Chapter 76: Sparring Partner

Chapter 76: Sparring Partner

Ivy

Leo hadn’t said much to me since the incident in the kitchen.

Three full days of careful distance in a house that was enormous. He wasn’t punishing me. I knew that much.

He was trying to give me space because he thought that was what I needed after the way I had flinched from him. After the way I had looked at him like he might actually hit me.

It wasn’t what I needed.

Every time he took a step closer, my pulse still jumped. Every quiet question made my throat tighten. And every single time, guilt followed right behind the fear.

He had never once raised a hand to hurt me on purpose. He had only ever tried to hold on too tightly.

Leo loved me. I knew that. He said it without hesitation, showed it in the food he burned trying to cook for me, in the way he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

But his love came with sharp edges. It pressed too close. It demanded too much. And I kept meeting that intensity with the same old reflex—back away, brace for impact, assume the worst.

Leo was toxic. His love was toxic.

I was toxic. My emotions were toxic.

Andy was toxic. His possessiveness was toxic. And so was his new found affections for me.

The whole tangled mess of us was toxic. We were all bound to hurt each other. It was already happening.

And still, I couldn’t stop wanting him.

This morning he had made pancakes from a YouTube tutorial. They were slightly rubbery and unevenly browned, but he had set the plate in front of me with a quiet, almost shy look that made my chest ache.

Afterward he had simply said he needed to train for the match next month and disappeared into the gym.

I stood in front of the mirror in the guest room, zipping up my tracksuit, and decided I was done with the cold.

Three days was long enough.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, fluffed my bangs, and gave myself a short, stern look in the glass. “You’ve got this, Ivana. Just go talk to him. Fix it.”

The walk to the gym felt longer than usual. Even before I reached the door I could hear him—the heavy, rhythmic thud of fists against the heavy bag, the sharp exhale of breath with every strike. Hard. Fast. Angry.

I opened the door barefoot and stepped inside.

His back was to me, shoulders gleaming with sweat, dark hair damp at the nape. He stopped mid-combination the second I crossed the threshold, like he had felt me enter.

He turned. “Ivy. Do you need anything?” He started walking toward me and my mouth went dry.

God, he was unfair.

Sweat traced a slow path from his hairline down the hard plane of his chest, following the ridges of his abs until it disappeared beneath the low waistband of his sweatpants.

The V-line there looked like temptation itself. I knew exactly what waited at the end of that faint trail of dark hair. I knew the weight of him, the image, the way those veins stood out when he was hard.

My hands itched.

Leo snapped his fingers lightly in front of my face. “Ivy? You still with me?”

I blinked hard, heat flooding my cheeks. I had been staring. Openly.

The smirk that curved his mouth told me he knew exactly where my mind had gone. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder against a weight rack, the picture of arrogant amusement.

“Are you checking me out, Ivy Lennon?”

“What? No.” I cleared my throat too loudly. “You’re… training.”

“I am.” His voice had softened. The affection in it was unmistakable. “Got a problem with that?”

“I can be your partner,” I offered, fingers fussing with the zipper of my tracksuit. “If you want.”

He pushed off the rack and closed the distance until only a few careful feet remained between us. Still giving me space. Still trying. “You want to be my sparring partner?”

I lifted my chin. “Yes. Why? Scared of a girl?”

A real laugh broke out of him—low and surprised and so welcome after three days of quiet that something in my chest loosened.

“Not even a little. I’m just worried I’ll get the wrong reaction out of this fight.” The way he said the last word made it very clear he wasn’t talking about boxing.

My eyes dropped without permission.

He was already half-hard, the thick outline of him pressing against the front of his sweatpants. He didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest.

Instead, he looked proud.

“You’re looking at it,” he said, voice dropping into something darker and amused. “Wanna say hi?”

I dragged my gaze back up, face burning. “Leo.”

“I’m serious.” He stepped closer, still not touching. “You walked in here looking at me like you wanted to get on your knees. I’m just offering options.”

“I did not—”

“You did. That ponytail is… perfect.” He tilted his head, eyes glittering. “But if you’d rather hit me instead, we can do that first. Your call, baby.”

I swallowed. “Sparring. Just sparring.”

“Sure.” He smiled. “Just sparring.”

He walked over to the open mat area and gestured for me to follow. I toed off any remaining hesitation and stepped onto the soft surface. He tossed me a pair of light gloves from a nearby shelf.

They were a little big, but they would do.

“Rules,” he said, wrapping his own hands with practiced speed. “No head shots. No full power. You tap, I stop. Clear?”

“Clear.”

We started slow.

He let me throw the first jab. I aimed for his shoulder. He blocked it easily, the impact of my fist against his forearm sending a small shock up my arm. He grinned.

“Again.”

I threw another. He slipped it, stepped in, and lightly tapped my ribs with an open hand.

“Too slow.”

“I’m warming up.”

“Mm.” He circled me, light on his feet. “You’re cute when you concentrate. You scrunch your nose up a little.”

I swung again, harder this time. He caught my wrist and spun me so my back was briefly against his chest.

“Easy, tiger,” he murmured near my ear. “You keep coming at me like that and I’m going to start thinking you want me to pin you.”

