Homicide Hank is kneeling on the floor with his back to Torment’s knees.
“So from this position,” Torment says, “I can move to mount, tran-
sition to back, and then get a submission by rear naked choke.”
Sounds dirty to me. From what I’ve heard so far, fighting seems
to have a lot in common with sex. I like sex. Maybe I’ll grow to like
fighting, too.
Torment flips Homicide onto his back and lies flat on top of him.
He talks about being dominant for a ground and pound.
I imagine him lying flat on top of me, grounding and pounding.
Fight terms skitter through my brain. Naked. Back. Rear. Mount.
Submission. Dominant. Pound. My body heats. I cross my legs and feel
the slip of arousal between my thighs.
I am so caught up in my daydream, it takes a second for my brain
to register Torment is watching me. The mischievous sparkle in his
eyes suggests he knows what I’m thinking. But he can’t. How could he
possibly know how filthy I really am?
Homicide takes advantage of Torment’s momentary lack of focus
and breaks the hold. He flips Torment onto his back, jumps to his feet,
and before Torment can get away, he leaps. Torment lifts a knee and
thrusts upward, catching Homicide in the diaphragm. Homicide falls to
the side clutching his chest.
He moans and rolls on the floor.
Torment drops to his knees beside Homicide and then waves me
over. I race to the ring and climb through the ropes.
“I thought I’d just knocked the wind out of him. But he’s turning
blue,” Torment says. Worry creases his face and he rakes his hand
through his hair.
I straighten Homicide’s body just enough to allow me to run my
hands over his chest and abdomen. His eyes are wide, panicked, but his
pupils are stable. My hands find a hard knot of muscle just below his ribs.
“I don’t think he’s ruptured any tissue,” I say. “I think he’s compressed
his diaphragm and the lower lobes of his lungs, and it has forced out all
his residual air. He might also have pulled the muscle in his diaphragm.
I’ll need a wide ACE bandage and some ice before we can move him.”
“Jake. You heard her. Ice. Bandages.” Torment barks the order and
Jake tosses a bag of ice into the ring from a cooler on the floor, before
racing out the door. Torment catches the ice with one hand and holds
it over Homicide’s stomach.
“You need to breathe deeply,” I tell Homicide. “Fight real hard for
that first, real deep breath. It will release the spasm and you’ll be able to
breathe normally again.”
Homicide grips my hand and locks his frightened eyes on mine.
His muscles tense. I give him an encouraging nod as he struggles and
strains. Finally, he sucks in a deep breath and collapses back on the mat.
Torment lets out a long, slow sigh. He catches my gaze and gives
me the most devastating smile.
Jake arrives with the bandages. We tape up Homicide’s chest, and
Torment and Rampage walk him to the first aid room and help him
onto the bed.
“Fuck.” Homicide pounds his fist on the bed and wheezes in a
breath. “I should have seen that knee coming a mile away. I’m such an
idiot. Damn stupid newbie mistake.”
I pat Homicide’s shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all
make mistakes. If we didn’t, no fight would ever have a winner. We
just need to learn from them and move on. And I was pretty damn
impressed with your moves.”
Homicide’s lips quiver. He looks over at Torment and some-
thing passes between them that brings out Homicide’s smile in all its
toothy glory.
My cheeks heat and I look away. “Is there someone you want me to
call? I don’t think you should drive.”
Homicide coughs. “Nah. I’ll just catch a ride with one of the guys.
My wife, Sally, wouldn’t be caught dead here. I’ve invited her so many
times, and she never shows.”
His face crumples, and I give his hand a squeeze. “Were you expect-
ing her to come alone?”
“I thought she’d get bored during the warm-up so I just told her
to come when the show started.” He coughs again, and I warn him to
breathe slow and easy.
“Maybe she’s afraid to come here by herself. It’s a pretty dangerous
probably think you knew that and you were only asking her to be polite
but not expecting her to come.”
Homicide, Rampage, and Torment stare at me as if I’ve suddenly
grown a second head.
“Women don’t think the same as you.” I use small, simple words
so they can understand. “I’ll bet if you asked her to come with you and
showed her around, she would love to watch you fight.”
Homicide scratches his head. Rampage grunts. Torment studies me
like I’m a delightful curiosity in a zoo.
“Maybe you should ask her to pick you up. People like to know they
are needed.”
By the time Homicide’s wife arrives to take him home, the gym is almost
empty. Rampage and Jake wash down the mats and equipment and then
head to the kitchen to have a drink with an impatient Pinkaluscious and
her Australian friend, Sheila, otherwise known as Shilla the Killa.
I lock up the first aid room and find Torment and Jimmy on the
mats practicing grappling holds. Torment is lying on top of a stuffed
leather grapple dummy. Unlike the dummies that resemble a man
standing straight, this one has legs curved into a bow shape and arms
bent up and over its head. Torment’s hips are between the dummy’s
legs, his pelvis pressed against the juncture of the dummy’s thighs.
