Ellen laughed. “Good. True mates should take the time to learn how to truly please each other.” A flash of Hollis, nostrils flared and jaw locked in passion, flashed through her mind. “Disagreements are often forgotten when you’ve a partner who makes you scream out your release.”
Hollis’s muffled curse drew her gaze his way.
“What?” she asked, draping an arm around the bag for support.
His green eyes flashed. “Nothing.”
“Then let’s get started.” She pushed off the bag and walked toward him.
His jaw tensed. “I’ve never hit a woman.” He shook his head.
“Don’t think of me as a woman,” she argued.
He snorted. “Impossible.”
Interesting. She paused, hands on hips. “Why?”
His gazes swept her from head to bare toes. “I’m not blind.”
His confession only stoked the sensations she was struggling to hide. “That’s what you see when you look at me?”
His green eyes locked with hers. “A woman?” He swallowed. “Yes. That’s what I see.”
If she listened, she could hear the erratic thump of his heart. His pulse galloped along, the beat visible in his throat. Apparently, he wasn’t as immune to her as he pretended to be. Her wolf was delighted. Stupid animal. “Think of me as a worthy opponent instead.”
“I know you’re a worthy opponent. I know you want to kick my ass.” He sighed. “But I can’t fight back.”
The spark in his eyes was a serious threat to her calm. Even if he was attracted to her, he’d never do a thing about it. Which was good. And insanely frustrating.
“Fine.” She spun away from him, collecting the sparring mitts from the rack on the wall and tossing them his way. “Don’t complain if any bones are broken.”
When he shook his head, his disheveled auburn hair bounced, playful and young. And his grin, one corner cocking up as he tugged on the mitts, only added to the whole boyish charm. But his rock-hard, cut body said otherwise. “I don’t complain.”
“Is that a challenge?” she asked, barely waitin
g for him to get the other mitt on before landing a solid blow in his right palm.
“No.” He laughed, shaking his hand. “Hell no.”
She ignored him, focusing on her footwork, the angle of her strikes, the strength of her core. The flex of his jaw was not distracting. Neither was the soft grunt he made when she landed a powerhouse hit. She tried not to notice the slight narrowing of his green gaze. The flared nostrils. And his bewitching scent of sweat and man.
Her fist sailed past the sparring mitt and into his gorgeous clenched jaw.
“Fuck,” he snapped, glaring at her.
“You moved,” she lied.
“I didn’t realize you wanted me to stand still.” He was angry.
Let him be angry. “You were distracting me.” Her fist slammed into the sparring mitt, a quick one-two combo raining down so fast he stepped back.
“By breathing?” he asked.
There was no way to answer that. Not honestly. Being distracted by Hollis simply being wasn’t something she was willing to share with him.
“That’s the second time you’ve punched me in the face today,” he grumbled.
“You said you didn’t complain.” Her laugh was breathy.