Sweet Seduction (9 page)

9

T
HIS
WAS
RIDICULOUS
. What on earth was she doing here? She was seated on the counter in a men's locker room, surrounded by the aroma of pine-scented Lysol, mildew and sweat, wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts that belonged to Jamie, while he wound athletic tape around her right hand.

She lifted her left shoulder to her nose and sniffed.

Fresh laundry and Jamie. Delicious.

No.

Not delicious. The clothes smelled good only because they'd been laundered and anything clean would, of course, smell divine in contrast to the stink of the locker room.

Daisy dropped her shoulder. For some reason she no longer felt angry. Was it Jamie's touch as he taped her hand? Or maybe it was the ride on his motorbike. Why was she such a sucker for a man with a motorcycle? She really had to figure that shit out because it was becoming dangerous.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said to fill the troublesome silence.

“I doubt that.”

Did he purposefully caress the inside of her wrist or was that an accident? Daisy cleared her throat. “I'm not a violent woman.”

Without looking up, Jamie said, “I didn't think you were.”

“I've never hit anyone before in my life.”

“All the more reason to hit me today.”

She chewed on her lip. “Why are you doing this?”

He finished taping her right hand and then moved on to her left. “Two reasons.”

When he didn't continue, Daisy asked, “Do you care to tell me what they are?”

Without looking up, he said, “You're angry with your situation and, therefore, me. You need to expel it so you can think clearly. This is the best way.”

“I'm pretty sure most people would disagree with you.” Daisy held her taped hand in front of her, wiggling her fingers, testing the limited movement.

“We'll see.”

“What's the second reason?”

“All women should know how to defend themselves.”

The seriousness of his tone made her flinch.

He caught her hand before she could tug it away. “Women are victims of violence way too often.”

“So teach women to fight?”

“Why not?” Jamie resumed taping.

“It just seems like it's encouraging violence.”

Jamie's chest rose and fell in a deep breath. Like he was angry or something. “That's the same argument people use for not teaching sex education in schools.”

He held her hand in a fierce grip while softly caressing her fingertips. It was the strangest contradiction and it sent confused tingles up and down her spine.

“Knowledge is the best deterrent. Studies show informed young people make informed decisions. This is the same. Women should know how to throw a punch. Where to hit. What it feels like. How not to be scared of it.”

Jamie's gaze was so searing it took Daisy's breath away. It wasn't until he dropped his gaze that she was able to ask, “Do you know someone? Who's been the victim of violence, I mean?”

He was silent for so long, Daisy didn't think he was going to answer. But eventually he said, “I think we all do.”

Blinking, she studied the top of Jamie's head as he continued to tape her hand. She tried to figure him out. This was the most serious she'd ever seen him, and while she hadn't known him long enough to see all his moods, this one took her by surprise. It was...stern. Protective.

Don't fall for it. It's all a trick, Daisy.

She let out a big breath—one she hadn't even realized she'd been holding—and shut her eyes, needing to focus on something other than the thickness of Jamie's hair and the gentle touch of his hands. Namely, conjuring up enough anger to hate him or, at the very least, hit him.

“There.” He tore off the last strip of tape and proceeded to fit big, bulky gloves over her hands. He tightened the laces that ran up the inside of her palms and wrists. Once finished, lifted her down off the counter.

“Come on.”

Daisy followed him out of the locker room, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the lingering sensation of his hands on her waist. In the main gym area, a ring was the central feature, spotlighted by the few lights Jamie had turned on. Surrounding the ring, Daisy could make out weight benches, barbells, pegboards, medicine balls and all kinds of bags hanging from the rafters, from big ones to small, teardrop-shaped ones. Jamie moved a stool over to the edge of the ring so she could climb up, and then he separated the ropes so she was able to crawl between them easily.

While Jamie stood in the center, waiting for her, she wandered around the perimeter, her stomach in knots, pretending to check out the rest of the gym. This had to be one of the craziest things she'd done. Ever.

