She imagined him shoving her to his bed, his hands trailing down her sides to her hips, making her stomach dance at his touch. Christ. Thinking of him like this made her painfully aware of her own inexperience. She wasn’t the virginal innocent her family seemed to think she was, but it would be hard to miss her awkwardness.
In her mind, Archer ordered her to spread her legs, that harsh, biting tone gruff with need. She imagined herself refusing just to rile him up, and he jerked her legs apart.
She imagined his head lowering as he kissed his way along her belly to the apex of her thighs. In her mind, he didn’t balk at her curves, instead savoring them, running his hands over the swell of her breasts, the shape of her generous hips. Enjoying them in a way a man like him probably wouldn’t in real life. His mouth and tongue explored, hungry and possessive. Her core throbbed.
Something dark fluttered in her belly and she imagined reaching down, pushing his head away, just to see what he would do. “I can’t do this.”
“You can and you will. Open for me, or I’ll make you come another way, only you won’t have the choice.”
What the… where did that come from? She wasn’t a submissive, and she definitely wasn’t into threats. Was she? Oh, god. Gwen’s skin heated as she pictured herself spreading her legs wider for him, lying back, compliant.
What the hell was she doing being attracted to him? The man was going to be her freaking sensei. Besides, he probably didn’t see her as anything more than Ace’s dowdy, awkward sister.
Gwen threw off the covers and sat up. What was wrong with her? She ran her hands down her face.
“Man, am I in trouble.”
“You’re late.”
“I…I am?” Gwen looked at the clock above the door of the practice room. Ten after nine. Immediately her stomach tightened. She glanced at the front of the room.
Master Archer waited with his hands behind his back, feet apart, a large mat lying on the floor in front of him. He’d said he didn’t tolerate excuses. Shit. Would he refuse to help her now?
Gwen dropped her duffle bag on the bench. “Sorry sir, um… Mister… Um… Master.” She couldn’t look at him.
Fuck, what was wrong with her? Not two minutes in front of him and already with the crippling self-doubt.
Archer strode over to her. “Tell me you have something resembling workout clothes in that bag.”
Irritation flickered in her. “As a matter of fact, I do, Master Archer. I have a track suit.”
His brow quirked at her tone, and her face flared. Way to go, Gwen. Stop mouthing off.
“You’ll have to get a gi. I can give you one and bill you, or you can buy one, but I expect you to wear it next class.”
“Right.” Gwen licked her lips. “Um, Master?”
“Yes.”
“I’m the only one here.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Of… of course not.” Private classes… Oh fuck. “It’s just… well. Why?” She bit her cheek as images of all the things he might do to her with no other students there flew through her head.
“I already told you, I don’t do newbie’s. I have junior instructors for that. If I’m going to train you, I’ll have to do it separately. You’d hold my other students back.”
Gwen scrunched her brows. Was that pain she saw flickering in his eyes? Why?
He nodded to the door that led to the women’s locker room. “Go get changed, I only have a couple of hours, and by the looks of you, this is gonna take a while.”
She pressed her lips together. She got the message; he didn’t like beginners. Gwen forced herself not to scurry into the locker room.
Once alone in the large tiled room, she leaned against the closed door, trying to slow her breathing.
I don’t do newbie’s. The impatience, the condescending look in his eyes was just like every man in her family would have had. She remembered the way he threw that student to the floor during class, brutal and unyielding. Gwen shivered.
This as a mistake. She glanced at the mirror at her nervous, pale face. Dark shadows lined her eyes from the lack of sleep that had become a permanent companion since the stalker started on her months ago.
She blew out a frustrated breath. After that night in the alley, she knew the stalker wouldn’t stop.
She threw her bag on the counter, unzipped it, and pulled out her track suit.
When Gwen disappeared into the locker room, Archer sat up from a stretch and glared at the locker room door.
You shouldn’t have agreed to teach her, dumbass.
If he’d thought she would make it easy on him by looking terrible this time, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, she looked hotter today in that soft, white peasant top, with the tight line across those ample breasts. With that thick hair pulled into a girlish ponytail.
An ache started in his cock. Yikes. When the hell had the little mouse he remembered turned into such a stunner? And why hadn’t she stood up to him a moment ago when he disparaged her newbie status? She’d wanted to, he could see it. She’d spoken up the last time he’d seen her, but he could tell it had taken a lot out of her.
Sympathy for her pulled at him in spite of his efforts to remain emotionally distant. She was nothing like Kimiko. And yet the situation was much too similar for his liking. He should have stayed away from her.
“I’m ready, Master Archer.”
Archer’s head shot up.
Jesus H… He widened his eyes, almost wishing he’d let her keep the jeans and peasant top on. The track top hugged every inch of her glorious chest, and the waistline of her track bottoms bit into the flesh of her hips just right, showing off the slope of an ass to die for. She stood without an ounce of finesse or discipline. Shoulders slouched, those green eyes behind those huge glasses downcast, fingers twining and untwining. So nervous, so untrained. When she bit her bottom lip, he longed to kiss her, to bite it himself until she whimpered.
Yup, this was going to be a long session. He stood.
“Do you need the specs all the time?”
She shook her head.
“Then lose them. The first time you move the wrong way for an attack, the glasses will be useless.”
“You’ve already pegged me for hopeless then.” When he only blinked at her, she licked her lips. “I can’t see without the glasses.”
“Do you wear contacts?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Fine, wear the glasses for today, but wear contacts for class from now on.”
“Y…yes, Master.” She bobbed her head.
Master. Man, how was he supposed to deal with her when his cock jumped just from her using that word? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to order her to call him Sensei instead.
“All right, get over here.” When she obeyed, he crossed his arms, assessing her stance, her attitude, or lack thereof.
Christ, the woman shuffled her feet, constantly correcting her balance with one foot out. Fidgeting, and looking at her feet, her hands, the floor, anywhere but at him.
“Master Archer, are… are you always this bossy?”
Before he could stop it, a roar of laughter escaped him. Immediately his Dom instincts stirred. Oh, wouldn’t he love to show her how bossy he could be.