Page 27 of The Clinch
“You’re not going out by yourself.”
“I am.” She doesn’t even pause. “A run.”
“Drake might be lurking.”
She pushes her hair off her face. The scent of jasmine and coconut drifts toward me. “Relax. Travis isn’t stalking the building at five in the morning.”
Anger cracks through me. Rage is easy. But rage is also sloppy. I don’t do sloppy. Not with her.
“You caught him hard,” she goes on. “He’s probably horizontal somewhere with frozen peas on his face.”
“You crossed state lines to get away from him,” I snap. “Changed your name. It’s not a big stretch to conclude that there’s a story there.” She glances back at me evenly. “And you’re acting like he’s nothing.”
“Heisnothing.” She turns fully now, eyes blazing. “A sweaty inconvenience with a bad right hook.”
“He came looking for you.”
“Lucky for me,” she says, with a hint of a smile, “I had the U.S. heavyweight champion pressed up against me, making it very clear I wasn’t available.”
The memory punches through me—her body against mine, soft and warm, ready to be pulled under.
“This isn’t a joke.” Heat rises low in my gut. “I fought him years ago. He’s big, mean, and skips the moral compass entirely.”
Her grin deepens. “Oh, I figured there was history.”
I don’t answer. She looks at the cut above my eye. When she comes back to my eyes, the edge in her voice has dropped a register.
“History or not,” she says softly, “I know what this could’ve cost you. You’re not allowed to fight outside the ring. That could’ve been your title. Your sponsors.” She breathes out slowly. “Your career.”
That hits somewhere it shouldn’t.
“That’s why I said yes to this fake-fiancée circus,” she continues. “So Jessica can spin it and you don’t lose everything because my ex decided to throw a tantrum.”
“Then let’s keep it contained. Agreed?”
She gives me a deadpan stare. “Are you planning to keep me chained up in your lair, big boy?”
“Not funny.”
“Not a joke.” Her expression hardens. “You’re not responsible for me. You stepped in, and I appreciate it. But you don’t get to body-block me every time Travis behaves like a lunatic.”
I step closer. The jasmine hits stronger now, mixing with something citrus and bright.
“You think this is about chivalry?”
“I think,” she says, “you and I were about to fuck.”
Her calling it out strikes me low and devastating. I hate how visible the reaction is.
She notices. Raises an eyebrow.
“You were running on adrenaline and testosterone,” she continues evenly. “And I was three seconds from getting myself a very good time. Then my ex walked in and ruined our plan.”
Want spikes so fast it nearly scrambles my thinking.
“And now?” She lifts her chin. “Now we’re in a different situation.”
I let her finish. This is exactly the kind of situation that ends badly if I allow myself to think too much.
