Confessions of a Bad Boy Fighter (Bad Boy Confessions) Page 2

  “Katherine Lewis from high school.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot you always called her Adeline. Why do you do that again?”

  “I just do. Did you see them?”

  “No.”

  He dabs my eye and it stings like a bitch, but I don’t flinch. After all, this isn’t my first rodeo. “You remember them from high school though, don’t you?”

  He cleans the blood from my cut, and checks out the rest of my body. “Yeah, is Sara still hot?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think so. I invited them back stage.”

  He steps back, his eyes darting to mine. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You haven’t brought a girl back stage in…fuck, I can’t even remember really.”

  A few months, but I don’t say that. I think I’m getting played out. Either that or Hell is freezing over, because there is nothing I like more than a hard fuck after a hard fight.

  “Just want to get caught up with some old friends.” I shrug. “Thought you might like that, too.”

  He laughs and sees through my partial lie. While it’s true, I do want to get caught up, what I really want is to get my mouth on Adeline, to finally see if she tastes as sweet as she looks. Jesus Christ, I’ve imagined it for years, but back then, her parents hovered over her, preventing the good girl from having anything to do with the likes of me. Now, though, she’s all grown up, and her folks are nowhere to be found, which means I can finally make my move. Will she let me, or will the good girl come to her senses and run the other way?

  “Caught up, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

  I arch a brow, but it hurts my swollen eye. “You got something to fucking say?”

  My voice is threatening, but Bray doesn’t have to worry and he knows it. I’d give my life for him and vice versa. We grew up on the mean streets together, and even though we’re not blood, we’re brothers in every sense of the word.

  He smirks and returning to professional mode, checks my eyes again. “Nope, nothing to say.”

  “Stitches?” I ask.

  “Not this time.” He hands me a cold pack and I put it over my eye, but set it on my lap when a gasping noise behind my friend reaches my ears.

  My pulse leaps when I see Adeline standing there, her big blue eyes wide, her mouth agape as she takes in my bruised face. My cock jumps, eager to slide into that sweet open mouth of hers. Fuck, man, it’s insane how much I still want her.

  “Are you…okay?” she asks tentatively as she wets her bottom lip. Jesus fuck, that’s sexy. Her friend turns her gaze from me to Bray.

  “Hey Bray, long time,” she says as she curls her fingers in her long hair and Bray takes the bait.

  Bray looks at me. “You good?”

  What he’s really asking is if he can leave so he can get ‘caught up’ with Sara. “Yeah, I’m good, man.”

  He leaves and Adeline takes a small step closer. The air around us is charged, and from the way her chest is rising and falling from her erratic breathing, I know she feels it too. I can feel her need, desire reaching out to me, but I’m not about to act on it. Not yet. Every instinct I possess warns me of that.

  “You should put that ice back on your eye. It looks bad.”

  Most girls think my bruised body and face is hot—the more broken I am, the more they want a piece of me—but not Adeline. She’s actually fucking concerned. My cock swells another inch, the unease dancing in her eyes like a sucker punch. Shit, it’s been a long time since anyone cared about me. But this girl isn’t just anyone. She’s Mayor Lewis’s daughter, and the nicest girl I know. Maybe I should walk away from this. The last thing I want to do is corrupt a girl like her.

  I’m open my mouth to tell her this was a mistake, when she takes the icepack from me and gently presses it to my eye. Her other hand brushes my too long hair from my forehead, and she leans in. Her breath is hot on my face, and I feel it all the way to my cock.

  I put my hand over hers and press the pack harder to my cut, showing her how to do it. She tenses as our hands touch. Shit, she’s nervous, practically quivering in her shoes, and I hate that. “You okay, Addy?”

  She swallows, and says, “I can’t believe you recognized me.”

  “Why not? You’re just as beautiful today as you were in high school. No, correction. You’re even more beautiful.”

