Page 16 of Guardian

“I don’t want gigantic arms like yours. They look fabulous on you, but they’d be ridiculous on me,” I replied before I realized I was telling him how good I thought he looked.

His grin told me my words had been heard. He answered in the same way. “Your arms and legs are sexy just the way they are. I have no intention of making them appear any different. That would be a shame. Right now, my hand can fit around them perfectly, and I’d like to keep it that way just in case…”

“In case of what?” I dared ask, feeling sweat trickle down my spine.

“If you don’t know, then I’ll gladly show you sometime.”

I set that idea aside for the next two weeks. I didn’t dare let my mind dwell on Sweet’s meaning. Any time I had a random thought in that direction I shut it down because it made me wet, which was infuriating.

In the meantime, Jackson learned how to block a punch, twist out of a chokehold, use his elbows as a weapon, and break a man’s foot by stomping on it in the right spot. Oddly, those skills made me a very proud madre.

When my turn came I met Sweet at his friend’s boxing gym. Actually, I met the friend first. A dark haired man, with piercing dark eyes that seemed to have seen some really awful things in his lifetime, came to greet me when I entered the gym. He was tall, though nowhere near as tall as Sweet. He was muscular, yet slim. The way he moved had me thinking of the gunslingers I’d seen in westerns. I easily imagined him in a cowboy hat, boots, and a holster on his hip.

“Hello. I’m Colt. This is my place. How can I help you?” he asked, frowning down at me.

“Oh, you’re Sweet’s friend. I’m Jemma. I’m here to meet Sweet and learn self-defense,” I stumbled through the introduction.

The weird smile he gave me threw me off. I had no clue what he was thinking, and I was too afraid to ask.

“Follow me,” he grunted.

I did. We zigged and zagged our way through punching bags, benches, and other equipment until we reached a small private instruction room. I silently thanked Sweet for making sure I wasn’t going to be the entertainment for the evening.

“Hey Sweet! Your woman’s here,” he announced when he opened the door.

I turned on him and shoved at his chest with my fist, too angry to be afraid any longer. “I’m not his woman! I belong to no man.”

“Excuse the shit out of me!” he declared, holding his hands in the air in surrender and backing away.

“I guess you can be a wildcat when you want to,” Sweet proclaimed with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Colt won’t ever forget your reprimand. He’ll remember not to call you anybody’s woman.”

“I didn’t mean to be so bitchy. He just got on my nerves the instant we met. He had some kind of smirky smile when he looked at me that made me want to grind my teeth. Then, he assumed I belonged to you.”

Grinning widely, he replied, “I understand his smirk perfectly. Those jeans look hot on you the way they’re practically painted over your skin. They show off your curves in a way that makes a man drool. If that’s the way you want to defend yourself, making a man drool and unable to move due to his cock swelling too big, then you’re all set. However, for what I have in mind, you’d be better off in spandex. Don’t you have exercise clothes and one of those super bra things that keep your tits from bouncing?”

I blushed. Who wouldn’t with a hot man staring at their chest? For the first time I noticed his clothing. He wore loose fitting, knee length shorts and a tank top that displayed so many muscles my mouth watered and the area between my thighs dampened. Tattoos colored his skin adding more dimension to the already bulging skin.

“I doubt that I’ll be what you call properly dressed if someone attacks me. They’re not going to warn me so I can change clothes,” I said to cover my sensual overload.

“That’s true. But for learning purposes you’d be more comfortable, and the movements would be easier. There’s also the added joy of your trainer, me, getting to see you in skimpy tight outfits. Not that those jeans aren’t showing off some tempting spots, like your perfect ass,” Sweet retorted.

“I see you took your own advice. You’re showing me some skin. Is that supposed to be intimidating or a turn on?” I teased to calm my nerves.

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Can’t it be both?”

“Just drop it. I’ll buy appropriate clothes for next time. For now, let’s get started.”

“I can do that. Let’s begin with a fighting stance, so I can see what you’ve got to work with. Show me how you’d stand and hold your fists if you wanted to punch someone.”

I moved my left leg back, bent slightly at the waist, and raised my fists in front of my face.

His laughter caught me off guard and angered me. I punched out, but he moved, so I missed him by a mile and almost fell to the floor in the process.

“What’s so damn funny?” I asked.

“If you stand like that an enemy could blow you over with a feather. You came close to doing it yourself. And your fists should be lower, as well as putting your thumbs inside them. They’ll break if you leave them out like that.”

“Then stop laughing and show me the correct way,” I demanded.

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