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I need to let her go.
“I’m sweating all over you, girl.” I squeeze her tighter, negating my warning. She’s so soft and fits against me just right.
“I don’t mind getting a little sweaty,” she murmurs.
That takes my mind down a path it definitely should not travel.
Setting her down before I’m ready, I keep my hands on her hips. It’s playing with fire. All the leftover adrenaline screaming through my system has me flirting with getting burned. Even though this isn’t a fight club I visit often, I recognize plenty of people. Any number of them would be more than willing to report back to her brother that I had my hands all over his little sister. Her brother—my best friend and partner in crime—wouldn’t hesitate to kick my ass.
I settle for a kiss on her forehead before taking my hands off her.
“You didn’t answer me. Does Remy know you’re here?”
“Of course not.”
“Why’d you come?”
“Duh, to see you.” She pokes her finger into my side. “I heard you were up against someone new. Sorry I missed most of it.”
“You saw the best part.”
Laughter spills from her lips, chasing away the leftover violent energy burning through my body from the fight. I glance around the open space. Still way too many people here to leave her alone while I go shower and grab my stuff.
“Follow me.” I hold out my hand and she takes it, weaving through the throng with me. The hallway to the private locker room is dark and deserted. Molly trots a little faster, catching up and wrapping her other hand around my arm.
“You don’t have anything to be scared of,” I assure her. “You’re with me.”
“I know.” Her lips quirk up. “You’d kill anyone who touched me.”
I return the smile. “Kill is a little strong.” Break a few bones, maybe.
She squeezes my arm tighter.
It’s not fear that keeps her clinging to me. It’s trust. And that’s not something Molly gives freely.
The locker room’s deserted. My opponent probably took off as soon as the match was finished. To the other side of the building, the local hospital, or home—I don’t know or care. No one else has a reason to be in here right now except me.
“Stay here. I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
She touches her fingers to my head. “You’re bleeding.”
“Shit, really?” I glance at the mirror on the wall. She’s right. It’s a small cut, but a trickle of blood mingled with sweat slides down the side of my face.
Her fingers lightly rake through my hair and my eyes close. The shivery sensation sends my blood pumping south.
“Are there any Band-Aids around?” Her voice seems to come from far away and I sway on my feet.
“Yeah.” I open my eyes and stare at the beat-up white metal cabinet next to the sink. “There should be something in there.”
“Go shower.” She presses both of her palms against my chest and lightly pushes. “I’ll take care of the cut when you’re done.”
She turns toward the cabinet. The metal door creaks as she pries it open. Standing on her tiptoes, she reaches for the top shelf. The movement lifts her shirt, baring the skin above the waistband of her jeans.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“First-aid kit,” she announces. Something metallic clanks against the porcelain.
“Can’t tell you if there’s anything in it.” I open my eyes. She’s at the sink, head bowed, fiddling with the rusty lock on the kit. Her long, shiny brown ponytail reaches the small of her back. The urge to wrap it around my fist seizes me.
