Free Pride (Bareknuckle Boxing Brotherhood Book 3) by Cara Nelson

again, mopped her face with a tissue.
    “Your dad’s plenty pissed that I’m in here. He was arguing with your grandpa out in the lobby and when the nurse came to say you were out of recovery I—I said I was your girlfriend so I could see you. Your grandpa was shouting curses after me.” She gave a short laugh.
    Bronny managed to smile, a lopsided grin, absurdly pleased that she’d called herself his girlfriend, that his grandfather had lost his shit over it in typical tyrant fashion. Sure, he’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do at the next family brunch the day after tomorrow, but he mainly wished he could have seen his granddad’s face when she said it.
    Camila bent over his bed, giving him a killer view down her shirt. She smelled of garlic and sweat and there was a smear of mascara under one eye from where she’d been crying over him. She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Not a sweet, thank-goodness-you’re-okay kiss but a full, parting his lips with her tongue kiss that made him really wish his body would follow directions.
    He wanted to lift his left hand and hold her face down to his, to kiss her breathless, to do things that his postsurgical anesthesia hangover would not permit. Bronny marshaled all his force of will and managed to raise his hand to her hair, to kiss her deeply with all the intensity of the fear and relief he felt. Camila stroked his face, his jaw and neck with eager hands. He smiled beneath her mouth and she drew back.
    “Don’t give me that look, Dolan. I’m not climbing into a hospital bed and doing what you’re thinking.” She teased, but the heat in her eyes told him she was tempted. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’m glad you won’t be fighting anymore.”
    He shook his head.
    “No, don’t say anything. You don’t have a choice. This—wound has finished your fighting career. Now you can be a lawyer and have a normal life where no one hits you and you don’t punch anyone for money. I know you’re disappointed but I’m glad for you. It’ll set you free.”
    She kissed him again, a quick, frantic kiss that had tendrils of desire heating his blood as her tongue touched his, and headed for the door of his room.
    “If I don’t see you again because your family stones me to death, I hope you have an easy recovery,” she said with a smirk. “It was fun being your girlfriend.”
    She shut the door behind her leaving him to wonder how much fun they could have if he wasn’t stoned from anesthesia.
     
    *****
     
    Bronny turned down the narcotics the doctor offered him in favor of going home a day early with his hand useless in a clawlike plastic splint. When his dad dropped him off at his house, he walked to the Cheeky Bowman as soon as the car was out of sight.
    He wanted to see Camila, to see if she would let him kiss her again now that he was out of the hospital and the drama was past. She was behind the bar polishing glasses when he walked in to the empty bar.
    She looked up, her dark eyes wide with surprise as she put down the glass and rounded the bar to reach him.
    “I didn’t think you’d be released until tomorrow. How’s your hand?”
    “It hurts.”
    “Then let me make you feel good,”
    Bronny felt frozen in place, paralyzed, as she laid her cool palm on his chest and rubbed her lips against his sensuously, with the promise of more.. She rested her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him searchingly.
                  “I’ll be careful of your hand…will you come upstairs with me?” She asked softly. It was her unsureness, her hopefulness, that undid him.
    Bronny stepped closer, caught her against him with his stiff right arm, and kissed her. Not a tentative tease of a kiss. He tilted her back over his arm as his tongue swept into her mouth. She moaned when he cupped her breast with his left hand, rubbing her nipple through her shirt, feeling it harden against his palm. His other hand stroked her neck, his thumb caressing