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“Now, when you punch, the power isn’t coming from your hand,” I say. “It’s not even coming from your arm. It’s coming from your entire body. If you’re aiming for the head, you want to push through the head.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Picture that it is,” I say. “And punch from the hip.”
“I’ll try,” she says, and her uncertainty is so fucking adorable.
We move into the area between my sofa and armchair—I’ve already pushed the coffee table out of the way—and Hannah takes up her stance.
“From the hip,” she says. “Okay. From the hip.” She bounces on her feet, bobbling back and forth. “Straight wrist. The thumb is on the outside of the fist. Check. Check.”
“Any day now.”
“These hips don’t lie,” she yells, and throws a punch at me.
But she throws too much weight into it and stumbles right into my arms. I’m expecting a punch, not her entire body weight, and I lose my balance. We tumble to the floor together, but I catch her so that she doesn’t get hurt.
She’s on top of me again, her legs on either side of my body, her hot pussy pressing against the front of my sweatpants.
My cock hardens underneath her, and the smell of her soft, floral perfume fills my nostrils.
“Sorry,” she says, sitting up. Her eyes widen as she rocks back onto my dick.
“Hannah.” I grit my teeth. “You need to throw less of your weight into the punch.”
She’s frozen, sitting on top of me, and we stare at each other in the growing heat and silence. The fire cracks and spits. Hannah’s breasts rise and fall. She falls forward onto my chest slowly. “Savage.”
“Hannah.”
She toys with my beard, then moves her fingers up toward my ear.
I cup the back of her head then roll her over onto the hardwood floor, and she lets out a yelp. I press my forehead against hers, and grind my cock against her warmth, picturing that this can happen. “You’re trying to make me lose it, aren’t you?” I hold her gaze with mine as I press my length against her heat.
Hannah’s eyelashes flutter, she lets out a tiny, tight moan.
You swore!
I push myself upright, trying not to see how good she looks, lying down for me, or the wetness that’s seeped through her yoga pants. “I need to check the perimeter.” And then I leave the living room and slam out of the front door. I walk into the rain.
Seventeen
HANNAH
I’m shaking from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and it’s not from the cold.
He just?—
Savage rubbed himself against me. Minus the clothes, he would’ve been…
Stop. Stop. He also just ran out of the room and into a storm to get away from you.
I’ve never been in a more frustrating and confusing situation. The man I thought despised me, or at least thought I was annoying and unattractive, wants me so badly, he can’t stand to be in the same room as me.
And I’m the idiot who’s lying here with ruined yoga pants, completely unfulfilled.
This is another memory I’ll store away to keep for lonely nights.
That’s not pathetic.
