He hooked his arms over the ropes and let his hands dangle. “So does it need doing?”
“What?”
“The sense. Smacking into me.”
Oh, he knows how to make me see red.
I threwmysense out of the window and said, “Yeah, it really does. Get in here.” I could take him, I was sure of it. He was big, but I was small and wriggly and knew just what pressure points could bring down a grown man, no matter how strapping his muscles.
He chuckled.
That just made me madder. “Get in here.”
He climbed into the ring.
As he stood tall, a small tremble of nerves attacked my belly, but I pushed them aside.
“Are we playing by the rules or dirty?” he asked, stepping close. So close I could smell the fresh sweat on his skin.
“You don’t seem to understand the concept of rules.” I hopped on the spot, shaking out the tension in my arms. The punchbag had made the muscles contract.
He raised both arms to the ceiling and clicked his neck from left to right. His underarm hair was damp, and I noticed a small tattoo on the inside of his right arm—a black rose with a thorny stem.
“Show me what you’ve got,” I said.
He grinned and I wanted to slap it from his face.
“And no going easy on me because I’m a girl.”
“You’re not a girl…you’re all woman.”
I tutted. “Just the same, no going easy.”
“If you insist.”
“I insist.”
Oh, I’d have him. Cocky son of a bitch.
I squatted low, then stood and lunged towards him, hands at the ready. Grabbing him around the waist, I threw my weight into spinning him.
He staggered.
But my grip slipped from his hot torso and I smacked into the ropes. Quickly I bounced off and went at him again. This time I got my hands through his legs, clasped the backs of his thighs and kept on hurtling forward.
He gripped my waist but couldn’t counterbalance me—the advantage of being smaller than him and low—and he flew backward. After two steps I felt him going down.
The base of the ring shuddered as we crashed into it.
I landed on top of him, my cheek on his shorts, the outline of his cock on my face.
He was quick to respond, wrapping his legs and arms around me, twisting and flipping me beneath him.
I knew I had to stay mobile and slippery and wriggled to the left, catching him in the crotch with my knee. It was an accident, but I made the most of his pause to groan and shoved at his left side with my heels.
He was after me again, determination on his face.
I blocked his two attempts at grabbing my waist by rolling out of reach. My brain was a cacophony of moves. Fast thinking meant survival.