Page 46 of Forgotten Comeback

“Just to warn you, he’s a complete twattwaffle,” the woman informs Taylor before storming off.

Taylor snorts a laugh, grabbing her chopsticks and bringing a California roll to her mouth.

“I love sushi, but whoever came up with the menu didn’t take into account bare-knuckle boxing.” I hold up my swollen right fist.

“Is this your attempt to get me to feed you?” Taylor says, popping another piece in her mouth with her chopsticks.

“Is it working?” I flash a playful grin.

“No,” she tells me flatly.

My left hand is soaking in the ice bucket, so I attempt to break apart the chopsticks with only my right. They snap clean in two.

Taylor sighs heavily. Scooting over, she uses her chopsticks, grabbing a sushi roll and bringing it to my mouth. I accept the bite, chewing as I watch this cold, prickly woman take care of me. Taylor’s a study in contradictions, and for the first time in my life, I find myself interested in becoming a student.

Bree/Brit slams the ice bucket down on the table before storming off.

“Is there a woman in this place you haven’t fucked?” Taylor raises an eyebrow as I submerge my other fist into the ice bucket.

I look pointedly at her.

“And you’d best believe we’re keeping it that way,” she drawls. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“One more, please.” I nod to the plate.

She rolls her eyes, but feeds me another bite with the chopsticks.

I chew slowly, buying time so that I can come up with an answer. Not finding one, I swallow before asking, “How is it you got roped into being the ring girl?”

“The ring girl was a no-show, and I had the proper equipment,” Taylor says dryly. “How is it you got roped into such a barbaric sport?”

“Purest form of combat sport there is,” I tell her.

Taylor shakes her head. “Lions and chariots, the only things missing.”

“Maybe it’s the blows to the head, but I don’t get it,” I admit.

Her lips quirk. “Roman colosseum reference.”

A grin stretches across my face. “Admit that you liked it. The showmanship. The excitement. The adrenaline.”

“The blood?” she interjects.

“Got a taste of bloodlust, and you liked it, huh, man-eater? I bet that pains your little feminist heart,” I taunt.

“The only one in pain here is the man who can’t feed himself,” she retorts.

We’ve somehow scooted closer, inches separating us. “My knuckles are jacked up, but my tongue works just fine. I’d happily feed myself on your cunt and go back for seconds,” I promise her.

“What would Mia say about that?” Taylor demands.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. We haven’t spoken since?—”

“You fucked her behind my back?” Taylor fills in for me.

“Are we still on that?” I sigh.

“Yeah, we’re still on that,” she says coolly.