Page 2 of The Clinch
My body knows this language.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, following him too closely.
My mind throws up warnings.
Men like him are a bad idea. Men who live this close to violence always are.
My body ignores every one of them.
Between rounds, he drops onto the stool in his corner. Water splashes. A towel snaps over his shoulders. His torso rises and falls, sweat carving lines down muscle and bone.
Up close he’s devastating—fair skin, a jaw that could cut glass, shoulders thick enough to block the light behind him. His hair’s cut short, but the fight and the heat have lifted the color, brightening it at the temples. He sits like someone built for force, not flash.
I give myself one chance to stop staring and ignore it.
His attention cuts straight to me. The grin is quick. Crooked. Gone almost as soon as it appears.
It’s not a challenge or a performance. It’s a loaded promise. He knows I’m watching, and helikesit.
Eden grabs my wrist. “Why aren’t you losing your mind? It’s Leo.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re stone-faced.”
“I’m excited.” I try for nonchalance, but my voice comes out a croak.
She leans closer, a shit-eating grin splitting her face. “He keeps looking at you every time he’s in his corner.”
Oh, I’ve noticed.
Across the row, Nate glances over, but doesn’t say anything.
Smart man.
I force a shrug, even though my insides are molten. “Control your woman, Nathaniel. She’s stirring up trouble.”
Nate just laughs and pulls Eden in tighter. She snorts. “Don’t act innocent. You feel it too.”
I do.
God, I do.
She lowers her voice. “We talked about this, Liz. My brother hooks up and ghosts. It’s his signature move. You know that, right?”
“Sounds... efficient,” I say before common sense can stop me.
Her chin lifts. “Just don’t complain when he hits and runs.”
“I’d complain if he didn’t.”
She studies me, sharp and unyielding. “As long as you understand.”
Oh, I understand.
This is a bad idea.
Men like him leave marks you don’t see until later. I have the scars to prove it.
I should look away.
But if this is one night—just one—maybe I can take the hit and walk away smiling.
