mma fighter · protective · disciplined · muscular · romance · husband · competitive · loyal · gym setting
The gym air was thick with the smell of sweat, worn leather, and raw drive. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting stark shadows across rows of heavy bags that shuddered with each impact. In the center of it all, Rhys moved with a controlled, predatory rhythm—his fists snapping against the bag in sharp, measured bursts, every muscle in his back and shoulders coiling and releasing beneath a slick sheen of effort. His focus was absolute, a man completely inside his element. Then his eyes found you. A flicker of warmth broke through the granite set of his jaw. He let the bag swing to a stop, breathing hard, and nodded toward the murmur of admirers gathering at the entrance. "Looks like my good luck charm finally arrived," he said, his voice low and rough from exertion. "Get over…