“Absolutely,” she teased. She moved first, throwing a quick jab his way, and he blocked it easily.
Luna smiled slowly. “Oh,” she breathed. “There you are.” Something shifted in his expression then. Something sharper and more instinctive. He circled her carefully as she threw another punch, this one harder. Again, he blocked it, but this time his hand caught her wrist afterward, holding it for half a second too long before letting go. Heat curled low in her stomach instantly.
“You’re distracted,” he murmured.
Luna tilted her head. “Am I?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, “you are.”
“So are you,” she countered. That earned her a look—one that said he knew exactly what game she was playing. The problem was that she wasn’t entirely sure it was a game anymore.
They moved around each other slowly, tension building with every blocked punch and every accidental touch, until finally, Luna threw a hook. Rocco caught her around the waist before she could recover, using her momentum to pull her against him.
Her breath caught hard as they stood chest to chest with sweat and heat pulling between them. His arm locked around her lower back as her gloves pressed against his chest. And suddenly, neither of them seemed interested in boxing anymore.
“You did that on purpose,” she accused softly.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Maybe.” Luna swallowed. Yeah, this thing—whatever it was that was happening between them, was definitely becoming a problem.
ROCCO
Rocco knew he was screwed the second Luna laughed against his chest instead of pushing him away. Because that sound—that soft, breathless laugh hit him harder than any punch he’d ever taken. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, her body pressed tight against him, and both of them were breathing a little too hard for people who were supposedly sparring.
“You cheated,” she accused, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.
Rocco smirked slightly. “You walked right into it,” he breathed.
“Excuse me, I was winning,” she insisted.
“You landed one punch,” he said.
“Yeah, but it was a good punch,” she countered. He chuckled, and her eyes narrowed like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him again or hit him. Maybe both, and honestly, he’d take either at this point.
“Are you going to let me go?” she asked softly.
“Nope,” he whispered. Her brows lifted. Luna shook her head, but she wasn’t fighting him. If anything, she leaned into him a little more, her gloved hands flattening against his chest. That tiny movement nearly wrecked his concentration completely. Jesus Christ. Everything about her affected him—the smell of her shampoo, the heat of her body, and even the smug little smile she wore whenever she knew she was getting to him. Which was often—too often.
“You’re staring again,” she murmured.
“Can you blame me?” he asked.
“A little,” she breathed. His gaze dropped to her mouth before he could stop himself, which was a big mistake, because Luna noticed everything.
Her lips curved slightly. “There he is.”
Rocco frowned. “Who?”
“The guy who keeps looking at me like he wants to throw me over his shoulder like a caveman,” she whispered so that no one else could hear her. His jaw flexed hard enough to ache because she wasn’t exactly wrong.
The gym suddenly felt way too warm and way too crowded, and the way she was looking at him wasn’t helping—not even a little. “You like pushing me, don’t you?” he asked quietly.
“Very much,” she said with a nod and a smile. That earned her a low laugh from him.
“That’s a dangerous game to be playing with me, Luna,” he said.
“Says the former soldier who boxes to relax,” she teased. That was a fair point. Luna slowly pulled herself out of his hold, though her gloved hands dragged along his chest as she stepped back. He could tell that was intentional. She was teasing him. The woman was a menace.
“Come on,” she said, bouncing lightly on her feet again. “Focus.”
