Hard Knocks: An Ultimate Novella. Lori Foster

her. “You’re the one having a tantrum.”

      Gage stood there while they fussed at each other. Harper was like that with all the guys. She helped out, gave as good as she got, and treated them all like pesky brothers that she both adored and endured.

      Except for Gage.

      From the get-go she’d been different with him. Not shy, because seriously, Harper didn’t have a shy bone in her hot little body. But maybe more demonstrative. Or rather, demonstrative in a different way.

      He didn’t think she’d smack any of the other fighters on the ass.

      But he wasn’t stupid. Encouraged or not, he knew guys were guys, period. They’d tease her, respect her boundaries, but every damn one of them had probably thought about sleeping with her.

      For damn sure, they’d all pictured her naked.

      Those vivid visuals were part of a man’s basic DNA. Attractive babe equaled fantasies. While Harper hustled around the rec center helping out in a dozen different ways, she’d probably been mentally stripped a million times.

      Hell, even while she sniped back and forth with Armie, Gage pictured her buck-ass, wondering how it’d feel to kiss her like that again, but without the barrier of clothes in the way.

      “You need a swift kick to your butt,” Harper declared.

      “From you?” Armie laughed.

      Fighting a smile, she said, “Don’t think I won’t.”

      “You wanna go?” Armie egged her on, using his fingertips to call her forward. “C’mon then, little girl. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

      For a second there, Harper looked ready to accept, so Gage interceded. “Children, play nice.”

      “Armie doesn’t like nice.” She curled her lip in a taunt. “He likes kinky.”

      In reply, Armie took a bow.

      True enough, if ever a man liked a little freak thrown into the mix, it was Armie. He’d once been dropped off by a motorcycle-driving chick dressed in leather pants and a low-cut vest, her arms circled with snake tattoos. She’d sported more piercings than Gage could count—a dozen or so in her ears, a few in her eyebrows, lip, nose. The whole day, Armie had limped around as if the woman had ridden him raw. He’d also smiled a lot, proof that whatever had happened, he’d enjoyed himself.

      Unlike Gage, Armie saw no reason to skip sex, ever. Not even prior to a fight. The only women he turned down were the ones, as Harper had said, that were too nice.

      “Come on.” She took Gage’s hand and started dragging him toward the back.

      “Hey, don’t leave my storage closet smelling like sex,” Armie called after them. “If you’re going to knock boots, take it elsewhere!”

      Harper flipped him the bird, but she was grinning. “He is so outrageous.”

      “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” Just where was she leading him?

      “Eh, maybe.” She winked up at him. “But I just act outrageous. I have a feeling it’s a mindset for Armie.”

      Ignoring what Armie had said, she dragged him back into the storage closet—and shut the door.

      Gage stood there watching her, thinking things he shouldn’t and getting hard because of it. Heart beating slow and steady, he asked, “Now what?”