Chapter 3

Francesca walked into the gym jet-lagged and in a mood. Tony could see her from the other side of the Academy, walking briskly. He’d heard from Slade that she had returned from Brazil the night before. Click click click click, over and over, was all Tony heard as he tried to put all his force into hitting the speed bag. It was the sound of her heels—a noise he’d grown accustomed to hearing since arriving at WtF all those months ago.

“You’re looking ’specially purty today, Frances.”

“Thanks, honey.” She smiled at Travis. Click click click click.

“How’s Uncle doing?” Enzo, the newest addition to the Academy and Francesca’s cousin, asked.

“He’s much better, thanks. Your mom’s been helping.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” He kissed her cheek and left for the locker room.

“Whatcha doing after work?” Travis asked as he leaned against the reception counter, where she stood shuffling through a couple of weeks’ worth of mail.

“She has a date with me,” Clint Thompson interrupted. The arrogant jerk occasionally trained at WtF but wasn’t a professional fighter yet.

Tony stopped punching and whipped his head back in time to hear her say to Travis, who looked puzzled, “It’s that bet Slade made a while ago. I almost forgot, but Thompson here was nice enough to text me this morning and remind me that we had a date today.” Her lips were pursed in a fake smile. Tony had forgotten all about the ridiculous bet.

“You goin’ to make it worth my while?” Thompson asked.

“Dinner. Home. No more,” she responded curtly.

“Home? Nice!” Thompson winked. “Yours or mine?”

“Neither.” She folded her arms.

“I bet I can get you to change your mind.”

That was more than he needed to hear. Tony grabbed her elbow and pulled her aside, “Can we talk?”

“I can’t. I gotta go,” she said, avoiding his eyes. He followed her to her office anyway and closed the door behind them.

“You okay? You don’t gotta go if you don’t want to. It was just a stupid bet.”

She straightened her spine. “Oh, please. I’m fine. A bet’s a bet. I’m not going to back down.”

He took a step closer and leaned a hip against her desk. “You don’t have to do this in front of me, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Act all tough.”

She choked out some sort of noise that sounded like pfft. “I’m not acting like anything. I’m being myself.”

He chuckled at her reaction. “Glad you’re back. Your dad’s better?”

“He is.” She was looking at her computer screen, obviously avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Can you expand on that, please?”

She looked up from the computer. “I’ve been gone two weeks. His condition is delicate, but his doctors assured me he’d survive, whereas this gym would probably not survive if I didn’t return. So here I am.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a pen from her desk and started twirling it, “So, um…did you…uh—”

Without looking from the screen she said, “Got my period. It’s fine. No worries. You’re off the hook.”

He let out a breath. “Good. That’s good.” He dropped the pen and leaned against the table. “I called you a few times.”

“Yeah, I know.” She finally looked up. “Listen, Tony, that night…it was a mistake. I told you already, I don’t date, especially not someone I work with. Can we just pretend it never happened?”

“Everyone out there,” he said, pointing to the door, “knows this tough-as-nails Francesca. I got to meet the other one—the one who let me feel her body against mine. I don’t know if I can forget that.”

“Stop reminding me.”

“You liked it.” When he saw that she looked pissed, he amended, “Don’t get me wrong, I like this fiery hellcat too, but now that I’ve seen this other side of you, I want to see it again, even if it’s just in private, when it’s just us two.” He cocked his eyebrow. “Think about me during your fake little date tonight.” He was about to leave when a thought crossed his mind. “Wait! Is that why you’re extra pissy today? It’s a real date, isn’t it? You like him.”

She let out an exasperated noise. “Fuck you, Tony. It’s just a bet, not that I have to explain anything to you. And I’m not pissy.” She walked out of her office, leaving him all kinds of confused.

Later that afternoon, Francesca found herself at the Pier. She sat in a corner of the bar looking at Thompson’s hand on her shoulder. She shifted, forcing him to move his arm, then looked at the very pink and very fruity drink she had been nursing. All that remained was a small bouquet of fruits at the bottom of the tall glass.

It was too early to be drinking, but Francesca knew that it was the only way she could make it through the hour with the arrogant ass she’d been duped into a date with. “Look,” he said, pointing behind him. “They’re all staring. Jealous that I’m here with you.”

