“You want me to just stand by and let you get beat up?” Hector asked, continuing in Spanish.
“I have to train or I'll get my ass kicked at Bout It. Do you want that?”
“I don't want you to fight at Bout It!”
“Too bad. It's not up to you.”
“Fine. Fuck it.” Hector threw up his hands. “I don't give a shit. You want to get yourself killed, be my guest.” He turned and headed back toward the stairs. Gennifer rolled her eyes and ducked out of the ring. She hopped down beside Erica.
“It's almost closing time, if you want to get your stuff,” she said, switching to English.
“I was going to wait for him,” Erica said, eyes darting to Hector's retreating back. Gennifer sighed and then jogged over to him, catching him at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hector,” she said, grabbing his arm.
“Fuck off, G.”
“Listen, I appreciate the concern. But I'd appreciate your support more.”
“Why him? Huh? Why not Big Sid or Mr. Bert?”
“They're busy training. He's not.”
“I don't know him and I don't like him.” Hector crossed his arms over his chest.
“Why? Because he likes me?”
“Like Donny liked you?” Hector asked.
“That was so long ago I can't believe you're even bringing it up.” Gennifer plopped her gloved hands on her hips. “Donny's got shit for brains. Mikhail does not.”
“Both of 'em seem to like slapping around girls. He just does it in the ring.”
“Christ!” It was Gennifer's turn to throw up her hands.
“I promised to never tell Big J that Donny hit you, but if Big J finds out about the Russian, that's on you.”
“I'll tell him tomorrow.” Gennifer raised her chin defiantly.
“Right,” Hector turned and headed up the stairs, his footfalls heavy.
“So you're going to leave us alone? Let us spar?” she called after him. He didn't answer, just slammed the office door shut. Gennifer kicked the bottom step and turned back to the ring. Erica still stood there, but Mikhail was gone.
“Where did he go?” Gennifer asked, ripping her gloves off.
“He left,” Erica shrugged as Gennifer passed her on the way to the front of the gym. “So Hector's pissed?”
“I'm sure you could figure out a way to cheer him up,” Gennifer said, throwing open the door and running outside. She glanced left and then right, looking for Mikhail. She saw him about a half-block away, his bag over his shoulder. She jogged after him without even thinking. She sped up to beat a taxi to the crosswalk and called out for him when he was within earshot. “Mikhail!” He stopped and she finally caught up with him, out of breath. “Where are you going?” she asked, in between breaths. “Hector's cool. We can spar.”
“I do not want to spar,” he shook his head, working his jaw.
“What do you mean?” Gennifer felt her heart sink. “You always want to spar.”
“I do not know what you want from me,” he said.
“Yes, you do,” she said, finding his eyes in the darkness.
“You want me to treat you like a man?” He turned to face her. “Or you want me to treat you like a woman?”
“I want you to treat me like a fighter. Because that's what I am.”
“That is not all you are.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her into him. Gennifer gasped in surprise but didn't fight him. She couldn't pull away, even if she wanted to.
“Come back,” she said. “Spar with me.”
“Why?” He lowered his face to hers.
“Because I like sparring with you.” Gennifer ran her hands up his arms, because she couldn't stop herself from touching him. She brushed her nose across the cotton of his T-shirt and took a deep breath. His scent filled her lungs, an intoxicating mix of mint, cologne, and sweat.“If I win, no swimming for a whole weekend,” she murmured.
“Not good for your training,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
“One weekend won't hurt,” she shrugged. His fingers flexed on her hips, then he dropped his hands.
“If I win...” he let his voice trail off.
“I remember,” she said, turning to head back to House of Pain. “Believe me. I didn't forget.”
Chapter 7
Two weeks later, the air conditioning in House of Pain died on the hottest day in June.
“We're dying down there, Daddy-o,” Gennifer moaned, slumping into the empty chair in the office.
