I wasn’t comfortable with him being so familiar, but I didn’t hate it.
“It’s just a degree, that’s all,” I said, still trying remain mysterious.
He raised an eyebrow and my legs turned to jelly.
“I’m a paralegal with the Jones and Schreiber firm. I haven’t taken the bar yet.”
“Hmm, smart girl…” he trailed off in a way that suggested he was talking more to himself than he was to me.
Our eyes met again. This time I tried to force myself to hold his gaze. He seemed to enjoy the challenge.
Finally, I had to break the silence. It was too much. “So, uh, I don’t even know if I thanked you yet, but, uh…”
“Not a problem,” he interjected. “Happy to help.” He said it absently. His attention was focused elsewhere.
With burning eyes, he took in the full view of my body. I’d never had a guy so arrogantly stare at my ass the way he was doing. Just like earlier, this should have been something that made me mad, but I think I was liking it as much as he was.
I took a cautious step toward him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close. What was I doing? I barely knew this guy and I was about to jump into his arms. But I wanted him… badly.
And that’s when my brain sort of short circuited.
“Okay, goodnight, then,” I blurted as he leaned in to kiss me.
He stopped in his tracks but didn’t pull back. He lingered not less than a foot from me with an amused look on his face that said ‘really?’ Are you really going to turn me away because I know that’s not what you want?
After a moment that seemed to drag on for eternity he finally pulled back. “Goodnight to you as well, Bria Hudson.”
With a nod, and still sporting that look of amusement, he glided across my apartment to let himself out. I desperately wanted him to turn back and give me another once over with those hungry eyes, but he didn’t. I heard his engine start and then he was gone. I sat down on the arm of my love seat and wondered what the hell just happened.
6
Luke
“Nothing like nineteen-year-old pussy to start your day off, right Luke?”
Nick was a local guy and one of my long-time sparring partners. A lot of fighters came to my gym to try to make a name for themselves but Nick didn’t care about trying to get famous off of another man’s accomplishments. He just wanted to train and pick up the occasional fight groupie. I could trust him.
Besides, he was right. Since the last pay-per-view my notoriety had gone through the roof and it wasn’t just the local girls hanging around trying to score a big name fighter anymore. They were coming from all over. The lure of a professional fighter was strong. Especially one as famous as me.
These girls were following the hype. They knew that the sport was growing. There were more eyeballs on us with each passing month. And more eyes watching meant more money. Main event fighters bring in endorsement deals from the biggest companies on earth. We fight for huge purses. We do the talk show circuit. We dominate at the pinnacle of athletic competition in front of millions.
“How about that one?” asked Nick.
He nodded toward a petite little thing at the far corner of the room. She was bent at the waist, reaching to touch her toes. She let her ass sway back and forth when she saw that we were watching.
A lot of these girls showed up under the guise of working out. They would come in sporting shorts that barely covered the globes of their asses, or wearing yoga pants that may as well have been painted on. Sometimes they’d hop on the treadmill and jog for a few minutes, but most of the time they would claim a section of mats and spend their morning stretching. The stretching would always intensify if one of my fighters happened to be passing by.
The guys called them “jobbers.” It was a fight term that referred to an easy-to-beat opponent. If you were fighting a jobber you were typically going to come away with a win.
These girls were definitely jobbers. More than once, I had to pull fighters and their girls out of my locker room and yell at them to find another place. It’s not that I cared if they wanted to fuck these girls, but they could do it on their own property.
I spotted another bubbly, bouncier girl hanging around the front desk. “What about that one, Nicky? She looks more like your style.” I nudged him forward. “She’d do anything you ask.”
“Shit, it seems like anymore, any of the girls will do what I like. There’s more of ‘em so they know they gotta work harder to stand out.”
“You’re a true gentleman, Nick,” I said. “At least I can count on someone around here to make me laugh.”
“What about you, man? Are you gonna take that fight with Simmons?” he asked. “They’re saying if you do it’s gonna break all the records.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his eyes. “And it’s for the belt, that’s about the only thing you’re missing.”