Page 34 of Bought By Sin

When I entered the training facility, I zeroed in on her. Most of the gym was empty, and those who were still working out seemed to be wrapping up. Roman nodded at me in hello as I entered.

“Better watch it,” he warned jokingly, aware that I was here to continue training with her personally. I bet he wondered why I was so invested in her, like Nikolai had been. Roman knew better than to ask me, though. “She’s been tough today.”

I smiled. “I look forward to it.”

“I mean it. A real spitfire.” He chuckled. “It’s probably time to advance her and see how she handles weaponry next.” He furrowed his brow. “Unless she’s still a flight risk or whatever.”

I shook my head. Mila was not fleeing. I wouldn’t let her run from me until I could solve this enigmatic allure of her in my life at all.

She glanced back at me from where she’d been taking out her energy on that punching bag.

Without a greeting, only clicking with each other with an intense look of acknowledgment, she headed toward me.

She was ready. I didn’t have to ask. There was no point in greeting her or anything like that. The reason for my presence here was implied.

I beckoned for her to come at me, and she did. Like this, with the cover of training, there was no hesitation for her to address me physically. Before even a half hour had passed, we were both panting and sweating, equally primed and warmed up in sparring and trying to defeat each other on the mat.

Roman was right. I huffed a laugh when she got me down on my back. I fought the fantasy of her following me down the rest of the way and kissing me. Of licking the sweat off me as she ground against me.

“You are in a mood today,” I admitted.

“Too much for you to handle?” she asked.

The sarcasm. The taunt. Fuck me, the confidence in her almost sassing me back as she started to crawl off.

My dick ached and I bit my lip not to grin.

Was this really working?

Was she able to let me in—at all—because we weren’t trying to sit and chat but work out and beat each other into exhaustion as she learned how to fight hard?

She was pushing back just enough to keep me on my toes, and I wanted to take it as an invitation for more. For more chances to peel the layers back and see her.

I rolled over swiftly, grabbing her before she could fully get off me and stand for another round.

Her breath shot out of her as a grunt of surprise. I snaked my arm around her waist and twisted into the momentum to pin her to the mat.

She blinked up at me, and I reveled in the fight in her eyes. The fire of wanting to push back, to engage with me at all.

“Too much?” I replied, throwing her words back at her. Making sure she couldn’t miss how she really was too much for me, too much of a temptation, I pushed my hips against hers and wedged her in place.

Her throat flexed with a hard swallow. Mesmerized by the instant flare of heat in her eyes, I steadied my breath.

“You got me there,” she muttered wryly. She wriggled to get up, pushing at me, but I didn’t budge.

“I do.” I leaned down, committing her to memory like this. Her face flushed. Those pink lips parted as she panted. The pure desire flashing in those twin blue orbs of her eyes that always snagged me. “I’ve got you.”

She licked her lip and stared me down.

“Maybe it’s time to practice more on how to get out of a hold.”

That wasn’t my intention at all. But if we could let this tension between us simmer with the excuse of sparring on the mat for her training, I would use it as much as I could to get her to submit.

“Out of a hold?” she repeated, skeptical.

I nodded, dipping lower. I ran my hand along her side, ending with a possessive clutch on her hip. “You think you can get away from me? Like this?” I dipped my hips again, not only to further lock her into place with my body weight over hers but to let her feel how miserably fucking hard I was getting for her. Again. I was in a perpetual state of being hard for her—something only bearable with jerking off to the idea of her every night or morning.

Her lids fluttered as she gaped at me. If she let one of those sexy-as-fuck little whimpers of need escape, or a moan, I was done for. My control was so close to snapping as it was. I held on by a thin thread with the desperation that she wouldn’t hide from me or put up a wall again.