He lifted his fists, raising his guard. Muscle flexed and rolled. His biceps bunched, tight and round.
There was an intriguing little pucker high on his shoulder that looked like the scar from a gunshot wound. A second scar, this one long and slashing, ran down one side of his abdomen and disappeared into his waistband. She wanted to trace it with her fingers.
Focus, dammit.
What the hell was wrong with her? She never got distracted during a bout. Though to be fair, none of her opponents fought half-naked.
Or looked like Ridge Champion. Sweat-slicked, strong, so deliciously male.
Focus, Kat!
To force her mind back to business, she spun into a roundhouse kick. He ducked under her slashing leg, kicked out a foot, snagged her ankle, and dumped her on her ass.
Ridge pounced before she could roll away, one hand capturing her wrists, legs twining around hers, his big body crushing her into the mat.
Kat snapped into action, trying the half-dozen tricks she knew to get out of this kind of hold. None of them worked. He even jerked his head out of range of her attempted head-butt. And smiled.
Think, dammit. He’s too freaking strong. You’re going to have to out-think him.
“All right,” Kat gasped, forcing her muscles to relax, watching him under half-closed lids. “You win.”
“Do I?” That sensual mouth twitched. “There’s a promising admission.” He relaxed fractionally, strong legs loosening their grip on her thighs. His lids drooped to a lazy half-mast, and he lowered his head.
Kat went still under the kiss. It was slow, lazy, a thorough exploration of her mouth, as exquisitely tempting as the one the night before.
No, even more so. Sweat and effort gave his body a sultry heat that eroded her sense of discipline. She could feel him going hard against her belly, the long width as intriguing as his soft, sinful lips.
Kat opened for him with a moan. Her head spun, and she let herself yield. His free hand slid up to cup her breast, sending teasing heat spiraling despite the thick fabric of her athletic bra.
She squirmed, letting her legs fall apart. He nudged her chin up to give her throat a teasing nibble, then lifted his weight to allow her to spread her legs around his. She braced a palm against his muscular ribs.
. . .
And gained precisely the leverage she needed.
With a twist of her legs and a heaving thrust of her arms, Kat threw him off and bounced to her feet, falling into a combat crouch. “Let’s try that again,” she growled through gritted teeth.
And Ridge, lying flat on his back, began to laugh.
Frustrated, she raked her sweaty hair out of her eyes and glared at him. “What’s so damned funny?”
“Grace did explain how you actually become a Maja, I trust?”
“Yeah, we have to have . . .” She trailed off. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” He gestured at the erection still tenting his pants. “Oh.” She blinked at him, trying to decide whether to feel triumphant or moronic. “You mean I passed your test.”
He chuckled, folding his arms behind his head as he gazed up at her. “Honey, you knocked it out of the park.”
“I thought I had to beat you.” Kat frowned in confusion.
He snorted. “Not very damned likely. I’m an eighty-year-old vampire with sixty years of combat experience, and I once deadlifted a Cadillac off a pedestrian. You’re good, but you ain’t that good.” Realization struck. “I never had a prayer.”
“You did better than I expected.” He grimaced. “Then again, I didn’t expect you to be able to throw a punch without detailed instructions and a map. Most new Majae can’t.” Puzzled, Kat dropped to her knees on the mat. “So what the hell was the point?” Ridge knelt in front of her like the sensei he could have been. “I wanted to know if you could think on your feet. If you’d panic when faced with overwhelming odds. Whether you could take a punch without running home to Mommy.”
She raised a brow. “And?”
“And you don’t panic. When you got pissed off, you controlled it instead of making stupid mistakes.