IRISH: a Bad Boy Fighter Romance (3 page)

I didn’t have rich parents to fall back on either, mom had died when I was little and dad hadn’t been around since before that. I’d been in foster care until I’d turned eighteen and was able to start my own life.

This grand adventure, I thought with dark sarcasm. Here I was at twenty-two living the dream begging George for a dollar more an hour just to survive.

“It’s not,” George said, cutting to the chase. “The business ain’t what it used to be and with my girl in school I’ve got nothing. In fact, I might have to cut your hours starting next month if things don’t pick up for me.”

I thanked him and told him I understood but that was like telling somebody it was okay to punch you in the gut.

That’s what it felt like.

I wasn’t educated, I had zero experience beyond slinging drinks, and with the economy in the shitter, my options were pretty much zilch.

I tried to paste a smile on my face and told Charlotte he’d wanted to see me about a beer order and went on with my night.

Around ten I was already wanting to go home when I heard the bell ring and a large group came in. They were rowdy assholes, just the thing I didn’t need.

“Hey sugar tits,” the apparent frat boy leader called to me across the bar. “Get us a round of tequila shooters and a couple pitchers of beer. Not the cheap swill on tap, something decent.”

“Sure thing,” I said and started getting their drinks ready.

They gathered around a table in the corner near the pool table and got progressively louder and louder as I handed the tray to Charlotte.

“No, we want sugar tits to bring it,” the frat D-bag leader yelled as Charlotte made her way from behind the bar.

Charlotte glanced back at me desperately, not knowing what to do. Had it been busy, I would have told them to shove it, but it wasn’t busy and I apparently needed the tip money.

“I’ll get it,” I said and got the drinks arranged on the tray after I took it from her. I fixed a big plastic smile on my face and prepared to fake my ass to a giant drunk D-bag tip.

As I left the bar area, the doorbell rang again and I looked up, expecting more frat boy fuckers joining their crew.

It wasn’t.

It was Knox O’Connor with another man, a fellow fighter by the way he walked behind Knox to a table in the corner. Charlotte glided over to help them.

My heart started to pound in my chest and my throat tightened up and went completely dry. The glasses on the tray rattled as I fought to keep it from shaking in my trembling hand.

I set the drinks out on the table one by one, watched the herd of D-bags down the shots and picked them up as they finished. I turned to walk away, barely able to glance at Knox’s table without freaking out and headed back to the bar.

“Hey sugar tits,” the D-bag leader said as I was leaving.

“What?” I spat and turned around.

“You wanna give me a lap dance?” he laughed and held up a crisp hundred dollar bill.

That would have come in handy, but I wasn’t a whore. I shot him a withering look and stomped back to the bar.

A few moments later Charlotte returned, pouted and said, “You’re popular tonight, they want you over there too.”

“I’ll share tips,” I told her, feeling bad for some reason that she wasn’t getting any tables tonight.

I sauntered to Knox’s table as nonchalantly as possible with my body betraying me in every possible way.

“What can I get you guys?” I asked, deliberately not making eye contact with him. I didn’t think I could handle those brilliantly green eyes locked on mine just then.

“Your best whiskey,” Knox said with his gorgeous deep Irish voice. “On the rocks. In fact, bring us a bottle.”

“Coming right up,” I said and smiled at his friend.

I could feel him watching me leave and suddenly regretted wearing an old pair of jeans that probably hugged my curves a little too closely for my comfort. I’m sure he enjoyed the view though.

As I was passing the table of frat boys, the D-bag leader’s hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist.

“How about that lap dance?” he asked and tried to shove the hundred dollar bill in the waist of my jeans.

“How about you keep your fucking hands off me?” I snarled and pushed myself off of him.

He was holding me too close though, and it simply made me settle harder on his lap, his cock pressing into me and his hot breath on my neck.

“Come on, don’t be such an ice princess,” he sneered and squeezed my breast hard with his free hand. “You work in a god damned bar, you must need the money.”

