***
Mikhail glanced up as a squeal erupted from the upstairs office, just as Gennifer burst out of the door and thundered down the metal stairs. She jogged past Hector, throwing him a devilish smile. Hector tossed his hands up, glaring at the office window. Big Jimmy Domino, the owner of House of Pain, closed the blinds with a flick of his wrist. Mikhail turned slightly, his eyes following Gennifer. She picked up a weighted vinyl jump rope, her big grin now just a faint smirk. She dropped her wrists, getting in proper form. She held his attention completely as she began to jump, her movements stiff, quick, and sure. He admired her form, in more ways than one. Too bad she was wearing a T-shirt instead of the little scrap of material she had on the night before. She caught his gaze and lifted her chin. He recognized that look for what it was—a dare.
Come and get it.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to turn away. He took in his surroundings. Half of the men in the gym had their eyes on her, some outright, others trying in vain to hide their interest. The zhopa he'd sparred with earlier was licking his chops, his nose still caked with dried blood. She was like a piece of meat, on display for the men of the gym. For whatever reason, Mikhail felt the need to stake his claim on the woman he'd just met the night before, but he didn't move a muscle to do so. He knew instinctively that Gennifer would not respond well to him trying to mark his territory. Besides, this was her house. He was merely a guest.
His best course of action was to keep her attention, now that he had it. He pummeled the punching bag, enjoying the feel of adrenaline that rushed through his body. He only got that rush when he was fighting or when he was fucking. He was an adrenaline junkie, always searching for his next high. However, his best fighting days were behind him. He was retired, he reminded himself. But damn, it had felt good to be in the ring again. He would feel it tomorrow, when his bones and muscles would ache, but the pain would be worth it.
The click click click of her vinyl rope against the concrete floor helped him keep time as he moved his feet with each punch. The rest of the gym disappeared around him. His attention honed in on his fists. He only stopped when he didn't hear her behind him. He glanced up, and the gym had emptied out. The summer sun was setting low in the city sky outside the window, streaks of orange cutting through the blue. He dropped his hands, his muscles pulsing red under his skin. Her back was to him, but she was watching him in the mirror that ran the length of the side wall as she did bicep curls.
He strolled over to the weight bench, taking his time. Her gaze followed him as he added weight to the bar and then plopped on the bench. “Spot me,” he said, loud enough for her to hear, catching her eyes in the mirror. She did another rep, then returned the weight. She turned to him, hands on hips.
“Is that a request or a demand?” she asked, her eyes flashing. He smiled a slow smile but didn't reply. She walked over to him and he noticed the sway in her hips, the movement of her shapely thighs. Again, he remembered the feel of her hard body under him. He remembered how her long, strong legs clenched around his hips. The girl was distracting, that was for damn sure.
She came to a stop behind the bench, dropping her hands to the weight bar. “You're lucky I was done with my reps,” she said, still tough. Laughing to himself, he dropped his back to the bench. His fingers brushed against hers on the metal of the bar, then he tightened his hands around. He pushed up with a grunt, and brought the 450lbs down to his chest. The familiar sparks shot through him as he exerted himself. He gritted his teeth, loving it.
She stood over him, her thick hair cascading over her shoulder. Her scent—a heady mix of sweat and a zesty citrus perfume—wafted between them, filling the empty space. It made him think of fucking. As he pumped his arms, his body strained and his mind wandered. A fantasy that involved her sitting on his face made him lose count of how many repetitions he'd done, so he kept going until his muscles cried out in protest. She helped him guide the bar back to the base. The weights clanged together, echoing across the empty gym.
“You were good today in the ring,” she said softly. He sat up, craning his neck to look at her. “You said you've never had a pro fight?”
Mikhail shrugged. His erection throbbed between his legs, making itself known. It was hard to think when all he wanted to do was release the pressure. “This is merely fun for me.”
“Hmm,” she murmured. “I would love to punch Donny in the face like you did today.” He smiled, loving her bloodthirsty look.
“I perform well because I know you are watching,” he laid it on thick.
