Page 49 of The Game

I wave a hand at her. “Yeah, yeah. Spin me another one. This is worse than fighting with Fabian.”

“Your friend from college? The hacker? What did he do?”

“He tried to gouge my eyes out.”

She laughs.

“No, he actually did. It wasn’t funny at all. I had to knee him in the balls. He said that, if I got attacked on the street, that’s what they’d try and do. Said it had to feel real or I wouldn’t fight hard enough. He taught me to fight dirty.” I laugh. “It’s been surprisingly useful. I hope you’re not going to kneeme in the balls.” I raise my eyebrows at her, and she grins.

“Can’t promise anything,” she says.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not teaching you. I value my balls.”

She suddenly lunges for me, and the tips of her fingers whisper over my crotch before I smack her hand away as my jaw drops.Whoa!She’s not giving an inch. And fuck, I love it. I haven’t been surprised like this in a very long time. But my cock is way too interested in what just happened; it hasn’t been handled by a woman in a very long time, either, and I’m dangerously close to getting an erection. Her foot swipes out as she tries to take me down, and I make a grab for it, but she’s so fucking strong she’s out of my grip before I can get a hold of her. It’s like sparring with a guy. I use a more complicated maneuver and pin her under me again, hips just off her backside this time.Jesus.

“Anna. Jesus. What are you doing?”

“Fighting. Isn’t that the aim?” she pants.

“I thought the idea was that I was teaching you?” And there’s that scent that makes me want to sink my teeth into her neck. Where are these thoughts coming from? Most of the time when I’m with her I’ve got total control over it. And I want to groan: what an admission!

“It’s a competition, isn’t it?”

I chuckle. “Not while you’re training. We need to warm up, and I want to teach you the basic moves.”

“Okay, get off me. I’ll behave.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I trust you?”

She laughs.

I lever off her and stand up. “Let’s do some warm-ups. Just follow me.”

Lying on my back, I start rolling around on the floor. She instantly follows what I’m doing. I use one leg to push myself around in arcs, back still on the mat.

“A lot of floor work, eh?” she says.

“Yeah. Now bridge up and twist.”

We do a few more of those, then I say, “I’m going to teach you how to shrimp.”

“Shrimp?”

“Yeah, watch me.” She sits up, and I turn onto my side and bend my legs, one behind the other, pushing myself backward in circles again, pivoting on my shoulder while Anna grins at me.

“I’m liking all this new terminology I’m learning.” Lying down, she copies me. “I saw you do a move similar to this in one of your matches.”

I roll to my back and start egg-beating my feet. “Okay?”

“Yeah, this is excellent for hips.” She laughs. “My coach would kill me if he could see me right now.”

“Seriously?” I sit up.

“It’s fine, Adam, yeesh. Sometimes I want to do things that aren’t part of the treadmill of what’s right for tennis.”

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