“Buzz off, Rainbow. I got workers coming in tomorrow to fix it.” Big Jimmy punched on his keyboard, typing with his two index fingers. Gennifer grabbed an old newspaper off of his desk and fanned herself with it.
“How can you stand it up here? It's like a hundred degrees.”
“Heat don't bother me,” Big Jimmy said, looking at her over his glasses. “I got fans down there. What do you think they did in the old days?”
“People were tougher back then,” Gennifer said. “They could die from a common cold. Heat waves were nothing.”
“You a trip, girl.” He shook his head. “Where you been? Haven't seen you in awhile.”
“When I get here, you're usually already gone.” She shrugged. “You should work later.”
“Tell Maria that,” he said with a big belly laugh. “If I'm not home by seven, she'll have my hide.”
“Well I don't get off until six on a good day.” She lifted her arms and fanned under them. “Blame the traffic.”
“You wouldn't be trying to avoid me would you?” he asked, his eyes on the computer screen. “That's a nice shiner you got there.” Grimacing, she raised her hand to her face. Mikhail had barely grazed her with a straight shot two days before. There was barely a bruise. She'd covered it with concealer, but there was no fooling Big J.
“I've been training for Bout It. No big deal.”
“You been sparring with that big Russian fella,” Big J said, glancing up at her again.
“Training,” she corrected him, vowing silently to kill Hector the next time she saw him.
“Sparring. Now, I thought I had a rule around here. No mixed-sex sparring.”
“Well, see, I thought that rule was void after you said I could fight at Bout It.”
“Hmm.” Big J raised his eyebrow.
“It was a dumb rule anyway. Mikhail is a good fighter. He agreed to train me.”
“Mighty nice of him.”
“He's a nice guy,” Gennifer said, not able to suppress a smile. She stood up at went to the big window, peeking through the blinds down to the gym floor. Mikhail was at the weights, his arms bulging as he did bicep curls. The early evening sun streamed in the front windows, creating a warm glow around him. Something squeezed in her chest at the sight of him and she pressed her hand to the glass.
“Is he now?” The chair creaked as Big J swung around to look at her.
“He is.” She tapped her finger on the window, trying to get his attention, to no avail.
“He's so nice, why does he like beating up on girls?”
“Christ!” she rolled her eyes. “You sound just like Hector.” She stepped away from the window and glared at Big J. “He's got perfect control. Perfect technique. He doesn't like it when I take a hit, but he respects the fact that I want to learn. He wants me to be a good fighter. No one else around here cares, apparently.”
“I wish you woulda stayed a towel girl. You were so cute back then.” Big J shook his head, a deep crease in his forehead from frowning.
“I'm still cute,” Gennifer said, bending to press a kiss to his cheek. “You don't have to like it. Just trust me.” She dropped the old newspaper back on his desk and headed toward the door. “So do we have your blessing?” she tossed back over her shoulder.
“No.” He turned back to his computer screen. “But when has that ever stopped you?”
***
Mikhail watched a bead of sweat make its way from Gennifer's neck down to her chest. His
eyes followed it as it rolled down into the valley of her breasts. He licked his lips, imagining running his tongue along the salty wet trail it left on her skin. She lifted her arms, sweeping her hair off of her neck as she fanned herself with her taped hand. Time seemed to slow as she raised her eyes to meet his and a slight smile curled over her lips.
“Are you just going to stand there or are we going to train?” she said, eyes wide.
“Train,” he said, snapping out of it.
“I think the heat's frying your brain,” she said with a laugh, holding out her hands. He slipped her gloves on and fastened them securely. “I already complained to Big J, but the AC's fucked.”
“My gym in St. Petersburg. Very old-fashioned. No air conditioning. I am used to it.”
“I thought Russia was covered in snow all year?” She raised an eyebrow and he realized she was teasing him a second before he corrected her. He faked a punch and she ducked out of the way with a laugh.
