“What?” he blurts.
“I said, what do you want, Nikko?” I drag out his name. His eyes drop down my body, and I know Nikko wants me. He watches me the same way he did the night we met, but neither of us were in a good place to act on it. Maybe I’m still not, but the way this man looks at me is addictive, and it gives me back the confidence I lost, making me want to play with him.
It might not last or be serious, but I want some fun right now.
“You just won your match, right? That means Julies owes me five thousand?—”
“You bet on it?” he mutters.
“Sure did. You made me a winner, and that means we’re accomplices, so what do you want for your prize?”
“I can have anything?” he asks softly, as if he can’t believe he’s asking.
“Anything,” I drawl, hoping like hell he takes me up on my offer. I long to lick up his sweat. If he asked, I would drop to my knees right here and find out what’s hidden in those fucking shorts. “Well, Nikko? What do you want?” I challenge, hoping he won’t back down.
He’s pulling away, though, I see it in his face, so I stand and step closer, prowling toward him as he backs up and hits the locker behind him.
“Don’t tell me the infamous Nikko is scared,” I taunt, pushing him. “Scared to say what you want. Scared to take it. How disappointing . . .”
His chest rises in a sudden breath as he meets my gaze, and something in his eyes turns darker.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, and my eyes widen as his hands slide aroundmy waist, around the corset, and meet at the back. He pulls me close, and I press against his sweaty chest, my eyes wide as I look up at him.
“This is what you want?” I ask.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I had to know.” His voice is thick as he looks down at me hungrily, his hands tightening on my waist.
“Know what?” I ask, unable to help myself. I feel so fucking small in his arms. He manhandles me like I’m not the heir to the richest and most powerful family in this fucking city, and I love it.
“Know what your waist feels like in this. It’s all I could think about,” he admits, squeezing me as I stare at him.
“And what does it feel like?” I flirt.
“Tight, perfect,” he says, gripping me tighter before he seems to come back to his senses, and I feel him pulling away again. The two sides of him fight for dominance, but I don’t want him to think. Not now, not when I can’t with him pressed against me.
The fighter and the prince.
It’s like a fucking love story, but I don’t believe in love anymore. Pleasure?
I sure as fuck do believe in that, and I want it.
I want to taste it on his perfect body.
I want to know if he’s as brutal in bed as he is in the ring.
Grinning, I slip my hands up and drape them around his neck. “I know you want me, Nikko.”
He stutters and spits as he tries to pull back, but I hold him in place, tugging him close as I press up on my tiptoes, leaning into him as I do. He watches me, his eyes widening as I stop inches away from his lips. “I wonder if you’ll act on the desire I see in your eyes. I wonder how much it would take to break you into nothing but a beast who slams me into the lockers and fucks me.”
I feel his heart thundering then skip a beat.
He pants against me, glancing at my lips, then his hands slide farther down until they grip my ass. I love the way his fingertips press in like it’s his to own.
There’s a creak, and we both turn our heads to see the door opening. One of the other boxers freezes there, holding a towel in his hand.
I raise my eyebrows at him, even as Nikko releases me and steps back. I don’t see shame in his eyes, though, only embarrassment, but I can work with that. I will not ever tolerate someone who is ashamed to be with me. I deserve better. I don’t think this is that, though. I just think he’s a private person.
The fighter at the door gapes at us, his jaw almost on the floor, while Nikko looks like he’s about to pass out or run away. It’s so much fun to tease him. No one in my world acts like this. Every reaction is a calculated move, but not his. They are so raw and real. I crave the simplicity and truth.
