Page 26 of A Shot at Love
She grabbed the edge of the gauze from him and began twirling it around his hand. Close to him now, she could feel the heat escaping him, the scent of his sweat distinctly male and surprisingly arousing. A hot jab of awareness punched her stomach, almost as if he’d actually been the one to throw it.
Gemma kept her gaze on the wrapping, but from the corner of her eye she watched his substantial chest rise and fall with each breath he took. The T-shirt was plastered to him, his pecs and abdominal muscles defined under the clinging, wet fabric. One lone droplet cascaded down along his jaw to settle in the deep notch at his throat, and in a moment of blinding lust, Gemma experienced such a profound need to run her tongue along the area, knowing she’d savor the taste of salt and man mixed together, she had to bite down on the inside of her bottom lip to avoid doing it and mortifying herself.
When the wrapping was finally off, Ky took his now freed hand and began working on the other one while Gemma held on to the gauze.
“Thanks,” he told her. “It’s always easier and goes quicker when someone else does the first one.”
Gemma nodded and backed up, crossing her hands behind her back.
“You planning on using the treadmill this morning?” he asked.
It took her a moment to answer. She’d been staring at his now naked hands. Had she noticed how long and thin his fingers were before? How dexterous, how exact each movement was? A flash of his fingers moving over her naked flesh popped into her head and she had to will herself not to slam her eyes shut.
“No.” She swallowed and took a breath. “I think I want to practice my weaponry skills today. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get to a class and I don’t want to get rusty.”
He nailed her with a hard glaze. “Weaponry skills? You study martial arts?”
She nodded. “Kempo. Jujitsu. Some escrima.”
“Really?”
His bald disbelief sailed down her spine, stiffening it. Annoyance killed the sudden lust swimming within her.
“Yes, really.” She fisted her hands on her hips. She’d had her fill of arrogant and superior sounding men over the years condescendingly question her abilities. It had only served to make her more of a devotee of the practices. She wasn’t surprised when Special Agent Pompous sounded skeptical.
“How long?” Ky asked.
“How long what?”
“Have you been studying?”
Gemma shook her head, wondering why he asked. “Eleven years. I started in high school. Kept at it.”
“Dedicated,” he said. “That’s admirable. Why’d you start?”
She couldn’t tell him the real story behind her initial desire to learn how to defend herself. Gemma had never shared what had happened to her in the back seat of that car long ago and wasn’t about to start with the man standing in front of her. So she opted for a half-truth.
“I took a basic karate class as a high school gym elective one year. The teacher told me I had”—she shrugged—“a natural ability for the art and the movements and that I should consider pursuing it. So I did.”
“What’s your rank?”
She never hesitated to tell him, proud of her achievements. “Third-degree black in kempo, second in jujitsu.”
Ky whistled. “Nice.” He glanced over at the weapon wall. “You like working with sticks?”
“They’re my favorite weapons next to nunchakus.”
“Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“What?”
He moved to the storage wall and selected two pair of three-foot fighting sticks, and handed her one set.
“Seriously?” Because it was second nature to her, she weighed the sticks in each hand and found her balance, legs spread hip distance apart and equalized on the balls of her feet, arms and shoulders lifted, the sticks pointed upward. “You know how to stick fight?”
His mouth lifted in a tiny arc on one side. “I’ve been known to hold my own,” he told her, adopting an equal stance. “Drill first to get a feel for one another?”
Gemma nodded. “High, low, then triples?”
The tiny grin he’d tossed her spread into a full-fledged smile that had her mouth watering.
