The Clinch

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: five weeks on

Sweat drips down between my shoulder blades and down between my breasts. My shorts are riding uncomfortably up my ass cheeks in the beginning of a wedgie, yet still I don't break my stance, keeping my eyes set solely on the person in front of me who I'm about to whoop ass.

"1,2 baby. 1,2. " Gabriel drills me, and following his orders I use my left fist to strike out at the mitt in his left hand - held at shoulder height - before quickly using my right hand to knock at his right mitt; repeating the whole process again before bouncing back on my toes and hopping from one foot to the other, awaiting further command.

"1,1,4,3!" He commands and barely has enough time to get his hands into place to block my hits, as I furiously complete the sequence.

After landing my number three - a side kick - to his mitt with extreme force, Gabriel jumps away, pulls the mitt from his hand and shakes it out, his face beaming with a proud smirk. "Ow, princess, what did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing!" I growl, before slapping a gloved hand over my mouth upon realizing that my nothing made it sound like there was something. Gaining composure, I dump my silver gloves to the floor and run a shaky hand through my hair. "I mean, nothing. Sorry, I'm just stressed, it's not your fault. PMT I guess?" I offer him a faint shrug and swiftly loosen the elastic on my shorts whilst unpicking the painful wedgie.

He nods his head, slightly stunned by my tone of voice, before gathering up our things and throwing them into a gym bag. "Right, well, I think we need to get you fed before the period monster rears its ugly head. You are in one hell of a menstruation mood."

With a groan, I try to push away all lingering trails of my aggression before turning to Gabriel with an apologetic look. "Sorry. Thanks for drilling me. Do you mind if I just go home and sleep tonight, I don't think I feel like doing much?"

Gabriel offers me a curious look and a shrug. "Sure. We could stay in bed and watch the Die Hard films instead? But if you just want to be alone, I'd totally get it babe."

Considering his offer, I scrunch up my nose and sweep back sweaty tendrils of hair from my forehead irritably. "I- I don't know." I mumble, stuck somewhere between not wanting to be alone at the same time as wanting as much space as possible.

"You don't know?" Gabriel gives me a mock gasp. "Wow, this is a first for Darryl Kallahan. Somebody get the paparazzi; we need to mark this moment in time for the history books!"

His teasing makes me snigger, and I give him a light shove before tugging him back to me and burrowing myself into the crook of his shoulder. "Can we just go to your place and eat leftover pizza and drink lukewarm beer until we pass out?"

He seethes and tucks me firmer into his side as we hop out of the ring and start making our way out to reception. "I don't know about the passing out part. And I'm not too sure if we have any beer left. But the leftover pizza part we can definitely do!"

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After much grumbling on my part about the lack of beer and passing out, Gabriel chucks the empty pizza box onto the floor and brushes the crumbs from the bed into his palm to be deposited out the window.

"C'mere." He demands as he kneels down on the bed beside me and stretches his arms out.

Lethargically, I reach up to him and fall face first into his chest where I take a deep inhale of his masculine scent and cling to him like a bush baby to a tree. "I feel sick. I think you should send me home before you catch what I got." I mumble reluctantly, not wanting to move from the comfortable place that I'm in right now.