I step into the ring and the crowd’s energy surges, a mix of jeers and cheers washing over me. I scan the crowd, my gaze finding Lucy instantly, her blue eyes wide as she watches from ringside. Even in this dingy warehouse filled with Kean thugs, she stands out like a beacon. She doesn’t belong here. She’s too clean for the ugliness of this world. Of my world. She must know it too if the fear etched across her face is any indication.
I should forfeit and get her out of here.
The bell rings, and it’s still echoing when a fist crashes into my jaw. Pain explodes across my face, my head snapping sideways. I stumble back and the crowd roars.
Stupid. I let myself get distracted by Lucy, forgot these bastards fight like their bosses operate, no rules, no honor. Just whatever it takes to win.
My opponent advances, confidence radiating off him in waves. ‘That wake you up, pretty boy?’ He circles left, already loading up another right hook. ‘Thought you’d waltz in here and show us how it’s done?’
There’s been a rumor about my having kicked the ass of four of Kean’s men. Of course, the Keans deny it. After all, it looks bad for them. But the rumor is all that’s needed to put a target on me, at least in the ring. I suspect this guy is hoping to boost his profits by taking down the man rumored to have beaten the shit out of four Kean men.
I shake off the hit and spit blood onto the canvas. My jaw throbs where he tagged me, but the pain helps sharpen my focus. Time to remember who I am, what I am. I’m not just some street fighter looking to make a name. I’m Flint fucking Ifrinn, and these people will pay for what they took from me.
I roll my shoulders back, letting that familiar rage simmer through my veins. This punk thinks he caught me off guard? He has no idea who he’s dealing with.
My opponent throws another hook, but this time, I’m ready. I slip under it, driving my fist deep into his ribs. The impact jolts up my arm as he grunts in pain. Before he can recover, I follow with an uppercut that snaps his head back.
The crowd’s jeering shifts to excited shouts. These vultures don’t care who wins. They just want violence. And I’m about to give them a show.
He staggers back, eyes wide with surprise. Didn’t expect that from the pretty boy, did you? I press forward, cutting off his retreat. My next combination lands clean, left hook to the body, right cross to the jaw.
‘Not so cocky now, are you?’ I growl, landing another body shot that doubles him over.
The crowd’s roaring drowns out everything else as I unleash hell. Right cross. Left hook. Uppercut. Each punch is precise, calculated, fueled by a darkness I usually keep locked away. But here, in this ring? I let it loose. I need to let it loose, not just to release the hatred coursing in my veins for the Keans, but also, the nearly unbearable tension that builds when I’m around Lucy. All of it, I’m letting go on this asshole.
He crumples to the canvas after a particularly brutal combination. The crowd starts to count, but we all know he’s staying down.
One of Kean’s men steps in and grabs my wrist, raising my hand in victory. The crowd erupts. Through the haze of victory and lingering adrenaline, I look over at Lucy in the crowd. My heart stalls when I don’t see her where I’ve left her. My gaze darts about, and fear gnaws in my gut. Did Kean’s men recognize her? Has some asshole hauled her off?
I catch a glimpse of blonde hair weaving through the crowd toward a restroom. She glances back and her face is chalk-white, reminiscent of just before she fainted.
Fuck. I didn’t even think that this situation would trigger her. Didn’t she say she only fainted at the sight of her own blood?
Kean’s man still has my arm raised. Some Kean soldiers nod with newfound respect. Any other time, I’d play into it. This is exactly the in I’ve been working toward. The smart play would be to let her go. Stay here, capitalize on my win, get closer to the Keans. That’s the mission. That’s what matters.
But Lucy…
I yank my arm free, exit the ring, and shoulder through the crowd. Someone calls out about my winnings. The money can wait. Everything can wait.
I follow Lucy’s trail to the warehouse’s bathroom. My knuckles still throb from the fight, blood crusting around the edges. Sweat drips down my chest, my boxing shorts clinging to my skin as I push through the door.
‘Lucy?’ There are two stalls but only one is occupied. I turn the bolt of the door to give us privacy. I go to the stall. She hasn’t locked the door. As I gently push it open, I see her leaning against the stall wall, taking in deep breaths.
‘What happened?’ Anger simmers inside me. ‘Did someone touch you?’
She shakes her head but won’t look at me. Her chest rises and falls too quickly. She’s either crying or having a panic attack. Maybe both.
‘Lucy.’ I step closer, ducking my head to catch her eye. ‘Talk to me. You’re going to pass out again.’
She sucks in a breath, making a valiant effort to calm herself down. “No one bothered me,” she finally answers my question. Well, that’s good. The rage lurking at the edge diminishes, leaving only my worry.
‘Was it the fight?”
“It’s so brutal.”
