UNBROKEN: A Bad Boy MMA Romance (Midwest Alphas) (Book 2) (12 page)

Tobias doesn’t say a word in response and raises his own fists to cover his already broken face. My lips twitch at the sight of him. He may be out of practice, but he’s still as strong and mighty as he’s always been. I remember his advice to me; to never show your opponent your weakness. The second you do, they own you. If he’s suffering at all from the beating he took from Rick, he’s not showing it.

Lillian brings her whistle to her lips. Her eyes dart between them for a long moment as she milks every drop of anticipation she can from it. At times, I wonder how she can find so much amusement in this, but then my eyes find Tobias again and I feel that guilty throb between my thighs.

The whistle cuts through the air, somehow meeting my ears over the shrieking crowd. I can’t even tell at this point whose side they are on. The people love Tobias, but that adoration can turn on a dime. Last year, he was the underdog. Now, he’s the defending champion that’s lost once already tonight. I imagine a few of them would just
love
to see that happen again, if only for the novelty of it. I swallow a surge of saliva back down my dry throat and take several steps forward, inching as close as I can to the cage.

I pause as Tobias’ gaze turns in my direction. The last time he did this, he was nearly taken out. I’m a distraction to him, something to be blocked out or else suffer the full weight of the consequence. I fear this is a moment of weakness, a mistake that he will surely regret at the end of The Brute’s massive fist. But I realize, in the instant our eyes lock, that I am no longer
Tobias the Untouchable’s
weakness.

I am his strength.

Burt rushes forward, driven by a powerful jab just begging to connect with Tobias’ chin. For once, I don’t even flinch. Neither does Tobias as he gracefully slides out of the way and lands a single, strong uppercut into Burt’s solar plexus. Burt tumbles to his knees, his lungs wheezing for air, but he rolls away from Tobias, refusing to lose to him again so quickly.

Tobias waits, staying on his toes. His adoring fans rave and scream at him to beat the Brute while he’s down, but he doesn’t move. It’s not Tobias’ style. It’s what separates him from other, more bloodthirsty, men. He does not fight for glory or power or blood. He fights for what’s right.

He fights for me.

Burt crawls off the floor, his little fingers pulling at the cage around the ring for balance, while Tobias lingers over him, patiently waiting like a vulture.

Just as Burt finds his footing, his rage boils over and he lunges at Tobias again. His fists connect with Tobias’ purple ribs and I finally flinch as Tobias leans into every hit. It doesn’t last long, as he quickly grabs Burt’s shoulder and yanks him forward, jolting him off balance and connecting his knee against his face.

Burt falls backward as blood rolls out of his broken nose. He shakes it off, the red mist splattering down his chin onto the mat below. Tobias falls back to his corner and raises his fists in front of his face, almost baiting Burt with his nonchalant movements. I can see the blood rage building in Burt’s eyes from all the way back here. He’s losing to Tobias,
again
, and to make the matter worse, he’s losing to a wounded man.

Burt drops to his knees and throws up his hands. “Fuck it!” he shouts. He bends down and slaps his palm against the floor three times.

The room falls deathly silent. Every eye in the room watches as Tobias steps forward and extends his hand out to Burt.

There’s a long moment of hesitation, of regret, before Burt finally takes Tobias’ hand to help him back up.

And just like that, the voices instantly rise up to chant his name. Screams of Tobias shake the walls with a heated vibrato, repeating over and over again as if he never lost his title in the first place.

I glance down to find Rick staring up at Tobias from just outside the cage, his expression blank, leaving no hints of anger or amusement. He turns his back to the ring and quickly pushes his way through the bewildered crowd towards the exit.

***

I lie awake, staring up at my dark ceiling. It’s strange how quickly your body can fall back into old habits. This insomnia. I haven’t felt it since the first few weeks I lived here. Part of me wants to grab a random book off of Mary’s shelf and retreat into the barn, for old time’s sake, but there’s a comfort to lying awake at three in the morning that I’ve long forgotten about.

The world is quiet, almost dead. There’s no crowd to scream anyone’s name. There’s no sound of impact against toned flesh. I close my eyes and listen to the subtle creaks of the old house. This is the longest night I’ve experienced in ages. Strangely, even longer than the night I was arrested with Rick; the night that set this entire path of my life in motion.

After tonight’s match, Amy insisted on finding Tobias a ride home. He wanted to drive back home on his bike, and while he was probably capable of making the trip, there was no way in hell Amy was about to risk one of the most popular fighters in the whole tournament. She called on her new friend Ryan and his big, blue pick-up truck to drive us home — an idea that made Tobias rightfully furious. He eventually caved, but he made it very vocal that he’s not happy with a Double Ex King knowing where he lives.

“Claire?”

I bolt upright in the bed, the blissful silence suddenly broken by his voice. “Tobias…” I sigh.

He slips into the room and gently closes the door behind him. The moonlight seeps into the room through the open curtains, illuminating his shirtless torso. The bruises turn a startling black in the moonlight and I force myself to look elsewhere. “Sorry if I scared you,” he says, gazing down at me from above the bed.

“You didn’t…” I whisper, thinking of how thin the walls of this house are. We always have to be so quiet, so still, or else suffer Charlie’s unquestionable wrath. “What do you want?” I ask.

He sighs, unsurprised by my tone. “I understand that you’re angry with me, Claire,” he says. “I should have told you what I was doing…”

“And?” I urge.

“And…” He nods. “I shouldn’t have offered you as a prize.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“You have
every right
to be angry with me, but…” he whispers. “Right now, I need my girlfriend.”

