As it was a practice bout, Savannah knew he wouldn’t go for her face, but that didn’t mean she was any less cautious. She was, after all, fighting the former heavyweight champion of the world.
But she could always hold her own - her father had ensured that. However much of a pacifist Savannah might be, Tyrone had always impressed upon her the importance of being able to defend herself - and respect for a sport many believed relied simply on brute strength.
She dodged his first jab, spinning to deliver an uppercut that just grazed his jaw, and her father arched a brown in surprise. Savannah had surprised herself. She hadn’t been in the ring in weeks. She had surmised she might be out of practice.
But one lucky hit didn’t mean her father wasn’t going to put her through her paces.
Regardless of how she felt about her day, soon the only thing Savannah could concentrate on was avoiding her father’s lightning fast punches. Savannah dodged and ducked, her body slipping back into a familiar rhythm. From the time she was ten, she and her father had been here, every weekend. He’d knocked her over more times than she could count, and slowly, she had learned how to avoid him. How to anticipate where he would be next.
She had knowledge that most boxers in his league might have killed for at one point and time, but Savannah had never wanted to be a fighter. This, for her, was just another visit with her father.
Within five minutes, she was sweating bullets, doing everything she could to avoid being hit. A misstep, however, was inevitable. A blow to the side sent her stumbling back, and she struggling to regain her balance as her father came at her again. Savannah had almost forgotten how easy it was to lose herself in this - to fall into a rhythm. That was how your opponent got you.
The next time he hit her, Savannah hit back, popping him upside the jaw smartly.
She hadn’t noticed they had attracted a crowd until that moment, when everyone watching cheered. Tyrone laughed, coming at her even harder than before. This time, he didn’t stop until Savannah was on the ropes, struggling to catch her breath.
Spitting his mouthpiece into a glove, Tyrone’s expression turned concerned. “You alright, baby girl?”
In response, Savannah merely lifted her leg to deliver a roundhouse kick to his sternum that sent him back several feet as he grunted in shock.
“That,” he countered, once he had recovered, “Is definitely not legal in boxing.” Savannah grinned in triumph, spitting out her own mouthpiece. “You’ve taken a leaf out of your client’s book, I think.”
The comment was enough to make her grimace. “Jesus Christ, I hope not.”
“Let’s take five, honey.” Her father dipped his bulky frame under the ropes before helping her down as well. They settled on the edge of the ring with bottles of water to cool down. “So,” Tyrone mused gruffly. “No way you get out of taking this guy, huh?”
“Not if I want to survive with my pride and my career intact,” Savannah replied bitterly, before gulping at her water greedily.
“Well, seeing as how I can’t take him out for you,” her father paused for a moment, eying her suspiciously, “you aren’t sleeping with him, are you?”
“Daddy!” Savannah’s face bloomed scarlet. “No. Hell no.”
But the moment he’d mentioned it, the image rose to the forefront of her mind, completely unbidden. If the man wasn’t such an insufferable jackass, it would be hard to deny his attentions.
Torran Maloney was, without a doubt, breathtakingly gorgeous. And not in the male-model, super-beautiful way that so many modern women craved. Every inch of him was hard and unyielding. His face was sharp, the layer of auburn stubble over his cheeks and chin lending him an even more rugged air. Those blue eyes of his were piercing, even as they mocked her; and there was no doubting that, at 6 and a half feet and almost three hundred pounds of pure muscle, he certainly had an intimidating and hyper-masculine presence. If Savannah was the type of woman to fantasize about men in her spare time, Torran would definitely be the type she dreamed about.
Unfortunately, she was too busy getting ahead in life to spare much thought to getting laid.
“Well, as long as there isn’t any hanky panky involved,” Savannah shot her father a warning glare as he continued, “I would say the best way to handle him is to meet him on his level.”
Savannah arched a brow in immediate confusion. “I don’t follow.”
Chuckling, Tyrone shook his head. “Man’s a fighter, baby. He was a fighter before he ever started doing it on television, and he was a fighter long before they put all that money in his hands. If there’s anything I taught my baby girl to do well, it’s dealing with fighters.” He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as Savannah glowed at the compliment.
Her father’s words served to banish some of the uncertainty that had been clouding her thoughts and allowed her to think straight for the first time all day.
He was right.
Ever since her father began teaching her to fight, she’d become a stronger person. He taught her skills that she could use not only in the ring, but in life itself. Already, Savannah had shown her independence by refusing to live off her father’s reputation. Whereas he was recognized by sight almost wherever he went, few people even knew that she was related to him. Once she moved out, she refused to take his money anymore and did her best to make a name for herself in her own right. Even if she hadn’t made it yet, she had to be proud that she’d at least gotten this far.
