Love, Tussles, and Takedowns (9 page)

Just imagining another man with Lia had his hands fisting in reflex; imagining one breaking into her apartment and hurting her? That made him…rabid.

“Well, you certainly have the stalker breathing thing down pat,” she commented, a teasing smile curling around her words.

He grinned. “And still you haven’t hung up on me.”

“It’s been a slow day. And you have a nice voice as far as stalkers go.”

He heard a small shuffle on her end as her voice mellowed out mid-sentence.

“Did you just lie down? No wait, don’t answer that.”

She chuckled.

Yeah, she was definitely lying down now.

This really shouldn’t be
that
sexy.

“Why are you calling, Hudson.”

“Like I said, I lied.”

“When?”

“Earlier, when I said goodbye to you.”

Her silence was deafening over the phone line.

“Even though I spent the last three hours driving away from you, even though in a few months’ time, I’ll be living even farther away from you—my goodbye to you this morning was a lie I told myself I had to keep up when it was the furthest thing from the truth.”

“The truth being…”

Damn, she wasn’t going to make this easy on him.

“The truth being that I don’t
want
to stop thinking about you. I don’t want to say goodbye. Not yet. Probably not ever. But for the time being, we’ll just work on, ‘not yet.’”

“So what are you suggesting? Us becoming pen pals?” Her smiling voice gently teased him over the phone line. “Facebook friends? Phone buddies? Skype partners? Wait, scratch that. I’m Skype-challenged. But I could get into Twitter if that’s your thing.”

He chuckled. “Why don’t we keep it simple. Phone buddies sounds good.”

“Done.” She paused again before asking suspiciously, “Wait, you’re not thinking we’re going to be the what-are-you-wearing-right-now kind of phone buddies are you? Because I have zero experience with that.”

He burst out laughing. “No, just plain old ‘how-was-your-day’ phone buddies. Not sure my patience and restraint could survive otherwise.”

“Okay.” Her voice smiled at him again. “So ‘how was your day,’ buddy?”

Some soft shuffling on her end turned into muzzlier breathing soon after.

“You falling asleep on me, honey?”

“Trying not to. But like I said, it’s been a long day.”

“You want to call it a night?”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, sounding like she was snuggling into a pillow. “I kind of want your voice to be the last one I hear tonight.”

Christ, the woman had no idea what she did to him.

“Lia?”

“Hmmm?”

“So what are you wearing?”

She chuckled sleepily. “Right now? A smile with your name on it.”

He groaned. She was way better at this sort of phone call than she thought.

CHAPTER SIX

THIS WAS OFFICIALLY the strangest friendship Lia had ever had.

And it was making her act strange, too.

Here she was, in the middle of a sparring workout at her favorite gym and her mind was miles away. Two hundred miles to be exact.

Yes, she’d googled it.

Despite Hudson’s crazy schedule working nearly around the clock rehearsing fight choreography, training cast members, and working set design and the prop crew, he barely had pockets of time to rest in between. But he always made sure to call her or at least text a few times a day. And in the hours in between, she thought about him constantly.

Yep, she had it bad.

But who could blame her? Hudson was just so—

BAM.

A fist landed squarely in her obliques, knocking half the wind out of her lungs.
Shit.
She really needed to get her head back in the ring. This was her third round of sparring for the evening—if you could really call it sparring. Garrett, just like the two fighters before him, was mostly a kickboxer, which had made her workout thus far this evening relatively uneventful.

She shot in for an ankle-pick and took Garrett down.

As she proceeded to curl him up into a human pretzel, she had to admit that working out with the guys was a nice relaxing release. Ever since Isaac, the owner of
The Pound
, moved his start-up MMA gym from Tempe over to Cactus Creek, the gym had come alive in a brand new way. Now, Lia made it a point to work out there a few times a week, usually the nights she wasn’t teaching her self-defense classes at the rec center. And since the guys—who’d now become like a second set of unruly brothers—all checked their ego at the door, they were great fun to hang out with as well, regardless of who was handing out the beatdowns that day. Hell, she’d gotten her ass handed to her on multiple occasions and more times than not they ended up grabbing a bite to eat afterwards.

