The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,59
on his tongue. “Any excuse was good—a lousy grade on a test, forgetting to take out the garbage, or maybe breathing too loud in his direction.”
Locked inside him for so long, a torrent of all the bygone horrors spilled out.
“Neither of them gave a damn about me playing baseball, but if I didn’t get a hit or score a run, Robert would call me a loser. There were days I couldn’t sit because the belt he used on me cut so deep, the slightest pressure on my skin was torture. I don’t know if my mother knew. I never said anything to her after the first time because Robert said I was making it up. I was ‘troubled.’ And she believed him over me because as long as the credit cards were available, she was happy. Every summer they’d dump me at a camp. I begged to stay with her in the Hamptons. Who wouldn’t want to be on the beach all summer? But she wasn’t about to let me ruin her fun, so Robert let me know with his words and hands that I wasn’t wanted. But the joke was on them.”
“How so?” Morgan whispered, holding his hand tight.
“After that first summer I didn’t complain because I’d get a reprieve from them for a few months. I didn’t even care that they never came to visit on Parents Day. The other kids pitied me, but I was happy. I never wanted to go home.”
“That bastard. That low-down, disgusting…”
Morgan cursing brought a tiny smile to Leo’s lips. “It’s okay, Tiger. But maybe now you can see why I feel about my mother the way I do.”
“How?” Morgan set his jaw. “I only saw a son who made sure to drop everything to go see her when he thought she was sick. You can pretend with other people you’re the big bad wolf, but not with me.”
Leo dragged him close, the audible hitch in Morgan’s breath sending a shockwave of desire through him. “I don’t mind huffing and puffing if you’re going to let me in.”
Morgan brushed light fingers along his jaw. “Maybe you already are.”
His heart lurched, and he blinked as the world careened around him like a merry-go-round on warp speed. He closed his eyes to get his bearings but didn’t let go of Morgan.
“We’d, uh, better get started.”
Shoulders slumped, Morgan picked up the rope, and after a few awkward jumps, got the hang of it. Five minutes into the set had him red-faced and gasping for breath, his body drenched with sweat. He stopped and dropped the rope.
“Shit. That was not Jenny McAllister’s jump rope. What the hell? My arms feel like noodles.” He winced as he tried to make a muscle. “Ow. Damn, man, are you trying to kill me?”
“Poor baby.” Leo ran his hands over Morgan’s arms, massaging them. “If you’re nice, I’ll take you back to my place tonight and give you a full-body rubdown.”
“That sounds amazing. I guess I’ll have to try and be good.”
When Morgan slipped his arms around his waist, contentment poured warm and sweet through Leo. “I don’t mind you a little bad. Come on, slacker.” Leo pinched his ass, laughing as Morgan yelped. “Let’s put the gloves on, and I’ll teach you some basic moves.”
He led Morgan to the bench, where he wrapped his hands, then slipped the gloves on. “I’ll use regular lace-ups so you get used to them, and if you think you might get into boxing, we can get you Velcro pulls so you can put them on yourself.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be doing this without you.” Morgan held up his hands. “I can’t believe I’m here as it is.”
“Why?” Leo bristled. “Too low-class?”
“Will you cut it out? For the last time, I’m not a snob. But I’ve never been into violence. Hitting never solved anything.”
“Boxing isn’t about violence and hurting your opponent. It’s an art form. It’ll teach you to stay light on your feet, protect yourself, and anticipate your opponent’s next move. Now let’s go to the bag.”
They made their way to the hanging bag Peter had installed. “This is where we’ll start so you can get used to the feel of the gloves and hitting something.”
“You mean you’re not going to punch me tonight?”
He worked his jaw. “I don’t hit people.”
Morgan touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I was only kidding.”
“It’s not funny to talk about shit like that. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, but—”
Ignoring Morgan, Leo stood before him, hands held out. “There are different types