Raphael is right. I’m an idiot. Lash rubbed his hands against his jeans. He was so busy thinking about how he wanted to be near Naomi, so wrapped up in his desire to touch her and feel the soft curves of her body underneath him that he didn’t think about what would happen if he actually acted out his desires. As it was, it was getting more difficult to pretend he didn’t care. He did. More than he should. He closed his eyes and groaned. How did he get himself into this mess?
He was attracted to Naomi. She was beautiful. What was there not to like? He’d thought that it wouldn’t go further than that surface level of attraction, that he’d have his fun flirting with her. He’d done it with other women before. It was harmless fun. Then he’d gotten to know her. The more she talked about herself in group and the more he watched how she protected her family and even Ellen, whom she hardly knew, the more drawn to her he found himself to be. To top things off, there was the strange physical attraction he felt every time he touched her. He’d never experienced it with anyone else. Now here he was, volunteering to place his hands on her. In front of her cousin!
“Okay, people.” Lash’s eyes flashed open when Chuy clapped his hands. “We have a guest who is going to help us out with today’s demonstration. Everyone, say hi to Lash.”
Six pairs of eyes turned in his direction. “Hi, Lash.”
Lash felt his face grow warm as he waved. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was so unnerving. He’d never felt embarrassed before.
He looked at the members of the small class. There was a woman in her early thirties and what appeared to be her teenage daughter with her. The girl wore her hair in a long braid and watched Chuy’s every move. Two other girls were paired up and wore matching sorority shirts. An older couple, who looked like they were in their fifties, completed the class. Lash’s gaze lingered on them, taking in the matching Journey concert t-shirts and grey jogging pants. They were one of those couples who had been together so long they had started to look like each other.
“Today, I’m going to show you how to get out of a back choke hold. Lash, you stay right there. Naomi, come over here and stand in front of Lash.”
Good. Back choke. I can do that. Better than seeing her front. Lash stifled a moan when Chuy placed Naomi inches from him. His eyes took in the graceful arch of her neck and traveled down the small of her back to the firm roundness of her bottom. This was a bad idea.
Lash’s hands seared with heat when Chuy placed them onto Naomi’s shoulders.
“When you have someone coming from behind, you’re going to want to swing your arm around like this.” Chuy took hold of Naomi’s left arm. “Go ahead and swing it.”
She swung her arm out and behind, hitting against Lash’s forearm. As she twisted toward him, her hand slammed into his neck and his hand slid down, brushing against the fullness of her breast. He moaned.
“Did I hurt you?” Naomi looked wide-eyed at him. “I didn’t mean to hit so hard.”
Right, my neck.
“A little. I can take it.” He rubbed a hand along his neck. He barely felt her hit him. What he couldn’t take was touching her like that again.
“Good job, Naomi,” Chuy said before he turned to the rest of the class. “Get into your pairs and practice this move and if we have time, we can work how to defend yourself when someone has you down on the ground.”
Lash balked. There was no way he’d be able to control himself if he had to have his body pressed against hers.
As Chuy left to help the others, Lash turned to Naomi. “Uh, did you want to practice?”
Naomi bit her lip, and Lash diverted his eyes. He wished she wouldn’t do that. “I guess so.”
Lash let out a rush of air. “Okay. Turn around, and we’ll try the move again.”
After ten exquisitely torturous minutes, Chuy called Naomi to help him demonstrate the move to the mother-daughter pair. Lash sighed and sank to the floor.
He watched the older couple as they practiced. The woman swung a little too hard and turned so fast that she bumped into her husband, sending him to the floor.
Lash rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”
The man gave him a wink and then looked at his partner. “Couldn’t wait to get me on my back, could ya, Deborah?”
Deborah rolled her eyes and held out a hand to him. “He’s fine. Mind helping me to get him back on his feet?”
Lash bent down, and the man clutched his hand. “You got a grip there, son. Do any wrestling?”
“Good grief, Nathan. Not everyone we meet is going to want to hear about your college wrestling days.”
“No, sir. I haven’t,” Lash said as he followed the couple to the row of chairs that lined the walls of the room.
“I was on the Texas Tech wrestling team in—”
“1977,” Deborah said, interrupting him, “was the year I started college at Tech. We met at the—”
“Texican Café.” Nathan pulled out a chair for her. “You should have seen her. She had her hair in all these little braids like—”
“Bo Derek.” She sat and patted the chair next to her, inviting Lash to sit. “That was the rage back then.”