Page 61 of At Her Pleasure

She would have rolled her eyes, but it hurt too much.

“I’ll get you both ice packs and some ibuprofen. And do me a favor. Don’t ever do this again.” Grizzly ducked out of the ring and gave everyone a thumbs up. A short burst of applause and amiable calls penetrated her awareness, but Grizzly barked at everyone to get back to their workouts.

Cyn glanced at Ros as she rested on her heels next to her. “I’m ready for our match now. If you think you can keep up. You were dragging last time. Your live-in boytoy has made you soft.”

Matt ran a hand over his face and glanced at Ros. “All I can say is she must be good at her job.”

“I remind myself of that every day,” Ros said. “Some days it requires more than once.”

“You two are hilarious,” Cyn said. “And I’m not good at my job. I’m fucking awesome.”

Ros tugged her hair. “Yes, you are. You’re still going to put an ice pack on your face, go home, swallow down some aspirin and spend your day resting. Or I’m firing you.”

“You’re just worried I’d still kick your ass today, proving my point.”

Cyn was done lying on her back. She pushed up, ignoring that Ros helped support her on one side, Matt on the other, and she still swayed. They moved her to a stool someone had helpfully put in the ring.

She looked toward Matt. Fair was fair. “You won. This time. What are your terms?”

Ros’s hand was at the small of her back, which was fine, but Matt’s on her shoulder didn’t feel as invasive as it should have. So Cyn twitched and he removed it.

“I’ll get my stuff from my locker and meet you out front to discuss it,” he said.

Probably a way to reinforce what Ros was practically demanding she do, go home and lie down. Since that throb in her nose was moving to the top of her skull, and her body said she was going to feel the effects bigtime when the adrenaline slipped away, Cyn might humor Ros and do that.

“All right,” she told Matt. “I’ll work out some more until you’re ready.”

His lips quirked at the obvious bullshit, but his eyes didn’t smile. Once he rose and left the ring, he accepted handshakes and congratulations, but his shoulders were stiff, and he moved with purpose toward the locker room.

It irritated her. She was pleased he was being congratulated exactly as he would if he’d faced a better than decent opponent.

She’d fought well. Matt hadn’t bested her on footwork or hand-to-hand skills. She’d missed some cues and let him grab her, giving him the advantage of brute strength. But she’d managed to break those holds, until his elbow made her see stars.

Howard Bluefield, a tank-sized boxer who worked out with Matt regularly, slapped him on the back as he passed. Tossing Cyn a venomous eye, he boomed out, “Well done, Kensington. Way to put the bitch back in her place.”

Before she could open her mouth and tell Howard to go screw himself, Matt had turned and dropped him.

With one solid blow to the jaw.

Howard weighed about fifty pounds more than Matt, and had been a middleweight champ in his thirties. He could take a punch. Yet he staggered and fell onto his ass, with a stunned expression and glazed eyes.

Okay, it was still possible Matt had held back on her.

“She can hold her own against anyone here.” Matt jerked his head toward Cyn. “Don’t talk about her like that again.”

Grizzly was back and standing at Matt’s shoulder. He glared at Howard. “If you do, your ass will be out. I don’t put up with that kind of shit. This ain’t no espresso bar workout club. Our members earn the right to be here.”

Howard rubbed his jaw and glared for form’s sake, but he accepted Matt’s hand to help him up. “Yeah, sorry. Got carried away.” He glanced at Cyn. “Didn’t mean nothing.”

Cyn’s nose was bleeding, she realized, but it didn’t stop her from giving him a smile with crimson-stained teeth. She took the handful of tissues Ros gave her. “Fuck off, Howard. We all know you’re an asshole.”

Laughter swept those watching the byplay, easing the tension. Even Howard gave her a grudging smile, lifting one giant paw to throw off the comment.

But when Cyn’s gaze moved to Matt, his attention was on the bloody tissues. Turning, he disappeared down the hall toward the men’s locker room.

“Don’t tell me I owe him an apology,” she muttered to Ros as she used the ropes to pull herself to her feet. Ros steadied her. “I’m okay.”

“Some days I doubt that.” Ros stepped back with visible effort. “Is this about Mick?”

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