Page 20 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
Louis is leaning against the ropes, watching Ricky slowly get up. For a second, it looks like my brother is coming back for more
“Go home,” my dad says, barely above a whisper.
Ricky closes his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Dad watches him until Ricky is out of the ring.
“And Louis?”
Louis snaps his attention to his coach.
“Don’t ever pull that shit in a match. If you do, I promise you someone faster and stronger will make you pay for it. And if they don’t, I will.”
That’s that.
My brother growls, slams a few things, but ultimately obeys our father. His wife will pitch a fit over his eye, and he’ll sulkfor a few days. That’ll be the end of their beef. He’s lucky Louis showed restraint.
That’s Louis’s secret, though: he doesn’t let his temper control him. He fights when he needs to. My brother has been pushing him all week, testing him, and Louis finally drew a line in the sand and dared him to cross. If it wasn’t tonight, it would have been Monday. Or the next day. Or next week.
He fought him now so he won’t have to later.
But he’s wrong.
Another fight is coming. I thought it could be avoided, but something has bent in me. The resistance has given, and I know that I won’t be able to spend another night with Louis without surrendering to this desire that’s been building since we first met.
I know he wants it as badly as I do.
We tiptoe around each other in my apartment. We’re both aware of the glances we’re stealing, pretending like it’s not happening.
Every night, I lie in bed, convincing myself not to invite him into my room. All night, I think about his touch, his powerful body, and the stoic soul behind his eyes.
From the moment we met, I think we both knew that it would only be a matter of time until a look or a lingering touch or a simple word drives us into each other’s arms.
And when it happens, I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to keep it a secret. They’ll find out. He’ll have to face my brotherandmy father.
I won’t let him stand alone.
They’ll have to faceme…
CHAPTER 6
LOUIS
I’ve never been so tired.
Military training has nothing on Don Winters’s boxing bootcamp. A whole week of two-a-days, four hours each. My legs shake in the shower, hands against the wet tile wall just to keep me standing. With the fight only six weeks away, we don’t have a choice.
Catherine was right: there’s no way I could have worked a part-time job and fought for Don. It’s like he’s trying to make me quit. He talks to me like a father I never had, always encouraging, but it’s just so he can order another grueling round for me to suffer through.
I do it because I have to.
Winning my fight. Catherine. These are the only things my mind has space for.
I hit a bag, over and over again, bouncing between those two focuses.
See the opponent, hit hard.
See her face, hit even harder.
