Sweet Seduction by Daire St. Denis Page B

something. “That’s the same argument people use for not teaching sex education in schools.”
    He held her hand in a fierce grip while softly caressing her fingertips. It was the strangest contradiction and it sent confused tingles up and down her spine.
    â€œKnowledge is the best deterrent. Studies show informed young people make informed decisions. This is the same. Women should know how to throw a punch. Where to hit. What it feels like. How not to be scared of it.”
    Jamie’s gaze was so searing it took Daisy’s breath away. It wasn’t until he dropped his gaze that she was able to ask, “Do you know someone? Who’s been the victim of violence, I mean?”
    He was silent for so long, Daisy didn’t think he was going to answer. But eventually he said, “I think we all do.”
    Blinking, she studied the top of Jamie’s head as he continued to tape her hand. She tried to figure him out. This was the most serious she’d ever seen him, and while she hadn’t known him long enough to see all his moods, this one took her by surprise. It was...stern. Protective.
    Don’t fall for it. It’s all a trick, Daisy.
    She let out a big breath—one she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding—and shut her eyes, needing to focus on something other than the thickness of Jamie’s hair and the gentle touch of his hands. Namely, conjuring up enough anger to hate him or, at the very least, hit him.
    â€œThere.” He tore off the last strip of tape and proceeded to fit big, bulky gloves over her hands. He tightened the laces that ran up the inside of her palms and wrists. Once finished, lifted her down off the counter.
    â€œCome on.”
    Daisy followed him out of the locker room, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the lingering sensation of his hands on her waist. In the main gym area, a ring was the central feature, spotlighted by the few lights Jamie had turned on. Surrounding the ring, Daisy could make out weight benches, barbells, pegboards, medicine balls and all kinds of bags hanging from the rafters, from big ones to small, teardrop-shaped ones. Jamie moved a stool over to the edge of the ring so she could climb up, and then he separated the ropes so she was able to crawl between them easily.
    While Jamie stood in the center, waiting for her, she wandered around the perimeter, her stomach in knots, pretending to check out the rest of the gym. This had to be one of the craziest things she’d done. Ever.
    â€œWhere is everyone?”
    â€œWe’re closed Fridays.”
    â€œOh.” She made her way to the center of the ring. “So, now what?”
    He opened his arms wide. “Now you hit me.”
    â€œThis is stupid.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt just feels weird.”
    He sauntered up to her. “Hit me.”
    The crazy desire to inflict pain had vanished. In fact, the only crazy desire she had left was to touch Jamie’s skin. And that wasn’t happening. Ever again.
    Nope.
    â€œC’mon.”
    â€œFine.” She lifted a fist and bopped Jamie on the shoulder with the fat part of the glove.
    He made a face. “You can do better than that.”
    She shoved him with both hands.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWorse than I thought.”
    â€œI told you, I’m not a fighter...” That was the end of the sentence and yet her words trailed off as if it wasn’t.
    Jamie’s gaze met hers, a single brow raised. The first part of I’m a lover, not a fighter echoed silently between them.
    â€œRight,” Jamie said, clearing the air. “Let’s start with your stance.” He looked her up and down and then, without warning, shoved her.
    â€œHey!” He hadn’t pushed her hard, but it was enough to make her stumble back a couple of steps.
    â€œYou’re off balance.” He demonstrated how to stand: legs spread, knees bent, hands up. “Try