Axel:A Bad Boy Romance(13)

Something shifted in her face when he said this. The fear wasn't pretend  for her; it was very real. But he wasn't going to shield her from it  and he wasn't going to coddle her. If she did have someone coming for  her, gentle whispered words weren't going help. Only hard work would  help.



"Give me your hands," he said. Tentatively she held out her hands, like a  criminal waiting to be cuffed. Her took her delicate wrist in one hand  and he couldn't help but caress the back of her hand with his thumb. It  was a quick gesture, one that could easily be confused for an accidental  touch. But it wasn't accidental. He had wanted one brief touch of her  knuckles before she destroyed them on the heavy bag.



He took a roll of white tape and slowly wrapped it around the knuckles  on her right hand. Around and around he wove the tape as she made and  unmade a fist to make sure the tape wouldn't be too tight. He glanced up  at her when he switched to the other hand and he could see her wide  brown eyes staring up at him. She looked away quickly, as if she had  been caught doing something naughty.



"So, I want you to stay on the balls of your feet. Your feet need to  always be moving," he said. He stood across from him and demonstrated  the moves, bouncing from one foot to another. His motions were quick and  swift. "Keep yourself moving, always moving. In a fight, you never  stop. You're on your toes so if someone tries to make a jab at you, you  can duck out of the way and land a punch when he's weak and vulnerable."



She nodded and he could tell that she was taking all of it in. He  positioned her in front of the bag. "On your toes," he said and she  complied, standing up and bouncing back and forth a little bit, weaving  and bobbing in front of the bag. Her hands were up, the white tape of  the knuckles standing out in sharp contrast to her tanned skin. She  looked gorgeous.



"You always want to aim for the center of the bag. Later we'll go over  weak points, but we're focusing on the basics right now. So, I want you  to rear back not just your arm, but your whole body. Put all your weight  on your right leg and then step forward and give a hard punch, right  here."



She nodded and did as she was told, but her punch was weak and the bag  barely moved. "Oh no," she said a look of defeat coming over her face.



"Don't worry," he responded. "Everyone's first punch is that bad. I  promise you. Now you know what it feels like. You know it will only hurt  your hand a little; it has some give. So try again."



Marie nodded and she took her previous stance up again. She took a deep  breath and stared at the bag. Her expression changed. She didn't look  scared anymore. Now she looked fearless and angry. She was like some  ancient goddess of vengeance. He wanted her. Right then and there on the  gym's floor. He wanted to rip her clothes off her and throw her down.  No! he reminded himself. You are doing a job; you are helping her. You  aren't hooking up with her. You can keep it professional. You have to.         

     



 



She hit again, and this time her punch landed with some real force.  "Good!" he said, hearing the surprise praise in his own voice. "Again."  She hit again, this punch even more confident than the one that came  before. "Other hand," he said and she switched and hit with her left.  The hit was a little weaker with a non-dominant hand, but it was still  solid. "Back and forth," he ordered and she complied.



He could have watched her all day. He never wanted her stop. Sweat was  dripping down her face and onto her chest. There was nothing other than  the heavy bag for her. She was focused and dedicated on hitting it and  thinking about nothing else. It was beautiful to behold.



Finally, she stopped. Her arms fell to her side and she threw her head  back as she took deep gasping breaths. "My arms are killing me," she  said putting her hands on her knees and resting. She was right. He  should have stopped and given her a break, but he hadn't wanted her to  stop.



"Yeah, get some water," he said, shaking his head to clear his mind of the image of her body moving before him.



He kept pushing her. He added more weights and more repetitions. Her  arms and legs were shaking with the stress and exertion, but she didn't  quit. She kept going, kept pushing herself. Axel could see her glaring  at him out of the corner of her eye as she completed one final, painful,  exhausting repetition. He could see that she wanted to hit him, to yell  at him. Anything to make it stop. But she didn't She just grit her  teeth and keep going.



He had her sitting on the bench with her arms behind up lifting up  fifteen-pound weights in a seated dumbbell extension when her arms  finally gave out. He was there; he supported her back with one hand and  grabbed the light weight with his other. She gave out a small cry of  pain as her arms came down to her sides and she sunk into the bench.



"Are we done?" she asked, glancing up at the clock.



"Almost," he said. He saw her face fall and he added, "we just need to stretch you out."



She blew a stray lock of hair out of her face and nodded. He handed her a  towel and she wiped the sweat from her face and arms and chest. He had  to force himself to stop staring at her, but she was all around him. Her  reflection looked back at him from every wall. When he looked away from  her, he only ended up looking at reflection in the mirror, her pale  neck, the curve of her ass. It was far too dangerous.



Together they stretched. He put his hands on her and guided her  movements. He ordered himself to be professional. But his imagination  would not cease. He pressed down on her back to increase her stretch. He  touched her thighs and her arms and her stomach. They didn't speak as  he stretched her. She from exhaustion, he worried about what he might  say.



"Take this," he said at the entrance to the gym as he handed her a bag  of Epsom salt. "Put a cup of this in a hot bath and soak in it for at  least thirty minutes. Take two ibuprofens and drink a lot of water. Be  sure you're eating a lot of protein and potassium; coconut water and  bananas should be a staple of your diet going forward."



She nodded. The redness in her face had left leaving behind a dewy glow. "I'll see you in a few days," she said as she left.





Chapter Fourteen



She hated him. She wanted to scream at him and rage against him. She  hated when he told her to keep going and to focus on being strong. She  wasn't strong. She was weak and tired and she wanted to quit. But she  couldn't. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. She  pushed herself until her body gave out and only then did she let him  help her.



It felt good. It felt cleansing. With every repetition, with every lift  she was turning herself into someone else. Someone who was stronger and  tougher than the Marie De Santa from Phoenix, Arizona. Someone who would  never let anyone lay a hand on her child. She hated him, but she knew  she would go back. Nothing could keep her away.



She kept remembering the way he looked. His body was just muscles on top  of muscles. They lay hidden everywhere on him popping up when he lifted  or punched. His arms were as strong as tree trunks, the shapes and  colors and outlines of his tattoos accentuating his strength. She  couldn't stop herself from staring at him. From the corner of her eye  and in the reflection of mirrors, she saw him and she wanted to see  more.



It was crazy. She wasn't ready for anything with anyone. She still  jumped every time she saw a car on the road that looked like Austin's.  She still heard his voice in her head at her lowest moments. She was  still trying to figure out who she was. But it had been so long since  she had felt anything other than fear and desperation. She wanted him to  touch her. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin. She wanted to be  held in his strong arms.         

     



 



It is just a fantasy, she said to herself. I am just dreaming. It is the  same thing as lusting after Alexander Skarsgård. It was nothing real,  nothing would ever come of it. It would just be a fantasy for her alone.  Axel Connelly never needed to know her inner thoughts.



Her body ached. But it was a good ache. It came from doing something  hard, from pushing herself harder than ever. It was well earned. She  followed his instructions and took the long luxurious bath and she slept  like a rock that night. For the next three days he was all that she  thought about. She watched videos of his fights and read his interviews  online. She counted down the hours until she would see him again.



"So, we've been working pretty hard at the basics," Axel said once they  were back in the boxing gym. "But I think today, we should talk about  some self-defense tactics. That is why you came here, right?"



"Yeah," Marie said with a nod. Her hands were on her hips and she  glanced up at him as she agreed. She didn't want to burden him with her  history and she appreciated that he hadn't asked anything about it. They  only ever met in this gym. It was almost like their lives outside of it  didn't exist. She didn't have a past here, there was only sweat and  hard work and Axel watching.