Shayla gives Jake a final warning, and the two fighters move back to the center of the octagon. The fight increases in intensity with Jake and Master Mayhem trading kicks and punches. All that raw power unleashed in a primitive steel cage sets my blood to a boil. Jake’s pecs ripple with each punch, his tight abs strain, and his tantalizing ass teases me as he circles the mat. He is constantly in motion, moving in for the punch and then backing away. In and out. Back and forth. Almost like dancing. Or sex.

The crowd, now three people deep around the cage, cheers as Master Mayhem grabs Jake’s legs and takes him down to the mat. But Jake is quick. He wraps his arm around Master Mayhem’s leg and twists himself into a pretzel shape, holding on for dear life.

“I don’t think Master Mayhem will be able to shake his leg free from Jake’s half guard,” Fuzzy says, as if that means something to me.

In a blur of sudden motion, Jake twists Master Mayhem’s leg backward in a way legs are not supposed to go. The crowd roars in approval. Master Mayhem taps out.

Fuzzy gives Jake a begrudging thumbs up. “He’s a good fighter. Despite all the rule breaking, he won.”

“Renegade fighter.”

Fuzzy glances over at me, a frown creasing his brow. “What did you say?”

“He’s a renegade. Might make for a good ring name.”

“Amanda.”

My head jerks up and I catch sight of Jake leaning against the cage, arms crossed, his perfect body glistening with sweat. He meets my gaze and my cheeks heat. All the awkwardness of high school returns in a flash. I shift from foot to foot. My hands clench and unclench. My eyelashes drift down over my cheeks and I turn away.

At least I think I do. But my feet are still stuck to the mat. And I am lost in a sea of blue.

***

“Renegade.”

Rampage dumps a beer on Jake’s head and Jake officially becomes Jake “Renegade” Donovan.

A grin splits his face and he gives me a wink before he is swarmed by well-wishing fighters who all want to celebrate his new ring name by thumping him on the back or punching him in the gut.

“Do you like your name?” I hand him a towel when he finally breaks free and joins me at the side of the cage. He’s still pumped from his fight and his “christening,” eyes shining, muscles quivering, adrenaline still pulsing under his skin.

“Fuck, yeah.” He grabs me around the waist and crushes his lips against mine, then releases me so quickly, for a moment I wonder if it even happened. “Thanks to you. I heard you came up with the name.”

Stunned, with the sweet burn of his kiss still lingering on my lips, I breathe slow and deep, trying to quell the sudden rush of arousal that has turned my mouth dry and sent my pulse into overdrive.

“You’re…welcome.” My voice is a throaty rasp, made even more painful when I lick my lips and taste his salty sweetness on my tongue.

“You ready to grab some burgers?” He throws a casual arm around my shoulders, which I take as a signal his kiss was just a friendly kiss, a thank-you kiss, and not meant to be a kiss that rocked my world in a way I’m not sure I want anyway.

“Sure. You can’t get too much fat, carbs, and grease into your system, I always say.”

He chuckles and gives me a squeeze. God, I wish he would stop doing that. Despite my brain’s warning that these are friendly gestures, my body is entirely misinterpreting his signals. My panties dampen. My ni**les tighten. And I am so hot, I am tempted to strip down to my undies on the pretense of doing some fighting of my own in the cage.

“I’d have to give up the burgers if I wanted to train seriously,” Jake murmurs half to himself. “Don’t think I can swing it though. I need to put more time into the company if I’m going to turn things around.”

We walk in comfortable silence down the corridor and then Jake turns into the changing room. “Just going to grab a shower. Back in a few.”

Desperate for a distraction, I wander around the foyer. The chalkboards are filled with schedules of the daily training regime. No yoga, tai chi, step, or low-impact classes at this gym. Instead, there is “Ground and Pound,” “Grunt ’n’ Grapple,” and “Mission: Submission.”

“You interested in training?” Fuzzy stops on his way to the changing room and gives me a wicked grin. His number two buzz cut does look delightfully fuzzy under the bright, overhead lights, but I restrain myself from running my hands through his hair.

“Just looking.”

“Well, if you are interested, you should start with my boot camp class, Get Fit or Die.” He taps the chalkboard beside his name. “It’s best to get conditioned first, so you don’t injure yourself.”

“What do you do in Get Fit or Die?”

His eyebrow twitches. “I kick your ass until you beg me to stop and then I kick it some more.”

“How can I say no to a good ass kicking?”

Fuzzy’s smile broadens. “You can’t. Next session starts on Monday. I’ll be expecting you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

After he heads into the changing room, I chat with the few remaining fighters in the hallway, catching up with old friends and making a few new ones. Makayla, tucked tight under Torment’s arm, gives me a meaningful wink as they saunter out the door.

Finally I am alone. The screen in the corner flashes the new Team Redemption MMA logo. Showers whoosh in the changing rooms. The gentle murmur of voices and Sandy’s sharp laugh drift from the workout area.