Torran Maloney. Torran fucking Maloney.
He might be an asshole, but if she could get him to work with her, they would both be better off. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement - she just had to make him see it.
And she would find a way. If she didn’t, what the hell did that say about her?
Filled with new confidence, Savannah sprang to her feet. “Thanks, Daddy.” When she grabbed her gloves, he arched a brow, his smile teasing.
“Guess that means you don’t want me to finish beating your ass.”
Savannah stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “Don’t be mad because you were losing.” She was probably the only one in the world he would willingly lose to - and that was no small honor.
As she headed back to the locker room, Savannah began thinking of her next plan of attack. Speak Torran’s language?
She’d speak it alright. By the time she was through talking, he wouldn’t be able to hear anything else - not even the roaring of his impressively oversized ego.
Chapter 5: Winner Takes All
There was no better feeling than a good burn.
At the risk of sounding like an overly muscled idiot, Torran admitted that the gym was nirvana to him. Before the money and before the fame, there had still been gyms. Of course, they were piece of shit facilities in hole in the wall joints, but that didn’t mean they were any less effective. In Torran’s mind, one didn’t need thousand dollar equipment to train. All you needed was iron will and something heavy to swing around.
The gym where he trained now was neither a hole in the wall or a high class facility, but it suited him just fine. When he wasn’t in his office or at home, this is where he came - and where he pushed himself until he was suitably sore. In the gym, he didn’t have to think about who he had to please or whose ledgers needed balancing. Since he wasn’t in his office, he didn’t even have to worry about going back upstairs to work.
Currently, he was working on the leg press machine - doing sets of ten before adding twenty pounds after each. As he worked his way towards his limit, he zoned out, his thoughts straying to his particularly confounding meeting from the previous week.
Savannah fucking Jones.
He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since she’d so politely fucked off. Torran had tried everything he could think of. He’d gotten drunk out of his mind, punched something until it broke, he’d even spent a ridiculous amount of money on a new car that he didn’t need (and instantly regretted it). His last resort had been to seduce Amanda, even
though she hadn’t seemed quite as alluring since Savannah had sashayed herself into his office.
He found that he couldn’t go through with it. Halfway through sucking her tits, he realized that his only motivation was wondering what color Savannah’s nipples were and he tossed her out of his apartment in disgust.
There was obviously something wrong with him. Torran had fucked his way through half the female population without ever lingering on a single woman. His reputation preceded him on that point and any woman idiotic enough to think she could tie him down was gone before she could blink.
He realized now that he hadn’t been laid in almost a month, and the fact worried him somewhat. Sure, he could go out and look for a warm, willing body, but he feared the result would be the same as his last attempt.
What the hell was so special about Savannah Jones anyway? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen a woman of her ilk before. Legs for days, gorgeous dark curls, inviting honey eyes and a figure that just wouldn’t quit….but there was something else. The sharpness of her tongue, her refusal to take any of his bullshit, even if it meant she would be out of a job…
It had him wondering if she would be that fiery in bed.
Setting the three hundred pound bar he was using on the rack, he cursed lowly. This certainly wasn’t the time to be getting aroused. The gym wasn’t necessarily crowded at this hour, but if he popped a fucking erection, someone was going to notice.
Savannah had no business interrupting his work outs, even if she wasn’t physically present.
Shoving sweat soaked hair from his face, he moved to add more weight, forcing himself to think of accounting deadlines. Anything to keep from remembering how fucking sexy the subtle swing of his not-publicist’s hips was.
He was so absorbed in the memory that he almost didn’t notice when Ben, one of the trainers, stepped in front of him. “Torran.”
He was so startled he nearly dropped the three hundred and twenty pounds he was hefting. “What?” He barked, not enthusiastic at being interrupted. When he looked up at Ben, however, he was surprised to see that the bulky man looked somewhat confused. “What is it?”
Ben sighed, running a hand through bleached blonde hair. “You’re not going to believe this, but some chick recognized you and wants to spar.”
Torran blinked in surprise a moment before a snort of laughter escaped him. “You have to be fucking kidding me.” Perhaps this was his punishment for losing his focus recently - having to deal with a deranged fan. “Kick her out.”
“She won’t go.” Ben immediately countered, frowning deeply. “Says she won’t leave until you talk to her.”
Torran’s mouth pulled tight in displeasure. “So call the cops.”
“Come on, Torran.” Ben groaned. “I don’t need to deal with this shit today. Isn’t being a star what you do?” The Irishman only glared at him in warning until Ben continued. “It’s not like you actually have to fight her. Just sign an autograph or something and get her out.”
Standing, Torran grabbed his water bottle to take a long swallow. While he didn’t mind dealing with fans under the right circumstances, he still didn’t have a publicist. Which meant that if he made one wrong move, the media would skewer him. He would have to be careful with how he handled this.
