“We can just lie here in silence and appreciate each other’s company
,” he adds with a soft sigh.
Seth
rests his head on my chest and watches the cars driving down the boulevard. His thumb glides back and forth over my hip, sending pulses of pleasurable energy through my stomach. I let my fingers move smoothly over his shoulder, up his neck, and into his hair. I can feel his muscles are tight and alert. I know he’s playing calm and collected for my sake, to show me he can change, but I don’t want him to change if it means wallowing in his own anger and poisoning himself with stress from the inside out.
I flex my hips and Seth lifts himself off of me. “Maybe you should lie on
the bottom,” I suggest. “I can see the news headline now;
Fighter Falls Asleep and Crushes Fiancée Under the Weight of his Body.
”
With a heart-stopping chuckle,
we shift positions and Seth lies flat on his back with his hands tucked underneath his head.
Whoa.
If I had a dollar for every perfect muscle I see in his upper body alone I’d be rich—or Seth would be rich…because I’d pay him to let me lick them. I slip my legs over his hips and unashamedly run my hands over his stomach, feeling every bump and tremor. I glance at his mouth and he smiles up at me. It’s a genuine smile, one that makes all of my insides feel light and happy. I run the palms of my hands over his chest and onto his shoulders, no longer looking at his face. I focus on relaxing him and making him feel better about tonight. I can feel his intense eyes on me, watching me as I continue to caress him.
“Your hands feel nice
,” he mutters almost sleepily.
“Does it make you feel better?”
Under my fingertips, his muscles relax a fraction. “Much better. I like it when you take care of me.”
I lean forward and plant a soft kiss on his nipple, gaining a small hum of approval.
If I’m going to be his wife, I need to learn how to take care of him properly. I need to step up and look after him, the way he deserves to be looked after.
“I’ll take care of you forever
,” I whisper.
Seth doesn’t say anything in return. I’m not sure if he even heard it and that’s okay. I never said it to get a response. I said it because I mean it and it eases the overwhelming bubble of excitement in my chest.
After a long while, my fingertips are numb and tingly, and I’m unsure where his flesh ends and mine begins. I lie on him now and I rise up and down a fraction of an inch every time he breathes. Forty minutes ago, Seth removed my shirt and watched my breasts as I massaged him. It was thrilling, to say the least, and the urge to coax him into having sex with me was almost overwhelming, but I held my own and kept my cool.
Just.
If he hadn’t fallen asleep, I’m sure my resistance would have caved. It always does when he’s around. With one last slow, pathetic stroke of his forearms, my hands give up and collapse on his skin. My eyelids are heavy, like they have tiny weights tethered to my eyelashes. I let them close and snuggle even closer into my sleeping Seth.
Starting
tomorrow, he will dive into intense daily training sessions and have little to no time for me. Thankfully, Selena is here and I won’t be totally alone…but despite her presence, however, I know Seth’s two upcoming fights are going to linger over me like a dark cloud. I know Seth can take Junior, but I’m worried his emotions are going to get the best of him when he fights Don. If Seth loses to Don, it will break him. I shake the thought from my head. Seth won’t lose. He is the bright center of my universe…untouchable. Infallible. He can’t lose.
Seth
(Fight Night: Seth Marc vs Junior Moset)
A plastic chair slaps the concrete wall and I’m brought back to my senses. Anxiety ripples through my body and I clench my fists as it rests in my chest and threatens to suffocate me.
Where is she?
I sent Darryl up to the hotel room half an hour ago to find her. Olivia wanted to wait until the very last minute to come down. These fighting things still make her nervous and I try my hardest to respect that, but without her here with me now I don’t think I can make it through my warm up. I want to see her calming green eyes looking at me—all caring and worried.
I flex my fingers and survey my bare fingers. They stick out from the thick material and I turn my hands palm down to assess the gloves. Across the top of my glove—right over the padded knuckles—it reads ‘MMAC’ in big white letters.
I made it.
I’m here, ready for my professional debut…this fight, win or lose, will be remembered for the rest of my career. The first fights always are.
Being immortalized an amateur losing my first pro fight isn’t the only thing eating at me, the crowd is
, too. Tens of thousands of spectators all sitting and waiting for the main card fight. Junior is the crowd favorite—something I’ve known for weeks now. His pro record is nine to one, losing only to disqualification in his first fight by repeatedly grabbing the cage for added support. My professional record is zero both in wins and defeats. They don’t care about my amateur record or that I’ve had twenty-two official fights and haven’t lost a single one. What counts is now. I need to win this fight—and I will—I just need to keep my head clear and in the game. One mistake and Junior can have me in an arm bar, or triangle lock—or even a guillotine. I’ve seen his fights. He knows exactly how to lock the submissions down and getting out of them is going to take more energy than it’s worth.
