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She’d crossed the space between us, only wearing a pair of black panties and her sports bra—at least semi-covered—and holding out my coffee I’d forgotten about. “You left this.”
“Ah,” I said, licking my lips, my mouth too damn dry. “Thanks.”
Of course I had. I’d been trying to rush out. I accepted the coffee, and our fingers brushed. Electricity zipped up my arm, and Amelia’s pulse fluttered at her throat. She quirked her lips again, and those pretty blues locked on me. The Ames I had known was always bright and sunny, and those traits seemed to have stuck around, but I could never in a million years have anticipated her confidence.
She wasn’t shy at all with her looks, her body language, and goddamn, that was such a turn-on.
Except she was the one person I shouldn’t go after.
I gave a brief nod and pivoted on my heel again before I did something senseless, like slam her up against the lockers and slide my fingers down the waistband of those black panties.
With my coffee in hand, I booked it for the ring in the center.
I would definitely need to let off some steam.
Maybe sparring had been a mistake.
We’d started with some quick warm-ups right outside of the ring, and to say the air was charged between us was an understatement. Ames was dedicated, though. I could tell that about her from the start. And she listened, unlike some clients who you had to put through drill after drill until they wanted to scream and you did too because they refused to process your coaching.
Once we’d gone through the paces of warming up, I planned on getting her in the ring. If she had upcoming fights, we needed to make sure she was prepared. Sometimes I caught her looking at me intensely, like if she stared hard enough, she could dig out my secrets. It had me just as on edge as the other looks lobbed in my direction, so heated I was about to combust.
All this spelled disaster, but I was committed to a little pain.
Sweat dripped down my back, and I took a step away from Amelia.
We’d tried a few introductory spars to get comfortable working together, but now we needed to kick our training up a notch. We had to practice takedowns, which meant I would be hitting the mat hard. Once we got comfortable, I’d start her in sparring rounds with other fighters so I could gauge her form and get her ready.
“All right,” I said, swinging my arms side to side as I settled into a solid starting stance. Amelia did the same, her bright eyes focused. The air crackled between us. “Go.”
She lunged for me, striking fast as a python.
Jab. Jab. Overhand.
I dodged out of the way with ease, since these were typical introductory moves.
Amelia’s left hip twitched.
I pivoted before her round kick snapped out with precision. Her timing was fantastic, but we’d have to work on distraction techniques so she didn’t give herself away.
The same style kick flew from the other side.
I brought my arm up, the blow landing with a solid thud. However, she already slid into the next move, her arms wrapping around for a double-collar tie. My arm shot up in defense, pushing out of the hold before she could settle into it. My heart was thumping hard with the quickness of the movements, the thrill of working with a fantastic fighter. This—this was what I lived for as a trainer. Finding a fighter who had the talent to make it big and helping them hone their strengths for their bouts.
Another jab and another one, and I slid out of the way again. I wasn’t here to fight her—no, my strategy was defense, defense, defense.
Round kick.
I dodged and pivoted around, anticipating the next overhand she tossed my way.
My chest grew light as I flowed from one movement to the next, taking notes of the form, the speed, and the liquidity of her blows and transitions. The girl had talent in spades, and she would be so damn fun to work with. As long as I could get over the major two hurdles in my way.
The jab hit my temple.
My arms shot up, and while I knew where she was taking this, Ames was already diving in for the takedown. She grabbed my thighs, and even though I twisted, she had the momentum. My back thudded against the mat, and she pressed on top of me.
I shot into a grapple to get her off me, but I was also too aware of the proximity between us. The sweat fragrant in the air, the droplets splashing onto my skin. The heavy breaths between us, the slap of skin to skin as we rolled around on the mats. I managed to drive my leg between hers, then pivoted and extricated myself. I hopped up and onto my feet before she could drag me back down.
My shoulders heaved, and part of my brain was fantasizing about what rolling around with her would be like in a different context. The thought shot a pulse of lust through my core.
