Let It Shine by Alyssa Cole Read Free Book Online Page B

happens to the best of boxers,” she said. Mortification clenched him by the back of the neck.
    He hadn’t thought through the most important part of the training: pretending to hit her. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even bring himself to throw a fake, loose-fisted punch that he knew would miss her by a mile. Sofie had stood in front of him, eyes wide and lovely, lips soft and distracting, and his fists had hung limply at his side. And now they sat in awkward silence.
    “This is ridiculous,” Ivan said. He grabbed Sofie’s hand and stood, pulling her up after him. When he turned she was giving him that ingénue look again, the one he usually only saw on the screen at the Saturday matinee. In the films, a look like that was an invitation, but he doubted Sofronia was offering him any such thing. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “First things first: you need to relax.” He gave her a gentle shake to loosen her muscles, which had tensed up as soon as he laid his hands on her. “You need to be a little soft to take a hit; leave a little give so the impact won’t hurt as much.”
    He wished he had phrased it differently—thinking of the soft parts of Sofie was making him uncomfortably hard, and that wasn’t what this afternoon was supposed to be about.
    She nodded, but the relaxation didn’t come. Instead, she started to tremble a little beneath his palms and her gaze dropped to the floor.
    “No.” Ivan slid his fingers under her chin and lifted her head. He didn’t miss that her skin was smooth beneath his fingertips. “Maintain eye contact. If someone is about to hit you, you want to see it coming so you can act accordingly.”
    “Okay.” She locked her gaze on his, and his stomach executed an unfamiliar twisting maneuver. It was a funny thing to look into a woman’s eyes like this. Intimate encounters were nothing new for him; ladies liked a guy who could hit and punch and dominate in the ring. Caveman attraction, and all that jazz. But no one had ever looked at him the way Sofie did, that’s for sure. Her eyes were full of contradictions: fear and longing, humor and distaste. Maybe he’d been wrong about the invitation. Maybe she was just waiting for his RSVP, like any proper lady would. Ivan’s groin tightened at the thought and wisps of desire feathered down his spine.
    He slid one hand over the crisp fabric that nipped in at her shoulder and then his palm was on smooth, warm skin. He cradled the back of her neck, and the way the curls at her nape tickled his palm was enough to make him want to pull the pins out of her bun and dive his fingers into the soft mass. Instead he exhaled slowly and continued his instruction. “You can be stiff here.” He gave her neck a little squeeze. “And tuck in your chin. Yeah, like that. That way your head won’t snap back if you take one to the face.” He didn’t move his hand away; not just yet. Neither Jack nor any of the other boxers had ever touched him this gently during training, but this wasn’t the gym. This was Sofie, for Pete’s sake.
    His other hand left her shoulder, ghosted past her breast, and rested on her stomach. “You should brace here, too, if someone hits you. That way the wind won’t get knocked out of you. A blow to the diaphragm while your stomach is soft can make you feel like you’re dying.”
    He felt like he was dying, all right. Sofie still had her eyes locked on his, and her tongue slicked nervously over her lips. Her skin had gone hot beneath the fabric of her dress, and he could feel the way her heart was racing just above where his hand rested.
    Ivan didn’t think. His fist tightened, twisting up the fabric under his hand and pulling Sofie two steps closer to him.
    “Ivan.” His name was almost a question. What was the right answer? Damned if he knew.
    “Last thing: roll with the punches. When something comes at you, you have to roll with it. Go in the same direction to lessen the impact.” His face was lowering