Three sharp palm slaps on the mat beside her head brought her back to the moment. Quickly, she let go of Garrett, who groaned as he brought his legs down away from his ears. “So
that’s
what my ass looks like,” he quipped.

When all his limbs were repositioned back in the way God had intended, he teased, “I like it when you don’t hold back, babe. It brings a new level of kink to my workout.”

Lia let out a relieved breath and laughed along with the guys, one of whom already had ice bags waiting for Garrett.

When she took inventory of how many ice bags the three guys were sporting, she cringed. “I’m really sorry, guys. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Don’t apologize,” reassured Tony, “This was the best workout I’ve had all month, blows to my ego aside, of course. If you could come back this pissed each week, that would be awesome.”

Garrett shook his head knowingly. “Naw, our girl isn’t pissed. She’s pent up.”

Lia felt her cheeks burn bright red. An absolute first in all her time at The Pound.

As she endured her first real ribbing by the guys—ever—suddenly, she felt her skin heat in an altogether different way.

She
felt
his eyes on her before she saw him.

Hudson.

Her body recognized the intensity of that stare as if it were hardwired to her directly.

The guys were all but forgotten, now. Hell, the whole room faded away like white noise as she watched Hudson climb into the ring.

Lia enjoyed watching him move. There was nothing hurried about his motions; he always seemed relaxed and confident, efficient and ready. He wasn’t intimidating in that built-like-a-fridge way her friends who’d played football in college were. Rather, he was leaner. But infinitely harder. More etched out of wood than molded out of clay. As such, running into his chest was literally like running into a wall.

A hard, sexy wall lined with bricks.

“You’re killing me.” His voice simmered, soft and low, with a lazy smile curving his lips to show his words were more compliment than complaint. It took just one glance at the throbbing pulse in the muscular column of his neck for Lia to know he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he sounded.

Then all analysis of the man scattered when he went and peeled his shirt up over his head, sending those granite-etched muscles of his back rippling and expanding. His eyes tangled with hers as he toed off his shoes and immediately, Lia felt a surge of adrenaline override any female reaction she’d normally have to the sight.

Because the man was doing something so much
better
than flirting.

He was inviting her to play.

No gloves. No strike pads.

With a slow grin, she snagged her teeth around the Velcro bindings on her MMA gloves and started stripping off the boxing tape underneath as well.

This was
exactly
the kind of sparring she’d been craving for weeks now.

* * * * *

HIS GORGEOUS LITTLE ‘phone buddy’ fought like a jungle cat.

Feline quick and almost playful at first, she tested him with a few loose-palmed punches and basic kicks that he knew better than to underestimate.

Rightfully so.

An instant later, she unfurled a complex strike combo that was really just a precursor for the kick he didn’t see coming until it snapped up and rung his bell.

Dammit, that was sexy.

Hudson backed up and used the dull throb in his ear to regain his focus. Enough warm-ups. If he didn’t get his blood pumping through his limbs soon, he was going to have one really stiff limb that would make him hurt for days.

Without preamble, he struck hard and fast, then dropped down low to go in for a double leg takedown. Lia sprawled like two legs of a tripod, and narrowly missed the attempt.

Seconds later, they were circling each other again. This time, she struck first. Thrusting jabs and iron-palm punches blasted in rabbit-quick chain strikes around his body.

Normally, his sparring partners would throw careful, loaded punches with large backswings, giving him time to block. Lia used no backswings, which made her viciously fast. He found he had to up his game considerably to block her punches.

She’s good.

So she
had
been holding back earlier with the kickboxer. She was sort of a martial arts mutt like he was. And it was an excellent pedigree. He could see it in the way her muscles remained relaxed until just before the moment of impact, and in how she sank down with each strike as opposed to generating her force upward. Both fighting traits spoke to an impressive foundation to her training. Definitely new school MMA over old school boxing.

