Page 14 of Teach Me
“What if I hurt you?”
“Don’t worry, Jess. I can handle it.”
A sharp elbow drove back, headed for his ribs. He shifted quickly, allowing her strike to glance along the edge of his body. “Again.”
He ran Jess through several moves, each one simple but giving her options depending on the circumstances and positions she found herself in. When he turned her to face him, he showed her how to ball up her fist, fingers curled, and strike at the face and throat with a hammer-like motion. “Never punch straight on like people do in the movies,” he warned her. “That’ll just get your fingers broken.”
Con let himself fall into the rhythm of teaching, let Jess practice on him and then, full force, on the punching bag. An hour later they were both sweaty, but the bloom of confidence in Jess’s eyes was worth it.
“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he finally said, letting loose a mock groan as he pushed the heavy bag back against the wall where they stored it. “I don’t want to overload you too soon.”
Or his libido, which was riding him hard. Thank God for the tight fit of his jockstrap. He turned away from the sight of Jess, head tipped back, throat working as she drank from a frosty water bottle, to walk over and grab a towel from the edge of the mat. The rough terry cloth scraping over his skin couldn’t erase the image in his head.
He ached, and not just from exertion, not just from the bruises Jess had given him. He ached from the tight rein he’d kept on himself all night. He shouldn’t want her, but he did. Desperately. Maybe some time on the Harley on the way home would help.
Jess spoke, her voice so close behind him that he startled. “Conlan—”
He turned. Jess stood a few feet off, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She looked shy and disheveled and utterly edible. He barely held back a groan as he stepped toward her, his cock throbbing like a son of a bitch. “Hmm?”
“Could you ask Lori to call me a cab? I took one here from work, and—”
“You came in a cab?”
“Yeah. After yesterday…”
“Right.” He shook his head, hoping to dislodge the haze coating it. “I think Lori’s probably gone already, but—”
“Oh.” A slow flush crept up her neck. “Okay. I’ll just grab my phone and call, then.”
She walked past him, and before he could make himself think twice, he had her wrist in his grip and had tugged her around to face him. “Don’t. I’ll take you home.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” He might regret it, but he wasn’t putting her in a cab and watching her drive away. “Let me run to my office and get a second helmet.”
That adorable pink color brightened in her cheeks. “You brought your motorcycle?”
“I did.” He eyed her. “And you’ve never ridden on one, have you?”
Excitement sparkled in her gaze. “No. But I’d love to.”
He would be her first. Why the hell did that excite him so much?
Damn it, Con, get a grip.
He tried, he really did, but there was Jess, eyes shining, eager and willing and looking at him like he hung the moon. He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Well, let’s get going then.”
He snagged a helmet and his leather jacket from his office. The material protected her but left him exposed, and just the thought of her hands on his T-shirt-covered body made it difficult to drag his jeans and chaps on over his workout shorts. He guided Jess ahead of him with a palm at the base of her spine, not daring to touch her anywhere else, and prayed she didn’t catch him adjusting himself as they approached the elevator. By the time they reached the Harley, he had himself firmly under control.
Who knew a pretty brunette pressing her soft curves against his back would blow that control all to hell? And her hands. God, her hands flattened against his lower abs, way too close to his crotch for comfort. When they turned the corner and sped up the on-ramp, her fingernails dug into his muscles, tiny pinpricks of painful pleasure.
He just had to make it to her apartment, that was all. Just to her apartment, drop her off at the door, watch her go inside, and then he could gather his shredded resistance and put this craziness completely out of his mind.Just a few more minutes.
When he slowed to a stop at a red light, rocking a bit at the peak, her laughter spilled into his ear. Warm breath played along the sensitive skin of his neck. His booted feet hit the ground, and his eyes tried hard to roll back in his head.
Just a few more minutes.
Just a few more minutes might kill him.
