Against the Ropes
Page 3

“What’s your real name?” he rumbles.
“Makayla.” Oh, betraying lips.
He smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Makayla is a beautiful name. I’ll call you Makayla.”
Heat roars through me like a tidal wave. He likes my name. “So…about that ticket—”
He snorts a laugh. “I don’t need to buy a ticket.”
Why is he standing so close? Has he not heard of personal space? My body trembles from the exertion of pressing back against the ropes, and my brain clicks into babble mode. “I guess the joke’s on me. Rampage said I would have to fight you if I didn’t get you to buy a ticket. Not that I believed for a second I would have to fight. Well, maybe I did until we got here and I saw the ring and the blood spots on the concrete and I remembered my stepdad is a policeman. I mean I’m a girl and you’re a guy—”
He looks at me aghast and cuts me off. “Shhh. It’s okay, Makayla. I’m not—” He takes a step toward me. In my effort to dodge away, I lose my footing and the ropes propel me right into Torment’s chest. He steps backward and falls to the floor pulling me on top of him.
No way. I am not that heavy. Sure, I enjoy my desserts, but not enough to send a two-hundred-pound man tumbling to the ground.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. One of my legs is tucked between his muscular thighs. My br**sts are pressed against the warm, bare skin of his hard chest. My head is nestled on his shoulder and my hands rest lightly on his thick biceps. We breathe together. Our hearts pound together. I melt into him, not wanting what should be a humiliating moment to end.
Torment snakes an arm around my waist and I hold my breath, daring to hope he will pull me closer, but instead he rolls us so we are each on our side and rests one hand in the curve of my waist, propping his head up with the other.
“Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“Is this what you plan to do to every person who doesn’t buy a ticket?” he murmurs. “If so, I might have to offer you a permanent position.”
“You…own the club?” My eyes find yet another tiny tear in the mat. Really, he should keep his equipment in better repair.
“Yes, I do.”
“But Rampage—”
“Set you up.” He finishes my sentence for me. “I’ll deal with him when we’re done here. I don’t allow mixed fighting at the club, and I don’t force people to fight who have not already agreed to do so. I also have a zero-tolerance policy for hazing beautiful new staff members.”
He thinks I’m beautiful. Or maybe it’s just a figure of speech.
His warm hand strokes the dip of my waist and the curve of my hip, back and forth, up and down—a seemingly absent and casual caress. And yet, he appears to be a man very much in control of his body. A solid, heavy, muscular body.
“I didn’t really knock you down, did I?” My mouth blurts out my thoughts before they make it through the filtering process. As usual.
He gives me a slow, sexy, devilish smile but his sensual lips remain firmly closed.
Well, I’m not going to complain. He can pull me on top of him any day.
“Hey, Torment. Thirty minutes. Time to wrap.” Rampage’s voice cuts through my perfect moment like scissors.
In one swift, easy movement, Torment rolls to his front and pushes himself to standing. He easily pulls me to my feet. “I’ve got to go and get ready for my fight.”
A sliver of disappointment slices through me. “Sure. I’ve got to get back to the door, anyway. My boss might be upset if he knew I was rolling around on the mats with one of his fighters.”
Torment chuckles. “Your boss wants you to stay and watch the fight.”
“No can do, Boss.” I can’t help wrinkling my nose even though it isn’t my best look. “I’ve got a serious aversion to violence. Unless you’ve got a mop and a bucket handy, you do not want me anywhere near that ring.”
“If you don’t like violence, why are you working here?”
I shrug and my cheeks heat. “I needed the money. Amanda promised I wouldn’t have to go inside. I was planning to go home when you guys locked down for the big event.”
He studies me intently for a moment and then lowers his head until his lips are so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheek.
“Stay.”
Yes! God, I want to stay. So hot. So sexy. I could watch him all night. But no. I can’t. One punch. One drop of blood. One vomit bag, please.
“No. I can’t. Really can’t. Not a made-up can’t. It’s a physical thing. Basically, I can only stomach violence if I know no one is actually getting hurt. Boxing, wrestling, even karate or judo, all fall into my no-watch zone. Just not me.”
He stokes a finger along my jaw. Blazing heat shoots straight to my core, and my breath catches in my throat.
“Have you ever seen an entire fight?” He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and strokes his hand over my head.
Oh, lovely hand petting me. So gentle. If I had a tail, I would thump it.
“No. Not even on TV.”
“All the more reason for you to stay. You can’t sell tickets to an event you know nothing about. I would be remiss in my duty as your employer if I didn’t ensure you were familiar with the services we are offering, especially if I needed you to come back and help out again.”
Again? I thought this was a one-shot deal to cover for the regular ticket girls who couldn’t make it tonight. “I was doing okay.”