I have him meet me at the gym that Sunday, where we’ll have lots of room and some mats down to keep either of us from getting too bruised up. I never went easy on my other students, and I don’t plan to go easy on him. He needs to know how to protect himself from a guy who isn’t going to play fair.

I purposefully picked a time when there’d be a lull. Right around two in the afternoon, when most people are thinking about napping, not doing reps at the gym. He’s a couple minutes late, but already dressed for the occasion in a loose tee, shorts, and tennis shoes.

“I didn’t know if I should bring anything,” he says, calling to me across the gym floor.

“Just yourself and a willingness to take instruction.”

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue, his eyes shining with amusement. “Damn. One out of two’s not so bad, right?”

I smirk and wave him over to where I am. I’ve already got a couple mats down in a large, empty space. Apparently everybody else decided to skip the gym today. There’s just one woman who’s got her earbuds in while she’s running on a treadmill. It’ll give me the opportunity to teach Eric without him feeling self-conscious. Something I was pretty sure he couldn’t feel not even two weeks ago, but this whole thing has been pretty eye-opening when it comes to showing me who Eric really is.

“I know you don’t have a lot of time, so I figured we’d just get right into it.”

“No foreplay. Not usually my thing, but I can make an exception.”

He’s nervous. Every time he makes a comment like that out of the blue, I’m starting to read it as something other than the desire to just make other people—me, specifically—uncomfortable.

It feels like the best thing I can do right now is play along. “No foreplay. No lube. Straight into the rough stuff. You ready?”

His eyes widen, and a flush actually rises in his cheeks. Okay. Maybe not the best idea to play along. He obviously didn’t expect that. I clear my throat and try to redeem myself by actually teaching the things I’m supposed to be teaching.

“So, uh. First thing is to build an awareness of how somebody could overpower you. Everybody’s different, so you have to take into account your frame and your level of fitness when matched against your aggressor.”

Eric looks down at his body, and I find my gaze trailing downward, too. “Well, the only toned part of me is my arms, and that’s mostly from stirring all day.” He smirks at me.

I almost wish he’d gone sleeveless. Dark ink draws my attention, an intricately woven pattern disappearing beneath his shirt. I can see the hint of compact but well-formed biceps peeking out from under his sleeves, proof of what he’s saying.

“So you already know your strength’s going to be in your arms. You’re a step ahead of most people. Makes it easier for me to teach you, too.”

I form a plan in my head. I want to teach him some proactive things he can do, and some moves he can use if worse comes to worst, like it definitely could with Blake. Even if my intel hasn’t come back, he’s already proven himself to be unhinged.

“So the first thing I wanna teach you are three of the weakest points on the male body.”

His lips twitch. “I think I learned this one on Miss Congeniality.”

“That’s not far off.” I get into a wide stance, my hands out in front of me. “Put your arm out, pinky side toward me, fingers together. See how the edge of your hand forms a hard line?”

He looks and nods. With such bony wrists, it’s really easy for me to show him what I want him to pay specific attention to.

“See that bone there?” I gesture where his wrist is. “It’s hard as fuck and really hurts when you throw it into somebody’s throat.”

“Noted,” Eric says, eyes widening a little.

“I’m gonna try and come at you, and I want you to make a striking motion with your hand just like this,” I demonstrate the lightning-quick jab, “toward my throat. Just don’t actually connect, or it’s gonna be a bad time.”

He laughs a little nervously, but nods, getting into a looser stance. I let him have plenty of time to read my movements, and I go slow as I approach him, arms out like I’m going to grapple him or come for his neck.

He does just what I told him, his hand shooting out, that bone leading the way and stopping just shy of my throat.

“Good, but next time, step into it. Take an actual step forward as you do it and put your weight into the strike.”

I get set up to come at him again, and this time he does a better job of putting more force behind the strike. It’s not something we can practice with full contact, which is why I don’t plan to spend a lot of time on it, but he needs to know these things.

“Okay, so once you chop me in the throat, I’m not gonna be feeling too great. The normal response is to put my hands up and protect my throat, which leaves the rest of me open.”

“Is this the ‘s’ part?” he asks, referencing Miss Congeniality again.

I snort. “Yeah, it’s the ‘s’ part. Solar plexus. If a strike to the throat didn’t do it, an elbow thrown there will knock the breath right out of him. Hurts like a motherfucker, too.”

I show him the technique, again teaching him to step into it. This time he throws his elbow at me, stopping just before he connects, close enough I can smell that spicy, citrusy scent I now associate with him.

“Last weak point is the obvious one,” I say, looking down.

It’s innocent enough at first. I was honestly just trying to be a smartass and gesture without having to say “knee him in the nuts.” But I suddenly become way too aware of the fact that I’m looking at his crotch, and a flush laces through me.

“The family jewels. Right,” he says, his own voice sounding just a little hoarse.

We don’t spend a whole lot of time on that. We both know how it works. No need to demonstrate. Instead, I move into talking about more advanced techniques that will help if Blake comes at him before he can land a strike.

I show him how to use an aggressor’s momentum against him if he’s going for a choke hold. Side-stepping, then jabbing an elbow hard between his shoulders. I show him how to use his arm to block a grab or even a punch. How to disarm a man with a quick chop.

