Page 21 of Lethal Game

He showed her the beginning stance, which she copied, then he moved and she followed him. He stopped several times to begin again, so she could practice the movements correctly. One form seemed to escape her ability to copy and he came around behind her to put his body in contact with hers.

Close contact.

She could feel him spooned up behind her so she was touching him from knees to neck and all the way down their arms.

His body heat penetrated their clothes and she found her breathing and heart rate accelerating.

Normally, if someone came in contact with her for more than a few seconds, anxiety and awkwardness would force her away from them as quickly as possible. There were very few people she trusted to touch her.

Her therapist said it was a result of too many strangers handling her when she was young and sick, some of them associated with the pain and discomfort of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Who’d have thought that a doctor who hadn’t seen a day of fighting outside of her lab would suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Her body seemed to have no problem with Connor touching her. As he moved with her, guiding with subtle pressure cues on her body, she found herself growing hyperaware of him. His nearness set off proverbial butterflies in her stomach and an aching desire to be touched.

Kissed.

She wanted to bury her nose against his skin and lick.

No matter how hard she tried to mentally classify his proximity as work—part of her job—her body wasn’t believing it. She was practically panting.

Could he tell?

She’d never live it down if he was aware of her reaction to him. She let out a breath and tried to follow him, focused on the flow of each action.

“That’s it,” his voice rumbled in her ear. “Let your muscles loosen as you move, as you breathe.”

He moved her into the starting form again and began without hesitation or hitch.

Oh, but she liked this exercise. Despite the intense sexual arousal of being this close to him, she didn’t want to stop.

She let herself fall into the movement, her eyes half-closed, and was disappointed when he stopped guiding her and backed away slowly. Startled, she asked, “Are we finished?”

His lips curved upward just a little. “Do you know how long ago we started?”

“Ten minutes?”

He shook his head. “Thirty minutes.”

No way. “That can’t be right, it feels like much less.”

“Nope, thirty. You’re a natural at this. You didn’t hesitate to follow instructions and very quickly relaxed into the movements. I’m proud of you.”

She was a natural at something physical? He was proud of her? No one had ever been proud of her for something that didn’t involve her brain very much. Pleasure warmed her from the inside out. “Thank you.”

Holy crap, was she blushing?

He stared at her face like someone had zapped him with a Taser.

Yep, she probably looked like a lovesick teen. What was wrong with her? She cleared her throat and looked away. “You’re a good instructor.”

God, she sounded like an idiot.

He swallowed, then gestured at the door and they left the building. “Tomorrow morning I’d like to take you to the shooting range for a couple of hours.”

“I’ve done some shooting, but not a lot.” She winced. “I’m not very good.”

“That’s okay,” he replied with a funny smile on his face. “I’m very good.”

Heat flooded her as her imagination went places it shouldn’t. With his size and muscles, he’d be good at all kinds of things. Especially if he devoted the same focus and physical prowess to sex as he did to self-defense.

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