Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,19
dominated by the gentler sex, the sheer force of his masculinity knocked Ella sideways. She had to give him props; when confronted with a class where he was as out of place as a gorilla at a tea party, he didn’t so much as hesitate. If anything, he seemed happy to be there.
Not for the world would she admit she was happy he was there as well.
“Last week we discussed making as much noise as possible by screaming out the word fire at the top of your voice, as people will respond more readily to a common threat than a cry for help. We also focused on how to attack the body’s points of vulnerability—the eyes, nose, throat, groin, instep and the knee. If properly done, hitting even one of these targets will incapacitate your attacker long enough for you to get away. But this still leaves one area unexplored—an assault that comes from behind. Would you know what to do then?”
An uncertain rumble buzzed around the room.
“If I could have everyone pick a partner, and Nate, if you’d come up to the front with me, please. We’re going to do a walk-through on the step-by-step process of how to get out alive.” Careful not to meet Nate’s eyes as she put him on display, Ella had her assistant pair up with a person who didn’t have a partner. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on her job, some strange internal Nate-radar kept her attuned to him as he joined her on the blue mat at the front of the room. God, he was huge. Huge like a Visigoth defeating the Romans. A cautious woman would keep her distance in case he decided to conquer her as well.
Her pulse fluttered, but since she could feel it in the secret place between her thighs she knew her response had nothing to do with fear. The sensation was undeniable, and at last she could admit to herself it was why she’d fought so hard to keep Nate as a client. It was pure, raw attraction; a stop-the-presses, whoa-Nelly kind of attraction that still dumbfounded her as much as it swamped her with inexpressible relief. For two years she hadn’t felt even an inkling of feminine interest in the male of the species. In the back of her mind she’d begun to fear that what she’d suffered had killed the part of her that made it possible to feel anything other than battle-ready wariness around others. But obviously there was no need to worry. She just hadn’t run across Nate, a man who could no doubt make women from eighteen to eighty eat out of the palm of his hand.
Not that she was interested in eating out of his hand. But damn, it was getting harder to ignore the growing desire to lick him like an ice cream cone.
His expression was surprisingly solemn as he came to a stop a respectable two feet away from her, his hands behind his back in a nonthreatening stance. “Your wish is my command.”
“You don’t say.” She couldn’t help but smile as insane possibilities flooded her mind, none of them professional and some potentially illegal in a few states. She could hardly be blamed for it; with him looming over her, she felt downright petite. The fluorescent lighting threaded blue-black highlights in the unruly waves of his thick hair, and the citrusy-clean scent of the soap and cologne he used was enough to make her want to lean in and breathe him in. She took pleasure in how the muscles bulged and shifted with his every move, and the comfortable way he held himself—not posing to show off a physique any bodybuilder would have been proud of but rather with a natural, loose-limbed grace. Who knew confidence could be so sexy?
Sexy...
Ella’s smile faltered as that single, hitherto-lost word from her vocabulary made a bold comeback. Well, well. She really had come a long way.
It took a monumental effort to turn her attention to the awaiting class. “Just like when we were kids playing Let’s Pretend, the first step is to decide who’s going to play the bad guy first. Don’t worry about taking that role on, as we’re going to be switching off several times throughout today’s class. Since this is my class I’m going to take the decision out of Nate’s hands, and designate him as Creepy Bad Guy. Sound good, Nate?”
“Not really.” When the class laughed, apparently as under his spell as