“You tease me too much, solnyshka.” He shook his head, watching her laugh. She was laughing a lot more, he realized. The more they trained, the more she opened up to him. Everyday, she greeted him with a smile on her face and a mischievous look in her eye. He was slowly becoming addicted to her smiles. If he wasn't careful, he knew he was in danger of becoming addicted to her. He woke up every morning craving her. He went to bed every night craving her.
He needed to fuck her or he was going to go out of his mind.
Gennifer stiffened and stepped away from him. He followed her eyes across the gym. Hector and Big Jimmy stood at the bottom of the stairs, talking. Ever since their loud argument in Spanish a few weeks before, Mikhail knew she had barely spoken to Hector. He hadn't asked what the argument was about, and she hadn't told him, but he knew it had to do with the fact that he was training her. Hector didn't like it. She bit down on her lower lip and began to stretch, pretending she wasn't paying attention to them, but he knew she was. She couldn't fool him.
After a moment, Hector headed up the stairs to the office and Big Jimmy walked right past them to the door. “Have a good night, Daddy-o,” she called out. Big Jimmy's eyes swept the ring, landing on Mikhail.
“Mm-hmm. Night, Rainbow,” the big man said, his mouth curving into a deep frown. He pushed his way out of the door without another word. Mikhail glanced back at Gennifer and she shrugged.
“He's pissed at me. He'll get over it.” Mikhail nodded and curled his finger, beckoning her to him. “What?” she furrowed her brow.
“Come.” He snapped his gum, impatiently. She crossed the ring and looked at him expectantly. “You are always making people angry. Why is that?” He stepped behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He felt her muscles tense under his touch, but she didn't step away.
“Because I won't do what they want me to do. They don't like it.”
“You do what I tell you to do,” he said, lightly as he began to massage her tight shoulders. She glanced back at him, her eyes not giving anything away.
“Don't get used to it,” she said. “My cooperation is temporary.”
“Is it?” He ran his thumb across the bone at the base of her neck. She shivered against him and he smiled. He liked that he could affect her just as much as she affected him. The thought gave him a minuscule bit of relief. Not much, but it was something. A small dark mole at her hairline caught his attention and he brushed the pad of his thumb over it. He took a deep breath, his cock suddenly hard as hell. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the salty skin of her neck, wondering why the hell he was putting himself through this torture. Any other woman, he would have fucked her already. He would have already moved on with his life. But Gennifer wouldn't let him move on. He was trapped.
“Mikhail,” she murmured, but he didn't answer her. He didn't want to. He dragged his teeth down the curve of her neck, his fingers encircling her throat lightly, holding her in place. “We should get started.” He shook his head and bit down lightly on her earlobe.
“I want to spar,” he whispered.
“You always win,” she sighed. He nodded, knowing they were both thinking the same thing—that she hadn't held up her end of their bargain. Not yet, anyway.
“One day you will win.” He traced her collarbone with his fingertip. “Not today, but one day.”
“I can't wait,” she whispered. “Even if it's when you're old and gray.” He snorted out a laugh at her wistful tone and the spell was broken.
“You are not that much younger,” he said, dropping his hand to her hip.
“Seven years,” she said.
“Insignificant.”
“We'll see.” She stepped out of his grasp and scratched her nose with her gloved hand. Then she narrowed her eyes at him, the gears turning in her head. “Has anybody ever called you Misha?” she asked.
“What?” He crossed the ring and grabbed his gloves off the canvas.
“It's a common nickname for Mikhail, isn't it?” Her eyes sparked mischievously. “I think I read that somewhere.”
“Do not call me that.” He strapped on his gloves.
“What if I do?”
“You will regret it.” He held out his gloves and she tapped them with her own.
“Okay, Misha. I'll try and remember that.” She grinned wickedly, then threw a punch that had him seeing stars.
***
Gennifer hit the ropes with a grunt, throwing her gloves up to protect her face.
