Fight Like A Girl (Part One) (6 page)

“Are you always this stubborn?” he asked,
making himself at home. He sat on my couch and waited for me to
join him.

“The short answer is yes. What are you doing
here?” I walked into the living room but I didn’t sit. I stared
down at him.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he
said. He sounded sincere, but who the hell knew what he was
thinking?

“Well, I’m fine. You can go now.”

He chuckled. “We should probably talk about
everything that’s happened.”

“
Actually
, I think it would be better
if we never talked about it again. You’re my trainer for now, and
that’s the only relationship we need to have.” I downed more
beer.

“Max,” he growled.

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at
him. “Listen, I’m not some fragile little college co-ed who thinks
we’re in love or something, okay? You don’t have to try to make
things okay. You’re my trainer until my first fight. End of
story.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, and I jumped,
surprised to hear his low voice so close. I opened my eyes and
found him standing in front of me, less than a foot away. “I get
what you’re saying. You’re an adult, and I respect that. But I’m
not going to treat you like some common street whore, either.” His
gray eyes were intense, clouded with desire.

Despite his words, I had a feeling he had
ulterior motives. An awkward moment passed between us. As much as I
wanted his sexy body again, I didn’t want to get involved. It was
too risky. He wasn’t worth my career.

“I want to fuck you again,” he declared, his
eyes staring into mine. He didn’t blink. His persistence was hard
to ignore, especially since I was more turned on by his words than
I wanted to let on. “I shouldn’t want you,” he admitted, his eyes
closing tight. When they opened again, they were dark. “I just
can’t seem to help myself.”

The feeling was mutual. He leaned closer, his
lips only an inch away from mine. I could feel his hot breath
against my mouth. I sucked in a breath, willing myself not to lean
in.

“If you don’t want this,” he whispered, his
eyes half-closed. “You need to tell me. I’m not messing
around.”

I shook my head, telling myself I wanted it,
that I
needed
it. Part of me thought I could just get him
out of my system, that if I used his body enough, I’d be free of
him. So I let myself feel, just for one night.

I pressed closer to him, joining our lips.
His tongue slipped into my mouth aggressively, and I let it,
wanting to be even closer to him. My hands gripped his neck,
bringing our bodies together. He made a sound that was half moan,
half growl.

* * * * *

The next morning, I was afraid to pop my head
out from the covers, dreading the impending awkwardness. From
underneath my down comforter, I let my hand slide across the sheets
in search of Kingston. When I was sure the bed was empty, I poked
my head out. Sunlight filled the room; my curtains had been pulled
back and it was blindingly bright. I squinted against the glare,
ready to tear Kingston a new one, but I was completely alone.

I sat up, wondering if our
relationship
was the one-night stand sort of thing. It would
certainly make things easier, but I should have known better.
Kingston wasn’t the kind of guy to do anything the easy way. As I
remembered how difficult he could be, the aroma of fresh coffee
drifted into the room. I inhaled sharply, enjoying the smell.

Completely naked, I slipped from the bed,
grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and yanked it on. I made it halfway
to the kitchen before I noticed that it wasn’t my t-shirt.
Kingston’s black ACDC shirt from last night clung to my body, his
scent enveloping me. The hem hit the tops of my thighs, barely
covering my ass.

It was definitely too late to turn back and
change, so I trudged forward, not caring what implications would
ensue.

“God, you look sexy,” he greeted me in the
kitchen, setting his coffee on the counter as he moved toward me.
His hands rested on my hips as he kissed me softly. He pulled back
before I even had a chance to respond to his touch.

I let out a shaky breath. “You’ve certainly
made yourself at home.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “How do you feel?”

“Freshly fucked,” I answered. I allowed a
genuine smile escape when he shook his head and laughed. “I need a
shower.”

I went for the coffee pot and poured myself a
cup. After I added in far too much flavored creamer, I turned to
face Kingston.

“You need any help in that shower?” he asked,
lifting his cup to his lips.

