Page 18 of Celestial Combat

“Depends on the physical activity.”

When she turned to look at me, I turned to look at her too. And I could’ve sworn her eyes dilated at the insinuation.

“Duringcombat training, I’m strict.”

“No. You’re an asshole.”

“Says the one that can’t take any criticism.”

“Allyou do is criticize me.”

“Didn’t know you cared based on how you been acting. I’ll make sure to give it nice and sweet to you from now on.”

Her eyes melted into mine.

Our breathing synced.

Meisa cleared her throat, looking away. She shifted, adjusting her towel, movements smooth and intentional.

I re-adjusted too.

But my fingers brushed against her wrist by mistake.

A fucking accident.

And I never did things on accident.

She jerked back like I’d burned her. “Don’t touch me.”

My gaze flicked up to hers. Dark. Heated. Controlled.

My jaw locked. My cheekbones burned.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

A lie.

She left first.

I didn’t move for a long time after.

The restaurant was quiet – low-lit and luxurious, tucked away on the upper floors of the gym with a million-dollar view of downtown New York, open only to club members.

And yet, from across the room, I could only see her.

Meisa.

With Tony. Sitting in a corner booth, comfortable – like she hadn’t almost ripped the towel off me in the sauna half an hour ago.

Tony leaned back, watching her with the kind of easy familiarity that twisted something in my gut.

I didn’t acknowledge the feeling.

I didn’t hesitate, either.

I walked straight over, sliding into the seat next to Meisa.

Tony glanced up, amused. “Didn’t know you took lunch breaks, coach.”

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