Aside from getting the standard notification that Chris had made bail and was now released from custody, the next few weeks went by quietly. Charley’s bruises had all but healed and she was able to go back to work as a bike messenger in the Greater Portland area. As she had anticipated, Chris had left her alone. She heard nothing from or of him and that's the way she wanted it. It was slow and unsteady at first but it did not take her too long to find herself again. She was spunky and sassy and had a ‘no fucks to give’ sense of style that suited her. She loved to do wild and crazy things with her hair. That side of her was oppressed for a while and she lost herself a bit when she was with Chris but things were different now. She would never again stand for a man to make her feel inferior or try to turn her into anything but herself. Why should she? If she was going to be in a lasting relationship with someone she couldn’t be anything other than herself again, or it would never work.
One gray summer morning, the mist was coming down steady and it was clinging to her face and hair under her helmet. She had her messenger bag strapped across her body and was locking her bike in front of a gym she had a delivery for. The tiny droplets pooled and rolled down the back of her black and grey rain
jacket and her socks squished inside her Nike running shoes as she walked from her 10 speed to the gym doors. It was a small squatty building that filled her nose with the overpowering scent of an earthy disinfectant cleaner and a hint of sweat. The back wall was all mirrored and there were pieces of professional training equipment in a small room to the left of the entrance. The main and largest portion of the room was empty with thick padded mats covering the hardwood floor. It was generally a clean, professional-looking building. Well cared for but old. Charley eyed the group of about 12 people, mostly men but with two or three women, that were standing in a semicircle on the mats in the main room. They were gathered around an instructor who was barking orders at two clients, about to face off against each other. She got the impression he was teaching them some kind of taekwondo or jiu-jitsu but had tuned him out. She was more interested in his features. The instructor was devastatingly attractive. Tall, at least 6 foot or more. Deep-set bedroom eyes were set into a wolfish face and were the color of a warm whiskey. His dark coffee colored hair was faded high on the sides and in the back leaving a long-ish, wavy fringe on top. Charley watched, surprised to realize her reaction to his movements. It had been weeks since she had moved back in with Bree. Her physical wounds were healing nicely but emotionally she was decimated. It came as a shock to herself when she realized that she was watching this instructor with a carnal hunger as he continually ran his hand through the sweat damp mop, sweeping it to one side, in an effort to keep it out of his face as he worked. A few days worth of stubble was beginning to form a short beard. Muscles corded through his large, athletic frame. His black, soft washed tank pulled tight across his broad chest. Tattoos peaked out from above the collar of and chest of his tank and snaked down both arms. They were everywhere, his neck and back were decorated as well. He wore grey sport-style joggers and she appreciated the way the fabric clung here and there on his thighs. In fact, the more she watched this tatt’ed God of a man the more she was concerned to realize, she wanted to touch him. She had an irrational urge to push everyone out of the way and jump him, right here, professionalism, be damned.In the middle of teaching a tricky combination move to his 1:30 Self Defence class Ethan got the distinct tingling feeling that he was being watched. Not in the sense that his class all had their eyes on him and were eagerly awaiting his next instructions, in a different, intrusive way. He glanced around the room and spotted her. On the far wall, near the door was a pixie of a girl. When she caught his eye, she pushed the black nylon hood of her raincoat back. Wet, long ashy blonde hair with a bold silver and purple ombre, dripped down the sleeves of her jacket and left a puddle on the floor. Her deep brown eyes were offset and popped against her light skin and light hair. She looked sexy as hell and he was immediately irritated at himself for thinking so. This was a closed class, says so on the door.
“Can I help you?” He barked from across the room, where he stood. His deep voice came out stronger and more menacing than he had meant it and It startled several of members of the class, one of the women actually jumped at the sound. He watched in delight and horror as heat rose on the intruding girls face staining her cheeks a perfect shade of dusty rose. Mentally chastising himself for finding her so immediately goddamn attractive, he strode across the mats and crossed the gym, quickly closing the gap between them. She was searching in her crossbody messenger bag and pulled out a manila envelope. When she looked up from her bag it was hard not to notice the fading shiner that adorned her left eye.
“Ethan Fox?” He nodded. Her voice was silky and rich. It immediately did things to his insides.
“Portland PDX. Sign this.” She handed him a tri-copy transfer receipt and a pen. When he reached for them he noticed the light green, nearly healed bruise that peeked out on her wrist from under her jacket sleeve. Instinctively, he scanned her over and took stock of various signs of bruising and healing injuries from her forehead all the way down to her calf-length leggings. He signed the receipt and handed it back to her. The slender pixie girl quickly and efficiently took the receipt back from him, signed the top white copy, ripped it from the others and handed it to him again, with the package.“Charley?” Ethan read her scribble off the receipt. A smile played across his features and there was a tone of amusement in his voice. Charley rolled her eyes. She got it a lot.
“That’s me.” She chirped and turned to leave. She was leaving and he was in the middle of a class. But he needed more.
“Don’t I owe you something?” he asked as she was readying herself to jump out into the rain, pulling the oversized nylon hood back up over her head.
“Nope, already been covered.” Without looking back Charley was gone into the wet, brooding day and Ethan watched with an intrigued grin as she unlocked her bike and peddled away.
YOU ARE READING
Defenseless
RomanceCharley is a free spirit. Chris wants to own her. Bree wants to protect her. Ethan wants to teach her to protect herself. ⚠️ there is physically abusive and sexually explicit content throughout this story.