  She blushes and my dick jumps. I haven’t seen a girl blush in…ever.

  “I…Ah…”

  “Want to grab a drink?” I ask. “Get caught up?”

  Please say yes. If she doesn’t, I might have to punch something.

  She nods. “I guess I could use a Starbucks.”

  I laugh. “I do miss having one on every corner when on the road,” I say. I’ve been pretty much overdosing on the espressos since being home. “But I was thinking maybe something with alcohol in it.”

  “Oh, ah, okay. Just let me text Sara. I drove and I need to make sure she has a way home.”

  “Don’t worry, Bray will see to it. He’s a good guy and will take care of her.”

  She shoots off a text, reads the response, and puts her phone in her pocket.

  I can’t seem to take my eyes off her sweet curves. She’s thin, but her body has filled out since our high school days. “So you still live in Seattle, I take it?”

  “Yeah, going to state college. I’m in my last year. I’m taking political science, and going to go into politics like my father.” She wets her lips and continues. “I really want to. I want to make Seattle a better place for the people. It’s important to me.”

  While she might have changed outwardly, inside she’s still nervous around me, rambling like she used to do when we were paired together. I drop the ice pack and jumps from the examination table. She takes a step back and I go still. “Are you afraid of me, Adeline?”

  She gives a quick shake of her head, but I see through her lie. “Good.” I step up to her, brush my thumb over her bottom lip. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Okay,” she squeaks out, her lashes blinking rapidly.

  I eye her. “You do know that, right? I’d never lay a hand on you. Unless, of course you wanted me to.”

  She nods.

  I pull my hand away and she visibly relaxes. “Where would you like to have that drink?”

  I shrug off my towel and her gaze roams over my naked body. “You…you need to get dressed.”

  “And I need a shower. Why don’t we go back to my hotel? I can shower and change there, then we can go out.”

  When she hesitates, I say, “If it makes you more comfortable, I can get cleaned up and pick you up at your place when I’m done.”

  “No,” she says quickly, too quickly. What? Does she not want me crossing the tracks into her territory and embarrassing her, or is it something else?

  I tug on a shirt and pull my sweats on over my shorts. “You want to drive with me?”

  “I have my car.”

  “I can take you back to get it later.”

  She stares at her shoes for a moment, then says, “No, I’ll just follow you.”

  I grin at her. “That way you can make a quick escape if you need to.”

  She laughs, and the sound caresses my cock. Dammit, I need to make her laugh more often.

  She puts her hand on her hip. “Am I going to need to make a quick escape, Harding?”

  “Depends.”

  She cocks her head. “On what?”

  “Why did you come to the fight?”

  “Sara dragged me.”

  “Did you know I’d be fighting?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you accept my invitation to come back stage?”

  “Because you asked me to.”

  “The truth, Addy.”

  She looks down, and I put my finger under her chin to lift it. Our gazes meet and hold. She sucks in a breath, lets it out slowly and says, “Because I wanted to.”

  3

 
Katherine

  Knees shaking like a damn leaf in a windstorm, I walk around the large hotel suite as Harding showers, and I have to say, I feel a little bad for him. Going from city to city, fight to fight, hotel to hotel, has to be a hard way to live. I honestly couldn’t imagine a life like this. So cold. So detached.

  I heard about fighters who were married and their spouses would go on the road with them, but that’s not a life I’d ever want to live. I shake my head at the stupid direction of my thoughts. I’m here with Harding to have a drink—maybe get laid—long-term does not even fit into that scenario. Which is good, since I could never do long term with a fighter for many reasons. Mainly, I hate violence; hate to see him get hurt.

  The shower turns off and my heart gallops. I sit at the dinette table, then stand, not knowing what to do with myself as I wait for him to emerge. God, what do I do if he comes out of the bathroom naked, ready to pounce?

  He’ll take you back to his room, give you some straight up nasty sex.

