Page 159 of His Virgin Romance Series

“Did—”

“Abby!” Red popped his head into the kitchen. “Did you forget about training?”

“Fuck,” I swore, jumping to my feet.

“You better hurry,” Devon said.

I ran behind Red in the direction of the garage. “The garage?” I asked curiously.

“There’s a back addition,” Red told me. “It’s been expanded over the years. It’s actually pretty big now. We all train in there now.”

Red led me through the garage to a door in the back that opened out into a large open space complete with a boxing ring and punching bags.

“Whoa,” I said, already intimidated by the sight.

“You’re late.”

I looked to my right to find Ryder standing there in long black sweats and nothing else. For a moment, everything else faded away, and all I could do was admire the perfection of his body. His tattoos weren’t just on his neck and arms. They covered his chest too. There was not an inch of fat on him. He was all hard muscle. His stomach was just a wall of abs that looked like they had been carved out of rock. He approached me slowly, and I felt my breath catch for a moment before I reminded myself that he was completely wrong for me.

“Sorry,” I stammered. “I was… I had… busy.”

“You were busy?” Ryder asked. “Doing what?”

“Never mind,” I said quickly, looking away from his body. “I’m here now. Let’s get started.”

I walked towards the ring where I assumed we would begin training, but Ryder put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me.

“Not yet,” he said. “First, put these boxing gloves on.”

I could sense all the men there watching me, but I refused to be cowed by that. I pretended as though I were alone and donned the boxing gloves that felt like they were a little too big for me. I hated to admit it, but having Ryder standing in front of me shirtless was incredibly distracting. I kept thinking about that kiss we had shared, and I wondered if he thought about it too.

“Now what?” I asked once the gloves were on.

“Now… you punch me.”

I smiled. “If you had told me that, I would have insisted you train me sooner.”

Ryder smiled back. “Oh, you’re not going to be able to punch me… not even close. But it’s going to be fun to watch you try.”

I took a deep breath and swung at him. He dodged it easily and chuckled to himself. “You call that a punch?”

“I’m a better kicker,” I said, through gritted teeth as my preoccupation with his looks faded to annoyance. “How about I kick you in the nuts and show you?”

“I like the confidence,” Ryder said. “It’s misguided… but impressive.”

I tried to swing at him again, and he blocked me with his arm and pushed me back. I stumbled and nearly lost my footing, but I managed to catch myself just in time. I heard snickers coming from the group of men who were going about their business around us, but I tried to block them out and focus on Ryder. Except that each time I got my ass handed to me by Ryder’s superior skill, their laughter seemed to be getting louder and louder.

“What the hell are you assholes laughing at?” I shouted finally, unable to take the ridicule.

“What makes you think they’re laughing at you?” Ryder asked calmly.

“Who else would they be laughing at?” I demanded. “I suck at this.”

“No argument there,” Ryder said. “But their laughter can’t hurt you.”

I gritted my teeth together. “What do you know about being laughed at?”

“Everything,” Ryder shot back at me. “You think I got here easy? I was pushed around and ridiculed. I was treated like shit. And my father was the ringleader of it all. He stood there with everybody, and he laughed the loudest. You know why?”

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