“But…”

“You’re his.” Rampage’s face softens. “Looks like you’re the only one who doesn’t know it.”

Stunned into silence, I go through the motions as Rampage leads us in a warm-up. Then it’s over to the wall to get a grapple dummy.

“Make sure you get a submission dummy,” Rampage hollers at us. “I don’t want to see anyone with a practice dummy and no bags. Amanda, you take Grapple Man because he’s lighter than the rest. Everyone else can take a Bubba II.”

Wrapping my arms around the life-size, six-foot training dummy, I drag it across the mats. Eerily human, the fifty-five-pound mannequin has realistic and bendable arms, legs, and torso, and his skin has the feel and resiliency of human flesh. The molded hair and face give him the appearance of a giant Ken doll. When no one is looking, I check under his cotton shorts for anatomical correctness and find him lacking. Just like Ken.

“Today we’re going to drill basic submissions from the bottom—arm bars, triangles, and kimuras. We’ll do them one after the other, ten reps each.” Rampage positions us all on our backs and ropes Drake into helping everyone position the dummy on top.

“How’s my best girl?” Drake kneels down beside me and brushes the hair away from my face. “I stopped by your new office after surgery the other night and I couldn’t believe the lights were out at eight p.m. Only putting in half days now, are you?”

“It’s a whole new me.” I grin and push myself up to my elbows. “No late nights. Getting in shape so I can learn how to fight. And I’m down to only four cups of coffee a day.”

Drake frowns. “So I’ll be seeing you on my operating table in fifteen years instead of ten.”

“Chill. I’m feeling good.”

His gaze roves over Ken tucked between my legs, his plastic face nestled between my br**sts, and winks. “You’re looking good. Always like to see a woman in submission.”

“Shut up, Drake…er…Doctor Death. This isn’t the place for sexual innuendo. I’m trying to learn serious fight techniques.” I fake a scowl while Drake repositions the dummy, one plastic hand on either side of my head, one plastic pelvis where an anatomically correct pelvis might go.

“He’s in full mount,” Drake explains. “Dominant.”

I’ll bet.

“Um. Is this the right position?”

Drake sucks in a laughing breath. “It’s the position I use. The ladies seem to like it.” He leans closer and whispers. “You seemed to like it.”

“Rampage!” Unable to move with roughly sixty pounds of dummy on top of me, I turn my head and holler. “Get Doctor Death out of here. He’s harassing me and definitely enjoying himself too much to teach me properly.”

More wheezing laughter and Drake helps me position my right leg around Ken’s neck, my ankle tucked behind the back of my left knee. Ken’s head is locked tight between my legs, his mouth tucked tight against the curve of my sex. Hoooah! I might just buy a grapple dummy for the long, lonely nights ahead.

Drake lifts Ken’s head. Ken’s head slides down and bumps gently between my legs. Drake tries again, but Ken has other ideas. Ken knows where a woman wants a man’s mouth and if Drake keeps doing what he’s doing, I’m going to need a dummy with real lips…and a tongue. I suspect Drake knows this all too well.

Finally Drake sits back and sighs. “Problem with you using Grapple Man is that he’s designed for a bigger fighter. He won’t stay put. And there’s not enough tension in the arms. A real person will hold his head up and push against your legs. The Submission Master would be better, but he’s our heaviest practice dummy and I think he’ll be too much for you.”

The Submission Master? My body tingles and my mouth waters. YES, PLEASE!

Drake removes Ken from between my legs and gives me a thoughtful look. “You want me to help you out?”

“Did you bring a body bag with you?” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Apparently, although Renegade and I are not together in any meaningful way, I’m not to be touched, looked at, or share the same air as any man in Redemption. According to Fuzzy and Shilla the Killa, you’re taking your life in your hands just by helping me.”

“It’s just a basic submission.” Drake gives me a wicked grin. “And I’ve always wanted to go a few rounds in the ring with Renegade, maybe wipe away the scowl that always appears on his face when he sees me.”

“It’s your funeral…Doctor Death.” I manage to say this without laughing. So long as Drake’s head doesn’t fall into my now throbbing sex, I should be good.

“I’ll take the dominant position.” Drake kneels in front of me and motions for me to spread my legs.

My throat thickens and I part my legs to accommodate his muscular body. “Okay.”

He crawls over top of me and drops his weight to his elbows. His body is warm and heavy on mine. Oh God. It’s been too long since I’ve had a man. And Drake was my last. My body heats at his familiar touch and I focus on keeping still.

Bad body. Don’t think about sex. Fires. Insurance companies. Wills. Documents.

But how can I not think about sex when Drake is throwing around words like dominant, submission, mount, and pound? What it would be like to have Jake show me the moves, his body mounting me, his voice driving me to submission. My cheeks flush and I turn my head so Drake doesn’t see. Rampage is demonstrating a rear naked choke to one of my classmates. What I wouldn’t give for a rear naked…