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“Yes.”
Her eye roll is all play, andfuckdo I want to play with her. But that’s not smart. Not acceptable.
I shove my hands into my pockets and rip the remaining skin off my thumb instead.
“I’m getting back to work. Thank you for the smoothie.”
The familiar feeling of unhealthy desperation at the thought of her not being within touching distance shreds my insides as I ask, “Do you need a partner?”
* * *
“You’re goingeasy on me.Again,” Tinsley snaps, eyes brimming with frustration.
Her next punch hits my gut hard enough to seize my lungs. I grind my molars and shift my stance so she can’t make contact with the same spot twice.
A growl slips from her lips when I don’t hit back, choosing to wait for her next move instead. Her gloved hands thump against her hips as she seethes.
“I don’t know why I bother sparring with you when you refuse to hit me every single time! A punching bag would be a better partner than you.”
I keep my expression blank. “By all means, go sulk.”
Tinsley has been boxing since she was a preteen. I blame her father for that. But with years spent perfecting the ridiculously reckless sport, she’s become the best of the best. To anyone besides myself, she has no tells. No way for anyone to guess what her next move might be.
I’m different.
I would go as far as to say I know her better than she knows herself. I’ve always been able to anticipate her next move.
The tightening of her pupils has me swooping to the right half a second before her arm shoots out. She spits air through her teeth when her glove slices through nothing but air.
“You’re a dirty cheat, Noah Hutton.”
I don’t deny it. My eyes drift to the clock, knowing there’s only a matter of time before her father wanders in. I want to be gone long before then. “If I hit you, can we leave?”
“Yes, fine. But I’m not going home until I’ve had aproperspar.”
Nodding in an act of pained acceptance, I get into position with my arms in front of me. She grins, victory blazing in her gaze before morphing into something predatory.
“It will hurt,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Only if you get past my defenses.”
I never do. My next sequence of punches—the ones she taught me—are nothing in comparison to hers. She blocks them easily, as if batting away a fly. If I cared enough about this fucking sport, I would have been ashamed of myself.
Today, it doesn’t take much to satisfy her in the ring. “Finally,” she huffs.
Sweat clings to her everywhere. It’s harder than it should be not to give myself what I want and gawk at her body. I shouldn’t care about the consequences of dragging my eyes over her curves and finally satisfying the hunger that roars inside of me, and if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t give a flying fuck. But Tinsley is not everyone else.
She’s something entirely her own. An angel far too precious to be stared at by a demon in disguise. So, I yank my gloves off and walk away, glaring at the rubber floor.
“Do you know when the tour starts yet?” she calls behind me.
With slick fingers, I tug my shirt over my head and use it to wipe my face and neck. My scowl doesn’t budge. “A little over three weeks.”
A pause. “Oh. That’s not long.”
“You’re coming with me.”
“How can you possibly know that? I haven’t gotten my schedule yet. Hunter only has a handful of fights set.”