A month earlier she’d been used as a ploy to get the guys at WtF behind the idea of practicing yoga as part of their training. Slade had bet the guys they couldn’t do an entire hour of yoga, and when no one seemed up for the wager, he’d laid down the gauntlet by betting them a date with Francesca as incentive. She hadn’t really minded, since it was for the good of the gym, but now that Thompson was bragging and touching her, she wanted to kill Slade.

Clint Thompson was the most arrogant man she’d ever met, which was quite a feat considering that the men she spent most of her days with were all cocky alpha males who fought in professional cage fights.

“I’ll be right back,” Thompson said as he walked toward the other side of the Pier. “Going to say hello to the guys.”

Francesca rested her forehead on her hands, her elbows on the bar. She was having a bad day. A bad week, actually. Well, if she was being truthful, a bad twenty-eight years. She really didn’t want to be on this shitty date wearing uncomfortable—albeit beautiful—clothes and numbingly painful stilettos; but a bet was a bet and she never walked away from paying up.

But she did have a lot on her mind. First and foremost, her pai. Even though he was doing better, she was still worried about her father’s health. And then there was her libido. With all the issues currently circling her life, having sex should’ve been the furthest thing from her mind. Should’ve been—but wasn’t. It was as if Tony had opened up the floodgates and she had to have more. The frustrating thing was that before that night, she’d thought that if she ever had sex again, she would probably need a diagram and a map. It had been that long. But instead, except for the brief second of pain at the very beginning, it had been wonderful.

Finally, to add to the list of shit inhabiting her mind, the only thing she had going for her in Tarpon Springs, Florida, was the financially unstable testosterone-filled Academy she had inherited from her very sick father.

She had placed all her metaphorical eggs in one basket when she’d convinced Slade to spend his life savings and hers on renovating the Academy in order to get Tony on board. Then Tony had failed to make it to almost all his trainings; instead, all the tabloids and entertainment channels featured him partying it up in the local nightclubs. And they’d lost the much-needed purse from his last fight. Luckily, there was another big fight coming up in four months, and the prize was three times bigger than the one in Tampa. They could still save the gym—but Tony had to win.

A loud, boisterous laugh from the other side of the Pier momentarily took her out of her funk. Speak of the devil. Tony lifted his chin to Francesca in the way that men sometimes did that bordered on douchy, but on Tony it was the sexiest thing ever. The man was too confident for his own good. He then turned his attention to a pretty brunette who clung to his arm.

There he was, with yet another woman. He was always with a different woman. She told herself that she didn’t care; she knew he’d screw her brains out again if she just said the word. He had been asking her out since the second he laid eyes on her months ago. She could have been the giggling woman playing pool with Tony if she wanted to be, instead of being on the worst date ever.

To the world, Francesca portrayed the epitome of strength. A born winner, smart, headstrong, always beautifully dressed in power suits, her hair perfectly coiffed and her makeup intact. But when it came to relationships, she was a big fat failure. And since failure was not an option, she avoided relationships to the point that the thought of being with a man actually terrified her.

It was her deepest, darkest secret: she was afraid of intimacy.

And that’s why she would probably never have sex again. She’d need to be able to get close enough to a man to have sex with him, and at the moment she could barely make eye contact with Tony when they were alone.

Bottom line: life currently sucked.

And her beautiful Prada spiked stilettos hurt like a mother!

“Did you miss me?” Thompson said in a husky voice, his sweaty hand on her arm. “The guys say hello, by the way.”

The guys—Cain, Slade, Travis, and Tony. She wished she were playing pool with them right now instead of on the stupid date.

JL, the bartender, placed another daiquiri in front of her, the umbrella almost poking her eye out and the slice of orange falling onto the counter. Looking at the tall, girly, fluorescent drink, she suddenly longed for aguardiente, craving the clear liquid burning her throat. But alas, it was not a woman’s drink, so for years she vacillated between daiquiris and wine; in her experience, men respected her more when she dressed and acted a certain way.

