Page 6 of Filled

“Victor’s not the one who’s going to be training her if she signs.” He glances back at me, grinning. “Besides, you want to meet her just as much as I do. It’s written all over your face.”

He’s halfway across the gym before I can stop him. I follow because the alternative is standing here alone looking like an idiot.

By the time we reach Victor’s office, he’s opening the door. The woman looks up, and the full force of those hazel eyes lands on me for a fraction of a second before sliding to Cruz.

“Dakota Fisher,” Victor says. “Two of my best. Cruz Bennett?—”

“Hey.” Cruz extends his hand, and his grin shifts into something warmer, more inviting. “Welcome to Oath. You fight?”

“I do.” She shakes his hand firmly, with no hesitation. Her voice is clear, steady. Southern accent underneath it, not strong but present.

“Eli Morgan,” I say, offering my own hand. “Head coach.”

Her grip is strong. When she meets my eyes, there’s something assessing in her gaze, like she’s measuring me the same way I’m measuring her.

“Dakota’s looking to relocate,” Victor says. “She’s got an impressive record. Twelve and two amateur, three pro fights, all wins. I’m inclined to bring her on if she checks out in sparring.”

“I’d like to test that myself,” I state.

Victor nods. “I was thinking you and Cruz could run her through some rounds. See what she’s got.”

“Happy to,” Cruz says. He’s still looking at Dakota with that easy, open interest—one more lie to myself won’t hurt anything, right?. “You eaten yet? We could grab food after, show you around town if?—”

“I’m good,” Dakota says. “I’d like to start training.”

Cruz laughs. “I like her already.”

“Locker room’s in the back,” Victor says. “Get changed, they’ll meet you in cage two.”

Dakota nods and walks out without another word.

Cruz watches her go with unabashed appreciation. “Jesus,” he mutters once she’s out of earshot. “Please tell me she’s staying.”

“Focus on the sparring, not her ass,” I say.

“I can do both.” He turns to me, and there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “You into her, Coach?”

“I don’t know her.”

Cruz’s smirk widens. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Drop it, Cruz.”

We head back to ring two. I grab pads and gloves from the equipment rack, trying to ignore my elevated pulse. It’s professional interest. She’s a new fighter, potentially a good one, and I want to see what she can do. That’s all.

Cruz leans against the ring post, arms crossed, watching me. “You got that look again.”

“What look?” I ask

“The one where you’re pretending you don’t want to get your dick wet.”

“Jesus Christ, Cruz!”

“Relax, Coach.” He grins. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“There’s no secret.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps closer, drops his voice just low enough that no one else in the gym could hear. “You know what I think? I think Coach has a hard-on for his potential new fighter. And I think…” His grin widens. “I think he’d love to shove his cock in her tight little cunt while I fuck his ass.”