Champion(11)

Soon, their moves started to speed up, the strength of their hits increasing. Saff narrowed her gaze. Something told her Blaine Strong was never happy unless he was pushing himself, fighting for the win.

She felt perspiration bead on her forehead. She was using all her strength to block his moves. He was strong and fast.

Finally, Blaine stepped back, sticks by his side. “Enough with the training. Let’s fight. Best of three.”

Saff smiled grimly. Maybe this was the distraction they both needed. “You’re on.”

He attacked first, rushing in with vicious strength. Whack. She lifted her sticks, spinning and dodging. He might be fast and strong, but she was more experienced.

A second later, she tangled his sticks with hers, wrapped her legs around his hips from the side, and brought them crashing to the mats. He lunged up to knock her off him, but she shifted, pressing one of her sticks down into his neck.

“Yield.”

He smacked his palms against the mat. “Dammit.”

Saff bounded back to her feet. “That’s one to me.”

Blaine snatched up his fighting sticks and turned. She saw him pushing back his fury, and he crouched in a fighting stance, raising the sticks.

They went again, the two of them dancing across the mat, sticks thwacking against sticks. Saff kept part of her attention on the boundaries. If she stepped out, it was an automatic win for him. She dodged, turned, and then dived in a somersault across the mat. With a growl, he came after her, sticks whirling.

His next charge was so fast, she felt a stick whack against her ribs. With a grunt, she stepped back, and a vicious smile of satisfaction crossed his face.

For a second, Saff didn’t care about the fact that she’d stepped outside the ring and the fight went to him. That smile… Pure heat curled in her belly. That smile turned him from hard and dangerous, to something insanely attractive.

“Okay, one point each,” she said. “This final match is for the win.”

He nodded, then reached behind himself, and grabbed the neck of his shirt in his fist. He jerked it over his head, leaving him clad only in simple fighting trousers.

Saff’s mouth went dry. She let her gaze drift over him. She’d known he was solid, but the guy had a heavily-muscled chest and abs honed so hard they didn’t look real. Her gaze snagged on every scar that marred his skin—each one with a story to tell of grit and survival. Confusion rocked her over her reaction. She spent all her days training and fighting with half-dressed gladiators. She’d seen lots of sexy male bodies, and she was sure she’d seen men much more gorgeous than Blaine Strong.

But right now, she couldn’t for the life of her remember who. She moved her head from side to side and shook her shoulders, trying to work out the tension. She didn’t need to be distracted by a man’s chest.

Once again, he came at her fast and hard, but this time Saff was ready. She dodged, she blocked, and got in some hits of her own.

Thwack. Thwack. The sounds of the hits were punctuated with their harsh breathing.

Suddenly, Blaine lunged in close. She slammed her stick against his, but his second one hit across her chest. She sucked in a breath and he slid an arm behind her back, bending her backward over his arm. Their chests were pressed together, their sticks caught between them. They stayed there for a long moment, frozen in that embrace.

“I win.” Masculine satisfaction in his voice.

“An important rule of the arena is not to get cocky.” She whipped her leg out, knocking into his knee. He went down.

Saff rammed her weight into him. His back hit the mats, and he grunted. She landed on top of him, straddling his chest.

She brought her stick down on his neck again. “I win.”

He shook his head, staring up at her. She expected to feel his anger, but he was smiling.

“How come I can’t feel your anger?”

“Can’t be too upset with a beautiful woman on top of me.” Then he frowned, his gaze zeroing in on her face. “Feel my anger?” His big body stiffened. “You know what I’m feeling.”

Saff was used to people distrusting telepathic abilities. “I have slight empathic senses. Inherited them from my mother.” When his face went blank and she felt the wash of his angry confusion, she felt a slash of hurt. She pushed it away and started to move off him. “Don’t worry, Earth man, I only get a hint.”

He gripped her thighs, not letting her move. “You can’t read my mind?”

“No. I doubt even a strong telepath could bust through that hard head of yours.” He was watching her steadily and she sighed. “I get hints of emotion, that’s it. And to be fair, you broadcast your anger with your entire body. I don’t need any abilities to guess what you’re feeling.”