"I don't know. I just figured that with a body like that..." I trailed off, realizing I was venturing into dangerous territory.
Her mouth curled into a curious little smile. "A body like this, huh? What exactly does that mean?"
"Just that you look fit and healthy," I replied, hating how lame my voice sounded. "Given how much you love food I assumed you had to do something to keep in shape."
She shrugged. "Nope. Just got good genes I guess."
She could say that again. "Anyway," I said, hauling myself to my feet, "it's time for your first lesson."
She groaned. "Come on. I just cycled, like, a million miles. Give me a few minutes."
"Nope. If you lie there much longer, in about two hours you're going to regret it. It's gonna hurt anyway, but if you want to be able to walk later, you can't just stop dead like that." I held my hand out for her and she reluctantly took it and pulled herself to her feet.
I led her over to one of the heavy bags. It was a tattered, lumpy thing, more duct tape than bag at that point. It probably weighed more than she did. "Okay, let's see you punch."
"Really? This is your grand plan? Turn me into the next Karate Kid?"
"Ah, so you do have some appreciation for the classics then."
"Wax on, wax off," she replied solemnly.
I grinned. I missed joking about movies with my squad. Those had been some of my happiest memories in a sea of shit I'd otherwise rather forget. "Well, maybe there's hope for you yet. But to get back on track, this isn't about turning you into anything. It's about making you feel good. Boxing is a great way to release tension, and it also happens to be a hell of a work out. Now, show me what you've got."
She considered this for several seconds, then her eyes flicked to the bag. She took a hesitant step forward, arranged herself in something that looked more like a dancer's pose than something that belonged in the ring, then flung her fists out through the air several times in wide arcs, striking the canvas awkwardly.
"You hit like a girl," I deadpanned.
"Oh hahaha. Like I didn't see that one coming."
I grinned. "The joke may have been obvious, but it wasn't as obvious as that punch. If you swing your arms like that, you're telegraphing to the whole world 'I'm going to punch right here.' Anyone with half a brain is just going to take a step backward."
"So you'd just stand there and take it then?"
It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Yep, dumb as a pile of bricks over here," I replied. "Anyway, first, we need to correct your stance. Turn slightly to the side, but not all the way. Your back foot should be pointing to the side and your front one should be about forty five degrees." I demonstrated by dropping into a fighting stance. "The goal is to present the smallest target possible while not restricting your visibility or movement."
She shuffled her feet uncertainly.
"Here, let me show you," I said, stepping behind her and placing my hands on her hips.
I'd always been a natural at hand-to-hand combat. I studied a whole bunch of martial arts as a kid, and I drank each one up like I was just remembering something I'd learned long ago. By the time high school ended, I was a black belt several times over. As a result, during quiet times on duty, the brass sometimes had me running combat training courses for other troops. I'd taught my fair share of people to fight. I'd made adjustments to stances and techniques a thousand times, even with women on occasion, and it never felt anything but professional, but touching Grace this way was something else entirely. It felt intimate, exhilarating, and utterly sexual. I couldn't help but be conscious of the fact that I was mere inches from touching her ass, that fucking perfect ass that just begged to be squeezed. It was the same sort of grip I'd have if I was taking her from behind. Just that image had me growing hard.
She stiffened and drew a sharp little breath as my fingers tightened involuntarily. I don't know why, but that sound just turned me on more. Christ, I had to pull myself together. I was trying to help this girl, and all I could think about was fucking her, which was most certainly going to be the opposite of helpful. One of the mantras Charlie had instilled in me was that I was in control of my life. Booze didn't rule me. Nothing did. But in that moment I didn't feel in control at all. I felt almost helpless, helpless to this tiny girl and her fucking magnetic curves.
I cleared my throat and forced my mind back to the task at hand. "Like this," I said, turning her until her body was parallel with mine and nudging her feet into position. "And you need to loosen up. You're rigid as anything, right now. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee and all that."