Chapter 112

Hannah groaned as the shrill beeping of her alarm clock shattered her dreams. Cracking open her eyes against the harsh sound, she found herself in a dark room—the sun hadn't even risen yet. For a moment, she considered hitting snooze and returning to the comfort of her blankets, convincing herself it was a mistake, that she still had time to sleep. But then the memory of the previous night crashed back. Noah wanted her up before sunrise, dressed and ready in the home gym for their first "training" session—whatever that entailed. The thought of extra time with him, beyond what was strictly necessary for competition, made her want to hibernate. However, it needed to be done if they were to host the Lunar Festival.

With a resigned sigh, she sat up, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs over the bed. At least the morning sickness plaguing her lately seemed to have taken a break, or perhaps it was too early.

Twenty minutes later, after brushing her teeth and getting ready, she descended the curved staircase. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore athletic wear she hadn't used in ages, hugging her curves. Grunts and thuds echoed from the gym, and she realized Noah had already arrived and begun his warm-up. Of course he had; he was always an early bird. She'd heard his team complain about his crack-of-dawn meetings, but she had to admit she admired that about him, even if it made her roll her eyes.

Rounding the corner, her fingers tightening around her ponytail, she froze. Noah was bent at the waist, gripping a cable weight, his biceps bulging with each row. Sweat coated his bare torso, plastering his tousled hair to his forehead. She couldn't help but stare, drinking in the sight. He was irresistibly hot. The thought of close proximity while he looked like that almost made her turn and flee. She could feign illness; he'd be annoyed, but he wouldn't force her from her room. Unfortunately, it was too late. Noah's gaze snapped up, locking onto hers. Wordlessly, he straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"You're late," he said, his voice gruff—from sleep or exertion, she couldn't be sure.

She bristled at his tone. "It's five in the morning. You should be glad I'm even here."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He jerked his chin toward the mats. "We'll start with warm-up stretches, then light cardio and calisthenics before the real training."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she strode to the mats, dreading his plans. They settled onto the floor, facing each other, and began stretches and toe-touches. To her surprise, Noah seemed relatively easy on her—none of the punishing exercises or sadistic regimens he usually inflicted on himself. However, her peace was short-lived. Once they'd worked up a sweat, Noah called a break and reached into a tote bag, pulling out a length of rope.

She smirked. "Noah, I didn't know you were into kinky stuff."

Noah rolled his eyes. "It's not like that. It's for a game challenge," he explained, looping one end around his ankle before tossing the other to her.

She caught it, incredulous. "You want to tie our legs together?"

He shrugged. "It's a classic couples game. We race to the end of the mat, turn around, and race back, supporting each other's weight and balance."

Her skepticism was apparent. His expression hardened. "Just trust me and do it, Hannah."

Muttering, she secured the rope around her ankle, leaving no slack. They rose, and Noah looped his arm around her waist. It would have made her blush, had she not known it was for support. She did the same, ignoring the hard planes of his waist beneath her fingers.

"Okay, ready?" he asked. At her hesitant nod, he turned them. "Three… two… one… Go!"

They lurched forward, their legs stumbling, attempting to propel them across the mat. She grunted, focusing on synchronizing her movements, but it was useless. They careened toward the end, out of rhythm, crashing into the wall with a dull thud.

"Dammit!" Noah fumed. "You need to move with me! We'll never win like this!"

She bristled. "Maybe if you didn't have ridiculously long legs you couldn't control, this would be easier!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you! You're short enough to be a child!"

They were chest-to-chest, faces reddening with frustration, hurling insults. So caught up in their bickering, they didn't notice their balance faltering—until, with a startled yelp, they crashed toward the mat in a tangle of limbs. She gasped as the wind was knocked from her, her back slamming against the floor. Moments later, Noah landed on top of her.

"Noah, watch out—" she began, but it was too late. He was falling, unable to catch himself. She cried out in pain as his shoulder hit her outstretched wrist.