“Where is everyone?”

“We're closed Fridays.”

“Oh.” She made her way to the center of the ring. “So, now what?”

He opened his arms wide. “Now you hit me.”

“This is stupid.”

“Why?”

“It just feels weird.”

He sauntered up to her. “Hit me.”

The crazy desire to inflict pain had vanished. In fact, the only crazy desire she had left was to touch Jamie's skin. And that wasn't happening. Ever again.

Nope.

“C'mon.”

“Fine.” She lifted a fist and bopped Jamie on the shoulder with the fat part of the glove.

He made a face. “You can do better than that.”

She shoved him with both hands.

“Really?”

“What?”

“Worse than I thought.”

“I told you, I'm not a fighter...” That was the end of the sentence and yet her words trailed off as if it wasn't.

Jamie's gaze met hers, a single brow raised. The first part of
I'm a lover, not a fighter
echoed silently between them.

“Right,” Jamie said, clearing the air. “Let's start with your stance.” He looked her up and down and then, without warning, shoved her.

“Hey!” He hadn't pushed her hard, but it was enough to make her stumble back a couple of steps.

“You're off balance.” He demonstrated how to stand: legs spread, knees bent, hands up. “Try this.”

Daisy copied his stance, or thought she did, but by the shake of his head, she could tell Jamie didn't think so. He walked around behind her and nudged her left foot with his toe. “You want this toe to point at your opponent.” Then he gently kicked her right foot a little farther out. “Shoulder-width and turned out more. Not too square.”

“Okay.”

“Now lift your right heel so you're on the ball of your foot.” He wandered in front of her. “This is so you can move quickly.” He demonstrated the stance and the quick movements it allowed.

“Um, okay.”

Facing her, he assessed her with narrowed eyes. Up and down. Up and...pause, then down. Why did his gaze make her pulse race? Was it the overhead lights that heated her skin?

“Bend your knees. Yes. Good. Now, think of yourself as buoyant, floating.” He demonstrated the movement—quick bobs—and Daisy tried to mimic it but had no idea if she was successful or not.

She stopped moving when he walked around behind her again and rested his hands on her hips. In fact, all her thoughts ceased completely as her olfactory senses took over. Daisy sniffed. Jamie smelled freshly laundered—the same scent as the clothes she was wearing.

Nice.

“Relax your hips.” He gently swiveled her hips back and forth. “Relax.”

Yeah, not happening. Not when his hands were on her, moving her in some weird reverse slow dance. It only got worse when he reached around to her chin and gently tugged on it. “Chin down.” While still behind her, he slid his hands to her shoulders. “Relax your shoulders.”

She closed her eyes.

“You're going to keep your left hand here. Your right goes here.” His big hands slid down as though he was hugging her from behind.

Flashes of last Saturday night—Jamie behind her, holding her, one hand on her shoulder, the other arm wrapped around her waist, thrusting—

“Elbows in.”

Daisy's lips parted as she panted. This did not feel natural. Not one bit. Not with Jamie's big body pressed up against her back, his hands adjusting her, the freshly laundered scent of him. Oh, God. She was having a hard time catching her breath.

“Good.” He moved around in front of her and shoved. Though she still wasn't prepared, this time she didn't move.

“There. You see?”

No, Daisy did not see. All she could do at the moment was feel. Jamie's hands lingering on her—her hips, her shoulders, her chin, her arms, touching her, kissing her, undressing her...

“Daisy?”

“Hmm?”

“I'm going to teach you how to jab now.”

“To jab?”

“Yes. It's the first punch beginners learn...ah, Daisy?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You have to open your eyes.”

“Oh!”

Jamie's eyes sparkled as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking about. He managed to work his expression into something vaguely resembling seriousness as he positioned himself in his stance. “It's a quick movement with your hand. Okay? You're going to lift your shoulder...” He demonstrated the movement. “Rotate your arm and...jab!” His hand whipped out, his fist flying at her, so close that she let out a little shriek, releasing her from the spell he'd cast.

