Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(26)

I have absolutely zero tolerance for any man laying a hand on a woman. I know a lot of that is because of the difficult situation in which I grew up, but I hope that, even if I had grown up under different circumstances, I would still feel the same way. I fight for a living. I get paid millions of dollars to punch a man to the point where he is no longer able to continue standing. But my opponents step into the ring willingly and with full knowledge of what is about to happen. He will have a similar paycheck in his back pocket and the exact same goal I have. I don’t hit him out of anger or dominance, and at the end of the fight, no matter who the victor may be, there are no hard feelings.

Men who physically, mentally, or emotionally abuse women, are the ones who really deserve to look into my eyes from across the ring. Solving violence with violence may not be the best course of action to end the cycle, but it would definitely make me sleep a little sounder at night. If I ever find this so-called ex-boyfriend of Riley’s, I cannot be held responsible for what I might do to him. I don’t even know what really happened to her, but I hate him all the same.

I splash some water over my face and get myself back into the right mindset. "This is for her, you dumbass. Get it together," I whisper to myself in the mirror before going back out to face her. I find her sitting Indian style in the middle of the mat, inspecting her fingernails. "Hey," I say softly so as not to scare her. "You ready?"

"Am I allowed to say no?" she asks, surprising me.

"Absolutely. I won’t force you to do anything. I’m only trying to help."

She looks at me for a few seconds before pushing to her feet and dusting imaginary dirt from her pants. "I’m ready. Teach me, oh great one!" she says with a teasing smile.

For the next ninety minutes, I teach Riley numerous defensive techniques. Some she picks up fast and some she bumbles completely, but no matter what, she keeps trying. What starts as a simple clinical session quickly turns into something totally different. Riley sheds her protective shell, exposing an unexpected fierce and raw side to her. Her every move is planned and calculated, and behind the contacts, I can see her determination.

It’s by far the sexiest thing I have seen in my entire life.

For those moments while we are moving against each other on the mat or when she is blocking my false attacks, she truly comes alive. Gone is the victim, and in her place is the shadow of a warrior. If I wasn’t interested in Riley before, I’m awestruck by her now.

"Shit," I cuss when her leg sweeps mine, catching me off guard. I’ve given her a few dramatic falls before now, but this is one hundred percent real—and completely worth it as she lets out a loud laugh and falls to the mat beside me.

I watch as she loses herself in hysterical laughter, rolling from side to side in a show so spectacular that nothing could ever drag my attention away. God, this woman is incredible. She must catch me staring because she suddenly sobers and settles on her side to face me. She’s a good two feet away, and I’ve never hated personal space more. I want nothing more than to reach out and touch her. Slide my hands over her white, exposed flesh or glide them over the small curve of her waist and up to her breasts, where her peaked nipples are showing through her thin sports bra. Most of all, I want to trace my tongue over her plump, pink lips and into her—

Luckily, the knock at the door stops me before I can make an actual move.

"Are you expecting someone?" She immediately jumps to her feet. I watch as, before my own eyes, she transforms back into the frightened woman I met a few nights ago.

"Hey." I reach out to grab her arm, but before I even have a chance, her hand nervously grips my forearm. I look down, and she’s squeezing me so tight that her knuckles are beginning to turn white. It doesn’t burn like when most people touch me—but it sizzles all the same. "It’s okay, beautiful. I ordered takeout."

I move my arm from her grasp, but only so I can loop it around her waist and pull her to against me. I expected her to be stiff from such an overt gesture, but she immediately relaxes into my side. Riley is small but not tiny. I’m six foot four, and she fits perfectly tucked into my side. My hand rests on her lower back, and it takes all the restraint I can possibly gather not to naturally slide it over to her ass.

"You like Italian right?" I ask, looking down into her camouflaged eyes.

"Yeah," she confirms in a shaky voice.

"Good, because I ordered a ton." I smile reassuringly.

And instead of the smile I was hoping for in return, she quickly steps away.





"Sweet mother of Italian food. That was amazing," Riley says, rubbing her flat stomach. "You have to give me the name of this place."

Dinner was a hit. Listening to Riley moaning to herself with every bite was pretty much excruciating. Thank God there was a table between us, because I’m not sure how else I would have been able to hide my hard-on. It wasn’t just her moans that sent blood sprinting toward my cock. The way she leaned forward to eat the pasta gave me a generous view of her cleavage. I tried not to stare, but Jesus f*cking Christ. Thankfully she never caught my glances. Or at least I don’t think she did.

The conversation flowed easily between us, and the woman who panicked when she heard the knock at the door quickly faded away. After our brief moment of closeness, Riley has unfortunately kept her distance. It sucks, but I’ll change things soon enough. One touch was enough to hook me.