Tasha winced ever so slightly as familiar fingers curved her waist. A few beads of sweat dotted her hairline. She knew what was coming. Forcing her breaths to remain even and her heartrate normal she calmly brought her left hand around her body and placed it over top of the male fingers touching her.

In one smooth movement, like a dancer, she grasped the hand, spun around and shoved the palm of her right hand up under Jordan’s chin. She hooked her small leg around his much thicker one and shoved. When he didn’t move she threw more weight into the maneuver. He started to topple backwards, arms splayed, but at the last minute she pulled the move so he wouldn’t get hurt when he hit the mat.

“Wrong!” he snarled.

In barely the blink of an eye he was up. He tossed her easily on the mat and came down heavily on one knee beside her. His fist came smashing down into her solar plexus, pulling the punch so he wouldn’t shatter the bone and kill her, but his knuckles still dug painfully into tender flesh. Tasha gasped and flung her arm out to slap the mat.

Jordan pulled back and rocked onto his heels placing his hands on his knees. All former aggression replaced by his usual serene expression. Tasha lay on the mat beside him gasping for breath. She let her eyes meet his and winced slightly before laughing at the mock stern look he gave her.

Covering her face, she moaned, “Okay, okay! I give!”

He shook his head, his expression gentling, “Stop pulling your throws Portman. It ruins your form and gets you banged up more than you need to be.”

I know! I need to follow through. I just hate the idea of hurting someone.” She reached out an arm and got him to help pull her into a sitting position.

It still amazed her that she’d reached this point of easy trust with another man. Perhaps it was her years of dancing, where it meant nothing to allow another man’s hands to roam her body. Jordan’s touch did nothing for her. Not even a flutter. The day David had forced her to run for her life, her libido had turned to ash.

Jordan stared down at her flushed features until Tasha felt compelled to turn away. She’d been working with him and attending his classes for five months. She’d also been pulling her punches for just as long. In everything else, she’d been working her butt off. He often joked that her form was so perfect it made him, third degree black belt, feel as though he should change his own to match hers. He told her that he had never met a student with the determination and skills to excel in martial arts in so short a time. Her ability to soak in the instructions and become a lethal opponent almost from day one had stunned him. She had blushed and thanked him for the compliment.

Jordan’s repeated requests for her to work one-on-one with him, to attend championships and to weight train had been gently denied. She was too busy. She was happy learning Jujitsu as a hobby but nothing more. She couldn’t afford the lessons. So many excuses. But she knew she wasn’t fooling him. He seemed to know when she was lying.

Like that first moment he had asked why she’d wanted to study with him and she had said for the exercise. He’d known otherwise. He had stared at her a little too long, as though he somehow knew she was running from something. Knew she was hurt and afraid. She’d wanted to learn how defend herself. So, he’d given her that, hoping like hell she would never need to use it. Gently, he tucked a long silky lock of dark mahogany hair behind the small shell of her ear.

Tasha shivered slightly at the touch of Jordan’s fingers against her skin. They were usually business-like and impersonal. This felt like it had meaning. Was it time for them to take the next step? They had worked so closely together these past months. As tutor and student. Perhaps it was time for more. Though his touch didn’t cause her heart to flutter in anticipation, it was… pleasant. She could grow used to it. Didn’t she deserve more than a lonely existence?

Tasha took a deep breath and tilted her chin, letting the back of his hand drift over her skin. They sat together for a moment, oblivious of the class working and sweating around them. Jordan opened his mouth to say something, leaning closer to her so she would be the only one to hear. But before he could speak, Tasha stiffened with such suddenness that he dropped his hand and leaned away to give her room. He thought she objected to his closeness, but the look in her eyes said something else.

She felt cold in the overheated room. Then suddenly, she felt something. Something sinister, something familiar. Could it be… him?

She sat paralyzed for a moment, fear coursing through her. She felt like throwing up and actually brought a hand up to cover her throat. She shook her head against the intrusion. It wasn’t possible. She was perfectly safe. Deciding her nerves were on edge because of her usual need for more freedom, between Regan’s constant invitations and Jordan’s pressing their relationship. Tasha smiled weakly.

“Sorry about that,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’ll try not to pull any more of my throws.”

Taking her dismissal in his usual lighthearted manner, Jordan stood next to the much smaller woman and patted her on the head. “It’s either that or have me believe a small fry like yourself can’t do it.” Jordan left her side to work with the rest of the class.

An hour later, a freshly showered Jordan stood tossing his keys in the air and catching them. He waited patiently until he was rewarded with the sight of a prim little ballerina exiting the ladies change room. She made her way gracefully to the space where he had just finished piling the mats away in the corner.

She dumped her purse and a long white box next to the pile of mats and came to stand beside him. She had changed from her karate gi to a black leotard with pink tights. She’d exchanged bare feet for pink ballet toe slippers. Her long hair was swept up in a tight knot on the top of her head. Only a few wisps were left to float free, which she shoved hastily behind her ears.

Jordan never got tired of looking at the mystery woman that showed up at his gym one day and begged him for lessons, no matter how she was dressed. But the ethereal woman she presented in her ballet outfit was his favourite. It was also this embodiment of her he found the most untouchable. Like somehow the dancing goddess became further out of his mortal reach.

Standing in front of him she began stretching her small, toned body while she chatted about nonsense. He marveled at the ease and lack of concentration she put into the exercises that required, what he thought, must be a master degree of concentration. At the moment, she was balanced on one foot with her rib cage and head curved back over her body, one leg up with a hand reaching back to grasp her foot. He liked to think of himself as a pretty fit guy, but this girl was on a whole other level.

“Thanks again for letting me use the gym after class.” He blinked, trying to focus more on the conversation and less on the small, perky tits she was thrusting in his direction while curving her back in a weird contorted concave position.

He grinned wickedly. “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

“Ha!” she laughed. “You know you don’t charge me enough. But I won’t complain, I can’t afford more.”

“How could I deprive the prima ballerina of what clearly makes her so happy?” he joked.

At his careless words she stumbled and had to catch her balance, a pained expression crossing her face.

He knew he shouldn’t push…but… “What is it Trish? It was my mention of prima ballerina, wasn’t it? You know I think you’re good enough to be a professional dancer.”

“What do you know of ballet?” she asked sharply, her accent slipping slightly.

“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “Just an opinion.”

She nodded slowly and exhaled a long breath. Forcing a smile, she completed her stretch and said over her shoulder, “Sorry, Jordan, I’m a little on edge today I guess. I just need to work off some of this energy. You have yourself a good weekend!”

Her bright, totally fake reply and dismissal should have annoyed him. Who was he kidding though? He loved everything about her. He would allow this tiny ballerina to dance all over him any day she wanted.

“Alright, you have a good night. Don’t stay too late, Trish.”

She nodded and proceeded to ignore him as he let himself out of the gym and locked it behind him. He watched her through the door for a minute as she strode gracefully to the lights and dimmed them, creating a private world. One that he didn’t belong in. He didn’t know where she came from, but he did know she was here now and he was determined to have the little dancer in his life. No matter what it took. Next week, when he saw her, he would push the issue. For now, he would leave her to her solo dance.