Page 198 of The Owner's Temptation

A sharp right hook connects with my jaw, snapping my head to the side.

“Jesus, are we sparring or reminiscing, Master Yoda?” Jaxon bounces back on the balls of his feet, grinning like a devil with a death wish. His black tank is soaked through with sweat, and his knuckles are already taped from an earlier bout with Killian.

I swipe at the blood in my mouth with the back of my hand and spit onto the mat.

“You either grew a pair overnight,” I growl, circling him, “or you’re the dumbest bastard alive getting in the ring with me while I’m in this kind of mood.”

“Why not both?” he shrugs, keeping light on his feet. “Call it a character flaw. I like punching you when you’re brooding.”

I lunge forward and land a vicious jab to his ribs. He grunts but rolls with it, dodging my next strike and throwing a low kick toward my thigh. I block it and counter with a quick elbow, grazing his shoulder.

“You fight like someone who hasn’t slept,” Jaxon taunts, dancing back.

“I fight like someone who’s about to make you eat the mat.”

“Then stop pulling your punches, old man.”

That earns him a brutal left hook. My fist connects with his side hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He stumbles, catching himself against the ropes, but doesn’t drop.

He grins instead. “There he is. I was starting to miss the Devil.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious. You’re just in denial.” He straightens, cracking his neck. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Then hit me harder.” He steps forward again, fists up. “Might help.”

I grit my teeth and take a step forward.

Jaxon lunges with a jab, which I dodge without effort, but my follow-up swing comes half a second too late.

“Sloppy,” he says, panting, “but I’ll take it.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying. Whatever’s got you brooding like Batman in a thunderstorm—it’s getting in your way.”

I aim a high kick. He blocks, grinning like a man who’s not taking this nearly as seriously as I am.

“Maybe I should send Sienna a thank-you basket,” he adds. “Clearly got you all twisted up.”

I slam him with a punch to the stomach. It lands with a satisfyingthud.

“Right,” he wheezes, doubling slightly. “Touched a nerve. Got it.”

“You’re supposed to be running diagnostics on the Ledger’s firewall and making sure the backdoor route you built into the Masquerade server can’t be used against us,” I snap, grabbing his arm and flipping him onto the mat with a satisfying crash. “Not giving me relationship advice.”

“Multitasking,” he grunts from the floor. “It’s a skill.”

The gym door opens and Killian walks in, phone pressed to his ear. His face is grim, voice clipped and low. Jaxon sees him and rolls to his feet, brushing sweat from his arms with a towel.

Killian finally ends the call, pocketing his phone with a sharp look.

“Still nothing,” he says.

That lands harder than any punch.

---