Take Me On (Pushing the Limits #4)(61)

She makes those types of remarks often, but since we’ve been training, Haley’s never taken a swing. I believe she could toss me to the floor, and I wonder why she hasn’t.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead, but another wave floods from my scalp onto my face. My hands are hot in my gloves and my biceps beg for a rest.

“One more time all the way through,” she demands. I shoot her a glare and swear the sadist smiles. “You’ve got it in you. Dig deep and find it. Same combo.”

Same combo meaning she wants me to put it all together. Jesus Christ, I can barely catch my breath never mind remember the entire combination.

Her legs switch again, but this time I move with her and I like the exotic slant of her mouth. “Good boy, now, if you’d keep those guards up, you might still be standing in the ring.”

Fuck. My gloves slam to my temples and Haley holds the pads up. I throw a jab and Haley ducks out of the way. “Who are you fighting, your grandma? Come on! Throw it like you mean it. Throw it like you’re actually trying to hit. What the hell, West. I’m not playing here.”

As if she injected anger into my veins through a sharp needle, energy rushes to my muscles and the double jab strikes, followed by a cross, a left hook to the head, another cross, a reload and then a low kick to the legs.

Haley drops the pads. “You need to step toward me and punch at the same time. Stepping first is going to tip your hand. He’ll back out of the way or worse, read the punch and take advantage of your dropped guard and plug you upside the head.”

I rest an arm against the cage for support. I lost the shirt an hour ago and my shorts stick tight, becoming an additional layer of skin. “Why so many damn jabs? My cross is more powerful.”

“Your jab is your most important hit. It’s your closest punch and it’s not going to throw you off balance.”

Maybe because I’m too damn tired to think, I shake my head to let her know I’m not getting it. She gestures with her head for me to straighten and when I do, she wiggles her fingers at my cross. I rub my arm against my forehead. “What about the pads?”

I’ve never thrown a punch straight at Haley before and the thought twists my stomach.

“You’re not going to hit me,” she says. “If you want, mock throw it and you’ll still get the point.”

My pretend girlfriend is cocky. “All right.” I widen my stance and “throw” a cross. Haley’s arm snaps out and deflects the hit and in a second her cross is frozen at my chin.

“You’re leaning,” she says.

I am. My body tilted with her deflection. Damn.

“If my cross struck you, you would have been off balance and I’d have the upper hand. All hits are good, West, especially if they connect, but a jab is your bread and butter.”

Haley picks up my wrists and shifts them near my temples. “You need to keep your guard up at all times. Drop it for a second and you’ll get the hell pounded out of you.”

“I know.” I start to lower it, but she keeps a firm grip on my wrist.

“No.” Haley becomes the only thing I see in the small gap between my gloves. “I need it to be ingrained, not a useless tidbit of information to be discarded as trash.”

With her delicate fingers holding on to me, we stay that way, silent, as the music continues to play. After a second, she says, “What are you scared of?”

Failing her like I’ve failed Rachel. Getting my ass handed to me in the cage. Being kicked out for good after graduation. I go to drop my wrists, but Haley keeps them in place.

“Tell me,” she says.

“Nothing.”

“No, you keep messing with your guard. If you do hold it up, you’re not keeping it tight near your temples. You move it out— Why?”

I stare at Haley through the small crack. “I can’t see anything else.”

“Can you see me?”

“Yes.” The top of her cleavage is exposed by her tank top and small pieces of her hair fall from her ponytail. She’s an erotic mess that my hands itch to roam.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I feel blinded like this.” With my guards by my temples, it obstructs my peripheral vision. “I can’t see what’s going on.”

“You’re seeing everything you need to see. You’re not getting jumped by a gang—you’re fighting one person. For three rounds of three minutes each, you get to ignore everything else in the world and focus on the one thing in front of you. Think of it as a gift. How many other times in your life will you be allowed that type of focus?”

Haley—that’s the gift in front of me. A girl who’s trusted me with her secrets and has protected me from the elements. Possibly one of the few people who likes me for me and not because of my last name.

She steps closer and her fingers glide against my skin. Haley turns my wrist toward my face and my gloves block her out. “If you’re overpowered, a tightly held guard can be your best defense.”

She repositions my wrist back out and consumes my line of sight again. “And when you’re ready to attack, you simply open up and take the swing.”

When our eyes meet, her breathing hitches. If I kissed Haley, would she kiss me back? Desire slams into me as hard as it did when I wrapped my arms around her three weeks ago and allowed my lips to brush against her skin. In the darkness, she became an angel bent on saving my soul. She angled her neck and I knew I could kiss her without an ounce of hesitation on her part, but I didn’t because Haley doesn’t know who I am—she doesn’t know I’m a Young.