Annoyed at the hand on her arm, she turned her head toward Thompson just as she heard the rasp of the stool as he scooted closer. She glanced up at him, not in the mood to flirt or pretend to flirt. Francesca had too many things on her mind, all of which revolved around the constant thorn at her side: Worth the Fight Academy. Her dad’s baby. But now that he was sick (another thing that worried her) and in Brazil (another thing that made her sad), she and Slade had to make WtF thrive.

Slade, she knew, loved the Academy; it was his home. It had once been hers as well, but then she had moved to Brazil and hadn’t set foot inside the gym for ten years, until a few months ago. Somehow, in that short period of time, she had managed to get the Academy from being in the black to very much in the red.

“Another strawberry daiquiri for beautiful Red here,” Thompson said.

Ugh. Did every man feel the need to make a reference to her red hair?

Then he started talking about himself again: his accomplishments, his bench-pressing abilities, and some other inane bullshit she didn’t care about. She really didn’t know how she’d made it the entire twenty-eight years of her life without knowing that the average man couldn’t bench-press his own weight, unlike the very strong and very able Thompson, who could apparently bench-press double his own weight. She really should take off her clothes and screw him right there on the floor of the bar for that impressive skill.

Thompson sat with his stool facing her while she faced the bar, her spine stiff and her legs crossed. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his creepy gaze roaming over her body. This was supposed to be a fun date to fulfill the terms of a silly bet that she hadn’t even wholeheartedly agreed to. He had to know she wasn’t really serious about him. The creep scooted his stool even closer. She didn’t move.

“I love how you dressed up for me, in your tight blue dress, jacket, high-as-hell heels, hair pulled up. You look more like a lawyer than an owner of a gym. You’re too fancy for this place. For this town.”

“I always dress up.”

“Oh…and that accent. That’s a big turn-on. You’re Spanish like Tony, right, Red?”

“Please don’t call me Red. And Tony’s Cuban, I’m Brazilian. Completely different languages. Spanish and Portuguese.”

His hand reached for her knee. “You need to relax a little. You’re too wound up.”

She tried not to flinch. Keep it together. Her eyes finally met his. He gave her a big shit-eating grin in return and squeezed a little. “Fuck it,” she said to no one in particular. “I’d like a Macallan. Neat. Double.” She knew the Pier didn’t carry aguardiente, so she’d settle for Scotch. In fact, she’d order rubbing alcohol if she had to. At this point, she didn’t care if he judged her. In fact, she hoped it was a huge turn-off.

Alas, it had the opposite effect on him. “Now that’s a drink. Looks like things are going to get good real fast, honey.”

An annoyed groan left her lips, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. JL smirked as she poured the whiskey and handed it to her. With her new drink in hand, she swiveled toward Thompson. They were now sitting knee-to-knee.

She took the opportunity to really look at the man who was way too forward, way too creepy, and way too hot for his own good. Unfortunately, the creepy overshadowed the hot. He wore a gray suit, black tie, and crisp white shirt. Normally this was the type of guy she would love to date, if she dated. Instead she found herself glancing at Tony, who wore a snug-fitting white polo shirt and loose jeans. Thompson’s hair was dirty blond with a nice and proper side part. Tony, on the other hand, had dark hair that was standing up all over the place from running his fingers through it, and his face was scruffy.

Francesca was tall for a woman, a little over five foot nine. The fact that she had to tilt her head up to look into Thompson’s brown eyes meant that he was really tall. Moving her gaze down, she noticed all the bulk hidden beneath the uppity designer suit, and the black ink that peeked out from the collar of his suit. The few times she’d seen him at the gym, she’d barely noticed him. He paid his monthly membership dues, which was all she cared about. If he’d been a fighter, training to fight on behalf of WtF Academy, that would be a different story. But since he wasn’t, he was just another guy who walked in and out of her gym.

She’d wager he was probably a bouncer at some trendy nightclub. “What do you do when you’re not training?” Francesca asked.

“I work security.” Bouncer, security—same thing. Tomato, tomahto.

His creepy hand moved a little higher on her leg. She was looking at him so intently that he probably thought she was checking him out. “Was this just a one-drink pity date, or do you want to get out of here?” His hand was now well past her knee, a few fingers underneath the hem of her skirt. Her hazel eyes were now boring into him, unflinching.

