Caged (Mastered 4)

“He knows his shit.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

He shrugged. “It’s what you asked. But if you meant what do I think of Riggins’s role at Black Arts? Whether he’ll stay through the building of the MMA program, or if he’ll just train with Sensei for belt advancement? Don’t think Riggins knows the answer to that.”

The referee moved to the center of the floor, brandishing a microphone. “According to regulations set forth by the national organization, in light of actions by both teams, I’m ending this bout as a double forfeit.”

A chorus of boos rang out.

“That’s a weird end to this.” Molly nudged Deacon’s shoulder. “Means you’ll get to eat sooner. But I have to see if Presley’s okay first.”

Deacon insisted on holding her hand, so she let him lead the way. When they reached the floor, Molly noticed the coaches were in a heated discussion with the referee. The players had spread out to remove their skates.

Presley was perched on the edge of a wooden bleacher seat, holding an ice pack to her face. A smile broke out when she spied Molly. But then she dropped her gaze to Molly and Deacon’s joined hands. “I left you three hours ago. In that time you managed to forget every damn thing we talked about?”

“Deacon showed up at the office and apologized. We realize we have a lot to talk about”—Deacon snorted—“but I’d promised I’d come tonight, so here we are.”

“I don’t know whether to smack you or hug you.”

“I wouldn’t recommend smacking her,” Deacon drawled. “Molly consistently outpunched you in class.”

“She outpunched everyone because someone gave her special treatment.”

“Nope. She’s just that good.”

“What happened tonight?” Molly asked, trying to change the subject, but secretly she basked in Deacon’s compliment.

“Double forfeit. They started the fight knowing we wouldn’t back down. Now the forfeit puts our losses even with theirs. So they did it to move up in the standings.”

Molly didn’t point out the Divas could’ve avoided the loss by not taking the bait and avoiding the fight. “When’s your next bout?”

“I’d have to look at the schedule. But I know we’re holding tryouts next month.” Presley said the last two words in a singsongy manner. “The Cisco Kid is moving back to Oregon, so there’s an opening on the team.”

Bloody Mary strolled by and did a double take at seeing Deacon. “Hey, hot stuff. Couldn’t get enough of me, eh?”

He lifted one eyebrow.

That’s when Bloody Mary noticed Molly and Deacon were holding hands. “You and Cherry? Never would’ve called that one.”

Rather than let it go, Molly said, “Why is that?”

“You lost your shit seeing me fully clothed on his lap. Imagine how you’d react seeing me doing this”—she gyrated her hips and lewdly thrust out her ass—“wearing only a G-string and a grin.”

“I’m imagining it, all right. Not sure whether a spinning back kick or an uppercut would be most efficient to knock you off his lap.”

“Jesus,” Deacon said under his breath.

Bloody Mary looked her over. Then she smiled. “Gotta respect a bitch who don’t back down when it comes to defending her gals or her guy.” Then she smirked at Deacon. “Watch your balls, ’cause sweet Cherry here is gonna own them.”

“And . . . we’re done,” Deacon said, dragging her away.

Shoot. She didn’t even get a fist bump from Presley for her excellent defense of her man.

He’s your man? After only a few hours?

Sure felt like it. Especially when Deacon pressed her against the building as soon as they were outside and devoured her mouth. The hot, wet kiss sent her pulse tripping. She became so light-headed she had to clutch him to keep herself upright.

He slid the heel of his hand above her heart. “Babe. Gotta remember to breathe when I kiss you.”

She sucked in a lungful of air on a huge gasp.

“Better?”

She nodded.

Deacon eased back and locked his gaze to hers. “Two things. One, there’s no fucking way I’ll ever let you strap on a pair of skates and run with those crazy-ass bitches. Two, made me fuckin’ hard hearing you threaten to take on Marisol for me.”

The possessive glint in his eyes? Hot. The decree of what he’d allow her to do? Not hot. At all.

Molly fisted her hand in his shirt, pulling him closer. “Two things. One, I’ll try out for the Divas if I want to. Two, now that we’re together? No more strip clubs.”