In Your Corner
Page 39
“You ready for the submission?” Drake is not totally unaffected by this position. His cheeks are flushed, his voice deeper. Thank God, he’s wearing a cup. At least, I think he’s wearing a cup.
“Ready.” I swing my leg around his neck and pull his right arm between us toward my breast as I lift my other leg to his shoulder.
“What the f**k?” Jake’s angry voice cracks through the whirr of machines, the grunts and thuds of sparring partners, and the low hum of training chatter.
“Now the fun begins.” Although his eyes glitter, amused, Drake beats a hasty retreat off my body. Rampage helps him up, murmuring he should have known better and asking if he has a will and can he have Drake’s locker because it is in a prime spot right near the shower.
My breath leaves me in a rush as Jake stalks across the mats in a fury like I’ve never seen before. His face is stark white, eyes cold and hard, jaw tight. But it isn’t fear that makes my heart pound and my knees week—it’s Jake…in his crisp, white jiu-jitsu gi, a black belt tied tight around his hips.
Oh God. How could I have forgotten how hot he looks in his gi? I mentally make a shopping list for the weekend: Submission Master, check. Gi and black belt for Submission Master, check. Vibrator, check.
Jake’s gi flaps open as he walks, giving me a glimpse of the muscles rippling across his chest. The cut of the jacket emphasizes his broad shoulders and the belt is tight around his narrow hips. The stiff material swishes angrily with his every step. He looks powerful, dangerous. Predatory. I cannot tear my eyes away.
Without breaking his stride, he pushes through my puzzled classmates and hits Drake in the chest with the palm of his hand. I can imagine that hand breaking boards and smashing bricks. I can imagine it caressing my br**sts, stroking my thighs…
“Whoa.” Rampage steps between them. “Just a class, man. Doctor Death was just helping out. Grapple Man didn’t do it for your girl, so he stepped in.”
Jake’s gaze slides to me on my back, legs bent and apart, cheeks flushed. Maybe this is a good time to shut down the submission position. I pull myself up and then jump to my feet.
“Don’t move.” Jake growls at me without taking his eyes off Drake.
“We were doing a triangle.” Drake explains. “Grapple Man kept kissing her pu**y, so I thought I’d step in and…”
“Oh Christ.” Rampage sighs and shakes his head. “Doctor Death has a death wish tonight.”
The small crowd around us stills. Even cheeky, overly confident Drake pales and steps back when Jake hisses out a breath.
Too late.
Jake strikes like a cobra. One minute he is in front of Rampage, the next he is behind Drake, an elbow around Drake’s neck in an actual rear naked choke hold. As seen on television. Don’t try this at home. Drake goes down. Drake jumps up. Now Drake is angry too. More people gather.
“Renegade. Stop.” My feeble words go unheard as Jake lunges at Drake and goes for a double leg takedown. Drake hits the mat hard and rolls, taking Jake with him. Suddenly Drake is in full mount. The crowd cheers.
Jake manages to extricate himself from Drake’s submission hold and jumps to his feet. He charges as Drake struggles to his knees and Drake goes flying across the mat. He lands with a loud thump and a string of curses. Without slowing, Jake lets loose with some boxing-type punches. He throws knees and Drake gets him off balance, taking him down and then following with an elbow to Jake’s abdomen. Drake leaps to his feet but Jake stays on his back. I give Rampage a worried glance, but his eyes are wide with wonder.
“Didya see that? Drake grabbed a guillotine but Renegade popped out.”
“Huh?”
Jake lands a big uppercut then just misses Drake with an impressive spinning turn followed by a powerful elbow strike. Drake dives down for a clinch, and the sharp blast of a whistle cuts through the cheers of the crowd.
“Fuzzy?”
Rampage sighs. “Fuzzy.”
Within moments, the floor is clear. The crowd is disbursed. Rampage and the class are back on the mats under the grapple dummies. Fuzzy has the two miscreants on the bleachers and glares at them like they’ve committed a crime. I sit beside Jake, guilt gnawing at my stomach. I should have sent Drake away.
“We’ve got a rule here about fighting outside the ring,” Fuzzy barks. Then he glares at Drake. “And you know better than to mess with someone’s girl in the gym.”
Drake’s eyes flick to me and then back to Fuzzy. “Didn’t know they were together. I was just helping out. Amanda and I are good friends.”
Jake growls softly, then leans back on the bleachers and drapes his arm over my shoulders, jerking me into his side. Possessive. Challenging. His legs are spread, his body seemingly relaxed, but his jaw is tight, and his hands clenched into fists.
Silence.
Fuzzy sighs and dismisses Drake, promising to think up a suitable punishment by the end of the evening.
After Drake leaves, Fuzzy glares at Jake and nods toward the side door. “Fists of Fury offered to finish up your class. I have to write up a formal warning for both you and Doctor Death. You might consider paying attention to the rules because friend or no friend, you know Torment won’t hesitate to boot your ass out the door if you pull this kind of stunt again.”
Jake grunts his understanding but doesn’t move.
