Page 37 of Whatever Lola Wants

He was grinning openly now, eyes gleaming like golden fire. He wasn’t even breathing hard, his hair only slightly mussed. Jeez. Just because she knew he was going to win—just because she actually wanted him to win—well, that was no reason not to make him work for it.

Her eyes narrowed as they took up positions about ten feet apart. He liked to move fast, and he liked to go low. Yeah, she could work with that. “Count us in,” she told him. She drew a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs, imagining the oxygen filling her body, her muscles, her blood with energy.

“Three…”

His body shifted, going low—though not as low as before. She smothered a grin. Having gotten the upper hand so quickly the first time out, he was no longer treating her as a serious threat. He’d seen her move, countered easily, and now he figured the rest would be a cakewalk. And he was thinking more about getting his dick wet than he was about the battle.

“Two…”

Which he would, no question. But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“One…”

Not nearly that easy.

“Go.”

He was already moving, coming in fast and low just like before, but this time she didn’t try to evade; instead, she rushed him. Pushing off with her back foot, she leapt forward, aiming just to his right. She saw his eyes flare with surprise in the split second it took for her to make contact with his body. His arm lashed out, reaching for her; she hooked her elbow around his, and using momentum, swung herself around and onto his back. She landed with a grunt, immediately wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her ankles together. She kept her elbow hooked through his and yanked up, forcing his arm up between his shoulder blades, and flung her other arm around his neck. She still held his arm in the crook of her elbow, her forearm flush with his back, and with a solid yank, she pulled her arm high enough to lock her hands together.

It all took less than ten seconds.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, her breath panted against his neck. He stilled, and she felt the shock hit him when he realized she had him well and truly monkey wrapped.

She knew the move he wanted to make. If it wouldn’t mean stepping off the rug—and losing the round—he’d have already moved to the wall and pressed her back against it, using his weight and mass to gain the upper hand. Likewise, he could slam her down on the floor, but that would mean hurting her beyond the rules they’d set out.

His left hand came up to clamp on the arm she held around his neck, and she tightened her grip. She knew, given enough time, he could use his long fingers and superior strength to pry her loose, but she also knew she was likely to choke him out before that happened. Her arm squeezed his neck in just the right spot, pressing on the carotid artery and restricting the flow of blood to his brain. It was a frequently used submission hold, and depending on the pressure exerted, could cause unconsciousness in a matter of seconds.

Which meant if he didn’t tap out, he’d pass out. And she was going down with him.

Half a heartbeat later, she felt him slap her shin three times in rapid succession. Tap out. She immediately loosened her hold, dropping her legs and hopping nimbly off his back.

He turned to face her, and she backed up a step before she could stop herself. The disbelieving fury on his face made her want to laugh even as it made her throat close up. She felt that intoxicating mix of fear and anticipation, the lust vying with basic self-preservation instincts. Scared and helpless and turned on beyond all reason.

God, she’d missed this.

She smiled. “That ties it up, I believe.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, face like stone. She might have been worried, but the tent pole in the front of his shorts was ample evidence that fury wasn’t the only emotion he was experiencing.

He backed up until his heels hit the edge of the rug, his eyes locked on hers. A fine sheen of sweat coated his body, his muscles gleaming in the overhead light. “You’d best brace yourself, little girl.”

She didn’t bother to answer, just walked back until her feet rested on the opposite end of the rug, the expanse of it between them.

His lips curled into a grin, sharp and fierce. “Count.”

The snarl in his voice made her want to laugh, to run, to tackle him and beat him to the floor. But she had a feeling he’d take care of that last one for her.

“Three. Two. One. Go.”

They flew at each other, hands slipping on sweaty skin, grappling for purchase. She sidestepped a leg swipe, landing a back fist to his abdomen as she pivoted away. She spun, trying to get behind him, but he pivoted with her, and this time she couldn’t evade the sweep of his foot. She landed on her back, her breath whooshing out of her lungs on impact, and before she could react, he was coming down on top of her.

She reared up, throwing her legs back in an attempt to flip herself over backwards, but he was there before she could complete the move, catching her legs in mid-flip and pinning her nearly in half.

His face was inches away from hers, eyes blazing, lips peeled back in a feral grin. She bucked, and he countered by dropping his weight to hold her in place. His hands were planted next to her shoulders, her hands clamped onto his wrists. Her legs draped over his shoulders, her knees practically in her own armpits—thank you, yoga—and his hips…oh God, his hips pinned hers to the floor, and she could feel everything.

The wet heat of her pussy drenching her panties, the rigid length of his cock pressing against her, pulsing with the beat of his heart. The tickle of his chest hair on the backs of her bare thighs, the tingling in her nipples. Mouth dry, she licked her lips, and felt his hips twitch against her as his gaze followed the movement.

“Pinned,” he rasped. “I win.”

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