“Bullshit,” she laughed, calling him out. “You kicked his ass because you could and you wanted to.”
Mikhail shrugged because it was the truth. “The kid is good,” he said. “But I am better.”
“Yeah.” She leaned forward, her elbows against the bar, and stared off. He wondered what was going on in that mind of hers. The door to the upstairs office banged open and she jumped. She moved away from him quickly, he noticed, as Big Jimmy Domino stomped down the quaking metal stairs.
“Gennifer Rainbow Rodriguez, you gonna be the death of me!” The enormous black man thundered across the gym. “Now I'ma go home, hug my wife, and forget all about you and the trouble you causing.” He tossed a set of keys to Hector, who stepped out from the men's locker room. “You better hope I don't change my mind.”
“I'm not worried.” Gennifer piped up from over by the free weights. “Good night, Daddy-o.” She looked so sweet and innocent, Mikhail wondered if she was the same girl who had headbutted him the night before.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Big Jimmy mumbled to himself as he exited, the door swinging shut behind him. Hector shook his head.
“Sounds like you're on his shit list, G,” Hector said. She waved him off.
“I got what I wanted,” she said, and Mikhail recognized his tough Gennifer again. “He'll get used to it.”
“I'm gonna go upstairs. You alright?” Hector sent a pointed look in Mikhail's direction. Gennifer rolled her eyes.
“Go. I'm fine.” She picked up a twenty-five pound weight. Hector lingered, unsure. “Go!”
“Okay.” He gave Mikhail the once over and then headed up the stairs. Mikhail stood and met Gennifer at the free weights, both of them facing the mirror.
“What is rainbow? The word is unfamiliar to me,” he said. She snorted out a laugh.
“You know when it rains but then the sun comes out?” She made an arch in front of his face with her free hand. “Rainbow.”
“Ah. That is raduga.”
“It's my middle name. My mom used to say that there was a rainbow outside the window the day I was born.” Gennifer's smile faded.
“Is Big Jimmy your father?” he asked.
“No.” She slammed the weight back on the rack. She was angry again, he noticed, her face pinched and tight. A thick curl caught on her shoulder and he could not resist reaching out and tugging on it. She raised her eyes to catch his in the mirror. Silence descended on them, the only sound in the gym the ancient ceiling fans spinning above. She ran her tongue over her busted lip—he supposed he should feel guilty about giving it to her, but he didn't. “You're good in the ring. Are you a good teacher?” she said, her words coming out in a rush. “I'm sure you're busy though, and I would get it if you weren't interested.”
“I do not understand,” he said, struggling to keep up. His English was good, but not that good.
“Can you train me?” she asked, slower this time. “I want to kick ass in the ring. In order to do that, I need a good teacher.”
***
Gennifer held her breath, waiting for Mikhail to laugh. Waiting for him to scoff and blow her off. But he was silent, watching her. She could see the gears turning behind his gray eyes. “Bout It is a charity event that Big Jimmy holds every year. It's at the end of the summer, in two months. I have to be at the top of my game,” she continued. “I have to show Big Jimmy and Hector and all of them that they're wrong.”
“What are they wrong about?” he asked, finally speaking.
“They think I'm weak,” she blurted out, then backtracked. “They think all girl fighters are weak.”
“You are weaker.” He shrugged. “That is indisputable.” He moved to stand behind her and lifted her arm, the rough feel of his taped fingers sending a shiver up her spine. “Tighten.” He squeezed her bicep and she flexed. She was proud of her tone. She had little to no fat on her arm and the muscles were well defined. But when he put his arm behind hers and flexed in comparison, she had to laugh. His bicep was bigger, obviously. Her eyes ran over every dip and swell of his well-formed limb. “You can not beat me on strength alone.” He dropped his arm, his hand coming to rest on her hip.
“No shit,” she said, feeling slightly out of breath. She let her own arm fall to her side, but made no move to remove his hand.