When he struck next, she blocked by crossing her forearms in front of her and twisting them like twin cake mixer blades. Before he knew what hit him, she’d shoved his punching arm away while simultaneously gripping his free arm and striking him soundly in the chest.

A kung-fu counterattack.

How the hell had he not recognized her kung-fu training before now?

Probably because in his world, fighting was mostly about offense.

Far less enlightened.

She retreated to reset her bearings but he didn’t give her a second to breathe. He spun and struck with a reverse elbow, snapping his arm up into a back fist strike. With no time to counter, she stretched to the side and caught his next punch with an open hand. Using another kung-fu technique he’d only seen in the movies, she flicked her wrist down on his fist to redirect the force of his punch and break his wrist tension. She then immobilized both his hands with one hand while sending the palm of her other hand to the center of his torso like a battering ram. Wickedly quick and powerful, it was the counterattack on crack with a twist.

He jumped back, coughing to get air back in his lungs. “That must be the Wing Chun trapping technique I’ve heard about.”

She gave him an innocent grin.

He grinned back and shot forward with a stiff forearm strike, a standard sparring technique.

But Lia was anything but a standard sparring partner.

She redirected the force of his punch back onto his own arms, which snapped his knife hand form up and back toward his own chest.

With a grimace, he rubbed his stinging chest and his stinging pride over being bitch-slapped by his own hand.

He was nothing if not a quick learner, however.

Patiently, he circled, planning his next attack while waiting for hers.

He didn’t have to wait long. She attacked eagerly, punching viciously. When the right strike came, Hudson curled his hand around her wrist to block and redirect her punch.

Like a veteran at her favorite move.

* * * * *

DAMN, HE WAS a quick study.

And now he was heading to the front of the class.

Lia watched as Hudson basically took the safety off a gun and launched a series of strike and kick combinations unlike anything she’d ever seen. No rhyme or reason. No pattern. Seemingly no thought. She backpedaled quickly, barely managing to block each one.

Just as she thought she was finally able to keep up, he then changed tactics again, hooking her leg when she least expected it and taking her down.

Crap in a bucket. Ground and pound fighting wasn’t her strength. Hudson, however, was excellent. He was Army-trained and all. He had her wrapped up and joint-locked in no time, trapped under him fully from shoulders to knees.

Huffing for air, arms twisted around her own body like a pretzel, she did the only thing she could do—backbridge to try and buck him off of her.

His breath hissed out.

But not in pain.

Curious, she bridged again, and again, managed to rub up and over him like a cat in heat…which had a predictable effect on Hudson. Her eyes lit up as he shifted his body lower in self-preservation. Now suddenly ultra-aware of what her inadvertent motion had done, she moved to take more advantage of the very feminine hold she now had on him.

His eyes narrowed, as if recognizing her scheming intent, and squeezed tighter, cocooning her with his body, his face just inches from hers.

She held her breath, thinking, just for a second, that he was going to kiss her.

Who knew fighting could be such a turn-on
, she thought, her lips twisting into a wry grin.

Keeping her pinned under him, he gazed into her eyes and then whispered against her lips, “
Say uncle
.”

Despite her serious lack of air, she burst out laughing and all the guys who had gathered to watch Lia get schooled for a change began hooting and clapping.

He let her go the instant she tapped out and they both rolled onto their backs to suck wind for a bit. As the crowd dissipated, Lia looked over at Hudson and grinned, impressed that he was already breathing normally again. He really was a superb fighter.

Her grin quickly faded and her own breathing started picking up again when she saw his gaze roam over every inch of her before returning to her eyes with an intensity that pinned her in place all over again. But in a way that she most definitely wasn’t thinking of tapping her way out of.

“Told you guys it wasn’t anger,” commented Garrett from outside of the ring. “And from the looks of it, she’s not the only one that’s pent up.”