Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(46)

“What is all this about, pet? Why are you so angry?”

“I don’t know shit about you,” she spat out, the fury in her words followed by a killer hook. “You could have been married with children for all I knew. I had no clue you had a sister. Don’t know where you live. What you do for a living. Basic frigging stuff.”

“What do you want to know? Ask.”

“And you’ll tell me?” she asked, her eyes incredulous.

“Probably not, but go ahead and give it a shot.”

“Vai a cagare.”

Go to hell. Well, a more colorful way of saying it but the sentiment was clear.

He dodged a jab. “And you know what I do for a living. I run a bar.”

“Liar. You don’t spend any time whatsoever in the bar. I was talking about when you disappear and James freaks out.”

“I’m a free agent.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, bobbing and weaving.

“Whatever you want it to mean, pet. Where I live I won’t tell. Basic preservation. Although, if you agree to go there blindfolded and not peek through the windows, maybe I would reconsider.” Then again, she couldn’t be trusted, so no.

She was aiming her punches too low for his comfort. Yet he couldn’t stop egging her on. “One thing I’ll tell you; you need to learn to stay where I put you.”

Her derisive snort was accompanied with a side kick. “And you need to take your meds, coglione.”

His Spanish was good enough to understand her Italian. And she was not flattering him. Not in the least.

“Cazzo.” Dick.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

“Vaffanculo, arrogante.” Up yours, smart-ass.

“And f*cking sexy, pet.”

“Stronzo.”

This insult he didn’t know.

“What?”

“Ass!” Hit. “Hole!” Hit.

Any person without his sharp reflexes would have been decked.

“I think I’ll give you a mouthpiece.” She wouldn’t be able to talk. Although he loved her talking.

“Just try it.”

The AC was off and they were both sweating. Elle’s T-shirt was wet and clinging to her chest, her nipples tenting the material, more so with every ragged breath.

She was a sight to behold. The right amount of muscles and curves. Big boobs. Long, powerful, sexy legs. Gorgeous, mouthwatering ass. In-your-face, catch-me-if-you-can attitude.

Jack hated superfit women. Or even worse, skinny as hell. All those bones sticking him. He liked to have somewhere to grab, and Elle had plenty in the right places.

“This time we’ll do it this way; we’ll blow off steam fighting. Next time I’ll f*ck you until you can’t move. Same workout, more pleasure.”

She snorted. “Dream on. There won’t be next time. I’m done with you. You’re too high-maintenance.”

“I say when we are done and we are not. Not by a long shot. You’ve been taunting me for months. Years, pet. Now that you got my undivided attention, you can’t say you don’t want it. You can’t back down. I won’t allow you to. You’ve been asking for it. For me. This is what you get: me. I’ll tie you down and f*ck you so thoroughly you will be limp by the time I’m done with you.”

And ruined for anybody else. The thought of her with another man made his blood boil, so he shook his head. He had to let that go. Whatever she did once he was gone was not his business. Not. His. Business.

If he repeated it long enough, maybe he’d believe it too.

“Bastardo despota.”

Despotic bastard. Good one.

“Prepotente.” Punch. “Troglodita.” Punch.

Jack smiled. “I think I’m going to have a little talk with your Italian teacher.”

More leg kicks. She was extremely good.

“Where did you learn to fight?”

“None of your business,” she said breathing hard and brushing with her forearm the damp locks of hair that got stuck on her face. “You don’t tell me about yourself, I won’t tell about myself either.”

“I should have figured you would be great at fighting. Fighting is like f*cking, and you’re fantastic at that.”

She smiled sarcastically. “That makes one of us.”

Smart-ass.

“You need to fight. Fight me all you want; you won’t win. It will just make you hotter for me. Wetter. I can take on whatever it is you will dish at me and not budge an inch.”

“Not budge an inch,” she repeated mockingly. “Is that supposed to be a turn-on? Because it is not.”

Liar. He threw the paddles to the canvas and, cupping her neck, brought her to him and took her mouth, his tongue thrusting ruthlessly. Possessively. He needed her so much. Backing her into one corner, he lifted her against the ropes.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he released her lips.

“Fucking you.”

“You said next time.”

“I lied,” he said, dragging his teeth along her throat, nipping and sucking her damp skin. He was taking a huge risk. She was very capable of beating the shit out of him now that he had his hands busy and couldn’t protect himself.

She seemed to consider that option for a second, but then said, “Help me with the gloves.”