Shadowboxer (Tapped Out 1)

“Were?”

“She died when I was eleven. Brain aneurysm.” She started to tug up her jeans.

I stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Wait. I saw a dirty spot.” I lifted my thumb to my mouth and wet it, then pressed it in a widening circle high on her inner thigh. “Oops. Must’ve been a freckle.”

“What am I doing here with you, Tray?”

There it was again, my Kryptonite. My name said in her raspy voice made up for all kinds of sins, including the ones she’d committed deliberately to hurt me.

How she could hurt me so soon was a question I didn’t care to answer.

I stepped closer and enfolded my hands over hers on her waistband. As tall as she was for a woman, she had a small frame. But she could deliver a punch. In her case, delicacy and strength came in an incredible package.

“Right now, I’m about to give you a bath and a massage.” I kept my expression cool and clear of any emotion. If I gave her even the slightest hint of the storm brewing inside me, she’d run so fast I’d choke on the fumes. “I don’t have to get undressed. This is about you.”

She hesitated for a minute. Two. Then she threw back her shoulders and let the jeans fall to her feet. She stepped out of them and tossed them carelessly on the back of the toilet. Naked from the waist down, she didn’t pause for my perusal. She yanked

off her work shirt and her plain cotton black bra with the economy of movement most fighters possessed.

Most fighters, however, didn’t have breasts like those.

Small and pale, they were capped with pink nipples that hardened under my stare. They made her seem vulnerable, especially in contrast with the sharp definition in her arms, torso, and thighs.

Shell pink nipples. Christ.

With the darkness of her hair and eyes, I hadn’t expected pink. I definitely hadn’t expected the rosy flush between her legs that I’d put there, partially hidden by the smattering of dark, wispy curls. I’d been rough with her, and judging from the state of her body already, I deserved to be shot.

She was bruised in too many places. Her body was a tapestry of fading wounds and scars, yet she also had patches of smooth, unblemished skin without even a freckle to mar the perfection.

I’d thought her broken when I saw her face the first time, and now all I could see was the strength forged from those cracks and breaks.

“Turn around,” I said gruffly, incapable of hiding my reaction.

It wasn’t just desire. That was manageable. She impressed the holy fuck out of me. I barely knew her, and I already admired her more than anyone else I’d ever met. I wanted to bow down at her feet, and she wanted me to get in a ring and hurt her.

And then she expected me to walk away.

She did as I asked. Her hair slicked down her spine in a straight shot, lacking any curl whatsoever. It skimmed the small of her back, drawing my attention to her heart-shaped ass. Also small. Also perfect.

Her vulnerability to me at that moment stole my breath. Seeing all the undamaged parts of her reminded me how easily I could bring her pain.

How easily I already had.

The thickness of her hair didn’t hide the abrasions on her back caused by a brick wall and a thoughtless jerk who’d only cared about his own orgasm. I’d have to try to make up for my mistake now.

Swallowing hard, I opened the cupboard beneath the sink and rutted around until I found what I was looking for. I held up the purple bottle with a grim smile. “Bubbles?”

Tentatively, she reached for the bottle, her eyes narrowed. “Grape-scented?” She popped the cap and sniffed. “You take bubble baths?”

I snorted out a laugh. “Hardly. My mom gave me that crap when I moved in.”

She smiled so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. “Moms do stuff like that.”

My throat closed around the questions I wanted to ask. What had her mom been like? What had made Mia like this? Who had tried to break her, and how had she found the courage to keep swinging?

And most of all, where could I get even an ounce of her strength?

I was afraid of the answers. Not for me, for her. I was scared of what I would do if I heard the name of the person—people—who had created this robotic fighter out of the beautiful woman beneath. I feared the lengths I would go to eradicate the individuals responsible. Harming them wouldn’t be enough.