“It’s all in the technique,” Jay said, smacking his hand against his thigh. “Your power comes from your legs, through your hips, up into your shoulders.” He demonstrated by twisting through his torso. “That’s where the snap comes from. We’re tight for time today, so we’ll start with the fundamentals tomorrow and go from there.”
“You’re going to train me?” Awe making him sound even younger than he looked, Davis hooked his glove in the crook of his elbow to pull his hand free after Cody loosened the Velcro strap. “Like for real?”
“Yeah, for real,” Jay said. “Adam wants to add some self-defence to your curriculum, so we’ll meet up here for an hour a day, three days a week. Cody’s got the other three days for CQC.”
“CQC?” Davis asked, using the neck of his sweaty T-shirt to wipe his brow.
“Close-quarters combat,” Cody replied. “We’ll work on clinch fighting and control, takedowns and throws, ground control and submission, escape and counter techniques, as well as weapons-based grappling. That’s in addition to your daily strength training and cardio sessions with Zander.”
“Jeez,” Davis joked, “Is Adam trying to kill me?”
“The opposite,” Jay said, taking Becca’s hand and entwining their fingers while her heart executed a double tap of its own. “He’s trying to give you the tools you’ll need to stay alive if things don’t go our way.”
His expression broadcasting his worry, Davis looked from Jay to Becca and back again. “You think it’s going to get really bad?”
“We don’t know, buddy. But it’s smart to ensure you can defend yourself. Try not to worry about it too much and go hit the showers.” He hitched his head toward the entrance. “You stink.”
About to lift his arm over his head to smell his pit, Davis rethought the decision at about the halfway mark, and dropping his hand, he grinned despite the seriousness of the moment. “Maybe being smelly is the best defense?”
Cody huffed and took Davis’s gloves. “Only if you’re trying to drive the girls away, bonehead. Dudes don’t care one way or another when they’re trying to use your face for target practice.” He pointed with a glove in the same direction Jay had. “Go on now. Shower, grab a protein snack, and then be back in the boardroom by four. And don’t forget to hydrate!” he shouted since Davis had already taken off running.
“How ‘bout you?” Jay asked, giving Becca his full attention after squeezing her fingers. “You ready for a shower and a snack too?”
Her insides clenching at the thought of getting naked—with Jay—words escaped her, and she nodded her head instead.
“Alright, let’s go.” Despite being injured, he led the way, and she waved a quick farewell to Cody before following along. Her hand held securely in his, he walked her past the locker rooms and toward the back stairs.
“Are we going up to your room?” she asked, hoping the privacy meant more than a shower because her desire to kiss him was quickly becoming her sole focus.
“Yeah, we need to talk,” he said, and her disappointment cut deep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Her face flushed, Becca paced back and forth between the bathroom and where Jay stood in the middle of the area rug between the doors and the bed, and Jesus Christ, he wanted to get a hold of her.
Take that damn sweatshirt off.
The faded black hoodie looked too big on her. Too hot and bulky. He used to love it when she wore his clothes. Still did. Hell, she could wear anything of his she wanted, any damn time, day or night, and she’d look good. Better than good.
But he could see her discomfort, and he hated the way she tried to hide her tattoos from his view. He didn’t give a damn about the ink covering her skin. He cared about her. About the woman she kept trying to bury inside.
Her well-being, her confidence, her happiness mattered to him. “Becca?—”
“Don’t,” she huffed, cutting off his third round of groveling and coming to a stop out of his reach. “You were out of line.”
“Yep.”
“You don’t”—she made air quotes to emphasize his stupidity in the boardroom—“get to decide what I will or won’t do when it comes to my safety.”
“You’re right.”
“I’ve been doing fine on my own for years. I don’t need you to treat me like I’m some fragile piece of glass you get to lock away.”
“That’s not—” He stopped because he couldn’t defend what he’d said. It’d been arrogant. Wrong. Dismissive. He knew it the second the words had left his mouth, but by then, it’d been too late.
He breathed deep and held her gaze until the right words came, and then he did his best to ask her forgiveness. “I’m sorry, baby. I was an idiot. It’s just…the thought of anything happening to you messes with my head, and common sense goes out the window, but that doesn’t mean I get to say stupid shit. It wasn’t about control or trying to take your right to make decisions away from you.” He took a step toward her. “It was about my fears and my insecurities, and I handled the situation poorly. Can you forgive me?”
Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Instead, she studied him, her eyes searching his, looking for something. Sincerity? Regret? No problem. He offered both. He’d fucked up. He knew it. She knew it. And the only path forward lay in acknowledging it before moving on.
