Page 29 of A Shot at Love
Irritation flashed through her.
Damn him!
Gemma closed her eyes and tried to center her anger. He was right. She did know how to get out of a hold like this, and if one way didn’t work, there were others that had been drilled into her. Her mistake had been in being distracted by the incredible feel of his body against hers.
She let her entire body go slack and limp, dropping her knees and legs back down, touching the floor with the tips of her toes. The moment the tension left her, Ky struggled to keep his balance and his hold as tight as he had on her. Gemma took the opportunity of his loosened grip to elbow him in the midsection first with one arm and then rapid-fire with the other, knocking him back.
She whirled around, pushed against his chest with the flats of her palms and hooked a foot around one of his ankles.
Ky lost his balance and dropped backward to the mat, just as she’d planned. Unfortunately for her, though, Ky’d grabbed her wrists when she pushed against him and hung on. When he landed flat on his back she fell on top of him. Face to face, both their breathing labored and harsh, they stared at one another.
Where did a man get off looking like walking sex, sprawled on his back, drenched in sweat? His golden skin glistened in the daylight shafting through the small windows near the ceiling. Her professional eye traced along his temples, down his jaw, across his neck, and the corded muscles there, wet and pronounced.
He’d photograph like a Greek god and she desperately wanted to film him just this way.
While they stared at one another, Ky’s hands remained wound around her wrists. The second she realized she should snap out of his grip, he lifted his hips and in the time it took to register his intent, Gemma was flipped flat against the mat on her back now, two hundred pounds of hard, solid, able-bodied male on top of her.
He’d imprisoned her arms above her head causing the entire length of his body to cover hers from chest to toe.
Every quickened breath she took had her breasts bumping against his broad torso.
Her nipples tightened and pulled inside her sports bra. When her heaving chest skimmed against his, the scraping pain shooting across the swollen peaks of her breasts was equal parts excruciating and stimulating.
Her abdominal muscles contracted when his hips pressed down against her, his unmistakable arousal settling against her pelvis.
Hypnotized, she stared up at his face, unable to move her gaze away from the swirling colors in his eyes disappearing as his pupils dilated.
A muscle in his cheek quirked, tightened. His lips parted, a warm, soft puff of air pushed through them, and billowed across her face.
When he swallowed, Gemma had to mentally force herself not to lift up and slide her lips against the bulge at his neck.
Never in all the times she’d fought in class or practiced with any male partner had she been so turned on.
It was customary for the sexes to be paired, most physical attacks occurring to women by men. The need to understand how to protect oneself against an assault dictated this pairing. Gemma had sparred and grappled with all ages and types of men. As she’d risen in rank, she’d earned the respect of many of them and the admiration of all the female students.
But she’d never experienced any kind of sexual pull before now and wasn’t quite sure she knew what to do about it.
The tension in her body was coiled so tight, her reflexes all standing at attention, it took her a solid few seconds to respond when he calmly asked, “Had enough?”
For an answer she closed her eyes, centered her mind as quickly as she could and unwound that coil.
The move caught him off guard just as she’d hoped it would.
As her shoulders and the rest of her body relaxed against the mat, Ky struggled to keep his hold secure on her. Using his instability against him, she clasped her fingers together, and with her imprisoned arms, lifted and wound them around his neck, making him lose the tenuous balance he had left.
In a heartbeat she flipped him to his back again with a single thrust of her hips and had his own arms plastered above his head while she straddled him.
Gemma’s hands were strong. Lifting and carting cameras, tripods, and a plethora of heavy photographic equipment over the years had made them so, so when she pressed against his arms to keep them in place, she thought he’d push back.