“You’re sexy,” he whispered, leaning in. “I’m dying to know if the carpet matches the drapes.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Jeez, how original! And certainly the wrong thing to say.

She reached for his hand and tried to pull it off, but instead he just squeezed her thigh. Where they were sitting, no one else could see what was happening, and no one could hear them either. “Listen, this was supposed to be fun,” she told him. “Don’t get the wrong fucking idea.”

The moron inched his body closer, which caused his hand to slide higher up her skirt. “I love when you curse. The times I’ve seen you at the gym when you were on a rant, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Come home with me, Red.”

“I asked you not to call me that. I will ban you from WtF if you don’t get your slimy hands off my leg right now,” she hissed. She really didn’t want to make a scene.

“I’m moving in a few weeks. I don’t need your gym. I do, however, need you to come home with me.” He squeezed her thigh again, his hand now almost completely under her skirt.

She was officially pissed off—something she rarely allowed herself to be. In one solid gulp she downed the rest of the amber liquid and stood up, forcing his hand out of her skirt. She looked around and saw Tony’s eyes on her, but then he turned his attention back to the pool game. JL was talking animatedly with a patron at the other side of the bar. She looked back at the idiot who didn’t know the meaning of no. She displayed her very fake and most practiced smile and moved the half step it took to get closer to the man. He smiled. It was a beautiful smile. Too bad.

Thompson leaned back, and Francesca walked right between his parted legs. His hands wrapped around her waist. “I guess you changed your mind. Let me pay for this and we’ll get the hell outta here.” She felt his erection on her belly as she stood pressed up against him. She reached forward, crossed her arms, and grabbed his lapels. If anyone saw them, they’d have thought she was kissing his ear or his neck. It looked like a very intimate embrace.

She began to slowly uncross her arms, which brought the lapels tight around his neck, choking him. He looked at her, confused, his grin fading, but he still didn’t seem to get what she was doing. “I asked you to leave me alone. When a lady says to leave her alone, you leave her alone,” she said, squeezing tighter with each of the last three words. She pulled away from his ear to look into his face. It was red and his eyes watered as he struggled to breathe. Francesca gave one last tug and Thompson silently slid off his stool onto the floor, unconscious. When he woke up, he’d remember never to fuck with a woman again.

Francesca signaled to JL that she was leaving. She threw some money on the counter for her drink, stepped over the man on the floor, and took off.

Her daddy had taught her that a woman always had to be prepared.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Tony had called the rest of the guys out for a game of pool at the Pier; he’d overheard Thompson bragging about meeting Francesca there. So here he was, pretending to have fun with Travis and Cain and a few girls who had lingered around. His intention had been to leave Francesca alone and just assess the situation, but now he felt like a complete stalker. For months Tony had been relentlessly and unapologetically pursuing Francesca, but she’d kept shooting him down until he had literally taken matters into his own hands. The thing was, he’d been pretty sure that she had felt something too. It was in the subtle way she blushed when he asked her out or the way she rode his ass when he was slacking off at the Academy. Either way, it didn’t matter. He’d wanted her and he’d made his intentions clear.

As usual, she sat perfectly straight, clad in an expensive-looking business suit, her hair perfectly in place. Her skin was beautifully tanned, although not quite olive like his. Her floral scent was something that always lingered. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. She was tall, voluptuous, and so put together, it made her seem intimidating.

She never pandered to him, never let her guard down, and never backed down from an argument. She was such a mysterious woman and yes, attractive as hell, but what made her so irresistible was that she never dated or gave any of them the time of day. Enticing a room full of men with the opportunity to taste the unattainable was the perfect carrot to dangle in front of them. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get over her constant rejection. And now, after having felt her tighten around his cock, his dick twitched every time she was around.

Getting a woman had never been a problem for him. He wasn’t being cocky; it was just a fact. The ring bunnies and the groupies at the fights were always willing, and he’d had his fair share of them. Some were one-night stands, some he saw multiple times, but nothing ever serious. He usually didn’t even have to hit on them; they just came to him. The media called him “suave,” and his signature smile seemed to be the culprit. Or perhaps it was his wealth, fame, and overall bad-boy status. Oh, and the accent. Women fucking loved his accent.

