Page 13 of Killer


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Halfway through my second day at Souza MMA, and I’m still watching from the sidelines, itching to punch something. Gabriel handed me off to his wife, Mariana, for a tour when I arrived this morning. No one said a word about me rushing out the door after my appointment yesterday with the tiny blonde physiologist.

Britt, her name is Britt.

She isn’t here yet today. Not that I’m looking. Fuck, who am I kidding, I’m totally looking for her. I shouldn’t. She’s all big, innocent blue eyes and rosy pink blushes. I’d take everything good about her and ruin it in a heartbeat. And god do I want to ruin her. I want to strip off those uptight clothes, force her to her knees, and grip her hair while I fuck her face.

No, that’s not true. That’s what I do to women, what I’ve done to women in the past. Use them. Get off and toss them aside. Britt… she’s not like that. She’s… different. And that’s what makes her dangerous. This girl could easily undo everything I’ve created to survive over the last ten years, tear down every wall I’ve built, every façade I’ve put up.

Shit. It’s like she’s an obsession. I dig my fingers into my palms until they bite through the skin. Adjusting my cup under my skintight fight shorts helps to ease the pain of having a semi-hard dick trapped inside. I’m getting turned on and I haven’t even laid eyes on Britt yet today.

“Killer! Ready?”

I press my lips together and nod at Gabriel. In one quick move, I reach back, yank off my hoodie, and toss the fabric to the ground.

“Good.” Gabriel turns to the other fighter. “Raoul, ready?”

The man bounces on the balls of his feet and nods, his dark eyes bright with excitement.

Enjoy it while it lasts, buddy. I’m gonna knock that smug expression right off your face.

I follow Raoul up the steps into the cage. The door closes with a satisfying clink behind me. Gabriel moves to the center, urging us to come forward.

“Okay, meus amigos, this is only sparring. No hard hitting. We’re concentrating on form, speed, and footwork.” He shoots us both a stern glare. “Now is not the time to show-off your hotshot moves.”

Raoul acknowledges Gabriel with a quick salute and a grin, his teeth hidden behind his bright yellow mouth guard.

“Killer?”

My eyes flick back to Gabriel, and to the trainer’s credit, he doesn’t flinch under my scrutiny. Most men do. Waiting another second, I dare him to break eye contact with the monster. When Gabriel stays fast, I finally grunt, nodding my chin toward this man who never wavers.

“Good. Five minutes.” Gabriel pulls out a stopwatch and holds it out. “Go!”

I brace my feet on the mat, letting my opponent strike first. Raoul does exactly what I predicted. He raises his hands, protecting his face, and goes at me with a left hook. As his fist comes toward my face, I tilt back on my left leg and rotate my hips, bringing my right foot across to collide just beneath his exposed ribcage, hitting him slightly above the liver.

Raoul’s punch whiffs past my chin and he collapses to the mat in a loud, whining heap.

“Fuck, man! I thought we were sparring,” he groans from the floor. Raoul staggers to his feet with Gabriel’s help. “I think you cracked a rib.”

Pussy. I went easy on him. If I hit him where I wanted to, he would have been unconscious from that liver strike. Idiot showed too much in his warm-up. Karate. Those guys always try for hits to the face and they’re shit at watching for Muay Thai kicks.

Emotionless, I stand with my back against the chain-link cage. Gabriel walks Raoul out, the man clutching his midsection and glaring at me.

“Crazy fucker,” he hisses as he passes by.

The shit talking doesn’t faze me in the least. I know what I am and I’ve been called worse.

After they depart, I figure this session is over so I leave the cage. Maybe I should have let him get a few hits in first so I could at least get a workout of some sort. Ignoring the whispers and stares of the other fighters and employees, I snatch up my hoodie. As I go to shrug it on, I catch sight of her out of the corner of my eye.

Britt is watching me. Our gazes meet and I expect her to flinch or turn away. She doesn’t. Those clear blue eyes stay fixed on mine. When I realize I’m standing with my hoodie halfway on, I yank it over my head, pissed I let this woman get under my skin. A tiny little girl. With cock-sucking lips and a tight round ass and the ability to completely distract me.

I flip up the hood, letting it fall over my brow. The feeling of being watched doesn’t diminish. Another quick peek has me locking eyes again with the petite blonde.

What the fuck? Why isn’t she afraid?

I don’t like this at all. People are supposed to turn away, not study me. If they look too hard, they might see everything I don’t want exposed. And Britt? She’s already closer to exposing me than anyone I’ve ever known, and it’s only been twenty-four hours.

I have a feeling when it comes to Britt, fate has already determined I’m screwed.

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