Chapter Sixteen
Lessons Learned from MacGyver
#143
The best partners are the ones you always seem to fight
with.
Sitting on the mat, I tried not to fidget as Dwight lectured us, but it was hard. Let me count the ways.
1) We’d just finished working out and I was sweaty. My underwear stuck to me uncomfortably. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it had shifted so it straddled the dividing line, if you know what I mean. And I couldn’t dig it out because of my cup (yeah, I wear one just like the guys—it’s not fun getting hit in the cootchie).
2) I couldn’t stop thinking about what Rio said to me yesterday. His words went around and around in my head until I was crazy dizzy and even more confused than I was at the museum.
3) I’d drunk a lot of water during my workout and I needed to pee.
“Philomena.”
“Yes, sir.” I snapped to attention, barely stopping myself before I saluted Dwight.
He shook his head as if he didn’t know what to do with me. “Philomena, I asked you how you’re doing with the homework.”
“Homework?” Shit. What did he want us to do? And God, did I need to pee. “I’m doing well. Thanks.”
He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Do you remember what the homework was?”
I glanced at Matt, who sat next to me, willing him to give me a clue. He shook his head at me too. I told him with my eyes that I was going to start interviewing for a new best friend.
Then I remembered. “Oh, yeah. The homework. Right. I’m doing well.”
There were a couple of snickers from the lower belts. I took notes so I could properly beat—um, instruct them on respecting their betters later.
“In what way have you practiced?” Dwight asked, waiting for me to hang myself.
I’ll show him. “Just by being more aware when possibilities present themselves.”
“What opportunities have shown themselves to you?”
Rio was the first thing that came to mind. I needed someone to help me get back Barry and there he was, right in front of me. Though I couldn’t tell Dwight that.
Of course, it didn’t quite work out the way I’d meant it to. I’d pretty much forgotten about Barry the last several days. Hell, I’d barely thought of him at all. But Rio ...
I went mushy on the inside. I really liked him. A lot. The kind of like that makes you queasy in the gut.
I frowned. I’d gone out with Rio because of Barry, but maybe Rio was the real opportunity here.
The lightbulb flicked on bright.
But my parents ... The light dimmed a little. They were still expecting Barry at the party. I felt a moment of panic. Then I remembered the feel of Rio’s hand in mine and how he felt holding me from behind as he whispered in my ear. Not to mention how glowing I felt after spending time with him.
I blinked. I loved him.
“Doc,” Matt whispered sharply. He jerked his head toward our instructor, who was studying me with a quizzical expression.
“I have to go.” I jumped up and bowed quickly to Dwight. “I have an opportunity I need to grab.”
I rushed out of class, snatched my bag, made a pitstop at the bathroom, and headed for my car.
The guy at the front desk looked up when I burst through the gym doors. “Hey, there. How can I help you tonight?”
“Is Rio still back there?” I pointed to the studios, already heading in that direction.
“Yeah.” His welcome smile turned knowing. “Go right on back.”
“Thanks.” I ran down the hallway to Studio 3, but he wasn’t there. A trill of panic coursed through me, but I told myself he had to be here—I just knew it—so I started looking in all the glass-enclosed classrooms.
I found him in the last one. His back was to me and he was sparring with someone. It took me a few seconds to recognize that his opponent was Barry.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stood there, waiting for them to take a break.
Barry must have caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, because he dropped his hands and said, “Mena?”
“Barry, don’t—” I winced as Rio popped him a solid one on the chin “—drop your guard.”
To his credit, Barry didn’t go down. He did look pretty dazed though.
Rio stopped weaving and bobbing. “You okay, Barry?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
He didn’t sound sure, but I wasn’t going to point that out. I needed Rio to myself.
“Why don’t we call it a night,” Rio suggested to Barry, though his eyes were on me. “You should ice that.”
“Uh, yeah.” He staggered in the direction of the locker rooms, shaking his head the whole time.
Taking off his gloves, Rio waited till Barry was out of earshot before he said, “This is a surprise.”
I couldn’t tell from his neutral tone whether that was a good thing or bad. Might as well assume the best, so I smiled. “I was in the neighborhood.”
He just stared at me with his blue eyes. I couldn’t read any emotion in them, and that freaked me out. I came here to hand over my soul to him—why was he watching me dispassionately?
I was tempted to back out of the room, but that would have been the coward’s way out. I scowled. I’m no coward.
Damn it, I came here to give him an answer and I was going to give it regardless of what he did with it. I knew what I wanted and I was going to seize it.
Narrowing my eyes, I strode up to him till I was toe to toe. His expression never changed.
I lifted my chin and said the only thing I could think of. “I came to fight you.”
There was a flicker in his gaze. When he didn’t say anything, I thought I’d imagined it.
But then he said, “Are you sure?” and I caught a hint of something that sounded an awful lot like hope and desire.
Emboldened, I dropped my bag and pushed it aside with my foot. “More sure than anything.”
He studied me as if gauging how serious I was.
“What? You scared?” Probably not the wisest to goad him, but if something didn’t happen soon I was going to snap with tension. “Think you can take me?”
“I can take you,” he replied softly, tossing his gloves aside. “The question
is
can you handle it?”
“I want to handle it,” I told him seriously.
His smile was a slow, erotic bloom, kind of like those Georgia O’Keeffe paintings. “Good.”
Then he rushed me.