This thing with Francesca was so foreign to him that he wasn’t sure how to proceed, and the more she rejected him, the more he wanted her. The woman had an aura that said, Stay the hell away. But the night of the wedding he’d seen her armor crack a little, and it had stirred something in him. He was fairly certain she kept that vulnerability tightly locked up, and it was a rarity that he’d gotten to witness it.

Tony had been keeping an eye on her while she was on her date with Thompson. He had watched her reach down a few times to her super-mega-high-heeled shoes and rub the sole of her foot discreetly before putting her shoe back on. When she put her head down on the bar in defeat, he wanted to go and comfort her. Then Thompson sat back down and touched her, and the desire to break the man’s nose superseded all other thoughts.

Tony’s fists clenched and his jaw twitched as he watched the man move in closer. Did she actually like this guy? Then she turned and said something, and the man laughed again and moved his hand even higher. Tony’s blood pressure rose, and he had the strong urge to break each and every finger on the guy’s hand. Francesca stood and leaned into the douchebag.

What the fuck?

He’d tried every line in the book to get a date with her, and nothing. Nada. But handsy Clint came along, and—

Was she kissing his neck? Son of a fucking bitch!

And then…the man collapsed. Francesca just stood there, unfazed.

In seconds, Tony was on his feet taking long strides toward Francesca.

As he was making his way over to her, he noticed her toss some money on the bar and nod at JL, who leaned over the bar to look down at the floor. Francesca stepped over the man and began to head toward the door. She turned and froze midstep when her eyes met Tony’s.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She seemed more flustered by his presence than by the guy lying on the floor.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

She looked down at the still man and then up at Tony. “He deserved it.”

“He kind of did,” JL agreed. “I overheard some of their conversation.”

“What did ju do? Taser him? Is he dead?” Tony bent down to look for a pulse.

Francesca snatched his hand away. “Just leave him alone. Of course he’s not dead. He is an asshole, though.”

JL leaned her forearms against the bar. “Should I call an ambulance or something, or will he wake up soon?”

“He’ll wake up soon. Probably pissed off and humiliated.” She turned toward the door. “I’m outta here.”

“See ya, Frances,” JL said as she strutted to the other side of the bar, leaving Thompson lying on the floor like a corpse and Tony standing over the man, shocked and confused.

It took Tony a minute to react before bolting out of the bar to find Francesca. The evening was unusually windy and smelled of rain. He saw her striding briskly toward the gym, where he knew she had her car parked.

“Hey!” Tony yelled, but she continued walking. He reached for her forearm to stop her before she could go any farther. “Hey,” he repeated. “Tell me the truth. What happened? One second you’re so close I think you’re making out, and the next the guy’s passed out on the floor.”

“Were you just sitting there watching like some sort of Peeping Tom? That’s kinda creepy.” She started walking again.

“I was just minding my own business, and there you were with your tongue down some guy’s throat.” He said it louder than he intended, his accent very prominent now. “I thought ju didn’t date.”

“My tongue was not down some guy’s throat. Anyway, it’s none of your business. Just drop it.”

“Tell me what happened and I’ll drop it.”

She tried to pull away, but he didn’t release his grip. “God, you’re such an ass, you know that?” She relaxed a little. “He was being a jerk. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I choked him out.”

Tony’s eyes opened to the size of saucers before he released his grip on her and began laughing.

“What’s so funny?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You.” He pointed to her outfit. “Dressed in a suit and heels, your hair perfect, you choked out a guy twice your size?”

“What? Only guys can fight?” She reached the door of the gym just as thunder crashed nearby and the rain began.

“Maybe.” As soon as he noticed the daggers shooting from her eyes, he backtracked a little. “Okay, no. But, you can’t beat up a guy. It’s impossible. You’re not exactly dainty, but you’re so…”

“So what?” She was now tapping her foot on the ground.

He struggled for the right word. “Girly,” he finally answered.

She smiled as if he had finally said the right thing. “Oh, well then. Remember that and forget what you just saw.”

