Page 37 of Spinning Out Of Control

Steeling myself, I cross the room and stop just shy of Warren’s personal bubble.

“Are you ready for your very first boxing experience?” I ask, kicking my foot out and lightly tapping the top of his crisp, white sneaker. When Jeslyn invited us to this class, Warren mentioned that he’d never done any kind of boxing, shadow or otherwise before, but hewas assured that the forty-five minutes would be beginner friendly.

“That depends. When it’s time to partner up, are you going to take it easy on me?”

I laugh, throwing my head back with dramatic flair.

“Absolutely not, Warren. In fact, you have been cruisin’ for a bruisin’ for a long time. I’m looking forward to kicking your ass up and down this room.”

“Hmm. I like the sound of you touching my ass. You’re on, little pest.” He leans in close, pushing a flyaway curl out of my face before brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. “And please, call me Ren.”

Goosebumps erupt on my skin as I fight the urge to shiver. I press a palm to the flat of my stomach, steadying myself to take a deep breath as Warren slowly pulls away from me. The lights dim as a Rolling Stones song begins to play over the loudspeakers, and Jeslyn cues us to find a spot on the mat to warm up. Warren winks, turning towards the front of the room and following the class as we collectively swing our arms and begin to limber up.

Thank goddess for boxing. At least I can work out some of this sexual tension with some jabs and crosses.

15

WARREN

“Fucking hell, woman!” I yell out as I crumple to my knees, my hands cupping my battered nose.

“It’s not that bad!” Kira says as she drops in front of me, tenderly taking my cheeks into her palms. She might say it’s not that bad, but the tone of her voice is telling me otherwise. That, and the trickle of warm liquid I can feel dripping out of my nose and over my lips. Our ruckus has brought the class to a complete halt. Twenty sets of eyes narrow in on Kira and me. She tilts my face back and forth, eyeing me up while I apply pressure to my nose with my own hands.

“Let me see, please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. When I meet her gaze, the sight of tears rimming the edges of her beautiful grey eyes has my stomach in knots. Dammit, is she going to cry? She didn’t mean to punch me. I know she didn’t mean it. She has to knowit, too. What are the odds that I’d sneeze, lowering the boxing mitt at the exact moment Kira would throw a jab so hard it nearly blinded me?

Slowly, I pull my hands away from my face. She takes in a sharp inhale at the sight of me but quickly recovers. With the gentlest of touches, she runs her two fingers over the bridge of my nose.

“It’s not broken. You’ll have a bruise, but it’s not…” Kira’s words trail off as her bottom lip trembles. Fuck, she can’t cry. I can’t take it. If she cries, I’ll cry. I wipe my hand on my shorts to rid it of blood before cupping her cheek. She leans into my touch, the movement so slight I might have missed it if I wasn’t so tuned in to her body language.

“It’s alright, love. It was an accident. I’m sorry for yelling. So, so sorry. I’m a bit of a wuss, and I overreacted. Next time you punch me, I’ll do better. I promise.”

Kira’s cheeks redden, the corners of her lips turning up just a bit. But she won’t look at me. Instead, she studies her palms, tracing a finger over her knuckles. She’d chosen not to wear gloves while we boxed, saying she liked the callouses left behind. She’s got a bit of blood on her middle finger, and when I realize that it’s not mine and her knuckle is bleeding, I don’t think. I simply take her hand and bring the injured finger to my lips, pressing soft kisses to her skin.

“I’m so sorry, Warren. I swear I didn’t mean to–”

“I know, love. I know. You can’t help that you’re just so strong and powerful. And hey, at least it wasn’t my balls.”

Kira laughs, and it’s the sweetest little sound, soft and warm as it wraps around me like a blanket. She reaches out, swiping her thumb under my nose. It comes back mostly clean, letting me know that the bleeding has stopped.

“You’re going to have a real shiner tomorrow.”

“A battle wound from when I dared to take on the great Kira McKenna.”

“I’m totally going to call you Marcia.”

“Marcia?” I ask, raising a brow and wincing at the motion. Christ, the woman packs a fucking punch with her fists. She raises her hands to her face and squeals.

“Oh, my nose!”

“You little pest,” I say as I laugh at her ridiculous–and accurate–Brady Bunch impression. “On your feet, Rocky. It’s my turn to get a shot or two in.”

After the shadow boxing fiasco,Kira and I decide to cool down by taking the long way through Central Park back to our hotel. I’m self-aware enough to know that Kira is only walking with me because she feels bad about socking me in the nose, but I’m alsosmart enough to enjoy the bit of extra attention she’s throwing my way.

“I still have questions, you know.”

“You do,” I agree. She never got around to asking me about anything but the fish last night. “And I may have answers.”

“Have you ever been married?”

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