Sebastian landed the last hit, sending his opponent spiraling onto the floor of the ring. The sharp whistle came immediately from the referee, followed by an eruption of applause. The crowd clapped wildly for him, and he smiled to himself a small, proud grin of accomplishment.
Sweat streamed down his bare torso, soaking the elastic band of his short jocks.
The sun crept in through the open shades of the high gym windows, doing what it did best striking his body in a way that made his physique look dangerously tempting.
It was no doubt that Sebastian Cross was the epitome of a mini Greek god a defined torso, sculpted chest, toned muscles, and faint scars tracing his skin. He looked like a walking, venomous seduction something both divine and lethal.
"Now you're right on track!" his friend called out mid-applause from outside the ring, pride lacing his tone.
