Luca POV
Uppercut.
Right jab.
Left jab.
Repeat.
I try to clear my head of any and all thoughts. I try to clear my head of her. The way her honey locks cascade perfectly down her tanned skin and over her delicate collarbone. Her emerald green eyes that become a forest color when she's on a mission, calculated and determined. Her plump lips that purse into a frown whenever I tell her what to do. Her eyebrows that knit together whenever she's contemplating something. Her agile and perfect body that misleads men into thinking she won't easily snap their neck in a second with no hesitation. Everything about her fascinates me. And she infuriates me. She absolutely infuriates me. But I cannot stay away. Because no one infuriates me the way she does. I cannot hate anyone the way I hate her.
Uppercut.
Right jab.
Left jab.
Repeat.
Uppercut.
Right jab.
Left jab.
Repeat.
Imagine the bag as Dennis. Think of the way he was touching her as if he had a right to her body. As if he owned her.
I lose all control. I'm swinging at the bag mercilessly thinking about another man touching her. Another man touching her the way I do. Kissing her the way I do. It makes my blood fucking boil and I have clue why.
God, that fucking kiss. I swear that tiny moment was better than anything I've ever experienced before. She morphed into me, it was like our bodies were molded for each other and fit perfectly with one another. Her touch ignited an electricity to rush through my body.
I snap out of my thoughts as soon as I sense a presence next to me. Stopping mid-punch, I avert my attention to a smirking Ivy. I wipe the sweat off my face with a wrapped hand and shift my body so I'm completely facing her. She's wearing tight-fitting leggings and a sports bra. She has wraps on as well and her boxing gloves dangle around her neck. Her hands are on her hips and our 8-inch height difference makes it so she has to look up at me in order for our faces to meet. She's tall but I'm taller.
"What did the punching bag do to you?" She questions playfully. If only she knew.
I glare down at her and don't respond. I try to think about anything other than how hot she looks with those gloves hanging off her body. She scrunches her nose at me when I don't answer. "Didn't know you'd gone mute." She remarks smartly.
"Haha. You're hilarious." I reply and narrow my eyes at her, she just rolls her own in response.
"Why are you here so early. It's like 5 am." She comments, stifling a yawn while she does so.
"I like to be here alone." I retort, pretending I don't want her here but in reality knowing it's because I am not gonna be able to focus when she's right next to me.
She looks back to the punching bag and then to me. "Yeah okay. I'll let you get back to that." She says, gesturing to the bag, and walking away from me.
She heads into the boxing ring and begins to stretch. She has the form mastered, even if it's just basic exercises. I try to focus back on my routine, but I notice everytime she does a movement that heavily involves her left leg, she winces and it slightly throws her off-balance.