I remembered all too well how
helpful
he could be. “Not a chance.”

I took my cup into the bathroom, turning on
the hot water. I set my cup on the counter and grabbed two towels
from my linen closet in the hall. After closing the door, I downed
the entire cup of coffee, needing it more than I was willing to
admit. My emotions were haywire. I was completely unsure what to do
about King.

He seemed nice enough, and I was obviously
attracted to him, but something was off. I didn’t know why, but I
felt like he was lying to me. I couldn’t shake the feeling, either.
I whipped off his shirt and stepped into the hot spray. My hands
were much better, so I managed to gently wash my hair. As I poured
some body wash on to my loofa, the bathroom door opened.

“Can I jump in after you?” he asked.

“Sure. I’ll be done in two minutes.”

The door closed again and I let out a sigh of
relief. Part of me wondered what to do if he insisted on coming in
the shower. I didn’t have the will-power to resist him. As
suspicious as I was of him, some deep, carnal part of me craved
him, as well. I didn’t necessarily like it, but I didn’t hate it,
either, especially when he was as skilled, sexually, as he was.

I left the water running as I stepped out and
wrapped a towel around my body. I called for Kingston and he came
in, not bothering to wait for me to get our before he dropped his
shorts and got into the shower. I got my hair twisted up in the
second towel and then went to the closet to get Kingston a towel. I
left it on the counter and left the bathroom.

I dressed in my workout shorts and a plain
white tank top, my usual workout outfit and wondered what the hell
I was going to do with my thick blonde hair. A ponytail was ideal,
but with my hands still sensitive so I didn’t want to try it.

Kingston was out of the shower by the time I
finished getting dressed. He came out of the bathroom in just his
boxers and I struggled not to enjoy the view. He swiped his pants
off the end of my bed and pulled them on.

“Are you working out today?”

I gulped, struggling for normalcy. “Yeah, I
figured that was the plan.”

“Great,” he muttered, buckling his belt. He
looked up, irritation evident in his eyes, but when his gaze met
mine, something changed. “Do you want me to do your hair?”

It was the last thing I expected him to say.
“What?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice sure. He walked
toward me. “I can French braid it so it’s not in your face when we
hit the gym.”

“Umm, sure,” I agreed.

Minutes later, I sat in one of the chairs
from my small dining set, with Kingston behind me. He was
completely focused, not speaking to me, although every so often, he
would mutter something unintelligible, which I guess was aimed at
my hair, not me. I would have laughed if he wasn’t so intense. I
wondered where he learned to braid as I sat there.

“All done,” he said finally, after what felt
like hours. A glance at my stove clock let me know it had only been
ten minutes.

I got up and walked to the bathroom, ready to
see his handiwork and demand a do-over if I hated it. I flipped the
light switch and stared at myself in the mirror. I lightly ran my
hands over the perfect braid, surprised at how well it was
done.

“You approve?” Kingston asked. He was leaning
against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed.

“It’s amazing,” I said.

He smiled. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

A laugh escaped him. “You’re always so
honest. It’s a breath of fresh air. I learned how to braid at a
young age. I have two younger sisters who demanded I learn. I
practiced on them a lot.”

Hearing him talk about his sisters was
endearing. In that moment, I knew I had to tell him about being
pushed.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked, facing
him.

“Of course.”

“Yesterday, I didn’t trip and fall while we
were running. I was pushed.”

His expression turned fierce. “What do you
mean you were pushed? By who?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. He was
wearing a ski mask so I didn’t see his face.”

“Tell me everything you remember,” he
demanded, pulling me into the bedroom.

After several minutes of him questioning me
about the incident, he finally sat back, rubbing his hands over his
face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Just don’t hide things like that from me
again, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promised, not quite sure if I
was telling the truth. I wanted to be able to trust him, but the
thought that he was hiding something nagged me in the back of my
mind again, making me nervous.

