Page 57 of His Enforcer

His anger grows as he marches toward me and pulls me to the locker rooms, his grip rough on my biceps, his face set in stone.

I pull my mouthguard out and spit blood to the side, pretending I don’t like the way he’s gripping me.

“Why the long face, Vik-baby?” I ask and chuckle when he shoves me down onto the bench.

“Anthony would have fucking killed me if you ended up badly hurt. And you did it anyway.”

I slide a hand through my wet hair, slick with sweat, and manage a sly grin at him. “I did. And I fucking won.”

“Fuck. You,” he spits and then squats down so that we’re eye to eye. His hand moves to my bloody mouth, his thumbgently brushing against the split lip. “We have to get you cleaned up.”

The way he’s touching me so tenderly makes something squeeze in my chest, and I almost can’t breathe. I wrench my head away from him, and his hand falls to his side.

I stare at him and he meets it before huffing and standing up.

“You done here then?” he asks, his words rough and frustrated.

“Yes. I got what I needed from this.”

He purses his lips and then gestures toward the door. “Fine. Then grab your shit and I’ll take you home.” He’s cursing and grumbling as I reach behind me and pull my shoes from my duffle bag before shoving it into his arms.

“You grab it,” I say, and he grinds his teeth. He watches as I toe on my shoes and then we’re pushing through the crowd. We make our way to the SUV, rain pelting us until we’re finally inside the cab. He turns on the heat full blast as he drives me home. Everything is oddly quiet except for the swish of the windshield wipers. My head is swimming slightly from the punches I took to the face, my torso throbbing from the knuckles that drove into them.

But even so, I feel fucking alive.

My therapist said I have issues.

He didn’t live long after that.

The car suddenly shuts off and Viktor hops out, moving to my car door and wrenching it open. Rain hits his already damp shirt, one that looks far too good on him, accentuating his chest and arms, and I let my eyes sweep over him as I step out, my skin growing wet as I just stand there. Never did bother to put on a shirt.

“You going to take care of me, Vik-baby?” I ask dryly when our eyes catch. He just turns and stalks toward the front door, unlocking it and doing a small sweep of the premises as I follow him inside, my vision growing hazy from the way I ache.

“Doc is gonna be here soon,” he explains as I close the door behind me and lock it.

“Fuck that. I don’t need to be looked at. Tell him not to bother.”

“No. You’re an old man, Luca, acting like a fucking asshole going into a ring with a man half your age and twice your size.”

That grates on my nerves. “You saying I’m fucking old? I’m not. I fucking won.”

He huffs in annoyance and folds his arms across his chest. The shirt pulls slightly and an ache builds inside of me.

Maybe the punch to my head knocked something else loose.

Or maybe it’s always been there with Vik.

It seems fighting did nothing to abate the lust building inside of me.

“Sure. What the fuck ever,Mantus. But right now, you look like you’re about to keel over. You have a concussion. Doc will confirm it.”

“Fuck off. Get out of my house,” I hiss.

He doesn’t leave, just seems to grow more resolute. And it only makes me hornier. He takes up far too much space. In my house. In my head. In my fucking aching heart.

“Can’t do that. Don’t want you dying of stupidity.”

I huff a laugh and pain ricochets through me, forcing me to lock my jaw to keep a gasp inside.

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