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Ana smirks, a spark of anticipation lighting her eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Facing off against her in the middle of the gym, I can't help but notice the contrast of our forms—her relatively slight build versus my bulkier, muscled physique. But I've seen the damage she can do. It's astonishing, the amount of power that small frame of hers can generate. It'd be a mistake to let appearances lull me into complacency.
Without a word, I peel off my shirt, the fabric clinging to the sweat already forming on my skin from our initial warmup. It lands in a heap beside the mat. I catch the quick flicker of Anastasia's eyes as they run down the expanse of my chest and abs. The slight pause in her breathing, the tiny hitch in her throat, doesn’t escape me. It amuses me more than it should. Not wanting to directly address the moment, I simply arch an eyebrow and smirk.
"You ready,Tsarina?" I ask, using her new fighter nickname, a tone of mock formality in my voice.
She nods, determination flashing in her eyes. "Let's do this."
Our dance starts slowly, each of us gauging the other's movements, a test of reflexes and intentions. Every step I take, every swerve, is calculated. I dodge her initial flurries with an agility that might seem out of place for a man of my build. But I've been in enough fights, enough life-or-death situations, to know that speed is just as valuable as brute strength.
Ana's focus is intense, her punches sharp and fast. I can see her trying to figure out how best to use my size against me. But she's still full of surprises. She feints left, and I fall for it, allowing her to land a punch square in my gut.
The force behind it catches me off guard. Damn, that stings more than I thought it would. My respect for her only deepens. If this is her now, at the beginning of her training, she’s going to be an absolute terror in the ring soon enough.
"Nice shot," I grumble, trying not to show how much it actually hurt.
She grins, the fire of the fight alive in her eyes. "Just returning the favor."
"I see this is a real fight," I remark, a hint of dry amusement evident in my voice.
Ana's grin widens, her teeth flashing in a predatory smile, her energy contagious. "You'll know by the bruises just how real it was," she shoots back.
With a nod, I set myself, feet shifting on the mat as we size each other up again. She's quick, her movements agile and precise, every punch and kick backed by fierce determination. I manage to deflect most of her blows, countering where I can, but always maintaining a modicum of restraint.
As the minutes wear on, the air thick with our shared exertion, I sense her frustration mounting. Ana's nothing if not observant, and she's clearly caught on to the fact that I'm not giving it my all.
"You holding back on me?" she accuses, panting slightly as she deflects a half-hearted jab.
"What makes you say that?" I retort, feigning innocence.
She dodges another of my punches, her eyes blazing with fiery challenge. "I know you, Samuil. How am I supposed to learn if you're not treating this as a real fight?"
I resist the urge to smirk, knowing it'll only fuel her irritation. "Didn’t want to hurt the Tsarina," I tease lightly, but there’s a layer of sincerity beneath the banter. I've seen her fight, but the protective instinct in me doesn’t want to see her hurt, not by anyone, and especially not by me.
She snorts, rolling her eyes. "Your concern is touching, but if I wanted to dance, I would've gone to a ballroom."
There's a gleam in her eyes, a clear challenge. Alright then. She asked for it. I lash out with a swift, controlled punch, aiming for her midsection. She dodges just in time, her grin widening.
"That’s more like it," she says, her tone gleeful.
The intensity ratchets up, our punches and kicks becoming more forceful, more earnest. We weave and dodge, our movements a seamless tango of aggression and defense. Each time one of us lands a hit, it's met with a nod of acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement that this is what we both need—a real challenge.
Finally, leveraging my size and strength, I manage to get the upper hand. Pinning one of her arms behind her back, I twist and use my body weight to bring us both to the ground. Her back hits the mat, but she fights on, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist, trying to force me off with sheer leg strength.
But I have her, and I use the advantage of my size and strength. I pin her other arm above her head, rendering her immobile beneath me. The air between us is thick, charged with the residual adrenaline of the fight.
We're both panting, the sound of our breaths mingling in the charged atmosphere. Our faces are mere inches apart, our eyes locked in a heated stare. The fierce defiance in her gaze softens to something else, something I recognize because I can feel its twin burning within me.
The closeness is intoxicating. Every inhale brings with it a combination of sweat and Anastasia’s unique scent. I can feel the heat of her body, her heartbeat racing against my chest, her soft breaths tickling my face. The space narrows down to nothing else but this moment, this room, this woman beneath me.
The decision, it seems, is made for us. Drawn together as if by some invisible force, our lips meet. The kiss is soft at first, a mere brushing of lips, but it quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. The world around us fades away, as we become lost in the whirlwind of emotions that have been unleashed.
The feeling of our bodies pressed against each other amplifies the urgency of the kiss. The heat, the friction, it's maddening. I can feel every curve of her beneath me, every rapid breath she takes. When my hardness brushes against her womanhood, the world tilts on its axis. She gasps, her body arching into mine, seeking more contact, more of that electric sensation. Her moan, throaty and filled with want, goes straight to my groin.
Goddamn it.
That sound, coupled with the unmistakable feeling of her wet heat against me, has my control teetering on the edge. The raw need, the want, is overpowering, and for a brief moment, all I want to do is sink into her, and allow the passion to consume us both.
