Free The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1) by Harper Bentley

face and it’s not pretty. She’s very
conscientious about her looks and wears so much makeup that she’s
clogged my drain in the bathroom a time or two after removing it
when she’s stayed over, and I know she’d be mortified at having
black streaks down her cheeks.
    Cursing all
the way to the bathroom, I come back out to find she’s passed out
on the couch. I try rousing her but to no avail. So letting out a
breath I bend to wipe the streaks on her face getting as much off
as I can. Next I go to my bedroom and toss the rag in the hamper,
coming back out, and picking her up, carry her to my bedroom where
I lay her in the bed. After taking her heels off, I cover her then
grab the other pillow and head out to sleep on the couch.
    I lie there
thinking of how fucking good Laney felt rubbing against me and
whispering in my ear when she pulled her little seductress shit
tonight at the club.
    My last
thought before I fall asleep is that I’m going to find a way to
have her.

    It’s Saturday
morning and I’ve got my first fight tonight. I’m pretty jazzed
about it too. I’ll get to take all my pent-up frustrations out on
some poor asshole. I can’t wait.
    I just got out
of the shower and after dressing I go into the kitchen to see
Jessica making breakfast. Her long bleached blond hair is in a
messy bun atop her head and her skintight jeans and four-inch heels
make her legs look a mile long. She’s in full makeup again—her
purse is a black hole, probably weighing in at at least twenty
pounds because she has everything you can imagine in there—and is
wearing one of my Gold’s Gym t-shirts that she’s knotted high at
the side so that her midriff shows and her belly button ring
sparkles in the light.
    “Hey,” she
says sheepishly. “I, uh, made bacon and eggs for you.” She walks
shyly to me and tiptoes up to kiss my cheek. “I’ve gotta run but
can I see you tonight?”
    I frown at
this because hell no she can’t see me tonight. Or ever. “There’s no
point,” I respond only to see the hurt roll across her
features.
    Fuck.
    “Oh. Okay,”
she murmurs and starts gathering her stuff to leave.
    “You know if
I’d known you have a fiancé I’d never have started this with you.
That shit’s not cool.”
    “I know.” She
turns and looks at me with tears welling in her eyes. “So this is
it, huh?”
    I nod before
saying, “I’ll walk you out.”
    As we make our
way to the elevator she sniffs and remarks quietly, “Sorry I didn’t
tell you.”
    I shrug
because it’s said and done. At the elevator she presses the down
button and turns to me.
    “I’ll miss
you, Heath.” Tiptoeing up, she wraps her arms around my neck and
hugs me long and hard before stepping into the elevator that’s
arrived. “Bye.” She gives me a sad smile before the doors close on
her.
    I stare at the
doors for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. Well, that was
interesting. When I turn to go back to my apartment, Laney’s
standing in her doorway staring at me, mouth agape and I know she
saw everything.
    Fuck.
    I want to
explain things to her but I doubt it’d do any good. She’ll see what
she wants to see and what she saw looked bad enough as it is.
    And if she has
a hangover, she wears it well because she’s looking cuter than
ever—hair in a ponytail, wearing short shorts that make her legs
look spectacular and a tank top that accentuates her terrific tits.
The best part is she’s wearing house shoes that look like huge,
hairy feet.
    “I was, uh,
just getting the, uh, newspaper,” she stutters bending to pick up
the paper.
    God, she’s
fucking beautiful. She has no makeup on but she’s easily the most
stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
    “’Mornin’,” I
say as I start to walk back to my apartment knowing she won’t talk
to me again.
    “Heath?” she
calls.
    “Yeah?” I
answer, surprised, stopping and turning back.
    “I just wanted
to apologize for last night. I was pretty drunk. If I’d been