Fight Like A Girl: An Opposites Attract Romance (Fighting For Love), Harley Reid [top 100 novels of all time txt] 📗

hands and shakes her head before taking a drink. Noticing that both glasses are empty, I retrieve the decanter, return to my seat and pour us another.

“It's fine, it's...” I inhale sharply, then slowly release, “Things weren't exactly great between us before she died so it's not something I like to talk about.”

Reaching over, she gives my hand a squeeze and nods for me to ask the next question.

“Why the big obsession with romance movies?”

“Why not?” she chirps.

“Unrealistic expectations, false ideals, want me to go on?”

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that. Maybe everything is romanticised but what person doesn't want someone to love them with everything that they have? Who doesn't want some grand romantic gesture that makes them feel like they are the most special person in the world?”

She drifts off into her own little world as she speaks, putting her case forward as I argue mine in a short debate, before politely agreeing to disagree.

Before we realise, two hours have passed, so I walk her to her room and say goodnight. We must have drank more than I thought because I can't resist the temptation of giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away.

I've learned a lot about her tonight. Her overbearing, workaholic mother sounds like an absolute nightmare and I can't believe that her father migrated to New Zealand with his new wife after the divorce and hasn't bothered to contact them since. She has given me a complete run down of her sister's acting career, including making me sit through some of the various commercials she's been in, and then she filled me in on her scumbag, cheating ex and the reason she ended up interviewing for this job.

In return, I've kept the drinks topped up and told her all about my parents’ death, Sarah becoming my legal guardian and I even told her about the illegal, underground fights that I started out doing to make sure we had enough money to put food on the table and how that, with the help of Jamison, lead to me becoming a professional fighter.

After saying goodnight to Mia, I continue down the corridor to my room, tear off my clothes and pull myself under the covers.

I have no idea why I thought it would be a good idea to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, but my actions were not my own in that moment.

There are so many reasons why it shouldn’t have happened. For one, she’s my daughter’s nanny. Secondly, I’m not looking to start anything, and even if I was ready, she really isn’t my type.

I like strong, confident women who know exactly what they want. Sam was ambitious, highly strung, always dressed to impress and even when we first met and she was a little more timid, she had this fire inside her that never let her settle for anything less than perfection.

Mia doesn’t have that. It’s obvious that she still hasn’t really figured out who she is or what she wants — other than a husband. She’s laid back, with a casual style that is more cutesy than femme fatale.

So why am I laid in bed thinking about how good her juicy pink lips would feel against mine? What would it feel like to run my fingers through her hair?

I need to snap out of this, no good can come from these thoughts.

Swinging my legs out of bed and pulling on the nearest pair of jeans, I distract myself by heading to the kitchen. Hopefully, a change of scenery and a drink will put me in a better frame of mind to get some shut eye.

Getting to the kitchen, I pour myself a drink, fire up my laptop and take a seat at the kitchen table. Opening a tab for YouTube I type in Ethan Brooks highlights and a long list of videos appears on the screen. I hit play on the top video and take a trip down memory lane when my first fight commences.

I get halfway through the video and raise my head when I hear footsteps to see Mia walking through the door.

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?” She walks towards the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. Her hair is pulled back in a messy heap on the top of her head with strands hanging loose and her body is covered with a loose-fitting band t-shirt. She lifts up onto her tip toes as she grabs a glass from the cupboard and her top rides up slightly, revealing a small glimpse of her white panties.

My groin swells in my pants as I divert my gaze back to my laptop screen. This is definitely not going to help me get back to sleep.

“No.” Because I can’t think about anything other than grabbing that mess of hair, yanking your head back and kissing you.

“It must be the heat.” She sits down opposite me. “I can’t believe you’re wearing jeans right now.”

“You can talk. Who the fuck are Ghost Poet?” I glance down at her t-shirt, concentrating on the curves of her body underneath.

“Oh.” She looks down and giggles. “It’s one that Lexi gave me, they’re pretty popular in the Northern Quarter.”

I finish my drink and reach for the bottle, my hand brushing against hers as she goes for the bottle too. She pulls away and starts twirling her hair around her finger as I fidget in my seat, trying to discretely rearrange myself as my dick pushes against my zipper.

“Erm… Do you want something to eat?” She jumps up and heads towards the fridge. The sexy scent of warm, rich fragrance captures my senses as she walks past, pulling me to my feet and over towards her.

Walking towards her as she ferrets in the fridge, I place a hand on the cupboard above, caging her in as she closes the door and spins to face me. This is a bad idea, but my hormones are raging out of control, I know I’m