“You want to learn strategy. To outwit your opponent.” She could feel his breath on her neck. He was so close, he could press his lips to her hot skin and kiss her. “Or outmanuever,” he said, his low tone sending a shiver down her spine that kept going until it reached her pussy. Somehow, he pushed past all her defenses yet again. She was ready to jump him right there in the middle of the gym. “It can be done. I have seen it,” he continued. “And you got some good hits on me last night.”
“You're only saying that because you want to get in my pants,” she murmured, raising her eyes to meet his in the mirror. He chuckled, the sound low and close to her ear.
“I do want to fuck you,” he said and her whole body clenched in response. “But I do not lie. The headbutt was a thing of beauty. Illegal, but beautiful.” She felt herself leaning back into him, tilting her head to the side, practically begging him to run his lips along the line of her throat. Her skin hummed with need and she knew just how good it would feel if he touched her. “I did not think you had it in you,” he said, softly. “You are not disciplined, but you are a fighter.”
“So you'll help me?” she asked.
“Perhaps.” He ran his hand down the curve of her ass. She heard herself moan and knew that she had to get away from him or she was going to make a blubbering idiot out of herself. He was so smooth and collected, knowing exactly what he was doing to her—and she was damn near panting. Gennifer didn't like to lose control, especially not in House of Pain. Pivoting on her heel, she turned around to face him. In the process, she put about a foot of space between them.
“Okay, what do you want?” She plopped her hands on her hips, willing her heartbeat to return to normal. “What'll it cost me?” His gray eyes were amused as he dragged them from her feet to her face. A devilish smile spread across his lips and, again, it felt like he was stripping her naked with his gaze. Gennifer knew exactly what help from the Russian was going to cost her. Victory beckoned, but she just had to decide if it was a price she was willing to pay.
Chapter 3
Gennifer rolled over in bed and punched her pillow. She had been tossing and turning for hours, thinking about the Russian. She glanced up at the clock and groaned. 4:32 a.m. She had to be up in two hours. She flopped onto her back. When she closed her eyes, she could see the muscles rippling and straining under his skin, sweat sheen on his sexy chest as he circled her, ready to pounce. He was like sex on a stick, and dammit, she wanted a lick. She imagined sucking his cock yet again, and wondered if it was becoming a fetish. She'd never had a problem giving a blow job before, as long as it was reciprocated. But with Mikhail, she had fantasy after fantasy of dropping to her knees in front of him. Ever since she'd felt his body against hers in the ring, she wanted him. All of him. Every inch.
He hadn't come right out and said that he wanted sex in exchange for helping her, but the look in his eyes had said it all. “I see you tomorrow,” he'd said, walking away from her, smug and confident. She knew she was in serious trouble. She'd never live it down if the clowns at the gym knew she was giving it up to the Russian. And besides, if he got what he wanted right away, what would stop him from leaving her in the dust? But she already knew—he was going to make it very difficult for her to keep playing hard to get.
All day at work, she watched the clock, waiting for her last appointment. She was itching to get to the gym, but she hated feeling so eager to see Mikhail. It was ridiculous, but it sure felt like she was developing a crush. A teeny, tiny, bothersome little crush on the tall Russian who smiled like a devil and moved sure and smooth like a dancer in the ring. There was something about the wolfish look in his eye that had her tripping over him. It sure seemed like he could work her over real good, in and out of the ring.
Then again, he could refuse to help her. Her proposition had seemed to genuinely intrigue him, but maybe he wouldn't want to bother training her. It was a lot of work; it would take up a lot of his time. Maybe she was flattering herself to think that he would even be interested in her offer. She told herself that however it went, she wouldn't be disappointed. She would still train, with or without Mikhail. Training would be a lot less interesting without him, though, she thought with a sly smile as she gunned it down the West-Side highway after work.
She sauntered into the gym, her hips and ponytail swinging a bit more than usual, and her favorite Rihanna jam pumping through her headphones. She forced her eyes upward, specifically not looking around the gym for him. She tossed a wave up to Big J's office window, seeing Hector up at the desk. Gennifer Rainbow Rodriguez was as cool as a cucumber, happy as a clam. Not sweating a sexy Russian at all. Not one bit. She pulled the strap of her duffel bag over her head, using the motion to disguise her quick glance around the room. Her eyes scanned the familiar faces.
