Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I swing back with another open-handed slap and knock her head to the side.
“What would you do if a guy like me attacked you, Nina? You think a hit like that could actually hurt me?”
For a second, Nina frowns, but then her frown morphs into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, and a warmth sinks into my chest. I even lower my guard for a second.
“No.” She shakes her head. “No I don’t think so.”
“Okay, so put your hips into it!” I swing out again and give her another playful smack on the head. Then, without hesitation, Nina steps in and pivots on her front foot and throws her hips into her strike.
To my surprise, she throws a serious right hook into my right hand. I can feel the extra power behind it and counter with a light jab back at her face. It barely connects at all, but it surprises the hell out of her.
“Gunnar!” she cries out, stepping back and wiping her lips with the back of her glove, I guess to make sure I didn’t draw blood or something.
“Ah, come on. You’re fine,” I chuckle.
“My lip gloss!”
“Lip gloss, Nina?” I ask, breaking out laughing. “Come on, are you here to fight or are you here to be a little helpless girl?”
Again, she frowns at me. Starting to be a pattern. “You know, I knew you were an asshole before I came here, but I didn’t realize just how much of one until just now.”
“Oh, you can stop all that right now.” I smirk.
“Stop all what?”
“Would you rather have me, an asshole, who knows how to fight and can teach you how to defend yourself? Or some politically-correct-pansy-ass-momma’s-boy, who likes to knit sweaters and can only call the cops for you after you’ve been sexually assaulted and he’s been robbed and had his ass kicked?”
Nina just stares back at me, but I can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now come on, let’s keep going. Let me show you what to do if a guy gets his hands on you.”
3
NINA
My heart is racing, and I feel completely out of place in this environment. The air is thick with sweat, and Gunnar is so intimidating. He’s wearing a sleeveless tank top that shows off just how thick and striated his arms and shoulders are, and although I’ve seen him fight on television before, seeing him up close like this is completely different.
He’s an absolute beast of a man–twice the size of Brian, my would-be-rapist-date from last night. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if Gunnar decided he wanted to pin me down and have his way with me. Unless I had a rocket launcher or something, I’d be completely screwed. There would be no way I’d be able to fight him off. I can already tell by the way he’s been messing with me and hitting me with those open-hand slaps that the strength difference between the two of us is massive.
I’ve never been this close to a man like him before. He’s like a walking distillation of pure, one hundred percent man. You know how they say in cooking you need to reduce down a sauce until it’s just a concentration of whatever it is you’re cooking with? Like chicken broth or something like that? That’s Gunnar. A raw, reduced down, concentration of pure man.
You can practically see the testosterone steaming off his skin.
“All right, Nina, so let’s say a guy comes at you like this. What do you do?”
Before I can even react, Gunnar is behind me and has his arms wrapped around my neck. My heartrate skyrockets as memories of last night flood through my mind.
“Shit,” I curse, struggling against his grip, which feels like a vise–a curved bar of solid, inescapable steel. “Oh my God, I guess I would–”
I try to wriggle free, but it’s completely futile. Gunnar has me, and he could do whatever he’d like with me.
“No that’s not gonna work,” he chuckles. “You can’t just wiggle out of this, Nina. You’re a girl, all right?”
“Yes, I know I am!”
“You’re not gonna be able to just fight against my strength, okay? So what you need to do is something smarter. You wear heels?”
“Sometimes. Not really, but sometimes.”
“On a date?” he asks. “Like if you and I were on a date would you wear heels?”
I groan and try not to smile. “Yes, Gunnar, I would probably wear heels if you and I went on a date.”
“Okay, great. So if you and I went out on a date and I ended up being some crazed, creepy, pervy, predator and I had my arms around you like this trying to take advantage of you–you should take your heel and stomp on the instep of my foot with everything you’ve got. Got it?”