Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(25)

So today, I have pulled out all the stops. First, I called an out-of-town athletics supply store and ordered the mats. I ended up paying more for immediate delivery than the actual mats, but whatever. Then I ordered conservative takeout from my favorite restaurant. Or at least that is what I paid the delivery boy to say when he shows up. I actually hired him to put ridiculously expensive Italian food from the best restaurant in a fifty-mile radius into cheap takeout boxes and bring it over at eight.

Okay, so maybe that isn’t all the stops, but it’s more than Adam would ever be able to realistically do. I’m not going to push my luck. I still have no plans to tell her who I am. I don’t think she would rush out and tell the tabloids or anything. Hell, if Dave hasn’t done it by now, I’m sure Riley wouldn’t either. But I’m really f*cking enjoying being broke-ass Adam Andrews—boxer wannabe who is down on his luck, just trying to get his head straight.

At 6:01, there is a knock at my door. Not that I was watching the clock or peeking through the window or anything. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Hey," she greets as soon as I pull open the door.

Her eyes are unfortunately brown as she looks up at me with a nervous smile playing on her lips. And like a jackass, I watch her mouth for a beat too long. I have a feeling that being forward isn’t going to help me at all with this woman.

I wait for her to shyly look down. But not this Riley. She bites her lip to restrain a smile and says, "You’re wearing sweats again."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry. My three-piece suit was at the cleaners," I tease, and this time, she really does look away, but it might be for the best because her bright smile is blinding even from this angle. "And I have to note you’re wearing sweats too."

"Mine are pink though. So it’s okay," she says matter-of-factly.

"I’ll keep that in mind next time I head to the mall." I push the door wide for her to enter, and she does a quick glance over her shoulder before walking inside.

"Um, not any trouble, huh?" She looks around my apartment at all my furniture precariously shoved into every spare inch of the room while thick, blue wresting mats cover the floor.

"None at all." I smile, but she doesn’t seem convinced.

"These are new."

"They're on loan," I answer, and it’s not a lie. I fully intend to donate them to the local high school as soon as we're done.

"So what now? Do I try to tackle you and then you fall unconvincingly to the ground under my slightest touch?"

"No. Now we talk. I know you are a little…timid. But I’m not going to go easy on you tonight. I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I did. So I will be mindful of your emotions, but I want you to remember that I’m only trying to help. I don’t want to scare you, but if someone truly attacks you, they aren’t going to coddle you."

She nods her head and immediately looks back toward the door. I don’t think she is really considering leaving, but judging by the look on her face, she definitely wants to escape.

"Do you think you can you trust me?"

"I don’t know. I want to say yes, but the moment you pin me to that mat, I’ll probably lose it," she says with a sad smile that causes her eyes to water.

Her answer doesn’t break my heart; it pisses me the f*ck off. Who the hell pinned her somewhere, and where can I find them to destroy their life? Maybe I don’t want to know this stuff about this woman. I’d rather focus on her smile and how amazing her ass looks in those yoga pants.

"Then I won’t pin you," I respond casually as if an inferno of rage isn’t burning inside me.

"I think I’ll be okay then." She nods, but her eyes are screaming otherwise.

"What about my touch? Any areas I should know about that will set you off?" Her eyes go wide and she takes an immediate step back. "I don’t mean anything sexual," I quickly clarify. "I just mean your arms, shoulders, legs, or even ankles. Riley, I don’t want to accidentally hit a trigger of yours, so please just tell me where not to go. This isn’t going to be a free-for-all by any stretch of the imagination, but I will have to touch you. I need to know if there is any place that is off-limits for you. Like, if I grab your ankle to move your foot into a better position, would that be an issue?"

Is this the normal round of questioning during a class? Hell no! However, what I’m about to show her isn’t your run-of-the-mill self-defense class either. And above and beyond all of that, I really want to know her personal boundaries.

"Um. My ankles are fine, but maybe not above my knees—like my thighs," she says so quietly that it’s barely audible.

God damn it! I have to remind myself that I wanted to know this, but a million different scenarios about what someone could have done to this woman’s thighs sends fire through my veins.

"Hang on. I’ll be right back," I say roughly while heading to the bathroom in order to collect myself.

I shouldn’t have asked. I’m a freaking masochist for torturing myself like this. I’m also curious and, for some reason, utterly drawn to her. I could have done this little lesson by the book, but I want her to feel safe. I’m reasonably sure Dave has taught her the basics, but I want to give her more than that. Riley is stronger than she thinks she is, and I want to show her that. I want to renew the strength that her ex took from her.