Champ by Rhona Davis

Author:Rhona Davis [Davis, Rhona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

My head rests upon Connor’s bare chest. His heart beats a slow and relaxing rhythm.

I stretch my legs out. The luxurious sensation of cool satin sheets, brushing over my toes, makes me beam with a smile. We’re on his king-sized bed, and here I am—his queen.

I laugh to myself.

It all seems so corny. Just a couple of weeks with Connor and I’m gushing over him like some lovesick teenager. For heaven’s sake, I let him take me any way he wanted.

How’s that for trust?

Looking up at his gorgeous face, I see a satisfied smile play across his lips. I wonder what he must be dreaming of as he peacefully sleeps.

My hands roam over his exceptionally toned body—each finger gliding over firm muscle. Even as we rest I can’t keep my hands off him.

As I cradle into his warm body I start to wonder if his frank confession of love gives me the ticket to broach the subject of his mom. I would love to tell him the things his brother and trainer tragically never could. Bring him some peace perhaps. I wonder if it would be the catharsis he needs, or if it would just risk bursting this bubble we’ve created.

It scares me a little.

Strike that—it scares me a lot.

I don’t want this to end. Anything that could jeopardise this slice of paradise is a something I just don’t think I can stomach. But at the same time the idea of him going through with his fight, after all of the rumors and the words Monty said, outweighs my own selfish needs. I want him to be safe. To not befall the awful end his brother succumbed to. Connor may be an exceptionally gifted fighter, but at the end of the day he’s still made of flesh and bone.

I roll over to my side of the bed and reach down for my bag. Pulling out the passport picture of his mom, I bring it close to my chest. I look at Connor once more, to make sure he’s still asleep, and then study the photo.

Behind the beautiful smile of this woman is an undeniable sadness. I can see it so clearly now— this strong lady’s smile contradicts the turmoil in her life.

I remind myself of the date by flipping the picture over: 1997.

That’s the year I’m sure she walked out on her violent husband. If Connor was six, the photo had to have been taken at the very end of that whole messy affair.

Sure, I’ve suffered my own share of pain—losing my dad being at the very top of the list—but I can’t begin to imagine what this lady went through. Giving up her kids, being frightened every day that her cruel bully of a husband would come looking for them all. The awful choice to leave her kids in care must have been so heart breaking. And that’s understating it.

Connor breaths heavy and shifts on the bed. I shove the picture back inside my bag and close my eyes.

Just as I think he’s still holding onto sleep, my phone rings.

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