The door swings open, drawing my attention. The rest of the team fades out and my sight focuses solely on my woman. When her gaze lands on me, the anxiety in my chest minutely lets up and I sigh a breath of relief. Even back then I couldn’t pinpoint what it is about her that relaxes me so much
…maybe it’s because she’s always so nervous I take it on myself to make her feel better. My team filters from the room and closes the door behind them. We’ve done this enough times now that they know to leave us alone when she comes to see me. I can’t have my whole team thinking I’m weak. Only she is allowed to see that side of me. I brace my hands on the bench on either side of my open thighs as she strolls right up between them and places her hands half on my shoulders and half on my neck.
She looks absolutely amazing in a pair of classy black slacks and a stylish white sweater. No mini skirts. No tight tube dresses. Perfect.
A relaxing hum vibrates from her fingertips and creeps over my skin before seeping into my pores. Unintentionally, I bring my lips closer to hers and I stop myself just as they graze. Her breath hitches before she expels it nervously on my face.
“Thank you for being here
,” I mumble, looking deep into her eyes. “I couldn’t do it without you.”
“You were doing just fine before I came along.”
No, I wasn’t. I was ready to throw in the towel, to give up fighting. Darryl knew it and Jackson knew it, too, but when I met Olivia, her passion and her fight ignited a spark in me I thought was long gone. She inspired me…and I think that’s why I
have
to see her before a fight…because she gives me the motivation I need.
“You have no idea
,” I say, playfully nudging her nose with mine.
Her fingers snake around the back of my neck and lock together as she pulls my forehead harder against hers.
“You’re going to win,” she says. “You’re not going to win for me, or Darryl, or the MMAC. You’re going to win for yourself because
you
put in the hard yards to get here.”
There she goes again, always knowing the right things to say.
“And if I don’t want to win?” I ask, teasingly.
“Then you better lose with a smile on your face.”
I laugh under my breath.
Fuck that.
I’m not losing to anybody, my pride won’t let me.
***
The cold cement of the hallway floor makes my feet tingle as I march down the corridor. My hands clench into fists, unclench, and then clench again while I dance back and forth on the balls of my feet a few times. When I come to a stop behind double doors and after I read the MMAC’s slogan—‘
Be strong. Be smart. Be great.’
I tilt my head to the ceiling with my eyes closed, and blow out a long, slow breath. In both ears, Darryl and Jackson are talking to me—giving me words of encouragement and helpful tips, but I don't hear them. My mind is elsewhere, focused on cages and crowds. In no time, the bass of Seth’s intro song starts thumping through the sound system and the door in front of me opens. I flex my muscles from shoulders to thighs and I prowl out of the empty, slanted hallway and into the crowd, doing my best to seem as confident as ever.
People grab at me and I ignore them
, focusing only on the empty, looming cage. I run my tongue over my guard to feel it securely in place as adrenaline shakes my body and boils my blood, sending it at light speed through my veins.
I love this
. My nerves are electrified, like I’m sitting on the edge of a severe storm, praying not to get hit by the bolts of lightning that strike the ground next to me. As I approach the steps to the cage, a staff member of the MMAC checks my gloves and mouth guard while Darryl reaches around me and unzips my black hoodie. I shrug it off and bound up the stairs and into the cage. The roar of the crowd is so loud it’s deafening, and I’m absolutely floored by the amount of people who have come to see me and Junior fight. Never in a million years would I have thought people would flood an arena to see me fight. I run my bare fingers across the baked vinyl cage, doing a lap of the ring. When I run my hands over a certain part of the cage, I linger for a little while. I turn my head to the left and instantly pick Olivia out of the crowd. She’s right at the front, sitting beautifully with her legs crossed and fingers in her mouth as she nervously chews her nails. She’s focused on the floor as Selena talks in her ear, but when she looks up at me from underneath her thick, long lashes and sees me looking at her while I touch the spot I fucked her two weeks ago, her fingers fall from her mouth and there’s no doubt in my mind her cheeks are heating up. Flashbacks flood me—perfect pink nipples, sleek, wet pussy and swollen lips. I have half a mind to kick everyone out of the arena and drag her back up here.
She gives me a warning look, like she thinks someone here will know what we did and I smile
…nobody will ever know what we did. She sticks her finger back into her mouth and I see her engagement ring glisten under the bright lights, the ring that
I
bought her—the ring that took me six hours to pick out. How easily I forget we are no longer girlfriend and boyfriend—that I promised the rest of my life to her…and she promised hers in return. To think it all happened right underneath my feet.
I continue my circle of the ring until I’m back in my corner. Normally, I like to show off a little bit for the crowd, but tonight I want them to see that I mean business.
An unfamiliar song blasts over the speakers and the crowd goes nuts once again. A pang of anticipation courses through me and I turn my head to see Junior Moset thundering down the walkway with a wide smile on his face. He’s used to this. This is his world that I’m entering and I hate that it gives him an edge over me. Junior enters the ring and does his round before settling on the opposite side of the ring.
