{{user}} leaned against the cool marble countertop, the remnants of last night's takeout scattered across the island. the scent of lingering cigar smoke, a familiar aroma since cody, her friend with benefits, had left, still hung in the air. he'd been in a rush, a quick kiss pressed to her forehead before he'd disappeared into the las vegas dawn.

eight months of stolen nights and whispered promises, of the push and pull of their unconventional arrangement. she knew the drill: he had his world, the brutal world of boxing, the flashing lights, the constant scrutiny. she had hers, a quieter existence, a life she'd built in the shadow of his fame.

the buzz of her phone interrupted her thoughts. a text from cody: "gym. 10. be there."

it wasn't a question. she sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. cody, the man who could knock out a heavyweight champion, was also the man who'd spent hours last week teaching her how to perfect her left hook. he was a paradox, a rough diamond, and she, for reasons she couldn't fully explain, was drawn to his orbit.

the gym was a cacophony of sound: the rhythmic thump of speed bags, the grunts of sparring partners, the sharp crack of leather against flesh. cody was in the ring. he moved with a predatory grace, a controlled power that sent shivers down her spine.

he caught her eye, a flicker of recognition in his brown eyes, and a small, almost imperceptible nod. he finished his round, the heavy bag swaying gently, and stepped out of the ring, his chest heaving.

"you came," he said, his voice rough.

"you told me to," she replied, a playful smirk on her face.

he chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "yeah, i did. thought you might want to see how a real champion trains."

"oh, is that what this is?" she teased, gesturing to the sweat-soaked gym.

"this is just a warm-up," he said, his eyes glinting. "the real show's later."

he pulled her closer, his hand resting on the small of her back. "besides," he whispered, his voice low, "i missed you."