“Are you serious about choking out that guy?”

“You forget I was raised here at the gym with my dad. I trained in Brazilian jiu jitsu from the time I was three years old. I’m a black belt. I just don’t like to talk about it.”

He stalked toward her, and she moved back. “Well, you should. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, now that I know you weren’t making out and he’s not dead.”

She seemed surprised. “Men like feminine women, not some awkward tomboy. You’re just trying to be nice.”

Was she serious? He wasn’t being nice. Shit, he wasn’t even a nice guy. He reached for her hand and pulled her roughly against him. “Who fucked you up this bad that you think that you’ve got to hide yourself? That you think you know what guys like so well?”

“Excuse me?” She was still against his chest and she tried to pull back slightly. But now he was aware that if she really wanted out of his grip, she knew exactly how to make it happen. No, she wanted to be near him as much as he wanted her near him.

Francesca looked up, her big hazel eyes on his. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to talk.

“I’m going to assume it’s some guy who messed you up and that’s why you’re standing there pretending that what happened between us didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t a fucking one-night stand.” He took a deep breath and said the words slowly so he didn’t sound like an idiot who didn’t know the English language. “Some asshole who probably felt emasculated when you showed that side of you probably made you feel less than you should feel. Well, let me tell you something.” He threaded his fingers in her hair and tugged gently, causing her face to tilt up toward his. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. I didn’t make that a secret. Knowing that you can kick ass doesn’t turn me off, Francesca; it makes me want you even more.”

“You can’t mean that, Tony. You’re acting as if what happened between us at the beach signified insta-love. I know you; you don’t do relationships.”

“Who said anything about love or relationships? It was, however, insta-lust from the moment I saw you, and then that night at the wedding…your body, the way you felt against me…God, Francesca, don’t you understand? I can’t get you outta my head.” He pounded a finger on his temple. “Can you? Can you honestly say that was a one-time deal? That you don’t want to do it again?”

Before she could answer or even contemplate his question, he leaned down and placed his lips against hers. It wasn’t urgent, but it was heartfelt. He just wanted the contact, and he took it. She pulled away first.

“You kissed me,” she said in a low voice he barely recognized, her hands moving to her lips.

“I did,” he replied, a bit puzzled. They’d already done so much; why was she suddenly so awed by a kiss?

Her lips turned up into the most devastatingly beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Do it again.”

He smiled back, their gazes locked, and the world seemed to bottom out as he drew her close. “Open your lips for me, cariño. I want to taste you.”

She was so taken aback by the forwardness of his command she couldn’t do anything but comply with his request. It was, after all, what she had asked for. His lips pressed against hers and his tongue sought entrance. He tasted of beer and Tony—something new and delicious. The moment his tongue touched hers, any fight she had in her, any snarky remark, instantly died and was replaced by the need to have him closer. His knee pressed between her legs and she moaned, rubbing herself against him as their tongues fought for control. She pulled away and tilted her head to give him better access to her neck. “You didn’t kiss me last time,” she sighed between breaths.

He paused and pondered that statement for a second. “Damn, you’re right. I’m sorry about that, cariño. I guess I lost my mind last time. I was too eager when I saw you didn’t pull away. I hope I didn’t come across as a dick. That wasn’t my intention. Let me make it up to you. Let me kiss you all night. Everywhere.” He placed his lips on hers again.

Cariño—that endearment was going to be the death of her. She was sure of it. The way he rolled the r resonated throughout her body. Every time Tony said it, Francesca’s heart skipped and a knot formed at the pit of her stomach. And then she remembered how quickly that feeling could be ripped away and replaced with devastating heartbreak. Nope, the instant gratification was not worth it in the long run.

Abruptly she pulled away. “I told you I don’t want this, and neither do you, so stop confusing me.” She needed his mind on MMA, not on having sex with her again. The financial well-being of the Academy depended on Tony’s success. His winning would not only bring in money but would give the Academy the renown it needed in order to bring in other big-name fighters. Plus, she didn’t want to be in a relationship; she’d been down that road before and it had left her broken. To make matters worse, making out in the very gym where she’d found love once brought back too many painful memories.

