Not running. Walking. Taking his time. Destroying everything she built in his path with the patience of someone who knew he'd reach her eventually.
Natalia's heart hammered behind her ribs. The Cryo-Lich Ring pulsed so hard it hurt. Something hot and electric pooled in her lower stomach and she hated it. She hated that watching Satori break through her defenses turned her on. She hated that the raw physicality of him, the way his shoulders rolled with each swing and his jaw tightened when the bat struck and his dark eyes never left hers, made her thighs press together involuntarily.
This was a tournament match. National television. Twenty million viewers.
And she was wet.
Because her boyfriend was scary.
