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“No,” I responded immediately. “You know I—”
“Can be a stubborn arse?” A smile lit his cheek, and it warmed my insides to see him smile.
I slapped his chest with my free hand. “And you’re not?”
“Of course I am, but I’ve got no qualms admitting it.” His seductive accent flitted to my ears, and I had the urge to straddle him again, to ride him hard and fast like I’d done only a few hours ago.
God, what do you do to me?
His eyes became intense and he cleared his throat, lowering his attention to the base of my neck. I bit my lip. When Adam didn’t look me in the eyes, it was usually because he was going to tell me something I wouldn’t want to hear.
“Anna.”
Here we go.
“Yeah?”
“I need to figure this thing out with Donovan. I need to fight next Saturday. I need to do this alone. If you’re around, I’ll be worried about you, and I won’t be able to—”
“I understand. But you’ll find a way out once this is done, right?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Adam . . .” Something in the pit of my stomach didn’t feel right.
He released my hand and pulled me into his arms. “Try and trust me.”
Our eyes met, and I forced myself to relax against him. “I do trust you.”
“But?” He held me tight against him.
“No buts . . .”
CHAPTER THIRTY
ADAM
I clenched my phone in my hand as I strode into Donovan’s office at Hannigan’s Auto Body garage. After spending the day with Anna yesterday, I was in no mood to be this Adam—the fighter. But the damn man had demanded my attention ASAP. And so I had come.
“What’s so important that you needed to see me now?” I asked.
Donovan was sitting behind his desk, and he was alone. He was never without an entourage.
“Close the door, son.” He flicked his wrist, waving his hand my way.
Son? The muscles in my body grew tight as I turned away to close the door. I released a low breath, pressing my palm against the wood, hoping to calm myself.
“Sit down. We need to talk.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled one last breath before turning back to face him.
“Sit,” he said again.
I walked over and took a seat. I clutched the chair arms as if they could prevent me from doing something stupid. Like jumping across his desk and wrapping my hands around his throat . . .
“Frankie’s the underdog in the fight.”
I shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”
