“Now it’s your turn,” he said.
Fairchild raised her gloved fists. “Fat chance…”
They circled, touching each other with the occasional probing jab or shin kick. The woman’s focus was laser sharp, and she had the reflexes of a coiled snake, but Nash still had her outmatched in terms of raw strength.
He caught one of her counterpunches and went in for a fireman’s carry. Her body whirled across his shoulders, and her back hit the mat with a solid thump. Nash heard the breath leaving her lungs.
Flushed and scowling, she reluctantly accepted his proffered hand, and he hauled her back to her feet.
“Like I said,” Nash chuckled, “your turn to take something off.”
The woman hesitated for a moment, and Nash could practically hear the gears whirring in her head as she made her decision—top or bottom. At last, she bent and pushed her shorts down her long, smooth legs. She was wearing panties underneath. A thong, Nash guessed, otherwise he would have noticed her panty-line earlier.
“Give us a little spin,” he said, twirling his finger.
Fairchild scowled harder. “Turn my back to my opponent?” she said as she tossed her shorts out of the octagon. “Yeah right. If you want to get behind me, you’re gonna have to make that happen on your own.”
Nash flashed her a wicked smile.
“Challenge accepted.”
This time, he dispensed with the foreplay and went straight in for the kill. Fairchild tried to catch him with a straight right, but he spun under the punch and came up behind her, catching her in a chokehold.
She was indeed wearing a thong. Nash couldn’t see it, but he could feel the bare cheeks of her ass bracketing the hard shaft inside his shorts. It felt so damn good, he forgot to finish his choke.
With a wildcat snarl, Fairchild whipped her head back, bashing Nash’s lip with the back of her skull. The blow dazed him for onlythe merest fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to sling him over her body and slam him to the mat.
This time, no hand was offered.
Nash rolled to his knees and licked his busted lip. It tasted of blood, a flavor he knew all too well.
“So,” he said, “she likes to fight dirty.”
“You didn’t set out any rules about headbutts,” she said. “You’re lucky I haven’t kicked you in the balls yet.”
Nash smiled as he rose to his feet.
“Naw,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you want to keep those in good working order.”
Fairchild’s face flared a deep shade of scarlet.
“Enough talk,” she snapped. “Get those shorts off. I’m ready to finish this.”
“A woman who knows what she wants,” Nash said. “I like that.”
He pushed his shorts down and kicked them over the side of the cage, but he never took his eyes off Fairchild’s face. He could tell she was trying not to look, but she just couldn’t help herself. Her eyes dipped briefly to the front of his compression shorts, and the hard erection that was bulging the tight fabric. Her nipples stiffened behind her sports bra. Her pheromones flared. Nash could smell them.
Fairchild arched an eyebrow.
“Interesting,” she said, trying to mask her desire. “Do you get turned on by losing?”
“I get turned on by a challenge,” Nash said, not even slightly embarrassed about his obvious arousal.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, big boy.”
“Oh, I haven’t even started to bite,” Nash said. “You’ll know when I do.”
Fairchild came at him without warning, a flying kick aimed straight at his chest. Nash turned and caught her leg, channeling her own momentum to swing her in a half circle before launching her straight into the side of the cage. Fairchild crashed into the chain-link and hit the mat hard.
