Playing Dirty (Risky Business, #2)(51)

Mac got behind Parker and wrapped an arm around his neck like he was putting him in a choke hold. Parker moved so fast I couldn’t even track what he’d done, but he was out of the choke hold and Mac was down on the ground.

Parker held out a hand and helped Mac up. They faced off, then Mac attacked Parker. I sucked in a breath at the vicious jab, but Parker sidestepped it, then moved in close. They both moved fast, with their arms and fists and feet and every part of their bodies it seemed. I watched in wide-eyed amazement. I’d never realized Parker could do … all the stuff he was doing.

They finally hit a point where Mac tapped Parker’s leg. They were on the floor and Parker was doing something to his arm. When they stood up, they were both breathing hard.

“Nice,” Mac said with a grin. “I let you win, you know. Didn’t want to make you look bad in front of your lady.”

Parker laughed. “That’s mighty thoughtful of you.”

Your lady. Hmm.

They did this man-grip handshake thing, then Mac nodded at me before heading off toward the men’s locker rooms. Parker turned toward me.

“Ready?”

I gave a nervous huff of laughter. “I’m not sure I’m able to do anything like that.” Talk about intimidating. Plus, I hated learning something new. I always felt like an idiot until I’d mastered it.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “I’ll teach you. Come on.”

He took my hand and pulled me to stand on the mat. “Okay, the first thing you need to learn is that part of it is energy and will. You have to throw everything you have into your moves. Be decisive and intend to harm.”

“Intend to harm?”

“Absolutely. If someone starts something with you, you want to be the one to end it. Not just defend yourself, but attack and disable them so they’re out of commission.”

That made sense. “Okay.”

“So, last night, the guy pulled your hair, right?”

I nodded.

“Okay, well if someone grabs your hair, it’s going to hurt no matter what. You might as well resign yourself to that. But here, let me show you how to get out of it.”

Reaching out, he grabbed a handful of my ponytail. “The first thing you want to do is grab my wrist with both your hands.” He showed me where to circle his wrist. “Then you want to create some distance between us, though it’s going to hurt because I still have your hair. When there’s distance, you use your feet. Vulnerable parts of the body. The knee, the groin.”

“I’m not kicking my boss in the groin,” I said.

His wide grin flashing perfectly white teeth made me lose my train of thought for a moment.

“I’d prefer you not either,” he said. “This is practice. We’ll go slow so you can get used to how it feels. When you get better, I’ll put on gear and you can move faster and do real hits.”

So we practiced. Using my hair, he’d pull me close, then I’d go through the moves he taught me, with him making corrections and suggestions. He was careful of my shoulder, which I appreciated. The stitches were healing, but I babied it since I was a complete wuss when it came to pain.

“Okay, now what if he does this?” Parker asked, using my hair to spin me around so my back was against his front. He put an arm across the front of my shoulders above my breasts and the other across my hips.

And I could feel every inch of his body against mine.

Sweet Jesus.

He was still warm from his sparring with Mac, his skin slightly damp with sweat, and I could smell his scent mixed with his cologne. A powerful aphrodisiac that made my bones want to melt.

“Now what?” he asked, his mouth at my ear.

Oh yeah. Self-defense. My mind was blank, unable to think of a single thing he’d taught me.

“Um, I-I’m not sure,” I stammered.

“Move into the attack,” he reiterated. “Remember? Put your hands here and you want to jerk your head back into mine.”

I couldn’t even concentrate on what he was saying, just let him put my hands where I was supposed to, then went through the motions as he talked me through it. If he noticed my sudden quiet, he didn’t mention it, repeating the hold and moves until I wanted to yell at him to stop touching me. But it seemed I was the only one the close proximity was affecting, because he carried on as if nothing were amiss.

“And it’s not,” I muttered to myself. “Get a grip.”

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said brightly. “Just … memorizing the moves.”

I didn’t think it could get worse. I was wrong.

“Okay, so let’s go over how to escape the classic rape scenario,” he said.

“Wh-what?” I squeaked.

He looked at me funny. “Most women want to know this move first,” he said. “It’s usually their biggest fear. Trust me, you want to learn it.”

“Um, yeah, sure, okay.”

Parker pulled me down onto the mat, urging me to lie on my back, feet on the floor and knees bent and spread as he crouched between my legs. Hooking his arms behind my knees, he pulled me closer so our lower bodies fit snugly together.

Holy Mary Mother of God.

Get a grip. Get a grip. Get a grip.

The mantra repeated inside my head. This was just Parker being helpful. This was not sexual. Just like painting the toes. Not sexual.