Looking around, I realize that my feet have pulled me closer to the cage. Zeke is in his corner, nodding and nudging his head at people in the crowd with that huge smile still plastered on his face. My eyes fix on his glorious presence, and I take in every inch of his muscle-bound body. My pulse quickens. He has tatts all over but the one just above his black shorts catches my attention. I squint trying to read the words. Taking a few steps closer, they begin to take form. Oh, my God, they say Ride the Lightning! And right then, I declare that’s exactly what this wild bitch is going to do. I’m going to ride Zeke Declan hard!
The ref calls the fighters to the center to go over the rules, and that’s when I see yet another one of Zeke Declan’s masks. His expression turns from playful and charming to serious and ruthless. And it stays that way for the next seven minutes and twenty-two seconds, when they call the fight. Zeke was breathtaking, fast, accurate, and dominant. He crushed his opponent. And a few minutes later, walking out of the bar, I can still feel the dampness between my thighs. Observing my sexy, novel study turned me on.
The parking lot is dark. I spot the golf cart and head for it.
“Leaving so soon, Picasso?”
The sound of his voice, like a lasso, loops and spins me around. Shirtless, muscles glistening with sweat against the dim light, Zeke casually leans against the side of the building. A faint rise and fall of his chest gently breaks his stoic composure as if he’s still trying to catch his breath from the fight. “Enjoy the show?” A smile tugs on his mouth as he waits for me to respond.
“Maybe.” I smile. “If I was one to enjoy watching two idiots beat the shit out of each other.”
“Ah …” He chuckles, deep and low. “You disagree with the sport?”
I don’t. The savage and powerful exhibition I just observed, there was something stimulating about it. Not that I’m going to admit it to him. “I didn’t say that.”
“What?” He turns his head slightly to the left, keeping his eyes connected to mine. “Come closer.” He tilts his chin, his grin widening as his head turns back to me.
“Why?” My body freezes.
“I can’t hear you,” he says, pushing himself from the building but only takes a single step toward me. Everything inside responds to him, my nipples harden, the tiny hairs on my body rise, and the dampness between my legs increases. How can a man cause this kind of response to a woman’s body just by taking a single step?
Dammit. Get it together. Rayna has faith in you.
“Okay.” He lightly chuckles again. “Here,” he thrusts out his hand, “let me see your phone.”
“Why?”
“Just give it to me,” he says, and I know when a guy like Zeke Declan demands something from a woman, she probably gives him what he wants. Not this girl.
“No.” I smirk, flip around, and start for the golf cart. I hear heavy footsteps behind me, but I continue to crawl into the small cart. I drop my cell on the passenger seat, stick the key in the ignition, turn to the left, and glance up. He’s looming over me with an arm stretched up on the roof of the golf cart. I skim past his naked, muscular chest. I push myself back in the seat and cross my legs.
“Look at you,” his eyes slowly roll down my stringent body, “all little Miss Uppity. I bet it’s hard maintaining that perfect posture, watching every word fall properly from those pretty red lips, and keeping those legs crossed so tight that your thighs are begging for some relief. Well,” he leans his forehead against his forearm, gazing down at me, “maybe it’s not your thighs in need of some relief, huh?”
“Now, now …” I grin. He’s flirting with me, and that’s good. It’s exactly what I want. “Who would have thought Zeke Declan would be attracted to a woman with good posture, who spoke proper English, and who also knows how to sit like a lady.”
With a crooked grin, his brow lifts. “Attracted to you?”
“Yeah.” My eyes drop to the waist of his shorts, inspecting his tattoo. I find myself wanting to trace each letter with the tip of my finger. I flash my eyes back to his. “Why else would you be thinking about all the begging that may or may not be going on between my thighs?”
“Sweetheart.” He bends down, nearing my face, my mouth, and my slightly parted lips. “It’s my biological instinct to relieve any begging that might be going on between the legs of any woman, perfect posture or not.”
“Well, I can guarantee you that your biological services are definitely not needed here.” I cross my arms over my chest. It’s a defensive position, but I am on the defense here. Even to an educated, levelheaded woman such as myself, the man is tempting. Giving in to my attraction to Zeke and letting him get what he wants, well, that’s not going to break him. I need to make him work for it, and just when he thinks he’s going to get what he wants, I need to make him work harder. It’s a game, I know. But what man doesn’t like a good sport? Eventually, it’ll wear him down, and I will win. I will break him and his absurd rules.