“Fight your way out,” Mikhail said, then hit her in the side. He was holding back, but she was still overwhelmed. She tried to throw him off, but he didn't budge. She reminded herself to breathe, but it was difficult. The heat was pressing in on her as well, the air claustrophobic. Sweat dripped down her face and her hands were clammy inside her gloves. In desperation, she threw a high jab at his face, but he dodged her. “Fight, solnyshka,” he repeated, his calm voice driving her insane.
“I am!” she hissed, shoving at his shoulders. His skin was slick with sweat and her gloves couldn't get traction. She dug in her heels and threw another punch, getting him in the side of the head. Finally, he reeled back, and she darted away from the ropes. She gulped in air, but he didn't give her any relief. He lunged at her, jabbing high. She countered with a low, connecting to his sternum. He coughed and hopped back, but when he looked up again, he was smiling.
“Good,” he said, but she didn't give him time to recuperate. She went after him with a combination straight shot and jab and he dodged both. “You are slow and tired,” he said, shaking his head. “Focus.”
“Fuck off, Misha.” She scowled, knowing he was right but too stubborn to admit it. She came at him with an uppercut, but he hopped back before she could make contact. “Fuck!” she grunted. He pushed in, aiming for her ribs. She backed up until she felt the ropes press into her back again. She threw her arms around him, hugging him close. It was the only way she could think to stop him. She was too tired and hot to throw another punch.
“Gennifer,” he hissed in her ear.
“I'm not quitting,” she gritted out, trying to catch her breath.
“Do you forfeit?”
“No!” She tried to shove him away, but he slid his arms around her and locked them tight.
“Forfeit,” he said, his eyes wild as he stared down at her.
“No.” She tried to get free, to no avail. She punched him in the ribs, but it was a weak hit and he barely winced. She struggled but he wouldn't let her go. She glared up at him, her pulse pounding harder than ever. The air between them sizzled with tension and Gennifer knew she was defeated, yet again. She wasn't ready to quit, but she also didn't want to fight any more. She could feel his heart beating through his chest. He dropped his eyes to her mouth and she realized she wanted him to kiss her. Hard. On the mouth. And then she wanted to fuck him.
God, she wanted to fuck him.
“Forfeit,” he ordered again. She arched her back, pressing her tits against his chest. She felt his erection harden against her thigh
and she sucked in a breath. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, remembering how his mouth felt on her neck and his hands felt on her skin. He wanted her, she knew. He had never stopped wanting her. She wanted him, too, more than ever.
“I forfeit,” she murmured and he dropped his arms immediately like she was on fire and he didn't want to get burned. He stepped back, ripping off his gloves. Gennifer could only stand there, watching him as he grabbed his shirt from the corner and wiped the sweat from his face. He didn't gloat. In fact, he didn't say anything. He simply ducked out of the ring without another look at her. “Where are you going?” she called after him.
“I see you tomorrow, solnyshka.” He pulled his shirt back on and turned his back to her, shutting her out. Gennifer glanced around. The gym floor was almost empty. Austin was still bench-pressing, and there was one other straggler on a speed bag. Hector was up in the office. No one was paying attention to them.
“You won,” she said, leaning on the ropes.
“We spar again tomorrow.” He shoved his gloves in his bag. She climbed down out of the ring, pulling off her own gloves. “You did well,” he said, still not looking at her.
“But you won,” she said. “We had a deal, Misha.”
“Do not tease me,” he said, finally turning his head to look at her. “I am not in the mood.”
“I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then,” she said lightly. Then she leaned close to him and stood up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “But before I go, I think I'm going to take a shower.”
Chapter 8
Gennifer opened the door to the empty women's locker room and went inside, her heart thundering in her ears. The room was dark and about ten degrees cooler than the rest of the gym. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she made her way to her locker. With shaking fingers, she dialed the combination on her lock. The butterflies were out in full force in her stomach as she peeled off her sweaty bra and her leggings and kicked off her shoes. She folded her clothes and set them on the bench. She found the soap and shampoo she kept at the back of her locker, for moments such as these.
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