I twisted free, heart already racing for reasons that had nothing to do with exercise. “Shut up and focus.”

He laughed and came at me again.

We moved in a loose, circling dance. Every time I managed to land a light hit he made a low sound of approval that felt far too intimate.

Every time he closed the distance his body brushed mine—chest, hip, the hard line of his thigh. He never fully committed to a takedown. He just kept creating opportunities for contact and then stepping back with that same wicked half-smile.

“Your stance is open,” he said, voice rough. “Makes it too easy to get inside.”

“Then stop getting inside.”

“Can’t help it.” He darted in, slipped an arm around my waist, and pulled me flush against him for half a second before releasing me again. “You feel too fucking good.”

Heat pooled low in my stomach.

I tried to shove him back. He let me, only to catch my next punch and use the momentum to spin us both. Suddenly my back hit the mat and he was over me, knees bracketing my hips, one hand planted beside my head.

He didn’t put his full weight on me. He just hovered, breathing hard, eyes dark. “Yield?”

“No.”

“Stubborn.” He lowered his head until his mouth was almost at my ear. “You have no idea how badly I want to keep you right here and fuck the stubbornness out of you.”

My breath caught.

Before I could answer he rolled, pulling me with him so that I landed on top, straddling his hips. The hard length of him pressed right against the thin fabric between my legs. I gasped at the contact.

Leo’s hands settled on my thighs. “There we go,” he said. “Perfect view.”

I should have climbed off. I should have laughed it off and gone back to sparring.

Instead I stayed exactly where I was, hands braced on his sweaty chest, feeling every thick inch of him through our clothes.

His palms slid higher, cupping my ass. He squeezed once, hard, then gave one cheek a sharp, open-handed slap that made me jolt.

“Fuck, the way you jump,” he muttered. “Do it again.”

He slapped the other side. The sound was loud in the quiet gym. The sting bloomed hot and went straight between my legs.

I made a soft, helpless sound.

Leo’s eyes flashed. “There it is. That little noise. I’ve been thinking about that noise for three goddamn days.”

He sat up just enough to crush his mouth to mine.

The kiss was hungry from the first second. I opened for him without thinking, tongue meeting his, hands sliding up into his damp hair.

He groaned into my mouth and rolled his hips up, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against me. I answered without shame, rocking down to meet him.

“That’s it,” he rasped against my lips. “Rub that pretty pussy on me. Get it nice and wet for later.”

His hands never stopped moving—squeezing my ass, sliding up under the hem of my tracksuit top, spanning my waist, then higher until he was cupping my breasts through the sports bra. He thumbed my nipples through the fabric until they peaked hard.

I broke the kiss only long enough to drag in air. He used the moment to trail his mouth down my jaw and latch onto the side of my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

“Leo—”

“Keep grinding,” he ordered against my throat. “Don’t you dare stop.”

I didn’t. I rolled my hips in slow, filthy circles, chasing the friction while he sucked and bit at my neck.

One of his hands left my breast long enough to yank the zipper of my tracksuit top all the way down. The other shoved the sports bra up, baring both breasts to the cool air of the gym.

He stared for a second like he had been starving.

Then he leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and deep.

A broken moan tore out of me. My head fell back. My hips stuttered against him.

“Fucking perfect,” he growled around the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to make me whimper. “Been dying to get my mouth on these again. Look at how hard they get for me.”

He switched to the other breast, licking a slow circle before sucking it in with the same hungry intensity. His free hand kept working the first, pinching and rolling the wet nipple between his fingers.

I was lost. Completely, shamelessly lost. My fingers were buried in his hair, holding him against me while I ground down on the huge, hard length trapped between us.

Every drag of his cock against my clothed clit sent sparks up my spine. The wet sounds of his mouth on my breasts filled the gym.

He released one nipple and looked up at me, lips shiny, eyes nearly black.

“You have no idea how badly I want to flip you over, yank these pants down, and fuck you right here on the mat until you can’t walk straight. Want me to fill this tight little pussy again? Want me to come so deep you feel it for days?”

I made a broken sound that was half moan, half sob of need. “Yes…”

He laughed darkly and went back to my breasts, sucking harder, biting gently, praising me between every filthy sentence.

“So sensitive. Listen to you. Riding my cock like a good girl and we haven’t even gotten our clothes off yet. Imagine how loud you’ll be when I get my tongue in you.”

“Oh God.” I threw my head back in a moan, certain I'd soaked through my pants from his filthy words.

I was so far gone I didn’t hear the front door open. Neither did he. How could he? His head was buried in my chest.

The only thing that finally cut through the haze was the sharp, horrified gasp and the single word that cracked through the air like a whip.

“Leopold!”

We both froze. I didn't dare look back towards the door. I knew that voice all too well. I could even tell what her expression was without looking back.

Julia stood in the open doorway of the gym, one hand still on the handle, face drained of color as she stared at the scene in front of her.

Her son half-naked and sweating on the mat, me straddling him with my tracksuit open, sports bra shoved up to my neck, breasts exposed and literally in her son's mouth.

For one endless second nobody moved.

Then Leo’s hands tightened on my waist, possessive even in shock, and I scrambled to yank my bra back down with shaking fingers.

Jesus Christ. Can the floor please open up now?