Chapter 14
I barely knew this man, yet that didn’t stop my traitorous body from reacting to him even when I didn’t want to. And because I was entwined so intimately with him for the safety training, I couldn’t stop the ache from forming between my thighs. Or the heat that spiked my blood and refused to cool.
He appeared unaffected by our entanglement. Did he feel anything at all? I dismissed my inappropriate thought, silently chastising myself for questioning whether he was aroused because nothing good would come from it.
Jackson placed his hands on my knees and pushed my legs farther apart. The air I’d trapped in my lungs came rushing from my mouth with the slight movement.
“If your attacker manages to get between your legs like this,” he said, situating himself so his hips pushed my legs back toward me a bit more, “you won’t have any leverage.
Go ahead and try to get me off you.” He loomed over me, the heat from his body igniting my raging hormones.
I couldn’t imagine how much worse it’d be for me had he not thought to put a shirt on before starting the lesson.
There was no way I would’ve been able to control myself had I been faced with his near nakedness, him hovering over me continuously, me putting my hands on his chest, feeling his skin, his heat.
Schooling my expression so as not to let on just how much he affected me, I kicked my legs around and shoved at him, but to no avail.
The only thing I managed to do was inch up the floor while I struggled, taking him with me as he faux strangled me.
My heart rammed against my chest, and this time, it had everything to do with fright and not my innate reaction to Jackson.
“Stop,” I cried, latching on to his wrists. “I need a second.”
He removed his hold on me and sat up straight, all while remaining tucked between my legs.
“Take a breath. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“It’s frightening how quickly a situation can turn, isn’t it?”
His question rattled me, and it had nothing to do with the words, but instead with the tone he used. Anger slipped out with each syllable, but I had a feeling the emotion wasn’t directed at me.
“As long as you show me how to get out of this, I’ll be okay.”
“Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready. Take as long as you need.”
While I worked to gather my composure, there was a knock on the door, but Jackson didn’t get a chance to answer before Lance strolled in, stopping in his tracks when he saw me lying on the floor with Jackson settled between my legs.
“What’s going on?” he asked, a deep crease appearing between his brows. His tone dipped when he said, “What the fuck, Jax?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
Lance redirected his attention to me. “Are you okay, Sophie?”
“She’s fine.” Jackson answered for me, sounding offended his friend thought otherwise.
I reiterated his response. “I’m fine.”
Lance’s eyes turned into slits when he looked back at Jackson. My attention bounced between both men, and although they embraced the silence, there was no doubt they were communicating with each other.
“How much longer you gonna be?” he asked.
“Almost done. Why?” Jackson responded.
“Because I need to talk to you.”
Jackson nodded before turning his focus back onto me. “Close the door on your way out.”
Lance made a noise with his throat and walked out of the room seconds later.
“Is he upset you’re helping me?” I asked.
The slight flare of his nostrils indicated I asked a question he didn’t like. “Why would he be upset?”
My gut warned me to tread carefully when I answered, although I had no idea why.
“Because you’re supposed to be focusing on your training and I… I’m supposed to be working. I haven’t finished yet for today. I think maybe he isn’t too happy.”
“I’m your boss, Sophie. Not Lance. Not Trevor, and not Elton. Me. So you should only worry about what I think.” His statement was straightforward, but I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a coded message embedded in his words. “Now, are you ready for your last lesson?”
Something told me I’d constantly be learning lessons around this man, but instead of voicing such a thing, I simply nodded.
“Although you have more strength in your legs, even if you wrap them around me, you won’t evade my attack.
Go ahead and see for yourself.” He placed his hand tentatively around my throat at the same time I wrapped my legs around his middle, barely able to lock my ankles.
I squeezed. Harder. No reaction from him.
I held on tighter and still nothing. “See?”
“So, what do I do?”
“We’ll walk through this move a few times because it might seem complicated at first. I picked it up right away when I learned it. I have no doubt you’ll do the same.” His words of praise swirled through me, making me feel even more confident in my abilities.
Jackson lowered the top half of his body until we were almost nose to nose, a mere few inches separating us. His warm breath fanned my face, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and breathe him in. But, of course, I did no such thing.
