Page 60 of Fight from the Heart

“I am,” I reply, looking back at the man who smiles at me.

“Jacob asked for you.”

I stare at him, who couldn’t be more than twentysomething, not understanding what he means.

“I’m Jamal, and Jacob would like to see you in the locker room.”

Glancing down at Ella, she smiles with a knowing grin and nods for me to follow this kid. I take my coat and my purse and blindly follow the younger man.

My heart hammers in my chest as I near a door blocked by a man dressed in black and I assume security. He opens the door for me, and I slip inside a room with a few lockers, a table in the middle, and one fuming Jacob Vincent. Free of his boxing gloves, he’s still in the silky shorts, skin gleaming.

“Why were you letting him touch you?” Jacob immediately questions. Jacob stalks to me so quickly I hardly have time to catch my breath.

“I didn’t let him touch me. He just did it.”

“I didn’t like it.” Instantly, I recall Mandi jumping into Jacob’s arms when we first arrived. I hadn’t liked that moment either, but I’m angry about his implication toward me.

“I’m not certain you have a say.”

Jacob grips the back of my neck and tugs me to him, mouth crashing against his. He’s taking my lips like he fought in his fight. Intense. Motivated. Unforgiving. Pulling back almost as quickly as he leaped, he growls at me.

“I say, no one else can have this mouth.”

His covers mine again before I have time to respond, and while I should be fighting him off and demanding he cut the caveman act, I’m melting under the voracity of his kiss. My hands slip up his sweaty chest and curl over his shoulders. He groans against my mouth before forcing his tongue between my lips, and I whimper at the bruising kiss. He pulls back only enough for me to lift me, and I wrap my legs around him as he carries me to the table in the center of the room. The hem of my dress moves upward.

“God, I want you,” he growls, lost to his wandering hand, skimming up my thigh, squeezing at my leg.

“Tell me you want this,” he begs, but I stop him.

Jacob’s head lifts when my hand presses at his wrist. He stares down at me, nostrils flaring, chest heaving.

“What’s this?” he demands.

“I can’t do this here. I can’t be with you where I know she was.” My body screams to ignore my rational thought, but I can’t be here, replacing her.

“How do you know she’s been here?” he snaps, but I only glare up at him. With my legs still over his hips and one hand at my back while the other crumples the skirt of my dress, we stare at one another. I don’t really need to answer him.

“Dammit,” he hisses, pulling back and holding out a hand to help me sit. As I do, he lowers my dress to my knees. “Let’s get out of here.”

+ + +

Before we leave the room, Jacob pulls on loose sweats and a sweatshirt over his heated body. He tucks me under his arm.

“Stay here,” he warns, squeezing me tighter to emphasize the protective position. As we leave the room, Jacob immediately sees Paddy.

“You’re a fucking prick,” Jacob yells at him, stepping up to the man with me still locked under his arm.

“But it worked. That’s the fastest knockout we’ve had in a while.” The gym owner chuckles at the success of a fight quickly ended, and I read between the lines. His taunts were meant to invigorate Jacob.

“When you’re ready to give up writing, Professor, there’s always a spot here for you, even if you are an old man.”

Jacob steps forward, ready to lunge, but I place a hand at his belly, and Paddy laughs harder.

“Get her home before I steal her from you.”

Jacob growls, and we exit the gym, finding a car waiting for us. Slipping inside, I turn to him. “That would never happen.”

“What?” Jacob snaps, still on edge despite the fight and because of what we didn’t do.