Read Online Against the Ropes by Sarah Castille - Free Book Online

bed, thick arms folded. Although I don’t look up, I can feel his eyes on me. Maybe he’s hungry.
    “Would you like some?”
    “I don’t eat ice cream. It’s full of chemicals and unnecessary fats.” The soft, velvety texture of his voice is almost a match for the smooth, creamy ice cream on my tongue. What a combination: Torment, ice cream, unnecessary fats, and me.
    “It’s very unhealthy,” he continues. “Any nutritional value is canceled out by the high sugar content.”
    “Have you actually ever tried it?” I scoop out some ice cream and lick it off the cold metal spoon with slow, careful, little flicks of my tongue. When I lift my eyes, Torment’s lips have parted and his eyes burn with sensual fire.
    “No.”
    “Here, try it.”
    Torment looks from the spoon to me and back to the spoon. “I’ll try it if you’ll watch us sparring tonight. I think it would help you get a feel for the potential injuries you might face in the ring if you saw the different strikes, grapples, and submissions the fighters use. It’s just training. No serious injuries. Rarely any blood or broken bones.”
    Anything to gain a convert to the cult of Chunky Monkey.
    “Okay.” I waggle the spoon in front of his lips. “I’ll come, but you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”
    “Your way.” He pushes the spoon to the side.
    Everything below my waist tightens. “My finger?”
    His sinful smile makes my pulse throb in unexpected parts of my anatomy.
    “This one.” Lifting my hand, he strokes along the finger I just pulled out my mouth.
    How damn erotic is that? I dip my finger into the soft ice cream and hold it out. Torment leans forward and takes it in his mouth, sucking gently. His lips are soft and warm. His mouth is wet and oh so hot.
    A soft sigh escapes my parted lips and the endorphin rush almost knocks me off my feet. Desire sings its way through my veins straight to my core. My eyes lock on his lips as they glide gently over my skin and then pull away, leaving me bereft.
    Torment gives me a heart-stopping, sensual, self-satisfied smile.
    “You like?” I lean in toward him as if I might miss his answer.
    “I like.”
    Is he still talking about the ice cream, or is he talking about me? Please be talking about me. Please be talking about me.
    “More?”
    “Later.” He cups my cheek and his thumb presses my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’ll be looking for you in the training ring.”
    My legs melt, and I am swept up in the warmth of his gaze. “I’ll be the one staring at the floor.”
    “And I’ll be the one thinking about dessert.” His mouth curves up in a wicked smile, and he presses my forefinger, still sticky with ice cream, to his lips. “Your way.”

Chapter 5
    It has nothing to do with sex
    Wedged between Rampage and a thick, heavyset Mexican named Jimmy “Blade Saw” Ramirez, I turn my attention to the ground-level practice ring in the training area. A few fighters join us on the bench to watch and learn as Torment spars with Homicide Hank.
    Torment warms up in the corner, and Homicide Hank beats on the punching bag, stopping every few strikes to scream at the ceiling for no apparent reason.
    “They don’t seem to be a good match,” I say to Jimmy. Unable to refer to him as “Blade Saw”—either in my head or out loud—without convulsing into fits of laughter, I don’t use his name at all. Rampage has still not apologized for his ill-conceived practical joke, and relations between us remain cool.
    My first impression is that physically, Torment has the edge. His height will give him a better reach and his long legs will let him cover more ground. He is also broader, heavier, and more muscular. By contrast, Homicide is small, wiry, and highly strung. He jumps up and down in the corner, punctuating every bounce with a scream.
    “Homicide is tougher than he looks,” Jimmy says. “He’s quick and an expert on submission. He won’t win, but he’ll get a chance