“Anywhere,” he barked. “And hit me. As hard as you can. That’s what the padding is for.”
She frowned and nodded at the same time.
“Let’s go again.”
Even before she was in her stance, he lunged at her. She squeaked and swung. The hit was better, but, “You sounded like a mouse. A meek little mouse. Is that what you are?”
Her eyes were wide as they met his. “No.”
“Then yell and fucking hit me. Do you need me to put on a red shirt? Or better yet, tell you how I can’t wait to see you in red?”
Her brown eyes narrowed, and when he went for her this time, she yelled and struck out like she was swinging a ten pound hammer with everything she had. Then she jumped back with a gasp, both hands flying up to cover her mouth.
“Much better. Again.”
She gave a hesitant smile at his praise, then went serious again. After a few more reps, her hesitation melted away, and her confidence bloomed.
Dev moved on to the palm heel strike. When he explained how to jam the heel of her palm up toward his nostrils or under his chin to jar his jaw, her frown returned.
“Won’t that hurt?” she asked as she pantomimed his moves in the air.
“That’s the point.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“We don’t train with these suits in Special Forces, and I sparred with guys twice your size on a regular basis. You can’t hurt me any worse than they did.” He shifted to her right. “I’m going to come at you from the side this time. Get in front of me as much as you can before you strike.”
She nodded and got ready. With a slight glance over her shoulder, she asked, “Do you miss it?”
“Getting the shit beat out of me?”
Her lips curved in a smile. “I highly doubt you got the shit beat out of you, but no, I meant the military. Do you—”
He attacked, and she pivoted, planted her feet, and yelled loud enough to make his ears ring while jamming her heel up under his chin hard enough to snap his head back.
“Wow. Nice.”
“So, do you?” she persisted as she reset.
Exertion had elevated her breathing, and as his gaze strayed to her chest in that tight T-shirt, he forgot what she was talking about.
Eyes up, man. Focus. Do you miss the military? “Yeah. I do.”
“Would you go back if you could?”
The question made him pause. A month ago, he’d have answered yes without hesitation. Right now, with her in front of him, it wasn’t an automatic reply. Not like earlier, when she asked if he’d keep teaching her if the stalker was caught before they finished.
Without a way to explain the unexpected no forming in his head, he said shortly, “I can’t go back, so it’s a moot point.”
Also, a month ago, he was still pissed off at the abrupt end to his career. He’d been floundering, wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the rest of his life. Now, he saw a glimmer of potential for something he hadn’t imagined before.
Protective services. Training. He could continue to help keep people safe like he had in the Special Forces, just with more preventative measures than rescues after the fact.
Before she could ask more unsettling questions, he moved on to the groin kick, and finished their first lesson with how to escape the bear hug attack. She was a quick study and could execute each move fairly smooth after a good dozen reps.
“All right, that’s it for tonight.” Not only did she look exhausted, but the bear hug attacks had his senses drowning in the scent of whatever fruity body wash or shampoo she’d used in her shower. Thank God for padding. “You did great for the first lesson.”
“Really?”