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Despite my hesitation, she didn’t hold anything back. She fisted her fingers in my shirt and pulled me down. And in. I was drowning in her taste, cinnamon and mint. The combination didn’t go together. I was used to girls tasting like fruit or candy. She was more tart than sweet. More hard than soft. Her body yielded in my arms, but her tongue only became more aggressive, almost daring me to keep up.
Why did that turn me on so damn much?
She moaned again when I got rougher than I’d intended, and I immediately drew back. “Sorry,” I mumbled, fairly certain I’d never apologized after a kiss before. Her heavy lids lifted and she smoothed the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. “Jesus, Mia, don’t do that when I’m trying to be honorable.”
“Why?”
I scrubbed my face with my fists. She sounded genuinely confused. “Because we barely know each other. Because you don’t feel like someone I can just sleep with and forget, and I don’t do anything else. Because you have sore lips.”
When I dropped my hands, she was touching those lips, running her fingers over them. If she’d cupped her bare breasts, I doubt I would’ve become more aroused.
“I’m sore all over, Fox.”
I rolled my eyes at the nickname. Damn, she wouldn’t give me even a temporary reprieve.
“It’s not the first time,” she continued, “and it won’t be the last.”
Some secret hidden meaning lurked behind her words. I just didn’t get what it was. “You’ve been in a lot of fights?”
She gripped the zipper of my jacket and ran it up and down, the noise seeming way too loud. This was never the quietest neighborhood. There was always a backfiring car lumbering past or someone dragging metal garbage cans to the curb. But tonight there was just deathly silence, made even thicker by the accumulating snow. Even the traffic noises were muffled.
For the moment, we were the only two people who existed.
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate.
I wa
s beginning to put together the puzzle, but I wasn’t sure if I was lining up the pieces correctly. “With your boyfriend? Or your husband?”
She shook her head.
“Your dad?”
As she gave another shake of her head, I frowned. So much for thinking I could figure this out on my own. I needed to ask a direct question if I wanted a direct answer.
“Then who?”
She shrugged. “Other women. Anyone who wants to. Just like you.”
My frown grew. What the hell was she talking about? I’d thought maybe she wanted me to train her to become more skilled in defending herself against whomever she fought on a regular basis. But this conversation had just veered right off the tracks. Again.
“I want you to hurt me. I want you to kick my ass, Tray.”
While I reeled at her usage of my real name, she stepped forward and gathered my shirt in her fist, pulling until the fabric tightened around my neck. She had my attention now, every bit of it. “Mia?”
“You won’t succeed, but I need you to try.”
“Jesus fuck, what is this?” So much for being articulate. I couldn’t make sense out of this conversation, and I didn’t get why we’d delved into this topic again while we were still outside in the freaking cold.
Oh, wait, yes, I did. I’d kissed her and opened Pandora’s crazy box.
“Why aren’t you listening to me?” She punched my chest, leaving a dull pain behind. “I’m a fighter, just like you. You haven’t heard of me because women fighters don’t count for shit around here. But I’ve heard of you. I’ve watched your tapes. I’ve seen your matches. You’re good.” She licked her lips. “But I’m better.”
Laughter exploded out of me with the finality of a gunshot. She didn’t flinch. Barely even reacted. She’d been expecting it, obviously. “You’re a fighter? For real? Who the hell have you been taking out? Smurfette and her rowdy blue brothers?”
Her teeth clicked as she set her jaw. “You shouldn’t insult what you just admitted you don’t know a damn thing about. Get in the ring with me and we’ll see where all your big talk leaves you.”
I nearly laughed again. “Honey, I can’t deny you have the body for it. You just had it up against me, so I know you’re in good shape.”
