Survival (Twisted Book 1) by Rebecca Sherwin Read Free Book Online Page A

and we just stayed there until Curtis decided we had done enough for the day. He always said it after he touched me. Things were fine while he was standing next to me, checking my posture and telling me what to do. But something always changed when he put his hands on me. I loved it, craved it, but the light switched off as soon as he did it and it was a matter of minutes before the lesson was over. I knew it was because he felt my body change for him. It reacted in a way that was almost entirely new for me and I knew he sensed it. He didn’t want me to want him, when he didn’t want me back. It was too late; I did want him. Badly. Madly. I was borderline crazy while I waited for every little electric touch.
    I felt stronger. I don’t know if it was my improved fitness making me physically stronger, or if having something to focus on besides the pain made me a mental warrior. Almost. I was clever enough not to delude myself into thinking Curtis wanted me like I did him. I was fearful enough that he would leave me like everyone else, if I told him the truth. How much I ached for him. How every second of a day spent with him would be my only source of light. I was his dead friend’s sister; he wouldn’t forget that, so neither would I.
    “Do you want to train?” He asked one night as we arrived back at the gym after dinner.
    “Can we spar?”
    “You want to spar? With me?”
    “Sure,” I hesitated, waiting for the rejection. I knew he didn’t want to touch me. “I mean, the punchbag doesn’t duck. And…it could be…fun.”
    “I don’t train anymore, Skye.”
    “Why not?”
    “Sure,” he deferred. “Let’s spar.”
     
    “You’re dropping your guard,” he pointed out as he tapped my forehead with his gloved hand. “Hands up.”
    I raised my hands, dropped my elbows and gave him a jab, which he blocked, and then tapped my cheek. He was going easy on me and I still sucked.
    “Keep your guard up,” he barked, but I saw the enjoyment in his eyes as he got another gentle hit in. “I could go to town on you and take the round with you standing like that.”
    “This is supposed to be fun,” I punched his arm, but I didn’t think he felt it.
    “It is fun. I can laugh at you,” he said. I pouted and stood up straight. “Bend your knees.”
    “Come on then, Muhammad,” I bent my knees. “Show me where I’m open.”
    “Muhammad?”
    “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”
    “Ah,” his laughter made my toes curl and my knees weak. “Come on then, tough girl, in position. I’ll show you how you’d get your ass kicked.”
    The excitement buzzed in my belly with the anticipation. I raised my hands, relaxed my shoulders and breathed out as I looked over the gloves.
    “Your defence is off. I can see that without touching you,” he tapped one side of my head, then the other, too quickly for me to block.
    We stared at each other intensely over our gloves.
    “Watch for the body shot.”
    “What?”
    He tapped my head and as I moved to block, he got my stomach. It knocked the wind out of me and as I bent over, he caught me in a headlock.
    “See?” He laughed and jabbed me in the ribs. “The ref would pull me back now, but you’re done. Exhausted and dazed. Ready to give up.”
    “I’m not giving up.”
    I swung my right hand across my body and punched his back by his kidney. He let out a guttural hiss and loosened his grip, so I pulled back and punched his stomach. He bent over and grunted a laugh but as I swung to get his head, he grabbed my waist and reared me back towards the ring and my back hit the canvas. I grinned and stretched out my arms, curling my fingers around the bottom rope as Curtis stepped back. My smiled dropped, replaced by the sudden intense urge to kiss him. His chest was rising and falling with precise, controlled breaths. His gaze matched mine; his eyes glistened and he pulled his gloves off, tossing them carelessly to the floor before holding out his hands for