Her glare was cute, too.
“Is that any way to say hello to your instructor?” He gestured to the mat in front of him. “The rest of the world is busy today. I assume you’d like to train?”
Emma hesitated, then wearily lowered herself to the floor as if she’d reached the end of her rope. “I’m not even going to ask how you managed this.”
Dean didn’t respond. Instead, he closed his eyes again, inhaled deeply and let it out in a long, low stream, repeating the motion until she pulled herself together and began to synchronize her breathing with his.
“At least you’re not in jeans this time,” she muttered.
He chuckled and snuck open one eye to stare across at her, taking in the crisp black uniform and the long, thick braid that lay over one shoulder. Her feet were bare, toenails neatly trimmed but without polish.
Her entire body was so much smaller than he remembered. But then, she took up so much room in his memories he forgot how tiny she was in real life.
“Any requests?” he asked, looking into her big brown eyes. “Training-wise.”
A flash of fire greeted him. “Takedowns. High kicks.”
Interesting. “Someone’s feeling feisty.”
She stood up as he did, shaking her shoulders and head as she bounced lightly on her toes. “Just make me sweat, Dean. I need to clear my mind, and if you’re filling in, I guess I’m stuck with you. Do your worst.”
The challenge to make her sweat brought back memories he really didn’t need to see played out in living color at this moment. Emma, naked on the bed, a faint sheen of perspiration making her body glow as he held her hips to the mattress and used his tongue to bring her over the edge again and again until she’d moaned his name and begged him to stop.
He ordered his cock to behave, then bowed, waiting for her to return the gesture.
For the next half hour he led her through a warm-up, moving around her as she repeated each motion until he was satisfied with her positioning. She held herself proudly as she made the minute corrections he demanded. Adjusting her stance, angling her hips more.
He slipped a hand over her wrist, turning her slightly. Running his hand up her arm until his palm settled between her shoulder blades.
“Again.” She repeated the arm motion, muscles flexing under his touch. He leaned in closer, glancing over her torso as she held herself motionless, hands frozen in midair. “Good. Now extend farther.”
“Impossible. Only a person with longer arms could extend farther, Master De…”
Her complaint was cut off as she swallowed hard, her instinctive urge to call him Master making him chuckle. “You have pretty dojo manners, Emma. And this…” he stepped behind her, bracing her shoulder against his chest as he reached over and laid his hand over hers, “…is what I mean. Move with me.”
She followed as he adjusted their position, the back of her hand and elbow pressing against his, her head turning and their cheeks brushing together briefly as he demonstrated the move.
She swallowed again, but when she spoke her voice was firm. “I see what you mean. Thank you.”
The body contact had warmed him like walking into a flash fire. “Master Dean…” he prompted, because he could.
Emma made a rude noise before giving him a you-can’t-be-serious look over her shoulder. “Thank you, Master Dean.”
He briskly moved in front of her and gave the next command. Her breathing accelerated as he increased the pace, calling for an expert-level tempo of high kicks. He watched carefully for signs she was growing tired, but instead she seemed to thrive on the challenge. Blooming before him as she reached deep to complete the set.
It was fascinating to see how far she’d come out of her shell. The girl he’d loved had grown into a strong, beautiful woman.
She stopped, hands coming to rest, feet spaced evenly on the mat as her chest continued to rock from the heavy exertion. Her expression was far more relaxed and satisfied now than when she’d stomped into the room.
“Fantastic,” he praised.
Her chin rose slightly, the edges of her lips curling upward.
“Are you ready for more?” Dean asked.
“Of course.” Her gaze darted to meet his, her smile growing suspiciously into something close to a smirk. “Workout too hard for you?”
“I was too busy admiring the scenery,” he admitted. “Don’t worry, I’ll work up a sweat during our combat stage.”
He listed a series of defensive moves, then commanded her to perform them slowly in order. The third time she repeated the set perfectly he joined in, adding the countermove for her to block. Crowding her as she knocked away his jabs and elbow blows, ducking as she snapped up a foot.