Tate, her former foster brother, was in the corner, jabbing a bag lightning fast. Donny was in the ring, sparring with his trainer Mr. Bert, Big J's friend from back in the day. Old Mr. Reynolds sat by the oscillating fan, patting his red face with a frayed towel while his grandson Sid bench-pressed. Austin, who worked on Wall Street and shit gold bricks, had his phone glued to his ear as he did bicep curls. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was a typical Thursday night at House of Pain.
Gennifer shook off her disappointment, telling herself she was there to train, not to giggle over a cute boy like she was back at Mother Cabrini high school. She flipped her thick curls over her shoulder and she could feel the familiar scowl sliding over her features. The scowl that kept anybody from fucking with her. Being the only girl in a gym full of dudes was not always fun, but she could be just as tough as any other motherfucker there. Being tough had always been her best defense.
A tap on her shoulder sent her straight into bitch mode, and she dipped her body away from the light touch. She threw a bitch-look over her shoulder and was surprised to find a tall white girl with wavy red hair and bright pink lips staring back at her with big green eyes. She began to say something but Gennifer couldn't hear her with her headphones in. She yanked them out, the movement accompanied by one of her patented eyerolls.
“Sorry, what?” Gennifer said, annoyance rearing up in her tone.
“No, I'm sorry.” The girl's eyes widened, as she ran her manicured nails through her hair. In her white silky camisole, black wide-legged pants, and expensive leather sandals, she looked completely out of place in the stinky, humid gym. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find Hector?” the girl said, and it was then that Gennifer noticed a fading bruise, splotched with green and yellow, on her left cheekbone.
“Hector?” Gennifer felt her eyebrows practically launch into outer space. The girl was NOT Hector's type. She looked like she'd just wandered out of a J. Crew ad. His last girlfriend had been named Xiandria and wore miniskirts, halter tops, and stripper heels every day of the week.
“He works here, right?” the girl asked innocently, as her eyes darted around the gym. Gennifer looked too and most of the men's attentions were directed right on them. Rolling her eyes again, she groaned inwardly. The girl was like a lamb to the slaughter.
“Yeah, he's here.” Gen
nifer shifted her hips, a wave of something that sure felt like jealousy washing over her. She wondered how the girl knew Hector? Were they dating? Did he like posh girls now? Not that it mattered to her what Hector's preferences were. “Come on, I'll take you to him,” Gennifer waved for her to follow, turning her back on the girl and heading up the circular stairs to the office.
“Hector!” Gennifer called out, banging her palm on the door to the office.
“G, why you always gotta be so loud?” Hector said, his back to her as he jammed some papers into the overflowing file cabinet.
“I can't help it,” Gennifer said, throwing the door open, and pressing herself against it so the girl could pass by. “Tu tienes una visita,” she continued in Spanish.
“¿Que?” Hector glanced up, brow furrowed. The girl poked her head in the door, looking unsure.
“Hector?” she said. Gennifer looked pointedly at Hector, waiting for his reaction. Recognition softened his face and Gennifer felt the pang of jealousy again.
“Erica?” he asked, standing.
“You remember me,” the girl, apparently named Erica, let out a relieved whoosh of air that still managed to sound sophisticated.
“What happened to you, mamí?” Hector moved around the desk to them, a murderous look on his face.
“I got mugged.” Erica shrugged, lifting her hand to her face.
“Shit,” Hector murmured.
“Some asshole took my purse and knocked me down in the subway,” Erica said, her lips in a tight smile. “I mean, I'm fine. Shaken up, but fine.” Hector worked his jaw, like he wished he'd been there so he could have beaten the guy's ass. Gennifer watched him, wondering how he and Erica had met. As strange as it was, preppy Erica and hood Xiandria both had one thing in common. Neither of them was anything like Gennifer. No wonder Hector had never shown any real interest.
Stone Cold Knockout Page 3
