Page 31 of The Fighter

It feels like it’s burning up. Heat radiates from the point of his touch and fills my body. My heart is racing, my breath feels like it’s coming in small gasps. I want to run away; I never want him to stop touching me. “You never told me why you’re here.”

He drops his hand. “I fight here from time to time. Why are you here?”

“Same reason as you.” What’s happening? My insides feel molten. Achy. I want to grab his hand and put it back on my face, feel his callused fingers on every inch of my body. Last night, I told him I’d regret sleeping with him in the morning. I was wrong. Staring at Tomas, the two of us tucked away in a corner of Ciro Del Barba’s warehouse, the only thing I regret is stopping. “I’m here for the twenty thousand euro cash prize.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to make enough money to buy you out. At twenty grand a week, it’ll take me…” My voice trails off. My brain isn’t capable of math right now.

“Fifty weeks.” A line etches between his brows. “That’s insane.” He blows out a breath. “You can’t fight every week for a year. You’ll get hurt.” He touches my cut again, and my knees turn to water. “You’re already hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You need rest and relaxation. Stop adding things to your plate.”

“You’re being nice to me. Why is that suspicious?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’m always nice to you. You just don’t notice.”

“Really? You’re not planning to turn the gym around and then sell your stake to the highest bidder?”

Surprise flashes on his face. Ha. This is a first—Tomas Aguilar is at a loss for words. It takes him a few seconds to formulate a response. “You don’t seem shocked.”

“Why would I be shocked? You’ve always made it obvious that this is an investment.” He’s still touching me, his fingers warm on my face, and I feel cared for. Safe. Seen. I should pull away, but instead, I stay exactly where I am. “Still, unlike Simon, you’ve kept up your end of the contract.”

“I’m nothing like Groff,” Tomas growls.

A thrill shoots through me at his tone. Suddenly, I’m picturing him backing me into a corner, pushing my arms over my head, holding my wrists prisoner as he cages me in with his body. His fingers on my lip before he lowers his mouth to mine. His hands tugging my pants down, pushing between my legs to stroke my aching pussy…

I drain my glass of prosecco in one gulp, but the cold liquid does nothing to quench the fire raging inside me. “I have no complaints,” I concede. “So far.”

He exhales a laugh. “So far,” he repeats. “You sound so skeptical. Why are you so ready to hate me, dolcezza?”

I have to hate you. Because if I don’t, I might start falling for you. And you’ve had one step out the door from the moment I met you.

But when he calls me dolcezza, every thought flies out of my brain. Dolcezza. Sweetness. He called me that during our fight last night, and I simultaneously wanted to strangle him and launch myself into his arms. Tonight, it’s definitely Option Two.

I feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on me. I look around to realize more than one person is watching us. Some discreetly, some openly staring. Every single one of Del Barba’s guests is dressed to the nines, and I’m in my gym clothes. “I feel very out of place,” I whisper to Tomas. “Had I known I was going to get invited to a fancy party, I would have borrowed something to wear from Rosa.”

“It doesn’t matter what you wear,” he says as if the words are being torn out of him. “Everyone is looking at you because you light up the room. In a roomful of peacocks, you are a hawk.”

I try to throttle the dizzying current racing through me. “Is that a compliment?”

He starts to reply, but then his expression turns alarmed. “Pretend you’re my girlfriend,” he says urgently, taking a step closer and putting his hand on my chin.

“What?”

“Just go with it. Please.”

“Why? What are you going to give me for my cooperation?”

“Anything,” he says. “Anything you want.” His hands cradle my face. His gray eyes search mine. “Yes?”

“Yes,” I whisper. There’s a tingling in the pit of my stomach. The very air around us seems electrified. Everything about Tomas is making my head spin. Making me dizzy with anticipation.

And then Tomas kisses me.

Have I imagined this? Yes. A thousand times. From the first moment we met, Tomas Aguilar has taken center stage in my fantasies. But the reality? The reality transcends my imagination. His lips are soft and warm. He nibbles my lower lip, his hands roaming over my body as if he owns it. One arm wraps around my back, tugging me even closer until I’m pressed right up against him, my breasts mashed into his chest.

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