I have never seen anything as titillating in my life.
“It’s a submission dummy,” Torment says, looking up. “We just
got it in. The arms and legs are flexible. It’s very useful for practicing
arm bars, chokes, side mounts, and submissions.”
“I’m sure it is,” I murmur. Sweat trickles down my back. I berate
myself for my dirty mind. He is practicing a fight position using fight
equipment. This is NOT sexual. Not in the least.
Torment talks Jimmy through the position and then slides down
the dummy’s body until his head is where his hips used to be.
My breath catches in my throat. My head spins. I grasp one of the
ring poles and hold on for dear life.
“Hmmm. It’s not working,” he says to Jimmy.
Really? It’s working pretty good for me. So good, in fact, I need to
get home right away.
Jimmy joins him on the mat and they practice a few holds. For some
reason watching Torment lie on top of Jimmy isn’t quite as arousing.
Torment wraps his arms around Jimmy’s head and pulls him down.
Jimmy struggles and finally slaps the mat. Torment rolls off him.
“I can’t get it,” Jimmy says. “It seemed easy when you had the dummy,
but I can’t break that triangle. I need to see it with a real person.” He looks
up and catches my gaze. “Hey Makayla. Can you give us a hand?”
I stiffen and shake my head. “
I don’t know anything about grap-
pling. I wouldn’t be any use.”
Torment gives me a wicked grin. “We just need a warm body.”
Oh God, so do I.
He holds out his hand. “Come on. I won’t bite.”
Maybe not. But if he lies on top of me in my current state of arousal,
I just might. I make an effort to feign modesty when, really, all I want to
do is throw myself into the fray. “No I don’t think—”
“Please.”
I study his impassive face. He has to know how suggestive the posi-
tions are. How he isn’t constantly aroused I don’t know. If I had to
spend my evenings sliding over a grapple dummy I wouldn’t need my
Rabbit. Maybe I’ve been single too long.
“You’ll learn something,” he says. His voice takes on the authori-
tative teaching tone he used with Homicide. “If you understand the
positions, you can better understand the injuries.”
Hmmm. Do I want to roll around on the mat with two half-naked,
super-fit men? Yes, please.
“Okay, if it will help you out.” I slip off my shoes and kneel on
the mat while Torment and Jimmy discuss what to do with me. My
pulse pounds so hard I can barely hear them over the rush of blood
through my veins. This is sports. It has nothing to do with sex. Sports.
Sports. Sports.
Torment puts his hand on my shoulder. “Lie on your back, hands
over your head, legs apart.”
Sex.
I lay on the mat just as he explained, and he kneels between my
legs. The position leaves me vulnerable, exposed. Shivers of need course
down my spine.
Jimmy sits to the side and Torment talks us through the move. He
is so damn sexy when he’s teaching. Confident, assured, knowledge-
able, and patient. He explains he is going to mount me. Yes! And take
a dominant position. Oh, yes! Then, once I have him in a triangle he’ll
show Jimmy how to defend.
My brain fuzzes with lust.
His gaze catches mine. My cheeks flame. For the longest time, he
studies me and then his eyes widen, as if he had just seen into my hidden
depths—the pounding of my heart, the sheen of sweat on my skin, the
wetness between my thighs. His eyes shutter and his jaw tightens.
“Are you okay there?”
Words fail me. “Mmmhmm.”
“Right then. I’m going to mount you now.”
Oh God.
He mounts me.
I bite right through my lip. The sharp tang of blood flows over
my tongue.
Torment lies on top of me, his knees pressed tight against my hips, his
elbows snug against my ears. I lock his head between my arms the way he
explained, tilting it and pressing his face down to my breasts. His warm,
heavy body covers me, holds me, encloses me. His breath is hot on my
neck. His hair is soft between my fingers. It is the most erotic experience
I have ever had, and from the state of affairs pressed up against my sex, I
would venture to say it might rank with Torment’s top experiences too.
He lifts his head and his eyes blaze with sensual fire. “This may not
have been the best idea.” His voice is low and husky, thick with need.
“Maybe not,” I whisper.
“Now what?” Jimmy interjects. “How do you get out of it?”
“I don’t think I want to get out of it,” Torment murmurs. His
mouth hovers only an inch above mine, his breath dusting sweet prom-
ises over my lips.
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
“What the hell are you doing?” A woman’s shriek breaks the spell.
I twist my head back and catch a flash of pink and a mane of
golden hair.
Pinkaluscious. And she doesn’t look pleased.
“We’re practicing grappling techniques,” Jimmy says as if Torment
and I were not smoldering beside him. “You’re welcome to join us. I
could use a partner.”
“Not you. Him. It looks like he’s having sex with her.”