He supposed that if she was decent-looking enough he could just seduce her out of the gym and then deliver some excuse or the other. Torran was trying to decide exactly how he was going to handle this mess as he followed Ben towards the entryway of the gym. When he finally got a good look at the woman who’d demanded to see him, however, he struggled not to gape.
It was Savannah.
But she wasn’t dressed...properly. Instead of the stuffy suit she’d been wearing the last time he saw her, now she was clad in only a sports bra and the tiniest pair of shorts he’d ever seen. The outfit clung to her like a second skin and all the curves he’d wondered about for the past week were suddenly exposed.
She had the nicest set of tits he’d seen in a long while - high, full, and gloriously plump. Her waist was minute, her stomach well-toned, and her hips...fucking God those hips. Just seeing them again made him want to grab her and jerk her to him.
To make her his.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Maloney.” Her dry tone snapped him from his very blatant appreciation of her body and he forced his gaze upwards to her face. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup, and he found he liked the look of clean, bare chocolate skin on her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He demanded immediately.
“I heard you worked out here sometimes and I decided to pay you a little visit. We need to talk.”
“The hell we do.” The last thing he wanted to do was talk. Torran would much rather drag her off to the closest private place and shove his tongue down her throat. “Our discussion was over last week.”
“Come on, Maloney. You have a ridiculously pivotal fight coming up to defend your title in three months. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Yeah,” he deadpanned, trying very hard not to stare at her chest. “I should be training. You’re interrupting that training.”
“Oh, I came to help.” Torran’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Savannah glanced at a flummoxed Ben by his side. “Didn’t he tell you? I want to fight.”
Torran wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or groan in exasperation. What exactly was she trying to do here, besides drive him utterly insane with her stubbornness. “I already told you, Jones: I don’t hit women.”
“Who said I was going to let you hit me?” She arched a brow so imperiously that, for a split second, she had to know something he didn’t. When he recovered, Torran only smirked.
“Hate to break it to you darlin’, but this isn’t a game. I’m actually preparing to knock another man senseless.”
“I have an idea.” Incredibly, Savannah continued as if she hadn’t even heard him. “How about we have a friendly match. And if I land one hit - just one - you agree to sit down and hear me out.”
The woman had some serious bullocks, he’d give her that. Torran merely eyed her wryly. “You do realize that there’s a good chance I accidently knock your pretty teeth out before you get close to me, right?”
“Oh, of course. That is, if you’re willing to break your rule for me.”
He didn’t want to hit her. Despite the fact that he liked to beat on a lot of things, gorgeous women definitely weren’t one of them. Or any women, for that matter. As Torran realized the course of his own thoughts, he realized, with no small amount of incredulity, that he was actually thinking about doing this. It wasn’t, however, because he wanted to fight Savannah. It was because the thought of being in close quarters with that scantily clad body of hers was a bit much for him to resist.
He could pull his punches. It had been a long time, but Torran was sure he could handle that much. And he’d be sure to keep away from her face. Once he knocked the wind out of her once, he was pretty sure he could get her to leave.
Sighing, he scratched the stubble on his chin. “When I beat those tiny shorts off you, will you leave?”
Savannah’s smile was slow and pleased - and Torran gritted his teeth against his body’s impulsive response. “Right away.”
“Fine.” Was it just him, or did he sound a little too eager? “You have practice rings in the basement, right Ben?”
“Yeah.” Ben looked completely shocked that this was even happening. “But Torran, you’re going to have to-”
“I know,” the fighter groused, glancing over his shoulder at the woman following them. “I won’t hurt her.”
If only he had known what he was getting himself into.
The practice rings were simple things, made more for boxing than MMA fighting, but that didn’t seem to bother Savannah. While Torran had been sure she knew little, if anything, about fighting sports at all, he was surprised when, soon after entering the ring, she took a very solid boxing stance across from him
.
Her position allowed him a lovely view of her ample cleavage, pressing her breasts up and together, and his dick twitched at the way the muscles in her long legs tensed. “Alright,” Ben called from the sidelines. Thankfully, the lower level was deserted, so Torran didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him punch a lass. “Three minutes, one round. Ready?”
“I’m ready,” he growled, somewhere between anticipation and anxiety. She was really going to make him hit her, just to teach her a lesson. It might have pissed him off if it wasn’t so ridiculous.
“Ready.” He noticed then that Savannah’s gaze had gone flat and determined, her body completely still. It was a stance that seemed somehow familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it for the life of him…
“Fight!”
She was fast.
In fact, she was so fast that Torran was still ogling her tits when her uppercut smashed into his jaw with the force of a small sledgehammer.
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