“I’m ready when you are,” I said, a sense of confidence whirling through me. Whether it was fake or not was yet to be determined.
“Cross your arm over your chest and grab my forearm. Now put your other hand on the side of my neck.” He moved my arm from the left side of his head to the right.
“Put your foot on my pelvis. Good. Now pivot. No, this way,” he instructed, positioning me.
“And raise your other leg so it rests high above my armpit. Higher. Good. Now move this leg.” He tapped my foot resting on his pelvis.
“Wrap it around my head and lock your ankles together.”
It took me a second to figure out the move. “Like this.”
“Perfect. You’re not going to flip me yet. I want you to practice each step a few more times before we move on.”
And we did, each time with me focusing on remembering where to put my feet and hands, and which way to turn my body to lock mine around his.
After the third time, we moved on.
“I knew you’d catch on quickly.” He didn’t smile at me like he had before, but his expression wasn’t hard either.
“After you lock your ankles by the side of my head, move your hand from my neck down to my forearm where your other one is. What you’re going to do now is raise your hips and use your leg strength to put me on my back, all while still holding tightly to my arm, which you could break if you needed to when the move is complete.
” A brief pause followed. “But don’t break my arm.
I kind of need it.” Again, with the lighthearted comment.
I could get used to this side of him for sure.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Ready?” Another nod from me. “Do it.”
Following his detailed steps, I managed to flip Jackson onto his back. With his arm extended and me perpendicular to his body, I understood how I could end up breaking his arm. He tapped my thigh, and I released him, moving so we were now side by side.
“You did great,” he praised, and while his lips remained straight, there was a lightness shining behind his eyes.
“Have you ever used that move during a fight?” I asked, curious to see if he would open up a little about his experience in the ring.
“More than a few times.”
“Ever end up breaking someone’s arm?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. Really? Is that even allowed?”
“It is if the other guy doesn’t tap out.”
“Has anyone ever broken your arm?”
Jackson moved into a sitting position, and I did as well.
“Not like that, no. I dislocated my shoulder several times during a fight. After the first time it came out of the socket, it was unfortunately easier to pop it out afterward.”
“Ow.”
“Yeah, it’s not pleasant.” He rested his hand on his left shoulder and winced.
“Does it hurt now?”
“A little bit, but I’m used to it.”
I moved into a kneeling position and scooted closer to him. “Can I?” I asked, reaching out to touch him.
“Um… sure.” He leaned to the side and rested his upper body weight on his right arm. “It’s no big deal. Seriously.”
Trailing my fingertips over the top of his shoulder caused him to flinch, but because I didn’t apply any pressure, I doubted I hurt him. The thought that he twitched simply from my touch both excited and confused me. I refused to dissect my thoughts and moved closer.
“You shouldn’t have been overexerting yourself while you’re in pain.”
“What does it matter if I showed you some moves or if I was in the ring?” Irritation weaved itself into his response, and I couldn’t decipher if he’d meant to direct his aggravation at me or if he was upset with himself.
Ignoring his question, I asked, “Are you taking any anti-inflammatory medication?”
“When I remember.”
“Jackson, you need to make sure to take something when this injury flares up.”
He turned to look at me, a mixture of amusement and annoyance looped into the upturn of his mouth. But he didn’t say anything, and I considered his silence a win. From the little I knew about this man, I doubted he held his tongue often.
“Are you doing the necessary stretches to ensure you reduce this injury from happening again?”
“Trevor massages me and has me do some stretching, but probably not enough.”
He looked like he wanted to add to his answer but thought better of it as he clamped his lips shut.
My gaze lingered on his mouth before I veered my attention back to his shoulder.
Kneeling behind him, I gently pressed my fingers into his muscles, careful not to be too rough, as he was currently experiencing discomfort.
“Heat therapy will help relieve some of your soreness. It can also help increase muscle flexibility as well as relax and soothe muscles. This type of treatment can even help to heal damaged tissue. Then again, the regimen works best on someone who isn’t constantly overusing the affected area.”