Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance by Jessica Ashe Page B

“Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”  
    I smiled and watched her as she walked out the door. Her tight sweat pants provided a lovely view of her ass and thighs, which made me hungry for something other than a good meal.
    Lots of the women who came in here had great bodies. It was so par for the course, that I didn’t even look twice at women solely based on their body shape. I was more of a face man, I suppose, although I didn’t know if I had a type.  
    Nora got a reaction from me one way or another. She was cute, which I usually found off-putting. I didn’t want a woman who needed looking after and protecting. Nora looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, but as I discovered today, she could throw a punch when she wanted to.  
    Up until she started tiring, her punches had landed with enough force that I had told her to do some push ups for a few minutes just to give my hands a rest.  
    And now we were talking to each other. And I was thinking about her after the training session had ended. This was bad news. I had a fight to prepare for.
    I just needed to get through this month and then we could go our separate ways.  
    How difficult it be?

“Keep going,” Riker yelled. “I want ten more out of you.”  
    “Oh my God,” I yelled as I pushed up from the floor. “Can you even do this many push ups?”  
    “I could do that many with you sitting on top of me,” Riker replied. “Come on. If you talked less you might have more energy for the work out.”
    “If I didn’t talk,” I said, pushing up once again, “I’d go insane.”  
    I squeezed out the last few push ups, and then did one more after Riker told me I could stop, just to show him he hadn’t beaten me.
    After two weeks of training sessions with Riker, I was in the best shape of my life. In fact, I was in the best shape of quite a few people’s lives.  
    The lethargy that I’d carried with me throughout most of college had disappeared, and I’d become one of those annoying people who looked forward to working out. Mom would have been appalled.  
    Riker pushed me harder each time, and it wasn’t unusual for me to feel sick at the end of each session. That meant it had been a good workout. Apparently.
    The sessions were a lot of fun, and not just just because I enjoyed learning to fight. Riker was a great teacher and, much to my surprise, a decent person. I’d been so willing to think the worst of him after his shitty comment about my inheritance—which was nowhere near as substantial as he appeared to think—that I’d lumped him in with all the other musclebound meatheads I’d known over the years.  
    People covered in tattoos, and with muscles visible from space, typically only cared about number one. They would rather look at themselves in the mirror than listen to you talk about your day. And God, they were selfish as hell in bed. There was a reason I went for intellectual men, and not just the best looking ones.  
    Riker didn’t fit the stereotype at all. I didn’t know what he was like in bed, but I knew what he could do up against a kitchen counter and that was enough. Not that I planned to go there again. That would be a truly terrible idea. Awful. Definitely must not do that.
    “What next, sensei?” I asked, jumping up to my feet and trying to look full of energy. My legs still had some strength left in them, but my arms were like jelly.  
    “Let’s practice those kicks. You’re flexible, but you need to work on your balance when your legs are in the air.”  
    No kidding. We hadn’t had a session yet where I hadn’t tried to swing a kick and ended up falling flat on my ass.  
    “I’m fine with my legs in the air,” I replied, “but usually I’m lying on my back at the time.”  
    Riker grinned as he put some pads on his hands and held them down by his sides for me to kick. “Start with the right and then alternate legs.”  
    I lifted my right leg into the air and then straightened my knee,