“Damn, that is skimpy. I love it.”

Pleasure danced inside her. His appreciative gaze did wonders for her ego. She was fully aware that she wasn’t supermodel-gorgeous, but gosh darn it, Gage made her feel like she was.

His hand rested on her thigh during the entire drive across town. What he’d referred to as the arena ended up being an enormous warehouse in the city’s west end. Gage pulled into the jam-packed parking lot in front of the sprawling gray building and drove up to a row of reserved spaces. After he’d killed the engine, he hopped out and rounded the vehicle to open Skyler’s door.

And her friends said chivalry was dead.

Two minutes later they strode into the building, and Skyler was astonished by the number of people crammed inside of it. Bleachers spanned three of the arena’s walls, while the fourth housed a bar area with a mile-long line.

The crowd was surprisingly eclectic. The Irish folks were easy to spot thanks to their thick brogues and the pints of Guinness in their hands. The hipsters looked bored by it all—they were probably there ironically, anyway—and Skyler also glimpsed several groups of businessmen in the bleachers. Some people were covered in tattoos, some weren’t. Some women wore sneakers, others wore heels. And almost everyone was screaming their lungs out, all eyes focused on the cage in the center of the room. It boasted ominous chain-link walls, and a large fighting surface covered with faint reddish stains. Blood, Skyler realized. Wiped away, but not entirely.

Two men were locked together in the corner of the cage, one curled over on the mat and locked into submission by the one above him. Even from where she stood, Skyler saw the veins bulging in the captive man’s forehead. He was red-faced and gasping, meaty fists pounding upward at the man trapping him in the hold. But to no avail. Several seconds passed before the man’s shoulders slumped and he slowly tapped the mat.

As the crowd roared, the winner hopped up and raised his arms in a victory pose.

“I asked for an early slot, so I should probably head over to the locker room now.” Gage led her to the bleachers and found an empty seat, then gestured for her to sit. “You’ll be okay here, but if anyone gives you trouble, tell them you’re with me.”

She nodded. “So what do I say to you? Break a leg? Kick his ass?”

“Good luck will do just fine.”

“Good luck then.” She stood on her tiptoes and smacked a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled, and a second later he was swallowed up by the crowd.

Skyler turned her attention to the cage, where the next fight was starting. This one featured an African-American man with full-sleeve tattoos and a beefy opponent with a shaved head that gleamed beneath the bright lights. While the previous match had resembled wrestling, this one looked more like boxing.

Skyler watched with wide eyes as the fists began to fly. She couldn’t hear anything but the roar of the fans, but she imagined the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, hard thumps and sickening crunches. Two women next to her screeched like banshees, cheering for the dark-skinned man, while a group of guys in the row behind her boomed out encouragements for the stocky fellow.

Lord. She was definitely leaving here tonight with a migraine.

By the time the buzzer sounded and the final round ended, Skyler was wondering what all the appeal was—and then she spotted Gage, and the answer became pretty darn clear.

He was barefoot and bare-chested, black shorts hanging off his trim hips and skin already glistening from the hot, stifling air. His sculpted muscles were sheer perfection, and his tattoos stood out against his tanned flesh. He looked like a warrior. A deadly, sexy warrior, and her body instantly reacted to the waves of raw masculinity rolling off him.

The announcer stepped up to introduce the two fighters, and a spark of displeasure ignited in Skyler’s belly when she registered the obscene amount of female screams triggered by Gage’s introduction. Clearly her man had a fan club.

Gage’s opponent was bulkier but several inches shorter, with a scary-looking skull tattoo that spanned his entire chest. Definitely someone she would run in the other direction from if she saw him on the street, and yet the second the thought struck, she scolded herself for being so judgmental. For all she knew, Skull Tattoo was a really sweet guy. A guy who liked to stay home and watch Everybody Loves Raymond reruns with his wife and only fought on the weekends to make money for their couples’ pottery classes.

Except then he bellowed out an animal roar and dragged his finger across his throat in a death promise to Gage, and Skyler promptly went back to disliking him.

Gage, however, was completely unruffled. Even from yards away, Skyler noticed nothing but pure calm reflecting in his eyes.

She jerked when a bell rang to indicate the start of the first round. Her heart immediately jumped to her throat when Skull Tattoo launched himself at Gage. Fists up, Gage blocked his opponent’s blows, then attacked so fast Skyler barely even saw him move.

Left hook, right hook, one-two punches at lightning speed, until he’d backed Skull Tattoo against the chain-link wall. All the other man could do was try to defend himself, but when he threw his hands up to protect his face, Gage simply planted a fist in the man’s gut. Skull Tattoo buckled over, swayed on his feet, and then lifted his head in time for Gage’s fist to connect with the side of his face.

Lights out.

It was over.

Skyler stood there, dumbfounded. Her jaw dropped as two refs and a man who must have been the doctor rushed over to the unconscious fighter. The doctor touched his cheek, checked his pupils, and then signaled something to the ref, who wasted no time thrusting Gage’s arm up in the air. The announcer declared Gage the winner and the crowd went wild.