With a grin he said, “Okay. Your turn.”

* * *

M
AYBE
BOXING
REALLY
wasn't Daisy's thing. Just because so many of the people he knew had joined the club—men, anyway—didn't mean it was for everyone. Whenever he tried to give her instruction, her eyes glazed over, her responses were slow and hesitant and she continually asked him to repeat himself, as if he spoke a different language.

And she was breathing heavily, like this was a real workout for her.

“No, that's a cross. For a hook you want to...”

Daisy dropped her gloved hands to her sides and blinked. “I'm done.”

“You haven't even hit me yet.”

“Sure I have. I've hit you tons.” She motioned toward his outfacing palms, which she'd been using as targets.

“It's not the same. You said you wanted to punch me. You've got to punch me.”

She shook her head, and her hair curled around her shoulders. God, he loved her hair, the way her curls were a natural extension of her bubbly, fun, unexpected personality, bouncing all over the place. Soft to the touch. Just enough to grip when he needed to.

“I don't feel like it anymore.”

Jamie stood in front of her, considering the situation, knowing what he needed to do but uncertain whether it was wise.

Daisy lifted her wrists toward him. “Untie me and take me back, please.”

Oh, God. He had a vision of her—wrists tied together with one of his ties, for Pete's sake—asking the very same question, kneeling on a bed...naked.

Without thinking he tore off his shirt. Daisy's wide-eyed expression provided some gratification, but that wasn't what he was going for. He spread his arms, widened his stance and said, “Hit me.” Patting his stomach, he prompted, “Right here.”

She shook her head.

By God, that hair would be the death of him.

He took small, sliding steps back and forth in front of her. “Hit me for lying to you.”

Her gaze narrowed.

“Hit me for being a man.” He patted his stomach again.

The shakes of her head became shorter. Tighter.

“Hit me for representing your ex-husband.”

Her lips worked angrily against one another. Chewing, pressing, snarling. She was close. So close.

He stopped moving, met her cloudy gaze and said softly, “Hit me for all the years. All the hard work. For all you're about to lose. Hit me for Nana Sin's.”

The sound Daisy made was like an animal caught in a trap. Keening. Angry. Hurt. Desperate. She flew at him, her hands flying, punches landing on his chest, his stomach, his shoulders and jaw. A few of them even had some power behind them.

Jamie relaxed his hips and sank into his stance, absorbing it all, taking it, not defending himself, not blocking a single punch.

He thought her cries of anger might turn into sobs as she worked herself into exhaustion, but he was wrong. She became more feral, her punches quicker. Her jabs pretty good for a beginner.

“Why did you tell Alan you didn't know me?” she cried.

His natural inclination was to dance out of the way of her flying fists, but he stood his ground. “I had to.”

“Why?”

“We'd just slept together.” Her fist found the corner of his jaw. “Ouch. Nice one.” He worked his jaw back and forth before answering. “It's a conflict of interest.”

“So drop him.” She landed a hard right hook, the very punch he didn't think she'd paid enough attention to to learn.

“Alan's entitled to more than he's asking for.” He dodged her fist so he could finish speaking. “Other lawyers might try harder to convince him to go for more. I won't do that.”

His dodge threw her off balance, angering her.

“Oomph.” He let out a burst of air from the unexpected knee to his gut.

“Why?” she shouted. “Why would you do that?”

“Why do you think?” he said, panting, bent over from the temporary loss of breath.

He was fully prepared for more abuse when he straightened, but Daisy didn't continue her onslaught. She simply stared at him, her pretty lips working. With a snarl, she lifted her wrist to her mouth, caught the laces between her teeth and tugged, loosening the ties enough so that when she wedged the glove between her knees, she was able to pull her hand out.

“What are you doing?”

She grunted as she grappled with the laces on the other glove, loosening them.