36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mateo
A fter my chat with Tiero this morning, I have to know if Mari has a crush on me.
The idea distracts me more than I care to admit, and I’ve caught myself rolling my eyes at it more than once. Am I really acting like a teenager, getting all worked up because someone says a beautiful girl might be into me?
She definitely seems nervous around me, and she blushes. But I’ve always chalked it up to her being shy or to my position in la famiglia . I figured she was just being respectful, maybe a little intimidated, and nothing more. I never once considered that it might actually be about me.
Now, with Tiero’s words echoing in my head, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to her reaction than I realized.
The half-hour drive flies by. Conversation with Mari flows easily once her nerves settle, and I find myself completely absorbed by her sweet voice. She lights up when she talks about her love for design, her hands moving expressively, eyes sparkling. Around her, I can’t help but smile most of the time.
Flanked by the two cars escorting us, I pull into an empty parking lot. Rom and his team will wait outside while I train with Mari, then have their own workout while I give her a driving lesson.
We wait in the car for a moment as Rom and his team do a quick sweep of the gym. When they return with a thumbs up, I grab the backpack with water and towels from the backseat and get out of the car.
Mari follows, stepping up beside me. My hand reaches out for hers, but I stop myself just in time.
What’s come over me?
For starters, we have an audience, and more importantly, I don’t hold hands. Ever.
I redirect my wayward hand to the small of Mari’s back, guiding her toward the gym. I feel her warmth through her dress and have to remind myself to stay focused.
This is a training session. I’m teaching her self-defense, nothing more.
Inside, the gym is empty, its dim lighting and padded floors giving off an air of intimacy and isolation.
I drop the backpack on a nearby table, and Mari bites her lip, hesitating a moment before she tugs her dress over her head, revealing tight-fitting black boy shorts and an azure blue tank top that contrasts perfectly with her olive skin.
Every curve of her body is on show.
My pulse speeds up with every inch of bare skin she reveals, and my normally rational brain is corrupted by my heating groin area.
My insides contract as unbidden thoughts of how I yearn to explore every inch of her delectable body thrust themselves into my consciousness.
Mari is unaware of my staring because she’s looking anywhere but at me. She shyly pulls on the hem of both her shorts and shirt to make sure they’re covering as much as possible.
God, is the air-con working in this place? It’s hot in here.
I march to the controller and adjust it a couple of degrees down. I’ll need it. When I turn back around, Mari reaches her arms above her head and stretches, showing off a strip of skin between her top and shorts.
Is she trying to fucking kill me?
To hide my growing erection and to regain some semblance of control, I walk to the center of the room, sensing her gaze on me, wide-eyed and expectant.
I clear my throat, pushing aside the immense pull to her.
“We’ll start with the basics,” I say, my voice almost steady. “Self-defense isn’t about overpowering someone. It’s about using their force against them, finding ways to break free and get out fast.”
She nods as she joins me on the mats, biting her lip as she listens, and I struggle to look away from her mouth.
“First rule,” I continue, my voice slipping a bit lower, “is awareness. If you can avoid a confrontation, do it. But if you can’t,” I step closer, meeting her gaze, “you need to know how to react.”
I reach out, my hand wrapping gently around her wrist to guide her through the motion. I show her how to twist her arm and pull away, but the second my fingers touch her skin, a surge of heat pulses through me. She looks up, eyes wide, and I lose track of what I was saying.
“You try,” I manage, my voice rougher than I’d like.
Her hands tremble as I let her take hold of my arm. She’s tentative at first, her touch light, but then she presses a bit harder, her determination sparking something in me.
“Good,” I murmur, a little closer than necessary, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. “Now, with more force.”
She tries again, eyes focused as she pulls free, her grip firm. The flash of pride on her face makes me want to close the distance between us, but I force myself to keep it professional.
“Perfect,” I say, nodding. “Let’s try a few more.”
The smile she gives me in response to my praise is so radiant, I melt in its brilliance.
It does something to me, to my heart.
Fucking hell, she’s beautiful.
The feelings coursing through me are so strange, so unfamiliar. They make me want to pick her up and carry her somewhere private, somewhere where I could…
No!
She’s completely innocent, ten years younger than me and under my protection. I will not let my cock lead my head.
We go through a few basic moves, and I’m careful to keep a respectful distance. That’s until I have to show her how to defend herself if someone grabs her from behind.
