forbidden. Not mine to have.

And I’m taking it out on her.

She doesn’t respond to my taunt. I’m sure she knows exactly what war I’m fighting, and being the good girl she is, she doesn’t make it harder for me. She’s not going to be the one to cross this line.

She waits for me to lie back, then comes around to my side and takes her place in the sidemount position. Her knees press against my side, and her chest lowers to mine.

“Remember, when you slide your leg across, you have to stay close. You always leave too much space during your transitions.”

She nods and starts the technique by tightening her grip. Her next step is to slide her knee across my chest and plant it right under my arm. I feel her weight shift and wait for her to make a move.

And she does, but…

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