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A grunt leaves you as you raise your arm, taking the impact of Wolffe’s fist against your forearm. The contact jars through you, and you duck and roll to the side as he follows up with a hook to your head.
You bounce away on the balls of your feet, shaking your arm out before bringing your fists back in front of you in a fighting position.
Wolffe smirks at you from across the ring, mirroring your stance as you two circle each other.
“Come on! Don’t let him bully you like that!” you hear Sinker shout. He’s lifting weights on the other side of the gym with Boost, but they’ve both stopped their workout to watch you spar.
You breathe a huff of air instead of answering, focusing on Wolffe. He looks like he’s fighting a laugh, and mischief dances across his expression as he shoots you a roguish grin.
“Don’t hurt yourself now, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you if you want.”
You snarl at him in response, moving towards him in rapid steps, striking at him multiple times before landing a solid hook to his side. You bounce out of his reach before he can counter.
“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” you recite back with a mocking tone.
Sinker and Boost hoot and holler at you from across the gym as a sly grin crosses your face.
Wolffe straightens with a scowl, crossing the space towards you to throw a jab followed by a sweeping kick.
You dodge, jumping out of the way. He follows you with a punch that you just barely manage to block when you see your opening.
You shift your weight before lunging forward, arms locking around his thigh before lifting with all of your strength, driving your weight upwards and forwards.
The impact of Wolffe’s back on the mat echoes through the now silent training gym. You scramble to mount Wolffe, thighs on either side of his heaving chest as you raise your fist, poised to punch. You wrench the fabric of his blacks in your other hand.
“Yield,” you order, one eyebrow lifting in a mocking salute.
You expect a grumbled ‘yield’ from him. What you don’t expect is a sharp grin before you feel the world tilt.
Your head smacks against the mat, air leaving your lungs as you look up in confusion at Wolffe towering over you.
“I don’t think I will. Sweetheart.”
The words are spoken with a rough growl, and you can’t help the shiver that racks up your spine or the spike of arousal that shoots through your nerves.
A small gasp leaves you, and you watch as Wolffe’s amber eye widens, understanding spreading through his expression.
“You guys done over there?” Boost calls.
Wolffe lowers his gaze, eyes intent on the tremble of your lips before muttering,
“I think we’re just getting started. Don’t you, mesh’la?”