I finally reach the locker room doors. Pushing them open, I’m instantly aware of another presence. I hurl silent curses at the fucker about to interrupt my moment of peace. Whether the situation is fucked up or not, most of my tension has melted away from the fight.
Rounding the corner, I come to a halt. A pair of long legs spread apart on a bench enveloped in tight black leather pants. Black platform boots tap the floor with impatience.
The towel I was holding against the open wound on my cheek falls from my hand as my eyes greedily take in the sight, trailing slowly up to the woman’s toned, exposed abdomen. A white tank top stops just above her belly button, a black lace bra peeking out of the top of her tank, showcasing a set of perfectly pert tits begging to be played with.
Recognizing the pistols on her chest tattoo, my gaze snaps up and meets the emerald eyes I dream about. Mila cocks an eyebrow at me and smirks.
Fuck me. Renton must have hit me harder than I thought.
“Well, well,” Mila snickers. “Fancy meeting you here, Officer.”
Mila’s playful tone goes straight to my dick. Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I wonder if this is real. She leans forward, unintentionally pushing up her tits while she watches me. I stifle a groan because there’s no way this is real.
What the hell would Mila be doing at an illegal fight club?
“Mila?” I wait before continuing, half expecting her to disappear into thin air. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Mila stands up and stalks toward me, examining me as she closes the distance between us. Whether it’s interest or just taking in my injuries, I can’t trust my head to put the puzzle together properly.
She stops in front of me, whispering into my ear. “Maybe you don’t ask me why I’m here, and I won’t ask you, Officer.”
I fight to swallow. All confidence and sense hit the floor and ran the second I laid eyes on her. I want to touch her, to feel that she’s real, that Mila is in front of me and tangible.
She moves her mouth away from my ear and meets my stare. She gives me a satisfied smile and cocks her head to the side.
“That was a nasty hit,” she says, touching my face.
I wince at the pain, and she chuckles, pulling her hand away and wiggling her fingers, showing me the blood on them.
“Did big boy Renton knock you stupid? Usually, I can’t get you to shut the fuck up.”
Mila dips her head back and trails her bloody fingers down her long neck. My breath catches in my throat, and I snatch her wrist.
“Don’t look away from me,” I say with more force than I intend.
Maybe I have lost my soul because looking at her with my blood on her neck is just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Does all that pain and adrenaline make you feel powerful?” Her smile grows.
This is the first I feel like I’m seeing the real Mila. The lurking predator stands front and center, a cobra sitting tall, dancing, and waiting to strike.
My adrenaline kicks back up a few notches when Mila pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Licking my lips, I silently beg to taste her. She beams at my response. Whenever I’ve made a move on Mila, she’s met me with rejection.
But right now, there’s lust in her eyes.
I’m curious about the sudden change. Was it the fight? I can’t bring myself to ask. The urge to see what she’ll do in this situation cancels out any rational thought.
I’m almost vibrating in anticipation as Mila reaches out and rubs her hands down my chest, her eyes never leaving mine. My cock is already hard, aching to be inside of her.
“Mila, I’m warning you.” I raise an eyebrow.
My self-restraint is already seeping into the floor. I’m not sure how much more of her touching me I can take before I fuck her against these lockers.
My mind, dick, and heart are waging an internal battle between claiming this woman, walking away, or rationalizing what Mila is doing in a place like this.
“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted, Officer?” She purrs. “Me at your disposal.”
A boop on my nose from her long stiletto nail is enough to snap my control. My hand flies to her throat, pushing her back until I press her against the wall of lockers.