We’re standing in the middle of the octagon, and I don’t care how sexy he looks sweaty. He’s crazy if he thinks he’s going to win this fight.
“Quit your bitchin’ and put ’em on.” Cameron shoves the pair of lightly padded gloves at me again.
“No way.” I hold my hands up and back, shaking my head. “You’ve tortured me enough. I’m done.”
This was a mistake. I thought we’d head to the training center and he’d teach me how to kill a man using some fancy jui-jitsu nerve pinch. I was wrong. It wasn’t until he pulled me through the doors of the weight room when he informed me in his usual bossy way that we were going to work out. We.
After I not so politely explained that I don’t work out, he threw my ass on the treadmill to warm up. I figured it would be over sooner if I cooperated. He took me through a list of things with ridiculous names: deadlifts, burpees, and something called cat-vomit crunches, which sounded ridiculous until I did them and realized they’re aptly named. At last when he explained I’d done enough, he shows me to the octagon where he’s going to teach me something. Now. After an hour of misery? Nope. Not happenin’.
“Hardly torture, doll.” He’s grinning his not so big but totally big for him grin.
“Uh, yeah. It was.” I throw my arm out toward the weight room door. “For the love of God, Cameron, you made me run!”
He shoves the gloves toward me again, his lips twitching. “We’re not done.”
“Oh.” I cock a hip and wave a finger in his face. “We so are.” I point to my damp hairline. “You made me sweat!”
He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth clearly trying to hide his amusement.
“My body feels noodley.” I pick my shirt with two fingers. “And I’m all wet!”
His smile dies, and his eyes narrow into a heated glare that makes my tummy flip. He dips his chin and looks at me from under his eyebrows. “Put ’em on.”
I take a step back, and my blood races when he advances toward me.
“Not putting them on, Cameron.”
He tilts his head, and damn, I feel that look between my legs.
Another step. “It’s my responsibility to make you wet and exhausted.” One more step. “Let me do my job.”
My back hits chain link. He closes the space between us, and I’m practically begging for him to touch me. “No.”
“Yvette.”
I roll my eyes.
“On.” He holds out the gloves so that they brush against the tip of my breast.
A slow shiver runs down my spine and across my sweat-dampened skin. He’s glaring down at me with eyes that promise a reward if I obey. I hold out my hand and he slides one glove on before the other with a smug look of satisfaction on his perfect face.
He kisses my forehead. “That’s my girl.”
I close my eyes, suck in a shaky breath, and allow the warmth of his approval to wash over me.
“Eyes open, doll.”
They pop wide at his firm command, and I watch in awe as his large powerful body moves to the center of the octagon. With a flick of his wrist, he waves me over before sliding circular pads on each hand.
My shoulders slump, and I drag my overly exerted and now aroused body to meet him in the middle of the cage. When I meet his eyes, something looks different. This is a different Cameron. The heat of his glare is dark and determined. His jaw is clenched and his body’s standing firm, feet planted, and prepared. I don’t have a single doubt as to who I’m looking at now. This is UFL Heavyweight Cameron Kyle.
Embarrassingly, this Cameron shoots a straight shot of we-need-to-get-naked straight to my veins.
He holds his padded hands up like targets. “Let’s see how you hit.” He nods to my gloved hands. “Make a fist. Bring ’em up.”
I do as I’m told.
“Higher. Too low and they do you no good.”
I raise my fists higher, every command from his gravelly voice impossible to ignore.
“Good. Now”—he brings the targets up—“focus. Hit.”
Nervous but determined, I throw a punch and connect with his hand. Damn, that felt great.
“Again.”
I do it again and again until I’m breathing heavily.
He steps back, rips the pads off his hands, and tosses them aside. “Not bad, but probably not enough to fight off an attacker.” He waves me closer.
I move in, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his massive body and see every detail of his stubbled chin.
His dark gaze drops to my lips; it traces the line of my jaw back to my eyes. “I’m gonna put my hands on you now.”
Yes, please do.
“Fight me off.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to hide how insanely turned on I am. He reaches for me, and I try to dodge his grip, but he’s too fast. His hands lock around both my wrists, and I jerk back, away from his unrelenting hold. I pull harder, tug against him, but he’s too strong. Throwing my entire body weight back, I try to wrench my arms free.
“Enough.” He lets me go. “You’re doing exactly what I’d expect. You’re pulling away.”