Introduction
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Azu
Chapter 1
Holly ha urlato nel mio orecchio per l'ultima mezz'ora e i miei nervi sono così a pezzi per quello che stiamo vedendo che riesco a malapena a sentire qualcosa. Solo il mio cuore. Batte come un pazzo nella mia testa mentre i due combattenti nel ring di boxe sotterraneo si lanciano l'uno contro l'altro, entrambi gli uomini uguali in altezza e peso, entrambi estremamente muscolosi mentre si colpiscono a vicenda in faccia.
Ogni volta che uno di loro sferra un pugno, applausi e urla esplodono nella stanza, che è affollata da almeno trecento spettatori, tutti assetati di sangue. La parte peggiore di tutto ciò è che riesco a sentire il terribile suono delle ossa che si spezzano contro la carne, e i peli sulle mie braccia si rizzano per la paura assoluta. Da un momento all'altro mi aspetto che uno di loro cada e non si rialzi mai più.
“Chelsea!” Holly, la mia migliore amica, strilla e mi abbraccia. “Sembri pronta a vomitare, non sei proprio tagliata per questo!”
La ucciderò seriamente.
Non appena distolgo lo sguardo da questi uomini e mi assicuro che respirino entrambi quando finiscono questo round, ucciderò la mia migliore amica senza pietà. E poi me stessa per aver accettato di venire qui in primo luogo.
Ma la mia povera, cara Holly ha una nuova cotta, e non appena ha scoperto che l'oggetto delle sue fantasie notturne era in città partecipando a questi giochi di combattimento "privati" e molto "pericolosi" dei club sotterranei, mi ha implorato di venire con lei a guardarlo. È semplicemente difficile dire di no a Holly. È effusiva e insistente, e ora sta saltando di gioia.
“È il prossimo,” sussurra, incurante di chi abbia vinto questo ultimo round, o se siano sopravvissuti. Che apparentemente, grazie a Dio, lo sono entrambi. “Preparati per un bel pezzo di bellezza, Chelsea!”
Il pubblico si fa silenzioso, e l'annunciatore chiama, “Signore e signori, e oraaa... il momento che tutti stavate aspettando, l'uomo che siete tutti qui per vedere. Il più cattivo dei cattivi, vi presento, l'unico, il solo, Ken “Reptil” Lewis!”
Un brivido corre lungo la mia spina dorsale mentre la folla impazzisce solo per il nome, specialmente le donne, e le loro grida ansiose si sovrappongono l'una all'altra.
“Ken! Ti amo, Ken!”
“Ti succhierò il cazzo, Ken!”
“KEN, SCOPAMI, KEN!”
“Ken voglio il tuo !”
Tutte le teste si girano mentre una figura in un mantello rosso con cappuccio si avvicina al ring. I combattenti di stasera apparentemente non indossano guantoni da boxe, e vedo le sue dita flettersi e stringersi ai suoi lati, le sue mani enormi e abbronzate, le sue dita lunghe.
Dall'altra parte del ring rispetto a me, una donna agita un cartello che legge “LA FAN #1 DI KEN” con orgoglio nell'aria, e sta urlando a squarciagola nella sua direzione—suppongo nel caso non sappia leggere o perda le lettere neon rosa o i glitter.
Sono così sbalordita, solo ora mi rendo conto che la mia pazza migliore amica non è l'unica donna a Chicago che ha apparentemente perso la testa per questo tizio, quando la sento stringermi il braccio. “Ti sfido a guardarlo e dirmi che non faresti qualsiasi cosa per quell'uomo.”
“Non farei qualsiasi cosa per quell'uomo,” ripeto immediatamente, solo per vincere.
“Non stai guardando!” strilla. “Guardalo. Guardalo.”
Lei mi afferra il viso e dirige il mio sguardo verso il ring, ma io inizio a ridere. Holly ama gli uomini. Ama dormire con loro, seguirli, sbavare per loro, eppure quando li cattura, non riesce mai davvero a tenerli. Io, invece, non sono interessata a coinvolgermi con nessuno.
Non quando la mia romantica sorellina, Lily, ha avuto abbastanza fidanzati e drammi per entrambe.
Guardo il palco mentre il ragazzo si toglie la veste rossa di raso con la scritta REPTILE sul retro, e gli spettatori si alzano urlando e applaudendo mentre lui si gira lentamente per riconoscerli tutti. Il suo volto è improvvisamente davanti a me, illuminato dalle luci, e io resto a fissarlo come un'idiota dal mio posto. Mio Dio.
Mio.
Dio.
Fossette.
Mascella scura e ispida.
Sorriso da ragazzo. Corpo da uomo.
Abbronzatura mozzafiato.
Un brivido mi percorre la spina dorsale mentre assorbo impotente l'intero pacchetto che tutti gli altri sembrano fissare a bocca aperta.
Ha i capelli neri, che si alzano sexy come se delle donne ci avessero appena passato le dita. Zigomi forti come la sua mascella e fronte. Labbra rosse e gonfie, e come souvenir dal suo cammino verso il ring, c'è del rossetto sulla sua mascella. Guardo il suo corpo lungo e snello e qualcosa di caldo e selvaggio si deposita nel mio nucleo.
È incredibilmente perfetto e incredibilmente duro. Tutto, dai suoi fianchi meravigliosamente snelli e vita stretta alle sue spalle larghe, è solido. E quegli addominali. No. È una tartaruga otto-pack. La sexy V dei suoi obliqui scende nei suoi pantaloncini di raso blu navy, che abbracciano delicatamente le sue potenti gambe, spesse di muscoli. Posso vedere i suoi quadricipiti, trapezi, pettorali e bicipiti, tutti gloriosamente scolpiti e definiti. Tatuaggi celtici circondano entrambe le sue braccia, esattamente dove i suoi bicipiti gonfi e i deltoidi rigidi delle sue spalle si incontrano.
"Ken! Ken!" Mel urla istericamente al mio fianco, con le mani a coppa sulla bocca.
"Sei così dannatamente sexy, Ken!"
La sua testa si inclina verso il suono, una fossetta che appare con un sorriso sexy mentre ci guarda. Un fremito di energia nervosa mi attraversa, non perché sia estremamente bello da questa vista perfetta - perché lo è, lo è sicuramente, dio, lo è davvero - ma soprattutto perché mi sta guardando dritto.
Un sopracciglio si alza, e c'è un luccichio di divertimento nei suoi affascinanti occhi azzurri. Anche qualcosa di... caldo nel suo sguardo. Come se pensasse che sono stata io a urlare. Oh, cavolo.
Mi fa l'occhiolino, e sono sbalordita mentre il suo sorriso svanisce lentamente, trasformandosi in uno che è insopportabilmente intimo.
Il mio sangue ribolle.
Il mio sesso si stringe, e odio che sembri saperlo.
Posso vedere che pensa di essere la creazione suprema, e sembra credere che ogni donna qui sia la sua Eva, creata dalla sua costola per lui da godere. Sono sia eccitata che infuriata, e questa è la sensazione più confusa che abbia mai provato nella mia vita.
Le sue labbra si arricciano, e si volta quando il suo avversario viene annunciato con le parole, "Deck Moon, The Saw, qui per tutti voi stasera!"
"Piccola sgualdrina, Holly!" grido quando mi riprendo, spingendola scherzosamente. "Perché hai dovuto urlare così? Ora pensa che sono io la pazza."
"Oddio! Non mi dire che ti ha appena fatto l'occhiolino," dice Holly, visibilmente sbalordita.
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About Author

Azu
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