“Remember, try to keep it standing. Avoid going to the floor if you can and go for the knock out. It’s your best bet
,” Jackson calls as the announcer speaks, introducing the referee and the fighters.
He sounds extremely confident in me, but little does he know, it’s easier said than done. It’s almost impossible to keep a ground fighter standing for the majority of the fight. When things get to
o fast, they go for the takedown. When they get stung, they go for the takedown. Hell, they even go for the takedown if they miss a hit. I’m not going to be able to keep this standing for long…and I hope my ground game is good enough to prevent any devastating submissions.
Junior and I watch
each other from opposite sides of the cage, and when the referee, Marty Quim, steps inside, the noise of the audience lessens. Junior crouches slightly, his nostrils flare out as he breathes heavily. I monitor the way his fists tighten as he raises them up in front of his body and awareness covers me. I know the purpose of every muscle in my body, and I position each one in preparation for what's to come.
This is my element
,
too
, I remind myself.
This is my show
.
My life
.
My passion
.
And
I will not fucking lose this
.
“Junior, are you ready?”
Quim shouts and Junior flicks his cocky, dark eyebrows at me.
“Yes!”
“Seth, are you ready?”
I nod my head,
narrowing my eyes at Junior. He’s a good guy, but tonight he’s the only thing standing between me and the respect I deserve…which makes him my enemy. The bell rings and we push off from our corners and meet in the middle to touch gloves. As soon as our hands touch, we drop our stances and square off.
Powerful feelings envelope me and I waste no time in lashing out, swinging full force. It was never in our game plan to throw power punches right off the bat, but I wanted to gauge Junior’s reaction time because once I find my flow, he’s a fucking goner. He
takes a couple quick steps back as my fists rain down on him. He brings his hands up to shield his face, but it’s no use. I drop low and slam my knuckles into his ribs, listening to them force the air from his lungs. With every hit I land, I feel myself become more and more relaxed, no longer anxious. And because of that, I find myself moving quicker—more confidently. Junior is no match for my strikes. He knows it too, and he dives for my legs to avoid my punches. I sprawl, wrapping my arms around his and shoving him off me. I step back as he jumps to his feet and brings his hands back to guard his face. Junior’s brow is furrowed and I know he didn’t expect me to be so aggressive. Rule number one, never underestimate me. Never underestimate my weaknesses because when I use them to fuel my strengths, you better look out. Junior comes in hot with quick jabs to the stomach. I drop my hands to protect my stomach—both of them—a rookie mistake and he clips me in the mouth. A searing pain splits my lip (in the exact same pace that’s healing from Don’s beating) and I taste blood. Junior backs off as I spit blood onto the canvas.
“Lucky shot
,” I growl, bringing my fists back up and advancing on him. As if his impatience is running out, Junior begins to jab at me again from the right. I let two hit me and feign left as the third comes in. He switches his angle, like I expected, and I go right, striking Junior once, twice—no—three times in the ribs. Junior hunches and I grab his neck, bringing up my knee and driving it right into his chest. I hear the crowd go crazy and I know the quick pace of this fight is driving them insane. Junior counters as I bring my leg down and grabs me by the knee. He hooks his arm around it and twists, causing me to turn at an awkward angle and fall to the mat with a bang. I yank my ankle free and roll quickly, flipping myself up onto the balls of my feet as Junior’s fist flies toward my face. At the last moment, I pivot, but it’s not fast enough and Junior’s knuckle clips the side of my head, sending a loud ring through my ear. I take a few steps back to clear my head and Junior doesn’t waste a second and dives at me almost instantly. He grabs my legs and takes me down. I struggle against him, barely getting anywhere.
He’s a heavy bastard, that’s for sure
.
“Don’t get caught!” I hear Darryl shout. “Watch your arms!”
I clap my hands together and squeeze them tightly as Junior does his best to work them open and wrap himself around one of them. He moves his body up mine, getting the mount and trapping my arms underneath his weight. I grunt as I flick my hips in an attempt to get him off me, but it fails. I’m in full guard position and I wrap my legs around him to prevent him from standing up. Somehow, he passes my guard and rises up. My whole body tenses as I see him lift his elbow before dropping it down on my chest. A groan releases itself from my throat as he does it again and again, drawing nearer to my face. I unclasp my hands and push against his chest. My chest aches from the force of the elbows he slammed into them and I grit my teeth into the mouth guard. He copies my movements, pushing down on my chest.
“No, Seth!” I hear Jackson yell and I feel Junior shift on me.
Oh shit
! His leg swings over my face as he twists his body.
Shit!
He grabs my arm and drops himself backwards, straightening my arm out until it bends in the opposite direction. I clench my jaw as pain shoots up my forearm and into my elbow. Junior pulls harder and I growl out loud.