AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Paddy can take him,” Fitzy mutters back.
Paddy. I think I’m about to lay eyes on the elusive Paddy Flynn for the first time. I straighten, my eyes locked on the ring where Paddy Flynn is about to appear. This is it.
“Paddy better be able to take him,” Lucky mutters. “I’ve got a fucking mint riding on this fight.”
Perry’s booming voice rings out over the speaker system, echoing in the cavernous space. “Ladies and gentlemen, Paddy Flynn.”
That’s it. No flourish, no nickname, no music. Not what I was expecting after the other fights tonight.
“Let’s go, Paddy, lad!” Fitzy cheers. Either Sandy or Strawberry blonde behind us lets out a piercing whistle, the other yelling something in Irish, the strange syllables ringing in my ears.
“Yes, Paddy!” Lucky cheers, clapping loudly. “Do us proud, lad!”
The Irish men around me aren’t the only ones catcalling, and cheers ring out around the room. Paddy Flynn doesn’t acknowledge any of them. He walks out of a door over the side of the room, through the crowd as they part for him like Moses and the Red Sea.
The ring is on the ground, right in front of us, and Paddy slides through the ropes, standing in one corner. He doesn’t acknowledge the cheers. He doesn’t acknowledge the catcalls. He doesn’t even acknowledge the bear of a man standing in the other corner, pointing at his face and yelling insults. Something about hitting him so hard his mother feels it in her ovaries. Charming.
My cheeks heat up, and my mouth is dry as my eyes drink in the sight before me. Paddy is dressed in a pair of low-slung, loose-fitting trousers and nothing else. That’s a sight I won’t forget any time soon.
Paddy Flynn is just plain gorgeous. He has thick, tousled dark brown hair, dark brows, and dark stubble. If he were in a suit, he wouldn’t look out of place in a five-star hotel. But he’s not in a suit.
Thank goodness, because it would be a crime of the most serious nature to cover up all this deliciousness. Broad shoulders taper down to a slim waist, a defined V cutting down into his trousers, which are low-slung enough for a hint of dark hair to almost be showing.
You could cut yourself on his abs and pecs. I can’t tear my eyes away. Beside me, Lucky laughs.
“Do you need a tissue, lass?”
My eyes snap away from Paddy Flynn’s mouthwateringly bare torso, meeting his. My cheeks are now hot enough to fry eggs on. A tissue? Is my nose running? I lift my hand to brush my face, but it drops back into my lap when he speaks again. Screw eggs. A nuclear explosion would be cooler than my cheeks.
“To catch your drooling,” he smirks, dropping his arm around my shoulders, and tugging me close. Uh, this is new. Girls who look like me don’t getsnuggledagainst guys who look like him.
“D’ye think our lad can win?” He winks as his Irish brogue colors his voice. I blink, staring at him. What’s happening here?
“Lucky.” There’s an edge of warning in Fitzy’s tone. “Leave her alone.”
He doesn’t have to. I don’t particularly mind. Not that I’m about tosaythat. I am going to savor this for as long as it lasts.
“Jesus fuck, Fitzy,” Lucky snorts, his arm still hanging loosely around my neck. “I’m not about to seduce her. I’m making conversation.”
Fitzy’s eyes move over my face carefully. I quickly school my face into a neutral expression, blinking at him. I really don’t mind. His arm is just around my neck, and I don’t have any illusions that he's doing anything other than having a spot of fun.
“You tell me if he’s bothering you,” Fitzy tells me, turning back to the fight, ignoring me again.
I’m still staring at him when he nods toward the ring. Right. Paddy Flynn.
Turning my face back to the front, I realize Paddy is looking at him. They must have shared a nod. Paddy’s eyes slide over to me as I watch the ring, dipping to take in Lucky’s arm over my shoulders, coming back up to my face.
I’m blushing like all get out now, his eyes burning into mine. They are a rich, chocolate brown, and almost hypnotic. I certainly can’t seem to look away. I fight the urge to squirm as heat pools between my thighs.
Lucky’s breath brushes my ear. “Stop distracting him. I don’t like to lose.”
I blink, the spell broken. Lose what? The spell isn’t only broken for me. Paddy looks away, his attention returning to his opponent.
Perry’s voice booms out again. “Our referee for this fight, Joaquim Rodriguez.”
A tall, tanned man with long dark hair tied into a ponytail climbs into the ring, moving to stand between the two men there. He speaks with the two men, low enough for us not to be able to hear. They nod, both shaking their heads.
The last fight we saw, despite its brutal end, the two fighters fist-bumped before they started. Not these two. They glare at each other.