“Let me
go
,” I said and pushed him again. We didn’t have a bouncer on weeknights, the crowd was usually manageable. I looked around for Charlotte but she must have gone on a smoke break. I felt tears stinging the back of my eyes as panic began to rise in my chest.

“Come on, an easy hundred. The strip club is closed and I am just dying for a sweet thing like you to grind her ass on my cock,” he snickered.

“She said let her go, so kindly fekking let her go,” Knox’s voice broke in. It was low and threatening but still so unbelievably smooth and delicious.

“Haha is she one of your lucky charms?” the D-bag laughed. “This is America, dude, so fuck off and let me grope the bar slut.”

“I believe I told ye te let her go,” Knox replied evenly and carefully. A twitch under his eye indicated that he was anything but. He was tightly coiled and ready to strike.

“Dude, that’s Knox O’Connor,” one of the frat boys at the table whispered in a harsh tone.

“Who?” the D-bag leader asked, loosening his grip on my waist. I took the chance to leap up and escape just as Knox’s fist came flying past me and landed with a deep sounding smack in the middle of the D-bag’s face.

He went sailing back, flipped the chair and landed on the floor with his legs and arms flailing like a turtle.

I ran for the bathroom, feeling sick and embarrassed, but not before I noticed a bright smear of blood on the D-bag’s face.

I splashed some water on my face and calmed myself down, feeling humiliated that Knox had seen that. Did he think of me as some bar slut now?

I hated that part of the job, the guys who saw me as a piece of meat, but I obviously needed the money.

I hoped George wouldn’t find out I’d caused a fight in the bar. He hated shit like that. God, how had such a stupid thing gotten so out of control?

A couple moments passed and I regained my composure and opened the door.

Knox was waiting for me in the narrow hallway.

“Are ye all right, kitten?” he asked and put his hands firmly on my shoulders.

“I’m fine,” I replied, avoiding eye contact again. “Are you okay?”

“Ha,” he barked, “I’m fine, don’t ye worry about me. The other guy though, he might be a little sore in the morning.”

“Are they gone?” I asked, peering out around him to see an empty pub.

“They are,” he replied and dodged in front of me as if to make me look at him.

“Shit, they didn’t pay,” I said with a sinking feeling. It would have to come out of my check.

“I’ll cover it, kitten,” he said and hooked his finger under my chin, forcing my face up. “Look at me, why won’t ye look at me?”

“I just…” I stammered. “I’m shy I guess.” The truth was that I felt just looking at Knox would mean I was helpless. I would fall into the deep, dangerous pool of his bright green eyes and lose myself to the handsome Irish fighter.

“Yer not shy,” he chuckled, “I’ve seen you with others. Just look at me.”

I slid my eyes across his broad chest to the V of his flesh showing at the top of his buttoned up shirt. A sprinkle of fine chest hair showed over the multiple intricate tattoos there.

My gaze traveled higher, to his full, sensual lips curved into a slight smile, to his high cheek bones, to the little scar under his eye…and finally to those eyes. Those brilliant, shining eyes that held me stuck there like a deer in headlights.

“That’s not so hard, is it kitten?” he said softly.

I shook my head and stared at him as if waiting for something.

He bent and kissed me, his lips covering my mouth, soft at first and then more demanding.

His stubble grazed my flesh and sent fiery sparks coursing through my body.

His scent filled my nostrils made me melt with desire, my panties were soaked. He smelled masculine, strong and purposeful.

It only lasted a moment; he pulled back and looked at me again with a furrow between his brows.

“I know I just met you and this is gonna sound a crazy as fuck,” he said, his huge, rough hand cupping my face. “But will ye marry me?”

I barked a bitter laugh and said, “Nice try. Who put you up to this? Was it Charlotte? George?”

“Naw,” he said softly, sincerely,” I want ye to be my wife, kitten.”

I gulped and had no fucking idea how to respond.

Chapter Six

Lennon

I stared at him until I felt like my eyes were bugging out of my head, but I still couldn’t make his words make sense.

Marry him? Was he fucking crazy?

“I gotta get back to work,” I said and tried to side step away from him. Knox put his arm up against the wall, blocking my way. His hand was still cupping my face and I swore I could feel it at a cellular level, his heat merging with mine to create a swirling sensation of desire just under the surface of my skin.