  As Sara’s words ping around in my brain, my breath comes faster. It’s not that I don’t want to be with him sexually, I’m just not sure about diving right into it. While it might work for others, it doesn’t quite work for me.

  The bathroom door creaks open and Harding comes out dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, not in a towel like I suspected. I make the mistake of panning the length of him, and heat bombards me. My breasts grow hot, swollen, and the needy juncture between my legs tingles with anticipation. Still, I’m not sure I could jump straight into bed—as much as I want to feel his big hands on my body. I don’t think I’m quite ready to just shed my clothes and inhibitions and hand myself over.

  “Sorry I took so long. I usually get a massage after a fight. Had to let the water warm my muscles.” He rolls one shoulder and my body heats at the way the fabric stretches over said muscles. My glance falls to take in his jeans and they way they fit him so nicely, especially around the crotch area. Damn, he’s like six feet of pure testosterone, and my body is reacting naturally.

  I draw a fast breath to center myself. “I’m sorry. Did I take you away from that?” I gesture to the door. “I could go if you want me to.”

  He stares at me for a moment, like he can see right through my nervousness. “Don’t be sorry, Adeline, and no way do I want you to go. I’d give up a hell of a lot to spend time with you.”

  A little thrill moves through me, but I work to pull myself together and get my head on straight. He’s a fighter with a horde of women vying for his attention. I’m sure he says this kind of thing to all the girls.

  “What?” he asks when I go quiet.

  “Nothing, just, I guess you don’t have to say things like that to me.”

  His eyes narrow—zero in on me—and being the center of his attention again is like a powerful aphrodisiac. “Things like the truth.”

  “Harding, come on—”

  “Adeline,” he says and quickly closes the distance between us. “I don’t want to scare you off, but you have to know how much I want you.”

  “I…you want me?”

  “Hell yeah, I do. I have for a long time now.”

  For a long time now?

  “Oh, I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do,” he says quietly, his voice pulling me under, into a current of need and desire. “So how about that drink?”

  He grabs his coat, shoves a wallet into his back pocket, and I stand there stunned as need claws at my insides. He was serious about the drink? I thought it was code for let’s go back to my room and fuck. Am I confused by this turn of events? Maybe. Pleasantly surprised? Definitely.

  “Have you eaten?” he asks.

  “Not for a while.” I was just finishing work at the library when Sara dragged me away, and I only managed to shove a granola bar into my mouth before the fight. “Actually, I am kind of hungry.”

  “Great, let’s go to that little Italian restaurant down on Main. You know it?”

  “It’s only my favorite.”

  He slides his hand into mine, and electricity crackles between us. He sucks in a quick breath, clearly feeling the heat every bit as much as I do. But if he brought me here for sex, why are we going out to eat? This is all so confusing to me.

  “Is it okay if we take one car?” he asks. “I want to spend as much time as possible with you.”

  “Sure. I guess.” I try not to sound as excited as I feel, but I have the feeling he can see through the veil, see how much I want to spend as much time as possible with him too.

  Even though the elevator is empty, he stands close to me as we ride it down to the lobby. I steal a glance at him, and cringe at the bruising on his face. “How’s the eye?”

  “It’s good.”

  “Do you…get hurt a lot?” I ask as the elevator stops and he leads me outside. He hands the valet his ticket and he disappears to get Harding’s vehicle.

  “It comes with the job,” he answers, but his smile dissolves when he sees the worry on my face. He squeezes my hand. “You really hated tonight, didn’t you?”

  “No, it’s not that. I just don’t like to see anyone get hurt.”

  The valet brings the car around and much to my surprise, Harding opens my door for me. I slide in and watch him give the man a tip before he climbs in beside me. His body is huge, too big for the Prius he’s driving. I’m guessing it was the only rental available. Harding doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to drive a Prius. Then again, assumptions can be dangerous.

  He pulls into traffic. “Why do you do it?” I ask.

  “Fight, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because I’m good at it.”

