Fuck that.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say. “Square up then.”
That predatory look I’ve seen a few times before shifts onto her beautiful face, a satisfied smirk on her plump lips. Whether she was satisfied with herself or me, I’m unsure. I have a feeling I won’t be leaving this ring without her trying to beat my ass either way.
I get into my fighting stance, shifting my body weight to the balls of my feet. Mila watches my movements for a few long moments before mimicking my stance. I can tell she wants me to make the first move, and my impatience with this bullshit fight is growing.
Sliding forward, Mila ducks and misses my first swing. Not letting up, I continue to throw punches, trying not to let the surprise show as she dodges every one. I stop and raise an eyebrow at her, trying to regain my focus.
Mila bats her eyelashes and giggles, making it seem like that little bit was enough to show a deeper version of her. After my slight break, we get back to it. She effortlessly dodges every move I make without making any of her own.
I‘m getting tired, but I feel like that’s her goal: wear me down, then take me out. Or she was getting a thrill out of playing cat and mouse with me. There was more to Mila Williams than she let on, including this hidden talent.
I know she’s quickly learning my tells by the way she watches me move, and she’s trained in far more than just self-defense. Trying to use the element of surprise, I spin, adding more momentum to my punch, hoping for something that isn’t a dodge.
With skilled speed and force for a woman of her size, she pushes my arms away, knocking me off balance, and sends the heel of her barefoot into my thigh. Hitting me in the perfect spot to send me to my knee. When my knee hits the ground, her fist cracks against my jaw.
My head snaps back as I quickly gather my focus, still on my knee in front of her. She smirks down at me, and I absentmindedly rub my jaw. Mila packed one hell of a punch.
“Did you just fucking punch me?”
The disbelief in my voice is almost comical.
I allow Mila to have her moment while I gather my senses.
I didn’t expect her to hand me my balls when we stepped in here today. Once I get my bearings, I stand on both feet. Wasting no time to let me process, Mila slides forward. I counter, but she counters back, sending her fist to my face again.
Mila weighs more than a hundred pounds less than I do, and she is keeping up with everything I give her. I usually would’ve let my mind go blank by now, letting my fight instinct kick in, but instead, I stay focused, giving her exactly what she asked of me. Allowing her to prove herself to me. And I feel nothing but pride.
We get lost in our dance of attacks, and Mila cracks me again on the other side of my jaw. She raises her hands in surrender, and I chuckle. A smile I haven’t seen before transforms on her beautiful face; nothing mischievous or cocky, but genuine.
“Who taught you how to fight like that?” I question, watching as she wipes at the sweat on her brow.
Mila blows an annoyed breath at a curl that keeps sticking to her forehead.
“My dad,” she shrugs.
She lets her hair down, giving up the fight with the escaping tendrils. This moment with her will make keeping my promise to Bastian a lot harder than it already has been. I’m already walking a thin fucking line, considering the things I want to do to her at this moment.
“I didn’t think you could get any hotter,” I mutter, instantly hating myself for letting that slip with Bastian sitting so close.
“On your knees, bitch,” Mila says, snapping her thin fingers and pointing to the ground in front of her.
“What the fuck? You didn’t win shit,” I retort, more defensive than intended.
That lie tasted like shit coming out of my mouth so easily. Mila won that fight easily, and I haven’t lost a fight since I was a kid.
“Shall I embarrass you further?”
She cocks an eyebrow, playing my pride again like a goddamn fiddle. Mila turns, and I seize the moment, not hearing what she says as she walks away. It’s a cheap fucking shot, but she’s too caught up in her glory to think I would attack again.
Snaking my arms around her waist, pinning her hands to her sides, I send us back onto the mat. I make sure we fall, so she’s on top of me. That way, I take the brunt of
the impact.
Her head bounces back against my collarbone, and she curses me under her breath.
“Ow,” Mila says, clearly irritated. I’m not sure if it’s with herself or me, but here we are.