Fighter: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free

aren’t here.
    I can feel an anxiety attack coming on as I thread a line through the crowd, my eyes out for the creep in the leather jacket. But thankfully, he’s nowhere to be found. Hopefully Axel either kicked his ass or kicked him out. Or both.
    I race passed the bar and up the stairs to the champagne room.
    “You’re back!” Roger says enthusiastically.
    “I have to go,” I tell him, heading toward Kristen.
    “What?”
    “I’m so sorry!” I tap Kristen on the shoulder. She’s got both legs up on Roger’s partner’s lap and is obviously in full stripper mode. She wraps both arms around his neck and leans her head backwards to look at me.
    “What’s up?”
    “Can I get a ride?”
    “A ride? What are you talking about?”
    “It’s my neighbors again,” I explain. “Josh is freaking out, and I have to go.”
    “Aw, come on. Don’t you have a babysitter?” Roger’s partner says. I give him a glare that says shut up and he gets it.
    “Kristen,” I plead.
    “One second,” she says to the man as she climbs off his lap. She comes over to me and we step into the corner of the room.
    “Jenny, what is this?” she whispers. “Do you know how much money we’re going to make tonight?”
    “I know, Kristen! You think I want to leave? This is my night!”
    “I’m sorry. Listen, if I make more money than I expect, I’ll give you some, okay?”
    “You don’t have to do that, Kristen. Have fun. I’ll get a cab.”
    I give her a quick peck on the cheek and walk quickly from the room, calling over my shoulder as I leave.
    “Bye, Roger!”

4
    Ty
    A girl named Natalia is shaking her very ample ass in my face as I sit in a tiny booth in the lap dance room, flanked on either side by Barry and Moore. The “booth,” is thinner than a bathroom stall with walls that barely come up to my elbows. The club doesn’t want anyone getting up to any funny business, so everything’s in full view of the bouncer standing by the door.
    Natalia’s right cheek brushes against my chin, and I hear her whisper to me in what sounds like a Russian accent.
    “You like this butt, yes?”
    “Uh, yeah. It’s nice,” I lie, my mind drifting back to the ass on that girl with the t-shirt. I dunno what’s going on with me, but I can’t stop thinking about her, even with this chick here shaking what her momma gave her right in front of my face.
    “Ty’s an ass man,” Barry chimes in from beside me. His girl, an overly tan chick named Chocolate or Fudge or Caramel or something, has her tits in his face and is rubbing them back and forth at a speed that can’t be comfortable for either of them. She’s either going to suffocate him or knock him out with those things.
    “This is good for me,” Natalia says with a smile, running her hands between her legs to stroke the inside of my thighs. On any other occasion, Ty Junior would be at full attention, and I’d be fighting the urge to pick this chick up by the waist, back fist the bouncer and have my way with her in the back parking lot, but I can’t get my mind off the girl from the bar.
    She had a lot of sass to her, and I like that. I like a woman who can hold her own. My ex-wife was one of the most assertive, sarcastic women I’d ever known, and watching her tell off some jerk at the grocery store for trying to cut in line or bringing too many items to the fast lane were the best parts of my day.
    Am I crazy for thinking that girl reminds me of her?
    “Is this the life or what?” Moore says, tapping me on the shoulder. I can’t even remember the name of his dancer. The girls here all have ridiculous names, so I’m sure it’s something like Jasmine or Alexa or something. I don’t know who hired her either. Her legs are covered with bruises and it looks like she hasn’t washed her hair in weeks. Either that or she’s just waiting for it to turn into dreadlocks. She’s “dancing,” awkwardly, and it’s pretty obvious she doesn’t want to be here. But from the