She’s a good girl from the right side of the tracks. I’m anything but. Which means I should keep my goddamn eyes and my hand to myself. But the thing is, I’m a fighter. My hands are my life, and sometimes they have a mind of their own—and most times they take without permission. When she agrees to a drink after my fight I take the mayor’s daughter to a nice restaurant. Only problem is she keeps licking her lips and that Sh$% is turning me on. I order her to the bathroom with plans to follow her in. If she knew what was good for her, she'd walk away and not give me a chance to corrupt the good girl. Then again, they don’t call me Fighter Bad Boy, because I’m…you know…good.
