Page 23 of Hiding for the Holidays
His question surprises me, and I take a second to think about it. I’m terrified of being followed by Scott, of him finding where I am and coming to kill me or take me away. I’m also terrified of someone breaking into my room when I’m in there and hurting me. But somehow the thought of Asher following me doesn’t scare me, it excites me. Which is totally insane.
“Well?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“I don’t know,” I lie. His lips press together as his brown eyes bore into mine, as if trying to find the truth there.
“Hmm.”
“Was there something you wanted to show me?” I ask, reminding him why we’re standing here amongst the punching bags.
“Yes, I want to show you how to throw a punch.”
My brows pinch in confusion. “Ahh… what? Why?”
“You originally came here for a self-defense class. I don’t know if it’s because you don’t feel safe at home or if there’s something else going on, but I would be remiss if I didn’t do everything I can to help you protect yourself.”
Asher sees too much of me, and it scares me. I’m not scaredofhim; I’m scared if he sees too much, he’ll send me packing. My life is a hot mess right now, and I have no right to bring anyone into it. Even the sexy man with shaggy black hair and beautiful brown eyes that seem to see right through me to my very core.
“I want to see what we’re working with. Punch this bag.” He taps the bag beside him, then puts his hands on his hips and waits.
Am I really going to do this? I stare at the bag and pictureScott, my hands clench into fists and I pull my right arm back and hit the bag as hard as I can, picturing Scott’s dumb face there.
“Ow!” I shake my hand out, not expecting that to hurt so much. “Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves?” I ask as he grabs my hand and inspects my knuckles.
“No, you’re not training to fight in a ring. You’re training for real life. We won’t do it for too long; I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
He looks at my hand, turning it gently to inspect my knuckles. His rough fingers brush over the reddening skin. “You’re leading with the wrong part of your fist,” he murmurs. “And don’t tuck your thumb inside.” He uncurls my fingers and places my thumb along the outside. “You don’t want to break it.” He reshapes my fist with careful precision. “You wanna hit with these two knuckles here. Keep your wrist straight and tight. Let the power come from your whole body, not just your arm.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he steps behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of his chest at my back.
“Your feet matter just as much as your fist,” he says, voice low by my ear. “Wider stance, here.” His hands brush my hips, coaxing me to shift one foot back. “Dominant foot behind, knees soft, weight slightly forward. You need balance to throw with power.”
I adjust under his touch, my pulse catching at the casual firmness of his grip. He moves one hand to my shoulder, the other to my waist, rotating me ever so slightly. “Square up. Elbows in. Chin tucked.”
It’s all muscle memory to him, efficient and precise, but every time his fingers skim my skin, it feels anything but mechanical. I try to focus on the bag, but all I can feel is him.
Suddenly, he lets go of me and steps back, making me feel a loss I tell myself I don’t understand.
“Okay, try again.”
I clear my throat and try to focus on the bag. I picture Scott’s face and throw my right arm out, remembering what he told me.
It doesn’t hurt nearly as much this time, but there is still a soreness to my knuckles.
“Much better. This time, keep that elbow up and follow through with your shoulders, twisting your body into the movement.”
I move back to my starting position and try again.
“Yes! Much better. Let’s see it twice more then we’ll stop for now. I’ll show you more later.”
“Why are you helping me?” I ask before throwing another punch.
“I told you, I want to show you how to protect yourself.” Is that really all it is? Would he do this with any woman who walked in here with bruises on her neck and fear in her eyes?
Chapter 9
Rosalie
“What exactly are we doing?” I ask skeptically as the four of us stand on the mats in the open class space.
