Fighting Dirty - Sidney Halston Page 0,48
with…everything. He’d lived this charmed life—maybe his family had been cold and perhaps he hadn’t been able to do the things in life he’d wanted to do, but it was a good life. Compared to Jamie Lynn’s it had been a fucking fantastic life. He felt like scum for ever having complained about anything. This woman in front of him was a fighter. A real fighter—not the kind that he wanted to be. Not to win a belt, show off some skill, collect another trophy, but a fighter in the truest sense of the word. And he was in awe of her.
“I wanted you to know, but I don’t particularly want to talk about it¸ okay?” she said as she lay back on the bed, their faces close together, almost nose to nose.
If Enzo hadn’t already been in love with JL when she’d made her declaration earlier that night, he was head over heels by the time his eyes began to droop at four in the morning. They’d spent the rest of the night talking, something he’d never done before. Pillow talk, she’d called it. When she noticed how uncharacteristically angry he’d become, she quickly changed the subject. He had so many follow-up questions, but she wouldn’t let him in. It was as if she’d needed to get it off her chest but didn’t want to have a conversation about it.
The exchange morphed into nonsensical chatter about everything and nothing. She’d asked him what his favorite color was, about his first kiss, about Brazil, and he answered candidly about everything while drawing lazy circles around her belly and the valley between her breasts. He probed deeper into her art and the Walls, and she excitedly told him how much she enjoyed painting on such a large scale.
At one point he’d turned his body and rested his head on his pillow, his arms tucked under, his head facing hers. She mirrored him as he told her all the reasons he’d always envisioned himself being a professional fighter, even though it seemed so unimportant now. He never felt judged as he spoke about his passion—things he’d never discussed with anyone before. He’d never felt so supported as when he told her how passionate he was about the sport. She almost jumped off the bed in enthusiasm for him. And her earnestness was refreshing. Marianna had always tried to manipulate him into getting what she wanted.
A pang of guilt hit him as he lay there with Jamie Lynn with thoughts of Marianna running through his head, but he couldn’t help it. Marianna had been in his life for so long, and even though it had never been his choice, he’d accepted his fate, believing that eventually he’d love her. But with Jamie Lynn, there was no hidden meaning to anything she said. She was excited because he was excited, and that was it. There was no doubt in his mind that if he decided to quit his job and live off his winnings from fighting on the amateur circuit, she would stand next to him cheering him on.
Brazilian jiujitsu had begun as his secret need to rebel, but it had eventually turned into a passion. It was something he just loved doing: the camaraderie between the fighters, the feel of his fist against the bag, the total concentration it took to get out from under a really good jiujitsu fighter who was pinning him down. As he spoke about things he was sure she didn’t have any real knowledge about, she pulled his foot closer to hers, using her own foot. It was as if she wanted—no, needed—the connection. Her eyes began to close first, and he couldn’t help but caress her face as her breathing evened out and she finally fell into a peaceful sleep. He smiled as he looked at his fiery pixie. She had so much fight in her; he couldn’t imagine such a little thing surviving and thriving such a hard life. She deserved so much more. But her story put all the pieces in place. It explained why she’d been so standoffish at the beginning, why she demanded honesty, why she didn’t give a shit what people thought of her. Why she never let him be on top of her when they had sex. She was the truest person he knew. If she wanted to wear a purple wig and clown shoes, she would. If she wanted to make love by the beach, she would. She lived her