Page 29 of New Girl in the City
“Just like that, but with more snapping and breaking. When you do that, he’s gonna at least be stunned, so I want you to do what I showed you before and turn your wrist into my thumb and pull away. Then once you’re free, you run. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“All right, now let’s do that a couple of times. Then you’ll be ready for a punch, I think.”
We ran the kick and break a total of five times but stopped when I accidentally kicked the hell out of his thigh. It only happened because I got cocky and went for what I thought would be an elegant kick. I nearly lost my balance, which had me flailing and Liam catching me, but wincing as my foot hit him.
“Maybe we stop with that for the day,” he said, pulling me up against him and firmly onto my feet.
“Yeah, okay, then what’s next?” I asked, but went tense, when I realized he was holding me in his arms. My back was to his chest, arms wrapped around me, warm and heavy against my arms as they curled around my front.
Oh shit.
“What’s next?” I said, voice coming out high and tinny.
“Well, actually, just…” his voice trailed off and he cleared his throat behind me. “We’re gonna go back to your stance, but defensive.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means,” he leaned close again and I felt a faint warm puff of his breath against the back of my neck, making the skin on my arms raise in goosebumps, “I’m gonna show you what to do with your body, and you’re going to listen.”
I shivered but managed to nod. “Okay.”
He uncurled his arms from around me and took my hands, raising them into a position similar to where we had first started. “You want to keep this hand here, blocking your chin and jaw. You get popped right and you’ll go down easy. No one wants that, okay?”
I nodded, my hair brushing against his cheek as he leaned his head next to mine to talk to me. God, if I turned my head, I could kiss him. I made sure to keep my head and eyes forward. There was going to be no turning whatsoever, no matter how much I wanted it.
“And this hand here,” he laced his fingers with mine, guiding my hand, “it’s going to be blocking your temple and eyes. But you can still react and deck the asshole reaching for you.”
“The asshole at the art gallery?” I asked, unable to stop the words. I bit my bottom lip to keep from saying anything else, but I saw Liam grin in my peripheral vision.
“Yeah, that asshole. Keep it here in case he makes a sudden move, you smack the shit out of him.” He gave my hand a little shake and I giggled.
“Got it,” I said.
“Good, now make sure your feet are spread wide enough that you’re stable. You want to be able to react. Put your left foot back. Right foot forward,” He coached, and when I complied, he nodded. “That’s good, Princess. Real good. See how I can’t push you down?” He moved away from me then, and I almost groaned at the loss of him at my back. I liked the warmth of him. The weight of his big body pressed flush to mine. I stayed in my stance as he circled around to stand in front of me. He reached out and gave my shoulder a push, but I stayed where I was. He pushed on my other shoulder and I still didn’t move. A hip bump didn’t send me an inch in any direction, and I felt a glow of pleasure.
“I’m pretty immovable,” I bragged.
“Oh, you are, are you?” he asked. I, in all my hubris, missed the mischievous glint in Liam’s stupid pretty eyes.
“Yeah, I mean look at me. You can’t even—” I hardly got to the good part of my bragging when Liam moved, quick as lightning and dropped down. His shoulder pushed into my hips and up I went over his shoulder. “What are you doing!” I cried, kicking my feet when he hefted me higher on his shoulder.
“Moving you.”
“I see that,” I muttered and swiped at his back. “Couldn’t you let me brag for like, a full minute?”
“Nah,” he said, turning around when someone called to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to have a woman slung over his shoulder. He put a hand on my back steadying me when I tried to get down.
“Hey man, how’s it going?” A man with sandy blond hair and green eyes waved at him and I groaned in frustration.
“Put me down,” I hissed, smacking his shoulder.
“Why? I like you up here, Princess.” He slid a hand to the back of my thigh that made me forget how to breathe. “What’s up, Brad?” he said, greeting the newcomer. There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, not even when he was showing me how to break a knee or talking about assholes at art galleries.
“How’s it hanging?” He tilted his head to the side and gave me a look of consideration, “I mean literally, how's it hanging?”
“Just fine, thank you,” I said with as much dignity as I was able.