“You’d better get back to your class,” Fuzzy says to me. “Rampage has your Grapple Man waiting for you. I think Shilla the Killa is free. She’ll be able to help you out.”
“Ready.” I swing my leg around his neck and pull his right arm between us toward my breast as I lift my other leg to his shoulder.
“What the f**k?” Jake’s angry voice cracks through the whirr of machines, the grunts and thuds of sparring partners, and the low hum of training chatter.
“Now the fun begins.” Although his eyes glitter, amused, Drake beats a hasty retreat off my body. Rampage helps him up, murmuring he should have known better and asking if he has a will and can he have Drake’s locker because it is in a prime spot right near the shower.
My breath leaves me in a rush as Jake stalks across the mats in a fury like I’ve never seen before. His face is stark white, eyes cold and hard, jaw tight. But it isn’t fear that makes my heart pound and my knees week—it’s Jake…in his crisp, white jiu-jitsu gi, a black belt tied tight around his hips.
Oh God. How could I have forgotten how hot he looks in his gi? I mentally make a shopping list for the weekend: Submission Master, check. Gi and black belt for Submission Master, check. Vibrator, check.
Jake’s gi flaps open as he walks, giving me a glimpse of the muscles rippling across his chest. The cut of the jacket emphasizes his broad shoulders and the belt is tight around his narrow hips. The stiff material swishes angrily with his every step. He looks powerful, dangerous. Predatory. I cannot tear my eyes away.
Without breaking his stride, he pushes through my puzzled classmates and hits Drake in the chest with the palm of his hand. I can imagine that hand breaking boards and smashing bricks. I can imagine it caressing my br**sts, stroking my thighs…
“Whoa.” Rampage steps between them. “Just a class, man. Doctor Death was just helping out. Grapple Man didn’t do it for your girl, so he stepped in.”
Jake’s gaze slides to me on my back, legs bent and apart, cheeks flushed. Maybe this is a good time to shut down the submission position. I pull myself up and then jump to my feet.
“Don’t move.” Jake growls at me without taking his eyes off Drake.
“We were doing a triangle.” Drake explains. “Grapple Man kept kissing her pu**y, so I thought I’d step in and…”
“Oh Christ.” Rampage sighs and shakes his head. “Doctor Death has a death wish tonight.”
The small crowd around us stills. Even cheeky, overly confident Drake pales and steps back when Jake hisses out a breath.
Too late.
Jake strikes like a cobra. One minute he is in front of Rampage, the next he is behind Drake, an elbow around Drake’s neck in an actual rear naked choke hold. As seen on television. Don’t try this at home. Drake goes down. Drake jumps up. Now Drake is angry too. More people gather.
“Renegade. Stop.” My feeble words go unheard as Jake lunges at Drake and goes for a double leg takedown. Drake hits the mat hard and rolls, taking Jake with him. Suddenly Drake is in full mount. The crowd cheers.
Jake manages to extricate himself from Drake’s submission hold and jumps to his feet. He charges as Drake struggles to his knees and Drake goes flying across the mat. He lands with a loud thump and a string of curses. Without slowing, Jake lets loose with some boxing-type punches. He throws knees and Drake gets him off balance, taking him down and then following with an elbow to Jake’s abdomen. Drake leaps to his feet but Jake stays on his back. I give Rampage a worried glance, but his eyes are wide with wonder.
“Didya see that? Drake grabbed a guillotine but Renegade popped out.”
“Huh?”
Jake lands a big uppercut then just misses Drake with an impressive spinning turn followed by a powerful elbow strike. Drake dives down for a clinch, and the sharp blast of a whistle cuts through the cheers of the crowd.
“Fuzzy?”
Rampage sighs. “Fuzzy.”
Within moments, the floor is clear. The crowd is disbursed. Rampage and the class are back on the mats under the grapple dummies. Fuzzy has the two miscreants on the bleachers and glares at them like they’ve committed a crime. I sit beside Jake, guilt gnawing at my stomach. I should have sent Drake away.
“We’ve got a rule here about fighting outside the ring,” Fuzzy barks. Then he glares at Drake. “And you know better than to mess with someone’s girl in the gym.”
Drake’s eyes flick to me and then back to Fuzzy. “Didn’t know they were together. I was just helping out. Amanda and I are good friends.”
Jake growls softly, then leans back on the bleachers and drapes his arm over my shoulders, jerking me into his side. Possessive. Challenging. His legs are spread, his body seemingly relaxed, but his jaw is tight, and his hands clenched into fists.
Silence.
Fuzzy sighs and dismisses Drake, promising to think up a suitable punishment by the end of the evening.
After Drake leaves, Fuzzy glares at Jake and nods toward the side door. “Fists of Fury offered to finish up your class. I have to write up a formal warning for both you and Doctor Death. You might consider paying attention to the rules because friend or no friend, you know Torment won’t hesitate to boot your ass out the door if you pull this kind of stunt again.”
Jake grunts his understanding but doesn’t move.
“You’d better get back to your class,” Fuzzy says to me. “Rampage has your Grapple Man waiting for you. I think Shilla the Killa is free. She’ll be able to help you out.”