It surprised me, but I ducked left. As I went under his arm, my elbow grazed his ribs, then I immediately whirled around and punched his kidney (lightly, only so he’d feel it, not so he’d piss blood for the next week).
He retreated out of my striking range and appraised me with renewed respect. “Impressive.”
I shrugged and kept an eye on him. He was out of my range, but he could still kick me (did I mention how his legs were strong and lanky?). Not that I thought he might kick—boxers wouldn’t think of doing that, since it was against their rules. In Kung Fu, there were no rules, so I had the advantage. The only advantage he had against me was his smile.
He dropped his weight, lifted his fists, and bobbed from foot to foot, doing his boxer’s thing.
See, I didn’t get all that fidgeting around that boxers did. Granted, Rio didn’t expend a lot of energy doing it; I had the feeling he did it just enough to try to psych me out, to distract me.
He threw a couple of jabs. I faded back and slapped them away, measuring the length of his arms. Fortunately, I was used to working out with Matt, who also had long arms, so I wasn’t intimidated by his reach. I just needed to slip in and he’d be mine.
I
so
wanted that.
I thought I’d play with him a little myself. I set my weight and circled him to the left. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“I’m taking it easy on you.” He didn’t sound winded, even though he’d been sparring with Barry.
I liked that. “I think you’re scared of being beat by a girl.”
“I might be if I actually thought you’d beat me.” He threw a right hook.
It was lightning fast and I almost got caught by it, but I managed to duck under, striking up to his nose (I only tapped it). I was going to use it to leverage his head back and push him to the ground, but there weren’t mats in the studio and I didn’t want to hurt him. So instead, I twisted his head to the side and stepped behind him.
I pulled him down till my lips were against his ear. “Do you know how to go down?”
His lips curled, slow and evil. “Try me.”
Shiver. I’d love to.
Before I could reply, he twisted around, grabbed my arms, and kicked my foot out from under me. I breathed out as I went backward (it helps take the sting out of the fall), but at the last moment he twisted.
“Oof,” he huffed as I landed on him.
“That’s what you get with chivalry.” I climbed on top of him and hooked my feet under his knees to keep him from reversing my hold. As I hindered his arms, I tucked my head in the crook of his neck. It was tactical (gets your head out of striking distance), but I used the opportunity to inhale him.
God, he smelled good.
He struggled to get his arms free. He was much stronger than I and without my causing him any pain I knew he could overpower me, but his struggle was half-hearted. Really, to me it seemed like he was just rubbing himself up against me, but that may have been wishful thinking.
“Next time I’ll know better,” he said, testing my hold.
I lightly bit his neck. “Next time you won’t get the chance.”
He bucked his hips and flipped us over, reversing my grip and pinning my arms over my head.
I paused. Mostly I just wanted to luxuriate in the feel of him stretched on top of me. Unfortunately, he wore a cup too, so I didn’t get the full effect.
Even though I couldn’t feel his package, I could see how turned on he was by the look in his eyes as he stared at me. His gaze dropped down to my chest. My gi top had opened, and under it I wore only a white athletic bra, soaked with sweat. It had to be transparent enough to show the outline of my nipples, which hardened shamelessly under his gaze.
And to tell the truth, the way he had me pinned turned me on. A lot. A new feeling for me, because fighting was always just fighting, not foreplay.
I arched my back. Using everything at your disposal was the first commandment in Kung Fu. “Like what you see?”
His grip tightened on my wrists even as he casually replied, “It’s intriguing.”
I was about to take advantage of him being distracted when he dipped his head and set his teeth around my right nipple.
I gasped. “Oh, that’s playing dirty.”
He nuzzled me. “I haven’t even begun to get dirty yet.”
I wanted to ask why the hell not, but I got lost in the bite and release of his teeth on me.
With the last vestiges of sanity, I crossed my arms over my head, broke his hold, and tugged both his arms to one side. Quickly, before he could react, I straightened his leg by burrowing my knuckle into a pressure point, flipped him over, and sat on top of him again. His arm still in my grip, I trapped it in a figure-four leverage.
“Do you give up?” I panted. From excitement, not exertion.
He smiled slowly, his lids half-lowered. “Are you sure you won the round?”
“I think it’s a safe assumption.” I torqued his arm the tiniest bit to remind him that I had him trapped. No way was he getting out of this hold, at least not without a broken shoulder.
“Didn’t your parents teach you about assuming?” he asked.
“Yeah—” I grinned “—but some situations are outside the realm of change.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are they?”
I applied a touch more pressure on his arm. “Aren’t they?”
He reached up with his free hand, wrapped it in my ponytail, and brought my face down to his, his mouth a breath away from mine. “You sure about that?”
Gulp. “You may have a point.”
His nose rubbed mine. “Are you going to let me go?”
With his lips (the lips I’d been coveting for what seemed like eons) so close to mine, I was already losing my grip, in more ways than one. But I couldn’t concede so easily. Not without knowing what I was getting in return. “What’s in it for me?”
“I should think that’s obvious.”
“Um—” I shivered as his cheek rasped against mine. “I need clarification.”
His tongue flicked my lower lip. “How much clarification?”
I almost fell off him, I was so shocked at the shooting sparks the lick caused. I felt it all the way down to my toes and back up to the tips of my breasts.
My hold slipped. I’d thought he would muscle his way out of it, but then I realized he wanted me to surrender to him. Willingly.