Page 22 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

About damn time.

Mesmerized, I watch her pouty lips form a small ‘o’ as she releases the oxygen from her lungs, continuing to focus on the wall in front of her before she picks up her pace.

She’s gorgeous.

Blinking, I shove aside the imagery and stride over to her.

“You were a runner before.” It isn’t a question. Her long strides and even breathing are the only evidence I need.

Her gaze shoots to mine before returning to the blank wall as she keeps up her steady rhythm.

“You can come down here whenever you want. You know that, right? Even if we aren’t training.”

She stays quiet but pushes the red button to stop the treadmill from moving. Then she steps off and stands in front of me, silently waiting for my instruction.

Freedom scares her now. I can see it in her eyes, can feel it in her hesitant movements any time I ask something of her. Like she can’t quite figure out how to act on her own without someone telling her what to do.

Shaking off the messed-up realization, I announce, “We’re going to start with some hand-to-hand defense. Come over to the mat with me.”

She follows without a word but folds her arms across her ample chest and keeps her attention glued to the blue mats beneath our feet as soon as we reach it. She’s nervous. I can feel it. Hell, I can almost taste it. But she’s here. She’s at least trying to trust someone. To trust me. And that’s all that matters. The pad of my finger brushes beneath her chin as I force her to look up at me. When our eyes connect, she gulps, and I drop my hand back down to my side.

“How’re you feeling?”

With a one-shouldered shrug, she looks back at the ground.

Come on, Blue. Stay with me.

Rocking back on my heels, I ask, “Have you ever heard of a safe word?”

She shakes her head, then peeks back up at me.

“It’s a word that tells me to stop. When you say this word, I do exactly that. I stop. No matter what. No matter the position. I stop,” I reiterate. “We clear?”

Her entire body trembles, but I doubt she even recognizes it as she whispers, “What’s the word?”

“Whatever you want it to be. Hell, it can be stop for all I care, but you need to understand the power of that word and that I won’t ever push you to go any further if you say it.”

Chewing on her lower lip, she hesitates before stammering, “Six.”

“Six?”

“Yeah.”

“Why six?”

“Sei in Italian is six.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

It takes everything inside of me to keep my expression neutral when I feel like I just got kicked in the stomach. “Okay. Six it is. Ready to start?”

Her breath is shallow, but she forces herself to nod.

“Okay. I want to see where your instincts take you, so I’m going to grab you from behind. I want you to try to get me off you, then run away. You’re fast. If you can break free, then you can get away from your attacker.”

“So you’re telling me that I just need to…run away?” If she weren’t so terrified right now, I’d almost think she was making fun of me.

“You don’t want to fight with your attacker because when it comes to brute strength, you’ll rarely come out ahead,” I explain. “Does that make sense?”

“Oh. Yes. That makes sense.”

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