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Crossing my arms, I flick up my eyebrows. “You're worried I'm going to win?”
He takes in a long, steely breath, his blue gaze flickering all over my face. “A little... but this is why I like you.” He steps closer to me and I step back. Again and again. “You're different to any girl I've met before. Stronger, smarter, ominously alluring, and I like your nasty attitude.” Raising a hand, he strokes down a length of my dark red hair. “Girls like you don't come around often.”
He keeps playing with my hair as if fixated, still walking into me.
“I have to admit,” he says, “I'm having a hard time even thinking about giving you back to Maksim.”
My brain switches from hot and lusty to robotic, and my expression goes flat.
“I don't want to talk about Maksim.” I blink down, searching for the words, then back up at Charlie. “I know you said you plan on knowing me inside out, but talking about Maksim, it... it bothers me.”
He doesn't argue about my request. He simply says, “All right,” lifting his hands in defense, “All right.”
He's doing it. He's working on our mutual respect. Why is that making me like him a little more?
He tugs out his hair tie and combs his hair back with one hand, the strands sleek and shiny under the down-lighters. “Here,” he says, “tie your hair back.”
Putting down the bottle of water, I take the tie from him, grateful—I've needed a hair tie all morning.
I walk past him, putting up my hair in a bun, then I slip under the ropes and into the ring.
This is going to be epic. I'll put him on his ass in five minutes, let alone fifteen, and it's that much sweeter knowing I'm going to win the rights to my body.
“What are the rules?” I say softly.
In one swift motion, he grabs the back of his t-shirt and whips it off; drops it on the floor. My eyes are having a hard time adjusting because I just don't know which part of his body I should focus on. He's so fit it's actually stupid.
Thank god he doesn't have stubble.
“I won't punch you,” he says. He bows under the ropes and steps into the ring, every muscle in his body contracting. “Anything else, I can't be held responsible for.” He winks at me.
I feel my cheeks warm up, and I hope to god he doesn't notice.
“Okay.” I step back, rolling my shoulders. “Let's do this.”
“Fifteen minutes,” he warns, pointing at me. “After that, I'll have you cumming in my mouth.”
Charlie tries to slap my face but I catch his wrist and boot him in the stomach with a loud, “Aargh!” making him groan.
“Fucking hell!” He folds over, winded.
I don't even think about my next move. I grab behind his left knee and Karate chop him in the throat with my other hand, slamming him back on his ass. He's so heavy that it takes all my lower body strength to put him down, but I do. He lands with a profound thud. I bolt forward to escape him, kneading out my hand because it hurts—it's like he's made from bricks rather than muscle.
Safely in the corner of the ring, I face him, my chest heavy with adrenaline. He's lying on his back with his knees pulled up, and he looks a little stunned, blinking up at the ceiling.
Well that's a sight for sore eyes, Charlie bested.
“I reckon that's thirty seconds,” I say, the smuggest smirk plastered across my face.
He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “You're fucking quick.”
I wander across the ring and crouch down to him, leaning on my knees with my elbows. He lets his head roll to the side, catching us in a moment, making my chest squeeze with anxiety. Our eyes flicker between each other’s, and I'm surprised to find he doesn't look bested anymore. He looks... glad? smiling at me.
“I hope your ego isn't too bruised,” I say, my goal being to rile him—I want to go again, though longer this time if he can handle it. “I hear it hurts getting beaten by a girl.”
He isn't bothered by my arrogance. He says in a low, raspy voice, “Didn't youwant tostretch that out to show me how good you are?”
“You already know how good I am.” I don't look away from him. “My objective in a fight is to win, not to pussy foot around.”
