This is going to take all the willpower I have to be professional.
After a short pep talk of keeping my focus on training and not on childhood crushes, or Camden’s immaculate chest, I leave the locker room. My heart is beating a mile a minute, the tune so loud it could be my walk out song before a fight.
Entering the ring, Camden is sitting down stretching. The muscles in his back bulging and flexing as he strains them. I close my eyes, trying to get my shit together.
“You stretch?” he asks.
Popping my eyes open, I freeze.
Crap, my mind was so busy I didn’t even think about stretching myself.
“No, I forgot,” I reply as my cheeks blush. Rookie move, Tate. Rookie move.
“First thing, always stretch. You don’t want to lose a fight based on you pulling a ligament,” he schools. I mask a smile and nod, but I already know everything he’s telling me.
Taking a steady breath, I sit down on the ring floor. “Touch your feet to mine,” he instructs.
Following his instructions, I touch my bare feet to his. They’re much bigger, and surprisingly soft. I reach for my toes and he leans forward, grabbing my hands, stretching us out.
The feel of his powerful hands gripping mine reminds me of how he picked me up so effortlessly and slammed me against the wall in his room. They’re so domineering, so capable of destruction, it’s hard not thinking about them all over you.
“Does it feel good?” Camden’s voice vibrates through my body and my eyes flick to his. His hooded eyes convey he’s playing with me.
I clear my throat and let go of his hands. Noticing mine are sweaty, I wipe them off on my shorts.
“What is in store for me from the famous Camden Steel?” I joke, my heart beating like a thunderstorm.
“Well for starters I want to see what moves you know, and see how well you can grapple. We need to work on that endurance of yours too,” he states.
“I don’t know many moves. Just what I knew from when we were kids and of course the famous YouTube,” I confess, rolling my wrists to flex the muscles.
“You stopped everything when you moved didn’t you?” His voice goes soft, and I hate the sympathy in his tone.
“They didn’t offer much there,” I lie. They did, but what can I say, I sunk into a deep depression after I left here. Anything that reminded me of my life here in Chicago pressed me deeper in the sinking pit of darkness.
He doesn’t press any further and I’m thankful. Standing up, he bounces on the heels of his feet.
“Alright, show me what you got.”
Getting into position I pull my fists up just like he taught me the other day.
“Come on, princess,” he waves his hands, taunting me to come forward. I scowl at his insult. Princess, I’m hardly that. I jab, and he ducks quickly.
“You missed,” he chuckles. Clearly he’s grown an ego since I saw him last.
I take another swing and miss again. He turns on the balls of his feet placing him behind me. Wrapping a strong arm around my body, his chest presses into my back. The smell of Irish Spring soap overpowering my senses.
“If you want me, you have to be faster,” he whispers into the shell of my ear. His breath hot and sticky against my skin. He nips at the lobe and lets me go, circling me like a shark.
Shaking the lust from my head, I get back into stance. Focusing on the fight at hand. Angry that I am becoming so love struck so easily, I throw a quick kick, and it hits him in the chest harder than I intended it to.
“Shit, sorry!” I cover my mouth scared I hit him too hard.
“Don’t say you’re sorry Tate. Ever. Not in the ring.” He looks at me angry.
“Right, sorr—” I catch myself doing it again. Looking up I find Camden adjusting his shorts, not paying attention.
Quickly I deliver an uppercut, hitting him in the chin.
Lowering my fists I smile proud.
“How’s that for too slow?”
“Good, but you messed up.” He smirks.
My face pales, I know I did that right. “How?”
He jabs me in the cheek with this right hand, and my eyes widen with surprise. A slight sting blossoming across my face.
“You left yourself open celebrating,” he chuckles, pissing me off.
“You hit me!”
He gives me a look conveying I’m being ridiculous.
“It was a love tap. Shake it off and show me what you got,” he waves me on.
I glower at him and charge him. Putting him into a Clench Hold. Wrapping my arms around his body, I hold him.
Using his free arms, he wraps them around my head, grappling for control.
“If you wanted to press your body against mine, you could have just asked,” his voice husky, it takes everything I have to not be turned on.
His hand skims along my breast, and goosebumps race up my arms. My body swaying into him on its own accord.