Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

His punches were hard. There was no hesitation in his hits and kicks. His eyes were keen and attentive, reading his opponent and using his weakness. Everything about this sport was brutal and hard. Relentless. But Fabiano’s movements spoke of grace and control. The crowd yowled and applauded every time he landed a hit. Blood soon covered Fabiano’s hands and arms. He was harder and crueler on his opponent than last time.

Cheryl leaned close as she put dirty glasses in the wash water. “I hope that puts some sense in you. If that doesn’t scare you shitless, nothing will.”

Fear was the last thing on my mind as I watched Fabiano. Cheryl regarded me, then shook her head. “Oh Chick, and I thought Stefano was the Camorra’s romancer. Who would have thought that their monster would break your heart?”

“He isn’t a monster. And he’s not breaking anything,” I murmured.

She loaded her tray with beer bottles for the next table. “He will break something. If it’s only your heart, you are lucky. And if you haven’t seen his monster until now, you might be in more trouble than I thought. Don’t come running my way when you encounter it.”

She knew nothing. “Don’t worry.”

Soon the man was lying on the ground, Fabiano crouched over him, punching him over and over again.

I shivered, and felt relieved when the man finally patted the ground in surrender. The referee entered the cage and raised Fabiano’s arm into the air. Fabiano looked my way, body covered in blood.

He looked magnificent. His words from our first meeting came back to me, about alpha males and their appeal, and I had to admit that he had been right as far as I was concerned. I’d never been mesmerized by fighting before but watching Fabiano was something else entirely.

He climbed out of the cage and accepted the congratulating hands of several customers, but his eyes kept returning to me. I put down the dishtowel, then grabbed a bottle of water.

“Where are you going, Chick? Right into the lion’s den?”

Cheryl shook her head and took my place behind the bar. “Go ahead. Everyone has to dig their own grave, I suppose.”

I sent her a grateful smile despite her annoying words, and slunk toward the changing room. People were still too focused on the fighting cage, where the Camorra’s bookie had appeared.

I didn’t bother knocking before I entered the changing room. He’d seen me following him. I doubted anyone ever managed to sneak up on him. My clothes stuck to my skin from working all day and it should have made me self-conscious. I needed a shower, but my need for something else was even stronger. Fabiano wiped the remaining traces of blood away. Now his chest only glistened with sweat, the sheen accentuating every hard ridge of his perfect body. I wanted to trace my tongue along the dip between his pecs, down to the fine hair disappearing in the hem of his boxers. I’d never felt acute want like this. He was risking his position for me, and I wanted to risk something too.

I quickly tore my gaze away from Fabiano and stepped into the changing room, then closed the door before someone saw me. I needed to stop thinking like that about Fabiano. Touching him and having him touch me was okay, but if I allowed more he’d stop respecting me. He’d lose interest. I knew it. Especially now that he knew what my mother was. The cool door under my palms grounded me. I didn’t hear his approach but felt him close behind me, his heat pressed up against my back. “You kept distracting me today,” he murmured close to my ear. I shuddered at his proximity. Seeing him fight today, had turned me on. There was no use denying it. The sport was brutal and hard, and Fabiano knew no mercy when he beat up his opponents, but my body responded to the sight of him. He’d looked invincible. Powerful.

The image of his hungry stare after he’d won sent a sweet tingling to the spot between my legs. “I can’t stay here forever. People will start to wonder what we’re doing.” I didn’t doubt that several people had noticed me going into the changing room with Fabiano. I cringed at what they might think about me now.

“Let them wonder,” Fabiano growled, then licked over my shoulder blade. “You taste perfect.”

I shivered. “I’m sweaty.”

He gripped my hips and whirled me around to him, his head coming down and his lips claiming mine. I opened up, my tongue darting out to meet his. I ran my hand over his slick chest, my fingers trailing over the ridges. Perfection. He hissed when I slid over a cut.

“Sorry,” I mumbled quickly but he quieted me with his tongue.

He backed me up until my shins collided with something hard. His arm wrapped around my lower back and he lowered me until I lay on the narrow wooden bench. One knee between my legs, he was bent over me, his mouth conquering mine, stealing my breath and making me dizzy with emotions and need. He didn’t let up and I could feel myself getting more and more aroused with every second. His tongue was so wonderfully skillful as it caressed mine. The scent of fresh sweat and Fabiano’s own muskiness engulfed me.