Page 36 of Ashley & the A-Listers

“Am I warmed up yet? Can we do something to impress him now?” Cameron asked.

Ashley arched a brow, then glanced over Cam’s shoulder to find both Dylan and River’s gazes locked on the pair of them. She ignored Dylan’s stare, though she felt it on her body like a blast of warm air.

“I guess you did pretty good blocking,” she muttered.

“Come on,” he said, adding “Please?” with big eyes, and Ashley’s chest caved in from how cute it was. Her hindbrain was certainly rearing its head to give this omega whatever he wanted,but she shoved it down deep and promised herself an extra taxing workout after he left.

“Fine. Let’s go from the top. I’ll double the speed,” she told him.

Cameron bounced on the balls of his feet as they took their places once more and then… action.

Ashley went at him at a pace that was still slow for her, but was certainly faster than anything they’ve attempted thus far.

She didn’t know what she’d expected, but once again she was floored by the competency of this omega. Cameron was a quick learner. He dodged and blocked in all the ways she’d taught him, and was meeting her beat for beat.

Surprisingly, she found herself even dodging a few improvised fists from him, and she grinned as she got into the flow.

“Harder,” she told him. His blows weren’t landing against the punching mitts with the enthusiasm she knew he was capable of. “You won’t hurt me,” she promised.

Cameron’s brow furrowed, and she studied him. With new boxers, it was often clear what their next move would be because they were so in their head.

Ashley witnessed this with Cameron, watching each attack go through his head before he followed through, and met him with a mitt each time. She swiped at his head and he dodged, ducking so she met thin air, and she smirked. “That’s it.”

It was almost like a dance, once they found the rhythm of it. Everything fell away but their steps on the mat, each tuned into the other, primed for what move they would make next. Her long hair tickled her back as her high ponytail danced, and sweat gathered on the short hair of the undercut at the nape of her neck.

When she advanced, Cam stepped back, and when she closed the distance between them, Cam removed himself from herreach. They were in sync, dodging and moving together even though they were acting as opposing forces.

She didn’t even realize they’d sped up as they went, the mitts solid against her palms, each hit to them smacking with a dull thud as Cameron accepted her challenges with confidence.

This was a proper sparring session, and Ashley wanted to gush over him, tell him how proud she was, but she didn’t want to ruin the flow, so she kept at it until both their lungs were burning and her abs were sore from focusing her core to stay on her feet, figuratively and literally.

The smile on Cam’s lips grew and she watched pride take shape on his face, and reveled in it with him.

At least until she finally broke the flow, sweeping his legs out from under him.

He hit the mat with anoofand laid there, starfishing.

With a grin on her lips, the rest of the world still distant, she leaned over him, resting the mitts on her knees to catch her breath as she stared down at him.

“That was our first actual sparring match. And you kept up!” she said.

Cameron lifted his arm briefly before glaring at his glove and then letting it flop to the mat. “That was supposed to be a thumbs-up,” he panted.

Ashley chuckled and stripped off her punching mitts before offering him a hand. “That was highly impressive, and I don’t say that often.”

With only a handful of training sessions under his belt, it was a bit remarkable that he’d kept up with her. Maybe he knew more than he was letting on. Maybe she should go harder on him.

All the ideas she was brewing came to a halt as she pulled him to his feet.

Their arms brushed, and her gaze fell to where she’d scent marked him. She pulled her hand away as he began to strip off his sparring gloves.

Her first thought was:good.

The more rational side of her was embarrassed, an apology on the tip of her tongue—until he ran that same hand through his sweaty sandy-blond hair as if it was nothing. As if her scent wouldn’t linger on him until he showered, carrying her with him wherever he went. A purr threatened to crawl up her throat, but she strangled it at the base.

“Sorry,” she said, cheeks pink again as she lifted her wrist and wobbled it back and forth.

“No worries,” he said softly, a grin curling those lips like he dared her to do something about it.

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