Stubborn as Mules (Romantic #SPG)

3: Hallway Hot Encounter

She was in the same hideous glasses, and the uniform did nothing for her, but he couldn't get the woman of last night out of his mind. As he fastened her buckles, he began to draw parallels between the fantasy of last night and the woman in front of him now; the long limbs, flawless skin, and full lips. As he went through the motions of tightening the straps of the armor, he indulged himself by tracing the length of her spine between them.

"Do that again, and I'll break your legs," she said slowly. 

Moving in front of her, he knelt, while she moved behind him and with a brisk and brutal hand, helped him with his padding. She refused to admire the breadth of his shoulders or the way he smelled. Formal as ever, they bowed, got to their feet and bowed again. 

"Don't get yourself killed," was all he said, and then he smiled slightly, his blue eyes twinkling. She wondered briefly if he was flirting, and then dismissed it. She had better things to do.

With a lot of ceremony, the fights began. 

With powerful legs and arms Katrina cut down one after another. She never remembered the details of a fight; for some reason her conscious mind shut off and all she saw were openings, breaches in her opponents' guard. All she heard was the blood beating in her ears and the sound of her own heavy breathing through the thick plastic of her helmet. 

By the end of the day, she'd torn her knuckles open on her left hand, and the two she used for punching were severely bruised. Her arms and legs ached, and one of her toes wasn't bending properly, but she'd made it to the semi finals, and that was enough. She was exhausted. For the first time in two days, the only thing she was fantasizing about was sleep. 

Katrina was one of those people who knew her strengths, and one of them happened to be an unnatural knack for avoiding people. She made it back to the hotel without having to deal with Troy Keller or anyone else. She declined Aries invite to a Broadway show, citing exhaustion and sore muscles and stepped into a hot shower. Twenty minutes of privacy under the steaming spray softened her skin and made her feel almost human again. It also enhanced every one of her aches, making her dream of ice and a professional massage. Stepping out of the shower, she smoothed moisturizer into her skin and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. 

Room service, a bucket of ice, and a movie sounded like heaven. To her relief, the hallway was clear. Bucket in hand she made her way to the ice machine. 

At that same moment, Troy was stepping out of his room. He didn't feel like spending another night cooped up by himself and figured he'd see if there was a Jazz club or something in the area. 

The woman in front of the ice machine stopped him dead in his tracks. The tank top she wore exposed the smooth expanse of her back, and wouldn't accommodate a bra. Her flimsy plaid boxers revealed long, gorgeous legs and an ass so beautiful he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from touching it. Keller's hands fisted as he felt his jeans get painfully tight. He didn't have to talk to her, he told himself. He could ignore her, but try as he might, he couldn't move his legs.

"How are your knuckles?" he asked.

Katrina's spine stiffened, and with a sigh, she realized she was too tired to pick a fight. 

"They feel like they've been run over a cheese grater," she said with her back to him.

"Hit the helmets a lot?"

"It wins points and it's not the first time," she said over her shoulder.

"You know . . . I watched you fight . . . you're quite good." Hard and brutal, but there was a grace to her movements she probably wasn't aware of.