Below the Belt Read online

  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 brou
ght 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?”