“Play what?”
“You’re going to pretend you don’t feel this thing between us?”
I shake my head, incredulous. “We just met.”
He shrugs. “That doesn’t mean anything. Some of the world’s greatest romances happened in only a few days.”
This guy really is trouble. “Didn’t Seth give you ‘the talk’?”
His grin widens. “I offered to show you around town, that’s all. I’d do the same for any other fighter who was new to the area.”
“Uh-huh.” I glance at the timer and see he’s already wasted half of the round. “Listen, I haven’t worked out for several days because I’ve been in transit and I really need to get back into it. Do you mind?”
He releases the bag, but I can tell from his expression that this isn’t the end of the conversation. He might be backing off for now, but it’s a temporary reprieve. That’s fine. I look forward to round two.
“Dev!” Seth yells across the room. “Harley! Less talking, more sparring.”
“Me and her?” His smile falters, but he catches it quickly. He wasn’t expecting that.
“Come on, then.” I raise my fists and challenge him, waiting to see what he’ll do. Some guys don’t like sparring with a female partner. They get weird about it.
He bumps my gloves and steps back, scanning me in a way that’s two-thirds analytical and one-third sexual. He’s trying to take me seriously, but can’t help checking me out. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. That’s such a guy thing to do, and honestly, I hope he underestimates me. Silently, I dare him to.
He moves forward, but he’s hesitant and all it takes is a push-kick in the solar plexus to stop him in his tracks. He fires back with a body kick but it’s slow and weak. I check it easily and sigh. So this is how it’s going to be. He’s afraid to hurt me. As if he really could. I’m not some delicate flower, and by the time this round is over, he’ll know not to treat me like one.
He throws a half-hearted hook, which I block, and then I step forward and deliver a perfectly placed uppercut to the soft piece of flesh on the underside of his chin. His eyes bulge in shock, but rather than looking annoyed as most men typically do when they’re outdone by a woman, he laughs and studies me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
Devon
So this is how it feels to be punched in the face by love. I have to say, I kind of like it. I like this girl, too. She’s a warrior princess who put Seth on his ass and turned down my invitation without a second thought. Harley Isles isn’t going to be easy to win over, but the worthwhile adventures never are. All I know for sure is that I can’t wait to learn more about her. To find out what gets under her skin.
Moving forward, I keep my guard up because she packs a lot of power for her size, and clearly has the skills to take down a guy like me if I don’t stay on my toes. I fucking love that about her. This time, I throw a fake with my left arm, then as she shields her face, I drop low and land a shot to her gut. Or perhaps I should say her abs, because there’s nothing soft about them. They flex beneath my fist and the air gusts from her lungs, but she doesn’t crumple or gasp for breath. Instead, she seizes the opportunity to strike while my head is low, aiming her knee at my face. It’s only my catlike reflexes that save me from a bleeding nose.
“You’re good,” I say around my mouthguard.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve literally lived at a gym for eight years. What’d you expect?”
“Eight years?” I can hardly fathom it. She looks around the same age as me, perhaps a year or two older, so she must have only been a teenager when she left the country. Perhaps she found her way to the martial arts younger than I did. I was an aimless kid. The guy everyone liked, but who never really belonged. At least, not until I found MMA.
She jabs, and I slip the punch and haul her into a clinch. Her body presses against mine from thigh to chest, and it’s the best sensation short of sex that I’ve ever experienced. The places where we touch are practically alight with the flames of attraction. With one leg, I try to sweep her to the floor, but she evades the movement and counters by rolling me over her hip. Her actions are less practiced than they have been until now, and I realize that’s because she’s not familiar with ground play. Throwing and wrestling are off the cards in muay thai.
A devilish grin steals across my face. Suddenly, there’s nothing I want more than to get her on the floor, where she’s at a disadvantage, just to see what she’ll do. If I trap her in a hold, will she tap out? I doubt it. She’s the type to be stubborn until she’s blue in the face. As if she senses the direction of my thoughts, she shoves me away.
“You don’t like getting up close and personal,” I say.
She scowls. “Not true.”
“Oh, so you want to get close to me?” I waggle my eyebrows, watching as her jaw tightens.
Instead of answering, she kicks the side of my body, then slams her padded shin into my thigh. Because I’m distracted, I’m too slow to check the kicks and if this fight were for real, she’d have scored a couple of clean points. She knows it, too. Her expression is smug, and I can’t lie, her desire to prove she can beat the crap out of me is sexy as hell.
I launch into one of my favorite combos, curious how she’ll react. She responds fluidly and within seconds, I find myself engaged in a dangerous dance. Sparring is one of my favorite pastimes, and she seems to feel the same because our bodies speak to each other as we move, and they’re far more honest than our mouths. It’s playful, but no longer tentative. We’re learning each other’s limitations and preferences. Our patterns and habits.
Yeah, I know. Sounds like sex.
Well, guess what? Sparring and sex have a lot in common. They’re both weirdly intimate, and you have to trust a good sparring partner almost as much as you’d trust a sexual partner. After all, one false move and you eat a fist.
Seth approaches and starts barking instructions. They’re directed at Harley so I tune them out, trying to figure out what throws her off her game. I’m unpredictable. That’s my major tactic. I thrive on shocking people and then pressing my advantage, but Harley is unflappable in the face of my strategy, calmly returning blows and moving as though there’s music only she can hear. For five rounds, we continue, with Seth drilling her during the breaks.Try this. Do that. Don’t let him get in your head.I have to admit, I like the thought of being in her head. I want her thinking about me. Preferably wondering what’s beneath my clothes. Not that she appears to be doing so, damn it all.