“Ain’t nobody out there but my friend,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off mine. “And he can wait.”

“George might wonder where I am…” My voice trailed off unconvincingly. I glanced out at the pub and it was empty. I might have seen a tumbleweed roll past.

“George won’t give a shite if I tell him you were with me,” he said in that incredible deep, accented voice. My knees felt weak every time he spoke, even if he was clinically insane. “So what do ye say, kitten? Want to be my bride?”

“I say no, I don’t even know you,” I replied carefully, looking him in the eye and grinding my teeth quietly as if to remind myself that I’m not the kind of woman who races off to marry a complete stranger.

Even one as dead fucking hot as Knox O’Connor.

“You’ll get to know me after the wedding,” he winked and looked down at my breasts that were heaving like I was trapped in an old-fashioned romance novel.

“I don’t love you,” I said, glaring up at him, daring him to convince me otherwise.

“Ah, kitten, that’s the glory in this. I don’t love ye either, we don’t love each other. This would be a business arrangement and nothing else,” he said with a glint in his eye. “Although I wouldn’t mind consummating the marriage a time or two of course.”

My heart sunk. That’s how much this man got to me. I actually felt a thud when my heart dropped from my chest to what felt like the pit of my stomach. He wasn’t that into me after all, this wasn’t some romantic gesture of instantaneous love where we would marry and live happily ever after.

It was strictly business.

With maybe some cheap meaningless sex tossed in for good measure.

“I don’t think so,” I replied with my heart hardened and my tone icy. “I really do have to get back to work.”

I pulled away from him then and stomped away from him.

I made it about two steps when he grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him again.

I was about to protest when he stepped forward and pressed the entire length of his body against mine. He dipped down and kissed me again, his mouth claiming mine like he’d already said his vows.

My stomach clenched and my pussy quivered and my god I fucking wanted more.

But I wouldn’t be used like this, so I pulled myself away and fought every cell in my body to turn around and walk away from him.

“I’ll wait to hear your reply, kitten,” he chuckled and I could once again feel the weight of his gaze on my ass and cursed my tight jeans.

I walked behind the bar, grabbed my purse and told Charlotte, “You lock up, okay? I’m not feeling well.”

The frat boys had all scattered ages ago, so it was safe for me to walk to the bus stop near the pub and hop on the late night bus back home.

He didn’t even say good-bye when I left though, so what kind of connection could there really be?

Part of me had hoped he would run after me on my way out, but I was equally happy he didn’t.

Jessica was still up when I got home.

“Early night,” she said. “Want some tea with me?”

“Sure,” I replied, “but I think I’d prefer something stronger.”

“Bad night?” she asked with concern in her eyes. She poured me a glass of wine and handed it across the table.

“Just a bunch of frat boy assholes,” I replied and took a sip.

“Ah, the usual suspects,” she laughed. “Thanks for taking the flowers, by the way. Brody fucked up and was trying to make up for it. As if a stupid bouquet of cheap plants is the way to do it.”

She rolled her eyes but I knew she’d already made up with him. I would normally tease her about it, about being weak and a simpleton around men, but something had changed.

I could see the appeal, the obsession. Knox had made me consider marriage with just one short kiss, imagine if we were actually dating. I would probably do anything for him, and that was a scary thought.

“Good for you for standing up to him,” I said and held my glass up before taking another sip.

We gossiped about her work and I told her about my potential hours being cut, but I avoided all mention of Knox O’Connor.

I didn’t exactly know why, maybe I was afraid if I told her about it then it would all seem too real.

I wanted to keep Knox’s kiss to myself for now; it seemed to contain some magic that would dissipate if I told anybody about it. And I deserved to keep that magic to myself.

Chapter Seven

Knox

She bloody looked like I’d asked her to cut off her tits or something. I was Knox Fucking O’Connor, not some fucking hunchback begging her for a green card.

She hadn’t even stuck around to hear the details of my proposition, that’s how much the thought had horrified her.