Chapter 10: Left Hook

"I promise," I said. "I'll keep it."

His shoulders came down. He nodded once and stepped back.

I didn't ask why it mattered. I had a feeling he wouldn't say.

"Show me the left hook," I said instead. "Roxie says mine is a slap."

"It is."

"Then fix it."

The gym had emptied out around us.

The lights over the ring were off.

The only sounds were the vending machine and the radio in the instructor's office, with the door ajar.

Quincy stood me in front of the heavy bag.

"Feet apart. Turn the front one in."

I turned it.

"Lower." He stepped behind me. "Knees."

His hands settled on my hips.

They were big, and they were warm through my thin gym shirt. He turned me by my waist, a few degrees to the left, and held me there.

"Weight on the back foot," he said close to my ear.

"Now rotate. Your hip throws the punch. Your arm just goes along."

I swung.

The bag shifted.

"Again."

I swung again, and he shifted his grip.

One hand rested at my ribs now, and the other lay flat on my stomach.

I was suddenly very aware of every place he touched.

His thumb lay just under the edge of my bra. He wasn't moving it. I wasn't sure he knew where it was.

I could feel his heartbeat against my back. It was going far too fast for someone who was just giving a lesson.

"Quincy," I said.

"Hmm."

"Your heart's racing."

"I carried the wraps up three flights."

"There's an elevator."

"It's slow."

I swung a third time. It landed with a real thud, and the bag swung back.

"That was good," he said. His voice had gone lower. "Do it again."

"I'd rather do something else."

His hands went still on my waist.

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