Page 98 of Dominate

We trade blows in the center of the canvas. The exchange sets my blood on fire. We know each other’s movements. Every block, every counter, every hard strike communicates mutual respect. We fight to make each other sharper.

I throw a roundhouse kick. Zane catches my leg. He sweeps my base, dumping me onto the mat with explosive force.

I hit the vinyl hard. My breath rushes out in a sudden gasp.

Zane dives into my guard. He pins my hips, his heavy chest pressing flush against mine.

We scramble. I frame my forearms against his throat, creating space. I shrimp my hips, searching for the sweep. He bases out, dropping his center of gravity to crush my movement.

Our faces hover inches apart. Sweat drips from his dark hair, splashing onto my cheek. His amber eyes burn with intense, competitive fire. The heat radiating off his body sends a massive jolt of adrenaline straight to my groin.

“You left your leg out,” Zane pants, a feral grin stretching his lips.

“I gave you the leg to set up the sweep.” I lock my ankles behind his back, trapping him tight against me.

“Liar.”

“Prove it.”

I bridge my hips. The sudden explosion of power throws his balance off. We roll across the mat, a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing. I land on top, pinning his wrists to the canvas.

“Time!” Eli yells over the gym noise.

I don’t release his wrists. I stay hovering over his chest. His broad torso heaves beneath me. I look down at him. His mouth twitches as if he knows what I’m thinking.

Zane stares back. He doesn’t fight the pin. He tips his head back, smiling.

I lean down. I press a kiss to his damp forehead right in the center of the octagon.

“Get a room, you two!” Jonah hollers from the heavy bags.

I flip Jonah off without looking away from Zane.

Zane laughs. The rich, vibrating sound shakes my core. I roll off him, standing up and offering my hand. He grips my wrist, and I haul his massive frame back to his feet.

Hours later, the sun dips below the city skyline. The sky bleeds brilliant shades of bruised purple and dark orange over the Ravenwood Hollow brick buildings.

We stand on the small, rusted iron balcony bolted to the back of our apartment. The evening air cuts the oppressive heat, bringing a cool breeze off the concrete.

Zane leans against the railing. He wears a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. He holds a glass of ice water, tracing the condensation with his thumb.

I step out through the sliding glass door. I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my chest against his broad, muscular back.

“Sore?” I ask, resting my chin on his shoulder.

“Everywhere.” He leans back into my hold, letting me bear his weight. “You hit like a freight train, Rivera.”

“You dropped me on my spine.”

“You gave me the leg.”

“I did not give you the leg.”

We fall into a comfortable silence. The city hums below us. Sirens wail in the distance. Streetlights flicker on, casting long shadows across the alleyway.

Zane sets his glass on the metal railing. He turns around within the circle of my arms.

He looks at my face. He traces the scar cutting through my right eyebrow, his touch light. He drops his gaze to the silver Saint Christopher medal resting against my collarbone.