Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance by Jessica Ashe Read Free Book Online

even met the man.  
    No, I had to do this.  
    I closed my eyes, took in a deep calming breath through my nose, and pushed open the heavy door, before stepping into the cold gym.  
    There weren’t many people here on a cold Monday morning. I looked around for a reception area, but the only office was at the back of the building. Duke was probably in there; just fifty feet away from where I stood. What a terrifying thought.
    I headed towards the office when I saw a man doing dead lifts with his back to me. The bar bent under the strain of the weights on either end.
    If the bar ain’t bendin’, you’re just pretendin’. Hugh Jackman had been right on that point, but he didn’t look half as ripped as this guy.  
    The gym hadn’t been open long, but he was really going for it now. A layer of sweat made his skin glisten, as his gloved hands strained to hold the weight for as long as possible.  
    I could take or leave a nice set of abs on a man, but a big chest and bulging biceps were a weakness of mine. Unfortunately, they were usually attached to men who couldn’t string a sentence together.  
    I was all for physical attraction, but they had to be able to talk for at least ten seconds without making a fool of themselves. Like Riker. He could hold a conversation. Sure, every word that came out of his mouth made him sound like a tool, but at least he had a brain.
    Despite a fondness for upper bodies carved out of stone, that wasn’t where my eyes were looking right now. Instead, they were fixed on his legs as his hamstrings rippled under the pressure of supporting the weight. His legs had muscles I never knew existed. Mine were toned and in good shape, but his were defined, each contour revealing a muscle which was the result of years of hard work and heavy lifting.
    I snapped out of my trance as the man dropped the bar and let the weights crash to the floor. The mats absorbed some of the blow, but the floor still shook beneath my feet as what looked like at least four hundred pounds slammed down on it.
    His back was covered in scratches that looked like he’d been in a fight, or with a particularly kinky woman who liked to dig her nails into…
    No. Surely not.  
    He turned and looked at me.  
    Riker. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked angrily. “If you’re after round two then I’m afraid I’m just not that kind of guy.”  
    I rolled my eyes, and moaned through gritted teeth. How had I let this man, this hunk of arrogant muscle, screw me the other night like I was one of his groupies? I’d had fun—a lot of fun—but my God that had been stupid.
    “Get over yourself. I’m looking for Duke. Duke Nott.”  
    “He’s probably in his office. What’s it about?”  
    “It’s, uh, kind of personal.”  
    “Whatever,” Riker replied, clearly not believing that I could be here for any other reason than to see him. “It’s over there.” He pointed to the office I’d been heading to before getting distracted by this prick. This ripped, cocky prick.  
    “Thanks.”
    He didn’t say anything, and just wandered over to grab some weights from the rack. Why did men who looked that damn good never have the personality to go with it? And why did my body insist on craving men I could never stand?
    I wandered over to the office and knocked on the door.  
    A gruff reply came from the other side. It didn’t sound like a ‘yes,’ but it didn’t sound like a ‘go away’ either. I opened the door slowly and walked inside to see my dad sat at his desk.
    A strong temptation to greet him with a joyful “hi, Daddy,” washed over me, but he didn’t look like a man with a sense of humor.  
    “Membership forms are over there,” he said, not looking up from his newspaper as he pointed towards a stack of papers resting on top of a filing cabinet.
    “I’m not here to apply for membership,” I said softly.  
    Duke sighed as he reluctantly put down his