He didn’t say anything; he just kept looking at her until finally she couldn’t stop her words. “I was hurt, Tony. A guy from this gym right here hurt me, and it took me a long time to get over it. Every time I walk in here, that’s what I think about. I can’t go through that again.” Her admission was startling. “I will not go through that again.”

He pressed his body harder against hers. “Listen to me. I’m going to erase the memory of that boy from your mind. I want every single one of your thoughts consumed by me, even if we have to fuck in every corner of this gym to make sure that whenever you walk in here your only thoughts are of a real man fucking you, how good it felt, and how good your pussy felt wrapped around my cock. You’re all I’ve thought about for the last two weeks. Shit, if I’m being honest, you’re all I’ve thought about since I met you. I want to do it again, and this time with a lot of kissing.”

Francesca’s mouth was open, and for the first time in her life, she was speechless. His lips were so close to her ear as he whispered the dirtiest words he’d said to her yet that she was certain he could see the vein pulsating on her neck, the flush of her skin, and the slight tremble that ran up her spine. And if she hadn’t been turned on before, she certainly was now.

“Boy?” she asked.

“Cariño,” he said, “I have four sisters, so I know a few things. Someone, a boy, fucked with your head at some point. You’re uptight and have a twenty-foot-high steel vault around you. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a man, he was a boy, because a real man wouldn’t make you feel like that.”

Tony caressed her neck with his hand. When he touched her the world disappeared. But she really did not want him to know the effect he had on her—she wanted to keep up the I-don’t-need-a-man façade. Unfortunately, her stupid eyes closed and her stupid vocal cords chose that moment to release a little whimper when he came close.

Stupid traitorous body.

He chuckled. He did that often, she noticed. And that deep, raspy laugh made her feel all fluttery too.

“What I was trying to say is that you don’t need to be tough all the time. You could relax. You could wear, I don’t know, jeans to work. For Christ’s sake, those heels and those business suits…” He shook his head. “Who are you trying to be, Francesca?”

“You don’t even know me,” she said with what she hoped sounded like conviction, though it might’ve come out as self-doubting. That was something else he did to her—he made her doubt herself.

“No one knows you,” he declared without hesitation. It made her flinch, and he must have noticed, because he moved back a little, as to give her some space. He was right. No one knew her. She was so far from who she wanted to be, she didn’t even know who she was anymore. “So, you gonna tell me who the guy is that fucked you up for the rest of us?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tony. I am who I am, and this is me.”

“Bullshit. The complacent women who let me take her, the woman who just kissed me and melted into me, is not tough, and certainly not hardened.”

Francesca stood straighter. “Yes, I am.”

She could see he was trying to rephrase his words. “You’re tough, cariño. You are. You are confident. Beautiful. So smart. But you’re afraid of something. I can’t understand what that something is and how I can fix it.”

“It was just sex. It’s not your job to fix me, Tony.”

He crouched down and placed his hands, his big warm callused hands, on the sides of her neck. He could break her neck with one single move; of that she was sure. She was also sure he’d never hurt her. “Don’t you understand?” He leaned in and kissed her again, and then again. It was fast but so soft and sensual. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You say you don’t want me, but you don’t pull away either. You’re fighting it, and I can’t understand why. I’m not a boy, cariño. I know what I want, and I want you. I’m going to keep trying, and when you’re ready to say yes, let me know, because I promise that I’ll make it good for you. But I won’t wait forever.”

He released her, turned, and walked out the door.

She slid down to the floor. Her life was chaos, and she didn’t know how to begin repairing it. Letting Tony into the chaos was only inviting more turmoil, and that was not something she was prepared to handle. But never again tasting his lips against hers—well, that just didn’t seem to be an option anymore.

Francesca left the gym on shaky legs. She hated losing control, and she’d done it twice in one evening—first with Thompson and then with Tony and that kiss. But, damn, it was the best kiss she’d ever had in her life. It made her want to go out with Tony and throw out her no-men rule. She wanted to take him up on his offer for all the wonderful sex, but she was just so scared. By the time she got home, she was a wreck. She quickly changed into a ratty T-shirt and went straight to bed.