Stepping closer, I slip my arms around her, my chest grazing her back. She stiffens slightly, her pulse racing beneath my touch, matching my own.
“Now, lean forward a little,” I murmur, my mouth close to her ear.
She does as I say, and I sense the shift of her weight, her smallest movements. Every adjustment she makes seems to raise the temperature in the room.
“Good. Now, keep your knees bent,” I instruct, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Balance is everything. You need to stay grounded so you can throw them off.”
She nods, and I catch her scent. It’s soft and warm, pulling at the edges of my focus.
“Okay,” she says, almost in a whisper, her pulse erratic through the delicate skin on her wrist, which I’m holding as part of the demonstration.
“When someone grabs you from behind,” I explain, “you can’t waste time thinking about it. You react. Fast. It has to be instinct.”
I press lightly against her back, showing her how to shift her weight forward.
“Use your momentum. Push your hips out, like this…”
My hands are on her waist now, guiding her in the movement. Her breath hitches, and my cock is growing unbearably hard. I’m careful not to press it against her as she moves with me, following my lead.
“Next, you need to swing your arm up, like this,” I say, lifting her hand and tracing the path with mine. A shudder runs through her and into me, making my throat tight.
“You want them to let go, so aim for the most vulnerable spot,” I tell her, my voice sounding like gravel. “Aim your elbow for their ribs or if you can their… umm… ba… groin.”
Mentioning that part of my anatomy shifts my attention to just how keenly throbbing it is. God, I hope her innocence stops her from noticing my dilemma.
Mari’s shoulder grazes my chest as she follows through, and I can sense her slight hesitation, her awareness of every point of contact.
Yes, dolce mia, I’m very much aware of it too.
She repeats the movement, improving with each attempt.
“That’s it,” I say softly, barely more than a whisper. “You’re doing great. Now try to put more force behind it. You want to catch them off-guard.”
I release her slowly, watching her practice the move, her focus intense. But each time she swings her arm, her gaze flickers to mine, like she’s searching for something else in my expression.
I swallow, trying to shake off the urge to reach out again.
“Remember,” I say, my voice dropping a notch, “this isn’t about looking pretty. It’s about getting yourself out. Hit them hard, don’t hold back. A half-hearted move could be your last.”
She nods, her lips parting slightly. The tension is building, thicker this time, harder to ignore.
Was teaching her self-defense really such a smart idea?
Right now, it seems like every technique I show her is just another excuse to be closer, to feel the warmth radiating off her skin, to guide her under the pretense of teaching.
With each touch, it gets harder.
I step back further, giving her space.
No! I’m the one needing the space to clear my head of this lust fog I’m under.
I watch Mari from a few feet away as she continues to go through the moves on her own. She’s getting there, each motion more confident, but there’s still a hesitancy in her stance.
Her gaze flicks toward me just as she pivots, and her ankle wobbles, throwing her off balance. She stumbles, and instinct kicks in. I rush forward to catch her, but the momentum tips us both off-center.
Before I can stop it, we’re falling and hit the mat with a soft thud. I brace myself with my hands on either side of her to not crush her, my weight suspended just inches above her body.
My chest heaves with labored breaths but I’m not taking in any oxygen. Mari is frozen beneath me, her eyes blown wide and focused on me.
My gaze drops to her lips.
I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl so much.
With each passing hour I know her, she seems to take up more space in my mind. I’m becoming borderline obsessed with her.
She watches me as my body inches closer. The electric current running between us is at full power. It puts my mind in a haze.
Mari trembles.
It’s soft but enough to send heat surging through my body.
God, I need her lips on me more than my next breath.
We’re both panting, her chest rising and falling against mine.
The air crackles.
Sparks fly.
I almost fucking lose it, when Mari moistens her lips and then parts them to pull in a shaky breath.
The need to touch her is overwhelming. I frame her face with my hands, my thumb skirting over her cheek. She leans into my touch, making my heartbeat go through the roof.
Her eyes dart to my lips and I can’t help licking them. Then they rise to meet mine again, an adorable blush coloring her cheeks.
In slow-motion our heads move closer together. Mari tilts her head up just a little, her breath flirting over my lips.
Wham!
The slam of a door and a burst of laughter shatters the moment like glass.
My head jerks toward the sound.
Damn, Rom and the other guys are here for their hour of training.
Fuck their timing!