Page 61 of Not Fooling Anyone

“No. Still training.”

“You interested?”

I shrug. “Sure. But I’m not looking to make a career out of it.”

Where many of the guys here would dismiss me after a statement like that, he merely nods. Maybe he has other plans too. He doesn’t look that much older than me. A couple years at most.

He jerks his head in the direction of a few guys skipping rope. “I’m going to warm up. Lawrence should be ready for us soon.”

I should warm up too. But my head turns instead toward Marty’s office, sidling further and further away from the ring until I can see through the window. She’s concentrating on what looks like a spreadsheet on the computer screen, too focused to notice me staring at her.

My gaze traces the curve of her cheek I cupped earlier today, her skin delicately soft. God, how I’d wanted to brush my thumb over her lips, to have her part them in anticipation for my kiss. I’d felt how she kissed me back that second time, how she’d laid her hands on my shoulders, fingers gripping me.

That tug in my lower belly flares again, remembering how badly I’d ached to pull her onto my lap, to kiss the hell out of her, learn her taste, hear her moan for me. To get any kind of reaction at all. That’s all I want from her. A reaction. To know this growing craving for her isn’t one-sided.

Except, Lexie’s made it one hundred percent clear she’s not interested.

But that kiss…

Was for the study. Not because she wanted to.

Maybe I could change her mind, though.

That’s a dangerous road.

True. Do I really want to head down that path?

I watch her, recalling the way she’d pressed her cheek against my chest last week in the gym, the rare smiles she’s bestowed upon me, how she’s let me in bit by bit over the past couple of weeks.

Yeah, I want to do this.

I want her.

“Ethan, are you ready?”

I whip around, Lawrence at the edge of the ring staring at me. Oh, shit. Does he know I was thinking about his daughter? Yeah, I joked to Tyler that he loves me, but I have no doubt he could beat me to a pulp if he wanted.

“Yeah.” I jog over, twisting under the ropes to join him. I never did warm up.

“You been working on the stuff I told you to?” he asks. “Speed bag? Heavy bag? Jumps?”

I nod. “I can go longer on all of them.”

“And you got your passbook, right?”

“Yeah, a few months ago.” Just in case.

“Good.” He claps me on the back, grinning. “I’ve got a fight lined up for you.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

“A promoter I know is putting together an event. It’s local, so it’s the perfect time for you to start.”

I loop my hands behind my neck, unable to lace them because they’re already wrapped. “Yeah, great.” This is what I wanted. To actually fight.

So why do I have a lead bowling ball in my stomach?

“When is it?”

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