she was, he turned to the room and spread his hands wide, a beseeching pose that showed off his magnificent deltoids and biceps. “Can anyone come up with another label that’s more appealing?”
“Hero material?”
“Swoon-worthy?”
“I like centerfold, myself.”
“Creepy Bad Guy’s going to have to do.” With her class threatening to derail—in part because she was drooling over him as if he were earth’s last piece of cheesecake—Ella put on her stern face. “Take a second to sort out who’s going to be the victim and who’s going to be the aggressor. And as for you...” She turned her steely gaze to Nate, who straightened up, soldierlike.
“Yes ma’am?”
Heaven save her from that pseudo-innocent look. She stifled a sigh and lowered her voice so that only he would hear her. “Silly me. And here I was, fretting about putting you on display.”
He leaned down so he could look her right in the eyes, and she was grateful he couldn’t hear the sudden drum roll of her heart. “No worries, Ella. You can do whatever you want with me.”
The drum roll became a twenty-one-gun salute. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. Push him up against the mirrored wall behind him, perhaps turn him around so he could watch the slow, deliberate slide of her hands down the sculpted terrain of his chest, past the barrel-thick ladder of his rib cage to the flat, undoubtedly ridged plane of his abdomen. The need to feel skin against skin would be irresistible, and she would slip her hands under the hem of his shirt to press against the warmth of his taut stomach. Then she would let her fingers invade under the waistband of his shorts and thrill at finding his sex stiff and ready as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him until he cried out...
“Ella? You okay?”
Searing heat stung her cheeks and scorched the crevice between her thighs. Quickly she dropped her gaze before she completely lost her mind and made the fantasy a reality. Wow. So that was what happened when she went without acknowledging the male of the species for a couple of years. Who knew she was a prime candidate for raging nymphomania?
“Sorry. My mind was...” In your pants. “Elsewhere.” She couldn’t even think about meeting his black-magic gaze as she tried to find the emergency brake on her lost control. “What I’d like for you to do now is play the role of attacker to the hilt.”
“Can’t you play Creepy Bad Guy first?”
“Somehow I don’t think anyone’s going to buy that.”
“I’ll try to look helpless.”
“Even if you were in a coma you wouldn’t look helpless. Now behave yourself and put your arms around me.”
A predatory expression struck like lightning across his face. “Now we’re talking.”
“From the back, like an attacker,” she expanded before he could get too excited. Or she could get too dazzled by that hefty dose of male appreciation. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“I’ll just loosely circle you with my arms and make it look like I mean business.”
“Not good enough. These people need to have a dose of reality, so do your worst. Act like you want to tear me apart, like I’m nothing more than weak meat to you.”
The light that had brought his eyes to life vanished with an ominous chill. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big guy. I don’t want to hurt or scare you, so I think you’d better pick someone—”
“I picked you, so follow the instructions before I kick your butt out of my class.” The look she threw at him felt hot enough to scorch. What was it about her that made everyone think she should be treated like a delicate flower? “All right, class. Try to imagine what it would be like. A person comes up from behind and grabs you like they’ve got a world of nasty growing inside of them, and all they want to do is take it out on you.” When he didn’t move, she tried to cover with a smile while talking out of the side of her mouth. “Step closer.”
He did, reluctantly. “At this juncture I would like to file a formal complaint. I am not a happy camper.”
“Duly noted. All right,” she said, raising her voice so everyone in the room could hear her. “Just as we learned in the frontal-attack class, the main goal for us now is not to beat the opponent into submission—this isn’t a boxing match where you have to knock your opponent