I pause. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“It fits, I think,” he chuckles and winces from the pain it brings him. “Switch roles for an hour. You can resume being my pissed off, hard-ass Dame in the morning.”

I bite my lips to hold back my smile. “An
hour
,” I say. “Two, tops.” I see his lips curl in the darkness. I pull my comforter down and offer half of my small bed to him. He slides inside, moving slowly to ease his wounded body down to me to rest against the headboard.

“Speaking of Dames…” he whispers. “What’d you think of the others?”

“Scary,” I admit.

“Why?”

“I feel like I don’t fit in with them,” I say.

“So what?” he asks. “You’re not going to make a great Dame because you fit in, Claire. You’re going to make a great Dame because you stand out.”

“Well, my
finesse
is only going to get me so far, it seems.”

“When your
finesse
runs out,” he continues, “your experience will carry you the rest of the way. Just give it time.”

“I guess.” I push in closer and bring my hand to his face. “Any ideas on how you’re going to explain this to Charlie?” I ask.

He lets my fingertips graze his cheeks, hovering barely a centimeter above the fresh, dark scabs. “I don’t think factory equipment is going to work this time—
Ow
—!”

I wince as my finger accidentally presses against his bruised eyelid. “Sorry—!”

He grabs my hand away from his face and brings my fingers to his lips for safekeeping. “I love you, Claire,” he says, his comforting breath warming my chilled fingers. “Alpha Dame or not, you’re always going to be my girl.”

“I love you, too, Tobias,” I whisper back. I push forward, but quickly think the better of it. I want to kiss him so badly, but doing so would probably bring him great physical pain.

As if reading my mind, he leans down to brush his lips against mine. He purses them slightly, but keeps them soft and pliable. I feel the rush of adrenaline tremble his nerves, an after effect of a night of violence. “If I could make love to you right now, I would,” he tells me, his voice so light on the air, I almost don’t even hear it.

My fingers fall down his body, softly caressing the thick muscles beneath his skin. He shudders against my touch, wincing slightly as his muscles involuntarily flex. “Let me take care of you tonight,” I whisper as my hand fishes beneath the elastic band of his sweat pants. He’s already hard, throbbing for me as I wrap my nimble fingers around the thick, familiar shaft.

Tobias sighs as I stroke him, his pulse increasing with each slow glide of my fist. I listen for his body language, feeling his pleasure overwhelm his pain. A bead of precum touches my finger and I lick my lips, imagining his taste on my tongue. I shift down slowly, aligning myself with him and pulling his manhood free of his pants. He lays a hand on the back of my head, burrowing his fingers into my brown hair as I push his tip between my lips. I gently lave the underside of his thick crown with my tongue, forcing his hips to buck and his thighs to quiver beneath me. I plan to take it slow, to consider his body’s threshold for pain, but his fingers wrap tightly around my hair to urge me to suck him faster.

I bob my head back and forth, letting his sweet nectar drip along the length of my tongue. I moan for him, forgetting and not caring about the noise it makes. I suck him harder, feeling the hollow of my cheeks tighten around him as I go. He groans above me, his body muscles twitching, but he doesn’t make me stop. I coax the pleasure through him, maintaining my pull as my tongue tickles and licks at him. He swells even more between my lips, his piercing desire overwhelming every urge he may have to stop and slow down.

His thick spurt targets the back of my throat, filling the cavity with multiple streams of warm liquid. It spills across my tongue and I moan once more, his taste enticing my buds with his perfect flavor before I send it back. His grip on my hair loosens as his trembling muscles relax down and his shaft returns to normal in my mouth.

“Claire…” he whispers my name between long breaths. I sit back and he pushes my hair away from my sweat-covered forehead. “Come here.”

I lean in closer and he cups my warm cheeks tightly before planting a sweet kiss on my raw lips. I quiver against him and feel my own painful erotic energy surging throughout my body. I ignore it and stare back into his eyes. “Are you okay?” I ask, thinking of the bruised muscles of his working abs.

He doesn’t answer me and breathes out a soft chuckle before holding me against him, happiness bleeding from every nerve ending of his body.

We lie down together and I listen to the fast beating of his heart before slowly drifting off to sleep.

Chapter 8

Show Some Respect

Luckily, Charlie usually lets me sleep in as much as I want on Saturdays or else he probably would have walked in at the crack of dawn to find his son half-naked in my bed.

I wake up around nine, the memories of the previous night a distant blur in my mind. As the vision becomes clearer, I feel worse and worse. Tobias challenged Rick. And he lost. But not really. But if he does lose again, he agreed to return me to the man I swore I’d never go back to. I am not happy about that last part, but I’ll be the good girl and let Tobias recuperate a little before bringing up that argument again.

But it won’t stop me from trying to solve this little problem myself first.

“What are you doing today?” I say into my phone. I pace around my room alone after sneaking Tobias back into his own bed. I told him to stay there and spend the entire day resting up. No training. No push-ups on his bedroom floor.
Sleep
and nothing but
sleep
.

“I have to work a double at the store,” Amy snarls. I hear her moving back and forth, her feet tapping along the hard wood floor of her old apartment. “Not my favorite Saturday activity, but such is life…”

I bite my lip, disappointed at the sudden monkey wrench in my plan. “Damn…”

“Why, what’s up?” she asks.

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Umm…
no
.”

“Please.”

“Why?”

I step to my bedroom door and pull it open slightly to make sure there’s no one listening from the hallway. There isn’t, of course, but my paranoia hasn’t exactly steered me wrong lately. I close it tight and lower my voice. “I need to go back to St. Louis.”

“Why do you need
my
car for that?” she asks again. “Can’t you and Toby take his bike?”

“I need to talk to Rick.”