Page 23 of Precious Legacy
I twist my baseball cap backwards, pacing towards her with conviction. “I figured we could get the messy part out of the way,” I wink.
When I suggested boxing, I had two end goals—let Alanis release her anger out on me, and let her win. There’s no chanceshe’ll be able to beat me, but I’ve considered giving her the upper hand just to get her on top of me. Then again, she knows me well enough to know when I’m not giving one hundred percent, so I need to think out my strategy carefully.
“The messy part?” She frowns as we step inside the gym.
The scent of sweat mixed with cleaning products clings to the air, and the lights above us hum to life with staggered flickers as I lock the door behind us. I’m fortunate enough to own this place, so closing it last minute was easy enough. There are no classes on Wednesdays, and with only a skeleton cleaning staff—which I gave the day off—I’m not putting anyone out.
I dump my gym bag on the ground by the boxing ring and unhook a pair of gloves off the wall for Alanis, handing them to her while letting my eyes linger on her features. I take in the way her brows furrow, darkening her skeptical gaze. The way her luscious lips, that I’ve kissed a thousand times, press together. She’s the image of perfection, my perfect, mypresh.
“Yeah,” I smirk. “Then we can get to making up.”
She rolls her eyes in irritation, but I see the glimmer of a smile as she removes her jacket.
“You hate me,” I shrug. “You want to make me hurt.” I gesture to the boxing ring again in answer to whatever question is waiting on her tongue. “First hit’s free.”
Those perfect lips tilt into a weak smile. Though she tries to hide it, I can sense the excitement bubbling beneath her skin. I’ve just handed her the olive branch of all olive branches; a golden opportunity. I’ll bet she can’t wait to inflict as much pain as she can on me.
“And what are these for?” she scoffs, raising the gloves I provided in the air. “To protect my nails?”
Her sarcasm isn’t lost on me, so I take the gloves from her and toss them onto the floor haphazardly. “You want to playdirty?” I taunt. I’ll happily take her up on the chance to get beneath her.
“Well I don’t play fair.” She arches a brow as she pulls her hair into a ponytail.
Game on.
I step into the ring and hold the ropes wide for Alanis to join me. Her shoulders bunch defiantly as her eyes land on me.
Okay, chivalry is clearly dead to her.
With a resigned huff, I let go of the ropes, which she takes as her cue to slip into the ring.
“So, how are we doing this?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet and shaking out her muscles.
It’d be sensible to lay down the rules, identify the areas to avoid, but I know from the look on Alanis’ face that it would be pointless. So, the only thing I can say is, “No cheap shots. I’d like to keep the jewels intact.”
“Fine,” she replies boredly, raising her arms in a stretch. She leans forward to touch her toes, giving me the perfect visual of her ass.
Thankfully, my gym shorts conceal the majority of my desire for Alanis, but that won’t last forever once we get started.
“First one is free, right?”
“Huh?”
I barely have the chance to register her question before the power of her fist smashing into my cheek not only knocks me off balance, but stuns the fuck out of me. She totally blindsided me with that hit, but I’m not surprised, I’m impressed. We knew the stakes and rules were non-existent here. I know the rage she’s harboring. I just wasn’t expecting a hit that hard to come fromher.
I shake off the shock, the residual pain still radiating in my jaw. “Nice hook,” I comment, rubbing the sore spot. The coppery tang of blood taints my tongue, and when I flick itacross my lip, I can’t fight the smile that splits it further than she has. “But now it’s game on.”
I lunge for her with the precision and stealth of a panther, but she dips out of reach at the last second, swiping a leg through mine and tripping me up. Only the ropes of the ring prevent me from barreling over the edge, allowing me to push off and spin around. That’s the only shot she’ll get, because I’m revved up and damn competitive.
She’s got her small size on her side. If this was real boxing, she’d be KO’d on the floor. But I’m not a woman beater, even if it’s to make the competition fair. Nothing about this would ever be fair, but I’ll put in enough work to wear her down.
Alanis makes the first move this time, throwing a left jab, then a right hook. I avoid both with a smooth turn of my body each time. You lose more energy making big moves, and if she keeps attacking like she is, she’ll be out of breath soon. I have to give her props, though. She knows what she’s doing, knows how to defend herself. But does she know how to defend herself fromme?
She lunges at me a second time, closing the space between us to get a hit in. She doesn’t succeed. I block and parry each one, ducking and weaving until she’s roaring with rage. She lunges forward again, going for another jab that I catch in my hand.
She pauses, eyes blowing wide, and I smile. She tries to yank her hand back, but my move is precise and smooth. I wrap my fingers around her wrist and she fights back, twisting her body until her back presses against my chest and the gentle puff of her waning energy is the soundtrack to her inner battle. After all, it’s not really me she’s fighting.It’s herself.
“Let go,” she growls as my arms lock across her body tightly.