I give her a lopsided grin. “I’m fine.” Maybe I should have checked myself before saying that. I could be dripping blood from my mouth.
‘It wasn’t just you.’ Lucy wraps her arms tighter around herself. ‘The fight before… is he dead?’
I don’t have an answer. He could be. Death isn’t the goal of these underground fights, but it certainly happens.
‘And then you got in that ring.’ Her voice cracks. ‘That man sucker punched you, and…”
A smirk tugs at my lips again. ‘Aw, were you worried about little old me?’
‘Don’t.’ She jabs a finger at my chest. ‘Don’t make this into a joke. You could have been seriously hurt.’
‘Says the woman who keeps chasing gangsters into dark places.’ I catch her hand before she can pull it back, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. ‘At least I know how to throw a punch.’
Lucy tries to glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. ‘That’s different. I’m careful.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Following O’Brian into a dark alley is not careful. Tracking Ronan Kean into dark warehouses is not careful.”
‘I had backup.’ She tilts her chin up defiantly. ‘You were there.’
I laugh. “Because you think I’m stalking you?”
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘Sure you can, sunshine. That’s why you’re hiding in a bathroom having a panic attack.’
‘I’m not hiding,’ she protests, but her fingers curl into my bare chest, betraying her nervousness. ‘I just needed a minute.’
I press closer, caging her against the wall. ‘You were worried about me.’ I trace my thumb along her jaw, savoring how she shivers at my touch. ‘Admit it.’
Lucy’s teeth catch her bottom lip. ‘Your ego doesn’t need the boost.’
‘Maybe I like knowing you care.’ The words feel a little too revealing.
Her fingers spread across my chest, but she doesn’t push me away as I expected she might. I watch her gaze take in my chest and then lift to my mouth. ‘Your jaw is swollen.’
There’s no denying the electric current zapping between us. We could light up Boston with it.
I lean in until our foreheads nearly touch. ‘That’s not what you’re really thinking about.’
‘No?’ Her voice quavers, but there’s a challenge in those blue eyes. ‘What am I thinking about, then?’
The last thread of my control snaps. I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp as I pin her fully against the wall. She tastes like mint and something sweeter, her lips soft despite the bruising force of the kiss.
Lucy melts into me with a whimper that shoots straight to my groin. Her hands slide up my chest, nails scraping lightly over my skin until they tangle in my hair. The slight sting when she tugs makes me growl against her mouth.
Yes, yes, yes, runs in an endless loop. I break away just enough to drag my teeth along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Her pulse hammers beneath my tongue as I taste the salt of her skin. When I bite down gently, she arches into me with a breathy moan that echoes off the bathroom walls.
‘Flynn.’ My name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a curse wrapped into one.
There’s a moment when I think to push her away and tell her who I really am so I can hear my real name from her divine lips. But I don’t want to break the spell of this moment. My dick would never forgive me.
So instead, my hands slide up her legs, lifting the skirt of her dress and pressing her more firmly against the wall. Thank fuck, Lucy wraps her legs around my waist, grinding against me with a desperation that matches my own. There’s no hiding my arousal in these thin shorts. My dick is tenting them. I grind against her too, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.
‘Flynn,” she says again, and I capture her mouth to stop her from calling me that. My tongue slides against hers. The taste of her is intoxicating. Every soft sound she makes drives me crazy, makes me want to tear off her clothes and take her right here.
My hand slides between her legs. When I reach the lace of her panties, I find her dripping wet. There’s no coming back from that. The need to have her here, now, is so fierce. I need to be inside her more than I need my next breath.
I brush against her through the damp fabric, and she lets out a broken moan that echoes off the bathroom walls.
‘You’re so wet for me already.’ I nip at her earlobe and then trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. Mine. The possessive thought blazes through me as I rub my fingers over her clit.
Lucy’s head falls back against the wall, exposing more of her throat to my hungry mouth. Her hips rock against my fingers. I remember how she touched herself in the tub and I try to mimic it. I press harder against her clit, circling through the fabric.
“This is how you like to be touched, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she says on a gasp.
“You think of me when you touch yourself, don’t you?” I’m on the verge of giving myself away, but I can’t seem to control myself.
“I… ah…”
“Makes me so fucking hard, knowing you think of me while you play with yourself.’
“How’d you—”
I kiss her hard. “I came so fast thinking about you… thinking about this hot, wet pussy of yours.” I rub her clit in circles. “I have to fuck you, Lucy. I need it so fucking bad.” I’m aware that I’m in a bathroom in a warehouse fight club. It’s not the place a woman like Lucy should be fucked. She deserves a soft bed with clean, crisp sheets. But I’ve never felt so desperate for a woman in my life.
I tug the panel of her panties aside and with my other hand shove my shorts down. In one hard thrust, I’m inside her and my world tilts on its axis.