  I think back to the project the teacher assigned to us. He was a hard worker, and had brilliant insight. “I bet you could be good at a lot of things.”

  He shoots a glance my way and his grin is so dirty and mischievous, my insides flutter. “I am good at a lot of things,” he says, humor edging his voice and I get the impression that he no longer wants to talk about fighting.

  He pulls up to the restaurant, opens my door for me, and guides me down the sidewalk. The possessive way he splays his fingers over the small of my back does the most ridiculous things to my insides. We enter the dimly lit restaurant, and Harding slips the hostess a few bucks. We’re guided to a small, intimate table in the corner. Harding pulls my chair out for me and I sit, still shocked at how old fashioned he is. My father would really appreciate it, I’m sure. But thought of my father has a knot tightening in my stomach. Harding is definitely not the kind of guy I could take home to meet daddy. Not that I’m considering it. I’m not.

  The waiter stops by and asks about our drink order. I order red wine and Harding gets a specialty beer. When we’re alone again, Harding zeroes in on me, and I have to say, there is something strangely erotic in being the sole focus of his attention.

  “So tell me, Adeline.”

  I toy with my cloth napkin. “Tell you what?

  “Everything. What have you been doing since high school?”

  I shrug. “Nothing much has changed, I guess. I’m a senior in college, and like I said, I plan to go into politics.”

  “No significant other in your life?” He glances around.

  I shake my head no, but my mind goes to boring Oliver, the man my father has been trying to set me up with for ages. The perfect political union—or so my father says. What I say is, I don’t think so.

  “I’m not going to suddenly get attacked by some guy in a jealous rage because I invited you for drinks, am I?” He leans closer. “I’m not really interested in fighting anyone else tonight,” he says, his voice deeper, lower. “But I would if it meant I could spend more time with you.”

  I laugh, even though there was no humor in his voice and I’m sure he’s being serious about getting in to a fight. Who is this possessive Harding, and why do I like him so much? “No. Actually, I still live at home.” He goes completely stiff at that, and I ramble on with, “It made sense
financially.”

  Wait! Why do I suddenly feel the need to justify my actions? Deep down do I think there is something wrong with the decision I made? Yeah, I get it. Moving out is a part of growth and independence, yet I let my parents talk me into staying home. Is Harding going to call me on that?

  “Yeah?” he asks and I nod slowly. He nods too, then adds, “It’s nice that your folks care about you, and want to keep you close,” he says quietly.

  Keep me close?

  Is that what they’re trying to do?

  I take a moment to chew on that and when I’m hit with an epiphany it sucks the air from my lungs. My God, the reason my parents wanted me to stay home was to keep me under their thumbs, to watch my every move. I’ve lived up to their expectations, studied hard, got a scholarship and I’m top in my program at University of Washington. Did they really need me to live at home so they could continue to monitor my every movement? Did they not think I could make good decisions on my own?

  I look at Harding, who is watching me carefully, like he knows where my thoughts have gone.

  Are you making a good decision now?

  I’m not so sure, but the fact is, I want him. I have for a very long time now. What’s wrong with two consenting adults having a little fun together? Not a damn thing. As long as we keep it under wraps, it’ll all be good, right?

  The waiter comes with our drinks and Harding lifts his cup for a salute. “What should we drink to?” he asks.

  “Old friends.”

  His warrior features soften when he says, “We were never friends, Adeline.”

  “Okay, to new friends.”

  I take a big gulp to calm my nerves, and as he watches me, there’s a new intensity about him, one that excites me almost as much as it frightens me. I saw that intensity in the ring when he was fighting and I see it again now as he looks at me—like he wants to eat me alive. But I have no reason to be afraid; he told me he’d never lay a hand on me—unless I wanted him to. But oh, how I want him to. More than ever. Especially with the wine relaxing me.

  “Is that what we are?” he asks, the sexual tension between us off the charts. “New friends?”