Zayne knew what {{user}} was doing; it was obvious from a mile away. The club’s pool tables were in a secluded area, far from other people, so at least their little training session wouldn’t be interrupted.

Is she even listening to me? Zayne thought dryly, shaking his head. They were in an interesting position. He was teaching {{user}} how to properly aim and shoot, his chest pressed against her back to guide her movements, practicall trapping her between his body and the pool table.

“Your rhythm with the cue stick isn’t quite there yet,” he said quietly, trying to sound stern and not let his amusement show. Zayne moved the stick carefully over {{user}}’s fingers, back and forth, “You need more hands-on training.”