“I don’t see your phone…anywhere.” Her gaze skates over my chest, a blush erupting on her face. “How am I going to give you my number?”
“Are you kidding me? Your number, beauty?” I duck my head to bring us eye level. “Tell me once and I’ll remember it until my dying day.”
She breathes a laugh. “You have an impressive memory.”
“A man who’d forget a single thing about you isn’t worth a damn.”
A beat passes wherein we gravitate closer, our fingertips brushing together, the noise muffling around us. “Do you talk like this to other girls?”
I shake my head slowly. “What other girls?”
We’re so close now, there’s no air. I can’t breathe for being so close to all of her perfection up close. I’m sweaty and bloody and she’s a fucking angel. How is this happening?
She goes up on her toes and I brace for a kiss, positive I’m dreaming. No way this flawless masterpiece is putting that mouth on mine. And I’m right. At the last second, she goes past my mouth and whispers her phone number in my ear. Her breath on that sensitive part of my body turns my dick to stone and I have to clench my hands until they shake to keep from touching her. Take what you can get.
Suddenly I’m jerked back by the shoulder. Away from her.
Whoever is accosting me? That was their first mistake. Because taking me away from this girl is like waving a red flag in front of my face. I turn just in time to see Collier rear back with his fist—and I block it with a bellow, using the momentary opening to head butt him square in the nose, once again knocking him flat on his back. I don’t stop there. I pounce on top of him and lock a hand around his throat. “You could have hit her.” I tighten my grip until he starts to turn purple. “If your fist came any closer to her, you’d already be dead. Do you understand me? I should end your miserable life for bringing her here in the first place.”
“Stop talking about her like she’s yours,” he spits, blood oozing from his nose, eyes blazing. “She’s not.”
Collier is right. Grace isn’t mine. I met her fifteen minutes ago and I’m behaving as if I’ve got a permanent claim on the girl. When in truth, she probably wouldn’t want that in a million years. A long-term relationship with a bare-knuckle boxer from Southie? Yeah, right. I’m a thrill. A flash in the pan. She’s slumming it for the night.
So be it.
I open my mouth to say…what? I’m not sure. Maybe that she isn’t mine, but she sure as hell can do better than this punk. But Grace speaks up from behind me.
“Stop talking about me like I’m a trading card, Collier.” She steps into my periphery on the right, her long, smooth legs taking up my vision. “I’m nobody’s until I say I am. But…” She pauses, shifting in her heels. “I’d like North to drive me home tonight. So I guess that makes me more his than yours, doesn’t it?”
The place erupts in a series of hoots and ooohs, turning Collier’s face red.
Christ. This girl is fucking dynamite. For some reason, she’s giving me the gift of her time and attention. And I can’t help it. A guy like me doesn’t get many moments this good, so I have no choice but to savor it to the fullest. “And that was your third knockout for the night,” I say to Collier. “Might want to stay down this time, regional champ.”
Then I stand, watching in awe as Grace threads her clean, graceful fingers through my bloody, filthy taped ones and lets me walk her out of the Hellmouth.
Three
Grace
Oh my God.
Holy moly.
What am I doing? I don’t know! I don’t know who I am anymore. This spontaneity is completely unlike me. Asking for rides home from strangers is not something I do. I know it’s completely reckless to go somewhere with this young man I just met, but the idea of getting into a car with Collier after the way he behaved made my skin crawl.
My only defense is that North feels like the furthest thing from a stranger. There was a click inside of me when I first saw him in the Hellmouth. As the minutes passed, it was almost like being awakened. Being around North makes me feel tight and achy and winded, the sensation so overwhelming, it’s a wonder I manage to remain upright in the face of the rush.
We’re walking to his car now, sneaking looks at each other in the darkness. Both of us have expressions on our faces that suggest we don’t know what hit us. Does he really feel the way I do? Like he’s been struck by lightning?
Our footsteps echo beneath the underpass. We sort of gravitate toward each other, North lifting a still-wrapped hand and letting it hover just above the small of my back. As if he wants to protect me without sullying my dress. In truth, this is the first time in my life that I wouldn’t mind my dress getting dirty. If it meant North touching me, I’d ruin a whole army of dresses. What is it about him that makes me ticklish and hot from the neck down?
Everywhere.
I’ve given up trying to hide my hard nipples and the cool night air makes them pucker all the more. North traces them with a hungry glance, then cuts his eyes to the side, letting out a shuddering breath. He’s attracted to me. We’re attracted to each other. He’s still shirtless, since he literally stepped out of the ring and left, me at his side. But a moment later, we reach a vehicle that looks straight out of the past. It’s black and chrome, low and sleek. A Chevy that looks lovingly cared for, right down to the white racing stripe down the center of the roof.
“I love this,” I whisper, as he opens the passenger side door for me.
He searches my face. “Yeah?”
I nod, noting his relief. Was he worried I wouldn’t like his car? Realizing I’m staring at his chiseled mouth like an eager beaver, I shake myself. In order to slip into the car, I have to brush past North and as I do so, the tips of my breasts drag across his bare chest, making his eyelids grow heavy. I’m trembling by the time I sit down, my knees pressed tightly together. There is a continuous tug at the juncture of my thighs, a slickness I’ve never experienced before. All because of this fighter. And my body’s reaction to him excites me as much as it scares me. Sex is an unknown, as much as he is. But the throb in my nerve endings, the hunger for closeness to him has me racing there. Toward this mysterious land of intimacy I know nothing about. Maybe I should have listened more closely to my friends, instead of zoning out when they talked endlessly about hooking up.
North watches me cross my legs, our gazes connecting as he closes the door and skirts around back of the Chevy. He throws open the trunk and in the rearview, I watch as he tugs on a shirt, drags a hasty hand through his hair, unwraps his hands and tosses the used tape into the opening. Once he closes the trunk again, he braces his hands on the edge of it, taking a long breath and expelling it, leaving white, curling patterns in the night air. I’m not the only one who is nervous. Or trying to get a hold of themselves.
A moment later, he gets into the driver’s side, his head brushing the roof of the car, his big fighter’s body taking up all the air—or all of my air, for that matter. With a twist of his wrist, the engine rumbles to life and we pull away from the curb. It’s happening. It’s really happening. This fighter from the Hellmouth is driving me home. It’s risky. It would be a punishable offense in my father’s book. And yet, I feel as safe as houses.