Craze by Anne Conley Page A

Barely.
    “The key is to keep your core pointed at your enemy and keep your body moving. Tuck your head down to make your face a smaller target.” His words fluttered across her shoulder, and she shuddered. “You okay?” he asked, next to her ear.
    “Um, yeah.”
    “Good. Hands up, protect yourself with them. They’re your best tool.”
    He moved around to the other side of the bag and spun it, until she was face to face with a printed picture of Ed Lowe. Her first reaction was total repulsion, but she saw the humor in it when she looked at Ryan’s face and saw him smiling at her warmly.
    “I thought it would help you focus a little on the end goal.”
    She punched at the printed face, tearing paper, trying desperately to forget the feel of Ryan’s hands burned into her hips. Instead, she watched his strong, able fingers as they gripped the bag, holding it still, and focused on his low voice, offering words of encouragement.
    “That’s it. Harder. Punch beyond the bag, like you’re trying to punch the middle of it, not the skin of it. Good girl, Honey. You’re doing good. Breathe out with every punch. Good. Relax your hand between punches. Good.”
    His voice was helping motivate her, and it washed over her, calming her as she pummeled the paper to oblivion. When her arms burned and she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, he stopped her.
    “Break time.” Handing her a bottle of water, he led her to sit, standing behind her and rubbing her shoulders.
    “I feel like a pro,” she purred under his touch, and he stilled.
    “You’re doing real good, Krista. We can go get some coffee, I’ll make a light breakfast, and we can come back out for more.”
    They ate granola cereal and some fruit before he made her drink an entire glass of water and they went back outside.
    “You did good. Now, we’ll do it again, and I want you to use your legs more. I’m not going to teach you anything specific, we don’t have time for all that, but use your legs. Kick from your hip comfortably. Let me see what you’ve got.” He spun the bag back around, and Krista let out a bark of laughter at the fresh picture of Mr. Lowe that was on it. Ryan had drawn a mustache on him, along with devil horns and a cigar. He looked pervy. It was perfect. He’d also drawn a crude representation of tiny genitalia and stapled it to the crotch area of the bag. “Just a reminder of other sensitive areas,” he smirked.
    Krista let loose on the bag, kicking and punching wildly. She kneed the tiny crotch more than once, imagining the face crumpling with pain. When she was finished, she was dripping with sweat and hungry enough to eat a horse.

Ryan had never watched a more incredible woman in his life as he saw Classy Lady disappear and a warrior came out to play. Sure, she attacked the bag like a baby ninja deer, all arms and legs splayed spastically. But her energy was unparalleled, and he had no doubt she’d put a man down if she was focused enough during a fight. While she was all over the place, she hit hard, and from the heart. She was unpredictable, and he had faith she could stand up for herself against Mr. Lowe. Krista didn’t stand a chance against a trained fighter, but he didn’t have enough time for that. He could only hope for the best.
    Yeah, and his dick was totally paying attention.
    For lunch, he sent her in to shower and grilled some deer steaks on the pit out back. He’d shot a deer the other evening when he’d checked his snares. The extra meat would be good on the barbecue pit for tomorrow. Tossing some greens from his garden together, he dressed it with some oil and vinegar, and cut some more slices of bread to toast with butter. She hadn’t complained about his cooking yet.
    Trying not to imagine her in the shower, naked and soapy, was a feat in itself, and he was proud he’d managed to keep his hands off of her, for the most part. Of course, it was a constant battle with his cock, the permanently semi-hard member