him reeling into the fencing.
I tried to listen to the commentator. He was saying something about Harding having an effective reach and Ford being the master of combinations.
Don’t I know it ? I touched my fingers to my lips.
The referee broke them up. Harding used the time to toy with the crowd. Ford never took his eyes off his opponent as he paced a small patch of the mat. Like a predator eyeballing his prey. After a few seconds, they prepared for another round.
It’s go time.
Harding came out swinging with a flying elbow to Ford’s head. I watched as he shook it off and barreled into Harding, giving him a knee to the gut. Harding doubled over. Ford proceeded to pound him in the head.
The referee stepped in, breaking them apart before allowing them to start again. This time Ford slips his arm under Harding’s and the crowd explodes as if they know something I don’t. Ford’s hand moved. His body pivoted and then I see it.
He literally bent Harding’s body in half, sending him backwards. Once he had him immobilized on the mat, Ford pinned his chest with his body weight. There was rolling and sliding. Then I saw Ford’s curled up frame strain with everything he had. His white teeth clenched. He squeezed his eyes shut with every vein fighting to break free.
The mob was hysterical as Harding tapped out, declaring Ford the Pitbull Herveaux the reigning Light Heavyweight champion. “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” blasted through the stadium. The referee held Ford’s arm in the air.
My weightless body buzzed with adrenaline. I don’t know when it happened, but I was on my feet, cheering with the crowd and chanting Ford’s name.
Boss and Jake rushed the cage, clapping Ford on the back and shoulders. Everything happened so fast. Before Kip Harding even had a chance to get up off the floor completely, Ford found me in all the chaos. The hard, dangerous stare gave way to the familiar, intoxicating blue. I didn’t know which Ford I wanted more. I intended on relishing both.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A fter celebratory drinks, Ford and I made a quick beeline for our room. He wore his swollen eye and bruises as a badge of honor. His cheek had already turned a bright shade of reddish purple. His lip was busted in two different places and both ears were battered and red.
Ford fell backwards onto the massive, king size bed. “Damn, it feels good to finally be alone.”
“Yeah, it was a hectic day. Do you do this often? Fight, I mean?”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “A few times a year. Makes good money.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I should say so. A 12-0 record isn’t too shabby.”
“Impressed ya’, did I?
“Always.” So what’s your plan for all that dough?” I watched him strip away his shirt. His huge muscles shifted with every movement.
He rested against the headboard and kicked off his boots and socks. “You mean other than wining and dining you?”
I tilted my head and rolled my eyes.
“Okay,” he waved his hands and smirked. “Well, I’m saving up to buy Champs.”
“Seriously? Boss is selling the club?”
“He’s not in a hurry or anything. We worked out a deal. He’s not looking for any other buyers. He wants me to have it. Actually, he wanted to take over and pay him when the funds come in, but I’m not comfortable with that. I want to pay up first.”
“Wow, that’s a great opportunity. It sure as hell beats working for a bank.”
“You know you have a passion for fitness. You should think about getting your certifications. Find a gym. I happen to know one that should be hiring soon.” Ford flashed his dimples. “We could start working on your technique now.”
He snagged me by the waist and pulled me onto the bed.
“Still okay with this?” He asked with a serious expression.
I didn’t respond with words. I slipped off my shoes, followed by my jeans. I was surprised by my own brazen behavior since I had always been ashamed of my body. But everything about this
I tried to listen to the commentator. He was saying something about Harding having an effective reach and Ford being the master of combinations.
Don’t I know it ? I touched my fingers to my lips.
The referee broke them up. Harding used the time to toy with the crowd. Ford never took his eyes off his opponent as he paced a small patch of the mat. Like a predator eyeballing his prey. After a few seconds, they prepared for another round.
It’s go time.
Harding came out swinging with a flying elbow to Ford’s head. I watched as he shook it off and barreled into Harding, giving him a knee to the gut. Harding doubled over. Ford proceeded to pound him in the head.
The referee stepped in, breaking them apart before allowing them to start again. This time Ford slips his arm under Harding’s and the crowd explodes as if they know something I don’t. Ford’s hand moved. His body pivoted and then I see it.
He literally bent Harding’s body in half, sending him backwards. Once he had him immobilized on the mat, Ford pinned his chest with his body weight. There was rolling and sliding. Then I saw Ford’s curled up frame strain with everything he had. His white teeth clenched. He squeezed his eyes shut with every vein fighting to break free.
The mob was hysterical as Harding tapped out, declaring Ford the Pitbull Herveaux the reigning Light Heavyweight champion. “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” blasted through the stadium. The referee held Ford’s arm in the air.
My weightless body buzzed with adrenaline. I don’t know when it happened, but I was on my feet, cheering with the crowd and chanting Ford’s name.
Boss and Jake rushed the cage, clapping Ford on the back and shoulders. Everything happened so fast. Before Kip Harding even had a chance to get up off the floor completely, Ford found me in all the chaos. The hard, dangerous stare gave way to the familiar, intoxicating blue. I didn’t know which Ford I wanted more. I intended on relishing both.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A fter celebratory drinks, Ford and I made a quick beeline for our room. He wore his swollen eye and bruises as a badge of honor. His cheek had already turned a bright shade of reddish purple. His lip was busted in two different places and both ears were battered and red.
Ford fell backwards onto the massive, king size bed. “Damn, it feels good to finally be alone.”
“Yeah, it was a hectic day. Do you do this often? Fight, I mean?”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “A few times a year. Makes good money.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I should say so. A 12-0 record isn’t too shabby.”
“Impressed ya’, did I?
“Always.” So what’s your plan for all that dough?” I watched him strip away his shirt. His huge muscles shifted with every movement.
He rested against the headboard and kicked off his boots and socks. “You mean other than wining and dining you?”
I tilted my head and rolled my eyes.
“Okay,” he waved his hands and smirked. “Well, I’m saving up to buy Champs.”
“Seriously? Boss is selling the club?”
“He’s not in a hurry or anything. We worked out a deal. He’s not looking for any other buyers. He wants me to have it. Actually, he wanted to take over and pay him when the funds come in, but I’m not comfortable with that. I want to pay up first.”
“Wow, that’s a great opportunity. It sure as hell beats working for a bank.”
“You know you have a passion for fitness. You should think about getting your certifications. Find a gym. I happen to know one that should be hiring soon.” Ford flashed his dimples. “We could start working on your technique now.”
He snagged me by the waist and pulled me onto the bed.
“Still okay with this?” He asked with a serious expression.
I didn’t respond with words. I slipped off my shoes, followed by my jeans. I was surprised by my own brazen behavior since I had always been ashamed of my body. But everything about this
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