Torment closes his eyes briefly and sighs. Then he pushes himself
back to his knees. I shiver at the loss of his warmth.
“What do you want, Sandy?” Torment stands up and joins her at
the edge of the mat.
I roll out of my compromising position and kneel on the mat beside
Jimmy. Sandy’s glare turns my blood to ice.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You can see we’re busy.”
“With her?” She shoots me another glare so I shoot one back.
“With Blade Saw. Makayla is just helping us out.”
She winds her arms around his neck and presses herself up against
him. “I need you,” she whinny whines.
He lifts her arms away and his voice takes on a soft, gentle tone.
“Not now, Sandy.”
Not now? Not now implies what she’s doing is okay later. Not now
means not in front of Makayla. Not now means not ever for me.
Pinkaluscious’ long, brown lashes fan over her rosy cheeks. She blinks
her big, brown Bambi eyes at him and whispers, “Please. It’s important.”
Torment tightens his lips and gives her a curt nod. “Five minutes…if
that works for Blade Saw and Makayla. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
We both nod our assent. Jimmy because he’s an easygoing guy. Me
because my mouth has gone dry.
“Thank you.” She stands on tiptoe and brushes her lips over his,
before clasping his hand and leading him to the door. Jimmy jumps up
and follows behind them.
Nausea cramps my stomach, and I choke back a snort.
The sound draws her attention. Her eyes flick to mine and she
looks me up and down, lingering over my physical imperfections as
only a woman can do. She laughs, tosses her mane, and then trots away
taking my hopes and dreams with her.
“Who is that?” I call out to Jimmy.
He mumbles something unintelligible and then says, “Girlfriend.”
My heart crashes into my stomach. I should have known. I’m no
Amanda or Pinkaluscious. He really did want me here just to work. And
the rest was what? A game?
I stomp back to the first aid room, pack up my stuff and head for
the front entrance. I’m not waiting around for more humiliation. But
before I step outside, I freeze. How am I going to get home? Cabs are too
expensive. Walking is too dangerous. It is Friday night and my friends
will all be plastered and unable to drive. No way will I ask Torment.
No. Damn. Way.
But I can ask Jake.
Always accommodating, Jake agrees to drive me home after he takes
a shower.
Cowardice drives me to wait for him outside in the parking lot
where Torment won’t find me. Zipping my sweater to my chin, I lean
against the cold, metal wall and fold my arms in my best “I’m not a
hooker” pose.
“Hey honey, you ride bareback?”
My best is clearly not good enough. Detaching myself from the
hooker wall, I head over to Torment’s motorcycle for a good-bye caress.
So beautiful. So shiny and sleek. My fingers brush over the seat where
Torment sat, the handlebars he touched, and a shiny silver plate bearing
the inscription “1 of 100.”
“What the
hell are you doing?”
My head jerks up and my hand freezes in midair. Torment stalks
across the parking lot toward me, his face a mask of fury. He has changed
into his sexy, low-slung jeans and a pair of casual black shoes, but his
chest is still bare, and heaving as if he’s just been running.
Hands shaking, I back away from the motorcycle. “I…I was just
saying good-bye to your Agusta. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have damaged it.”
“Not the bike,” he shouts. “You. Why are you out here alone?”
So loud. So angry. My throat freezes, and sweat trickles between
my breasts.
“Well?”
“I could do without the shouting.” I twist the bottom edge of my
sweater in my hands and stare at the ground.
Torment draws in a ragged breath and lifts my chin with his finger,
tilting my head back. I can’t meet his gaze, and I turn my head away.
“I told you, it’s not safe for you to be out here alone.” His voice
softens. “You should have waited for me inside.”
“Jake is taking me home.” I swallow hard and shove my hands in
my pockets.
Torment frowns. “You don’t need to go home with Jake. I said I
would take you home after the fight. You helped me out. It’s the least
I can do.”
Duty. Nothing more. Despair and disappointment war over who
should crush me first.
“Jake has to go past my house to get to Amanda’s place, and you
don’t owe me anything. Rampage gave me the check for tonight. And…
um…I won’t be back, so we’re good.”
I force myself to look at him. Confusion fills every line and plane of
his face. “Why?” he asks softly.
“Because I’m not the kind of girl who likes to play games.”
Mercifully, the door bangs open and Jake bounds into the parking
lot. “Sorry I took so long. Ready to go?” He gives me the wide, easy
smile Amanda couldn’t resist. This is the kind of guy I should be going
out with—nice, friendly, easygoing. Instead, I’ve been wasting my time
lusting over a mercurial fighter with a sexy girlfriend.
Torment’s eyes narrow. Jake takes a step back.
“Is it okay if I give Makayla a ride home?”
“We’re not finished here.” Torment’s voice is perfectly controlled,
but anger simmers just beneath the surface.
“We are finished.”
“No, we’re not.”