Vengeance (The Captive #6)(41)
He moved her through some more paces, teaching her how to move and flow while keeping herself protected from what could be a killing blow. She tripped over her feet more times than she cared to remember. Throughout her life, as she would run and climb in the mountains, she never considered herself clumsy, but after this exercise with William, she wasn’t so sure. She heavily questioned her agility and wondered how she’d managed not to slip off the side of a cliff with her sudden inability to stay on her feet.
There was something about William that divided her attention between what he was trying to teach her, and the man himself. His body was so warm when he stood beside her, his hands so powerful and strong on hers. The callouses and scars marring his hands caused her skin to tingle and reminded her he was a warrior, a man who had survived far more in his short life than she would ever experience. The smell of him kept making her head turn into him in order to inhale more of his intoxicating scent.
“Keep your attention on me always,” he said as he moved around her. That will be easy to do, she thought as she turned with him. She followed him as he moved around the cave, his hands raised in the air so his palms faced her. In the flickering light, she noticed nearly identical scars running across the palms of both of his hands. They were both slices that ran the entire length of his palm and across his fingers.
Before she could ask what had happened, he spoke, “Hit my hands.”
“Really?” she asked as she stared at the palms facing her. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Of course you can.”
He stopped moving and stepped toward her. Taking hold of her hand, he folded it into a fist. Heat pooled through her; she found herself staring at his lowered black lashes with their red tips while he adjusted her thumb outside of her fingers. His arm brushed against her chest as he moved. His hand froze on hers when his eyes lifted to look at her.
His mouth was only inches away from hers. She fought the impulse, but she found her eyes falling to his lips. A small thrill ran through her as she was struck with the sudden urge to kiss him. Those firm, warm lips pressed against hers was all she could think of, as he remained unmoving and so temptingly close. She swayed instinctively toward him, her body pulsed with excitement, as they became so close to each other she could see the strands of gold and brown intertwining in his beard.
It would be so easy to lean forward just a little and press her lips to his. To answer the question of what he would taste like and ease the desire clamoring hotly through her veins. She’d never felt this way about someone before. She’d been kissed and groped awkwardly by a few boys in Badwin over the years, but it had never amounted to much more than satisfying some of her curiosity, and it hadn’t been overly pleasant anyway.
She yearned to taste him so badly her mind spun, and her blood became electrified by the possibility of answering the call clamoring through her body. Instinctively she knew it wouldn’t be like those fumbling attempts she’d experienced before. Just touching him was making her entire body come alive in a way it never had; kissing him might kick-start her heart into beating.
He moved closer to her, his lips only centimeters from hers, his body pressing against the arms curled protectively to her chest. With a sharp inhale, his eyes flew up to hers. Desire radiated in their clear blue depths, but she also saw a flicker of apprehension before he took an abrupt step back.
Disappointment crashed through her. It took all she had not to step closer to him again. Her body craved his heat against hers. She’d been warm before he’d stepped away from her; now her body felt like ice encased it. Had he just rejected her? He could have kissed her; he had to have known that. Yet he took another step away, putting more distance between them, before stepping forward again.
“Keep your hand fisted, and hit me lightly until you feel comfortable enough to do it with more force.” His voice came out gravelly; beads of sweat dotted his forehead. She could blame the fire for both things, but she knew it was something more. Raising his right hand to her, he gave her a brief nod. “Go ahead.”
Tempest didn’t know what she wanted from him, but she would rather take hold of his hand instead of trying to hit it. The smile didn’t return to his face; his eyes were blue pools of ice as he watched her. Ever so tentatively, she hit his palm. It didn’t hurt, his hand didn’t move, but it amazed her how good the action of hitting something, especially after what had not happened between them, felt.
He began to move again, turning with his hands up as she tapped tentatively at him a few more times before becoming more confident and sure of her movements. Sweat trickled down her temple, her hair stuck to her face as they moved on, dancing their way around the cave. The fire was beginning to die down when he took a step away from her and lowered his hands.
“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he told her.
She wanted to argue with him not to stop, not because she wasn’t ready for a break, because she was. No, she was ready to keep going all night if it meant they could keep touching each other. Her arms felt like rubber, her knuckles ached and her legs quaked so much she thought they might collapse, but she wasn’t ready to quit.
She took a step away from him, unwilling to show how much she already missed his touch. She still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened earlier, but her pride couldn’t take another kick to it today. Making her way over to the cave wall, she briefly rested her forehead against the rocks in order to cool herself off a little. A bath would have felt fantastic, but she doubted she’d be getting one of those anytime soon.