We both work up a sweat, and I call a break to get some water. Eric grabs a towel and wipes at his neck and face.

“Do they teach all of this stuff at police academy?” He pauses, tilting his head to one side. “Is there really such a thing as police academy?”

I laugh at that, shooting him a grin. “Yeah, there is. And no, not all of it. I learned a lot from martial arts classes.”

“Like karate? Or…” He laughs, unscrewing the cap from his water bottle. “Is it obvious I know nothing about martial arts?”

“Jiu jitsu was my main thing,” I say, getting my own water bottle ready to fill after he’s done. “I like the grappling more than the strikes. Always been cool to me that anybody can overpower and shut down an opponent if they know the right moves.”

Interesting thing is, jiu jitsu would probably be crazy useful in self defense. Most aggressors try to overpower their victims and will aim to get them on the ground at some point. Having a set of defensive techniques specifically designed to escape that sort of situation can only help.

“I could teach you a couple moves if you want.”

Eric takes a long drink of water, then shoots me a grin. “Bring it on.”

“A lot of jiu jitsu involves ground combat. So basically, it’ll be once your opponent has already overpowered you and is looking to do worse.” I nod at the mat, then say, “Lie down on your back, and put your arms and legs in whatever position feels comfortable.”

He arches a brow at me, and I can tell he’s fighting the urge to relay some sort of innuendo. And… yeah. Might be hard to grapple with someone I’m attracted to. But this is a serious situation and I plan to keep it that way.

“First thing I want to teach you is the closed guard. Part your legs some,” I say, then press my knees into the mat between his legs. “I’m in the dominant position, so I can grab you or strike you and you putting your arms up isn’t going to do much. But if you put your legs around me, right over my hips…”

I don’t really think about it. I just put my hands on his thighs and pull his legs into place to show him directly. When he gasps, I get some sense of what I’ve done.

Shit, I shouldn’t just be touching and moving someone who’s dealt with what Eric’s dealt with. But there’s no fear in his eyes as he looks up at me. There’s just a sudden, inescapable heat that takes my breath away and makes me very, very aware of his body.

Focus, dammit. I clear my throat and try not to think of how damn good it feels to have his legs wrapped around me, or the double meaning behind, “Tighter. You want to be able to use your legs as leverage.”

He locks them tighter around me, and I can already feel my dick responding. Fuck, this isn’t good.

“Now as I try to go for your throat, I want you to get your right arm around my neck in a hold, and your left arm around mine, between my elbow and my shoulder.”

I move slow, shifting my position so that my body is over top of his. For a few moments I’m looking down into his eyes—eyes that are darkened with lust. Every part of me aches to kiss him, but I’m not going to be that person. I’m not going to take advantage.

Eric follows my instruction, and I add, “Bring your legs up higher on my body, then start to roll sideways while pushing me away from you.”

It’s more complicated than it sounds, and it takes Eric a couple tries. None of that’s helped by the fact that as he’s locking his legs higher over my body, he definitely gets a full feeling for what this is doing to me.

I expect him to pull back or push me away, but he doesn’t. In fact, I’m pretty sure he uses his legs to bring his body in closer contact with mine.

But finally he manages to push me away, and after I instruct him to press his elbow into my shoulder, he gets out from under me, leaving me hard and breathless on the mat beside him.

“Good job,” I say, my voice roughened by this fucking delirium.

Looking over at him, it doesn’t seem like he’s faring much better. His skin is flushed, his pupils are dilated, and he’s panting after what wasn’t all that much physical exertion. I just stare at him, unable to do anything else until a distant sound damn near makes me jump out of my skin.

I look behind us and see the woman from earlier getting off her treadmill. Fuck. I’d completely forgotten we weren’t alone. This could’ve been… bad. Even beyond the fact that I shouldn’t even be thinking of Eric this way, let alone acting on it.

No matter how much I want to.

“Uh, I think that’s good for today,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. I offer him a hand up, then add, “We can build more on this next time.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Eric says, clearing his throat.

I will my gaze not to stray downward, instead focusing only on his face. “Tomorrow, if you’re free. I’m not working, so should be easy on my end.”

Except for the fact that I’m going to be gone a huge part of the day, giving my testimony before a grand jury. That realization sinks like a lead weight in my gut. I’ve known it’s been coming up, but this thing with Eric has been foremost in my mind.

The reality of having to deal with it—of having to talk about Maria Cortez before a group of complete fucking strangers—hits me hard.

“It’ll have to be late,” I add. “Probably around six or so. Gonna be in Lexington all day for a trial.” He arches a brow in question. “Old case.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t pry, and talk of things that aren’t wrestling around on the floor seems to sober us both. Nothing’s a better boner cure than a reminder of your biggest failure, I guess.

“I can make time to swing by. Just give me a call when you’re back and ready. And… thanks, Reeve,” he says with a smile. “You’re a good teacher. I already feel like I could kick Benjamin Bratt’s ass.”

Once again, Eric finds a way to lighten even my darkest moods. I laugh, and when we leave the gym together, I have to admit I’m looking forward to next time.

It’ll be a nice change from all the shit I’m going to have to deal with tomorrow morning.