“You’re not fighting in two weeks,” he
announced suddenly, standing up.

I all but jumped off the bed. “I don’t think
so.”

“Max, you don’t understand how dangerous it
is for you. Someone made a threat on your life. That means you need
to lie low for a while.” His voice was calm; he was the voice of
reason.

I wanted nothing to do with that. “I haven’t
worked my ass off the last few years to quit now. I’m not backing
down.”

“If anything happens to you, he’ll kill me,”
Kingston muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Who?” I asked, my thoughts distracted.

His head snapped up, surprised I heard him.
“No one.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You can fight.”

His eyes glared at me for a moment and then
he walked out of the room. Ten seconds later, I heard the audible
click of my front door. He was gone.

I had to sit back down on my bed to catch my
breath. My suspicions weren’t wrong about Kingston; he was hiding
something. I blinked a few times, trying to get my head wrapped
around what was going on. I knew I should work out, but the last
thing I wanted was to see him. I needed to get some space, to
figure what the hell I was supposed to do.

My phone went off from somewhere in the
apartment and I rushed to find it. I opened up the text.

Wynter: Got time for breakfast before you
hit the gym today?

I smiled as I read her message. Somehow, she
always knew how to brighten my day, even when I never told her I
needed to have it brightened. I wrote her a quick
yes
.

When I walked into our favorite breakfast
diner twenty minutes later, Wynter was already waiting for me at
our booth in the back. She waved when she saw me and I walked
over.

“Uh-oh,” she said as I sat down across from
her. “Things didn’t go so well with Romeo, I take it?” She sipped
her coffee and watched me, waiting patiently for my
explanation.

I let out a heavy sigh once the waitress
brought me a cup of coffee. “I don’t even know where to start.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. “Take your
time.”

“Well, first of all, Kingston is hot as
fuck,” I started. She laughed, nearly choking on her coffee. “I
mean, I’ve never had a lover as attentive or demanding as he is. He
pushes my limits and brings me more pleasure than I’ve ever
experienced.
Ever.
”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing,” she
commented.

“No, and it wouldn’t be if he weren’t hiding
something from me.”

She raised her brow. “Hiding something?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s a feeling I
got, and then, when I told him about what really happened
yesterday, he mumbled something about how
he’d be upset if I let
something happen to you
. I asked him what he meant and he acted
like he never said it and told me to go ahead and fight. I don’t
get it.”

“Who do you think he could have been talking
about?”

I closed my eyes. “I have no idea, and I’m
not sure I want to know,” I said, letting my mind wander through
the possibilities.

“You think he means your dad?” she asked,
voicing exactly what I was thinking.

My eyes flew open. “Is it possible? I thought
I was crazy to even think it.”

“I’m not sure. If I were you, I wouldn’t
dismiss it, but I wouldn’t hope for it too hard, either.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve spent years wishing he
would come back or write a letter or
something
. I just
wanted to hear from him.”

“I know, Max. And I don’t blame you. But for
right now, focus on Kingston. Personally, I think he’s going
super-hot alpha male on you,” she said with a grin.

I shook my head. “You read too many romance
novels.”

“Well, that’s true. But it’s part of my job,”
she argued.

Wynter was a freelance editor. She worked
with tons of clients who wrote books and she was always in a dream
world. She was good at what she did, though.

“I’m not sure if I should work out today or
not,” I admitted to her, bringing the conversation back on
topic.

“Do you want to fight?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Then it seems like you need to go work out,”
she suggested. “But, if you don’t want to go back just yet, I’m
down for a shopping trip.” Her voice was beyond hopeful.

I smiled at her. “I think a shopping trip is
just what the doctor ordered.”

We took the train to the mall, chatting along
the way. Wynter needed to get a dress for some masquerade ball she
was going to next month, so we decided to hit up the prom store
first. As she tried on an insane number of dresses, I voted and
vetoed several, giving her my honest opinion, even when she didn’t
want it.