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Grayson
The music pounds through the speakers, shaking the floor even as I step out of the limo. Flashlights blind me for a moment as paparazzi try to take my picture, but I don't even flinch. I'm used to being the center of attention.
I bypass the line, flashing the bouncer a smirk as he unhooks the velvet rope, letting me and my entourage in. The party is in full swing, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Beautiful women in skimpy dresses sway their hips past me, batting their eyes and shooting seductive smiles.
None of them catch my interest. Sure, I'll go home with one or two tonight, but they're only good for a handful of encounters and little else. I'm looking for someone more interesting, someone who can ignite a flicker of excitement within me.
"Look at that hot piece of ass, Grayson." Samuel, one of the friends riding my tail tonight, motions toward a sexy little redhead. I let my gaze linger for a moment but shake my head.
"Nah, I'm not feeling it."
"Well, isn’t someone being nitpicky tonight?"
I chuckle, shrugging at his jab. "What can I say? I know what I like when I see it, and she ain’t it."
"So, what do you like?"
Mike, one of my main trainers, offers me a drink, and I sip the bitter whiskey as I continue searching the room for someone who stands out from the crowd—all the same pretty faces with no real substance.
That's when I see her. Blonde, striking, and with enough curves to last me for days, she's animatedly talking to a group of people, clad in a sexy little red outfit with some brand's name on it—a promotional model. Well, she does have the body to make me want to buy whatever she's selling, that's for sure.
The woman's bright and sincere laughter reaches my ears, somehow breaking through the chaos of the party. There's effortless confidence about her that draws me in like she knows exactly who she is and isn't afraid to show it. She looks up from the group, and for a split second, our eyes meet. Hers are blue. No, not just blue. Electric. I couldn't stop staring even if I tried, and I have no interest in trying.
Before I know it, I'm walking toward her, ignoring the heads turning my way or the occasional attempts of groupies to reach my side. My entourage follows behind me like a pack of loyal wolves, but I barely notice them. My attention is laser-focused only on this mystery woman.
"Whoa!"
Before I can reach her, another man beats me to the finish line. No, not just another guy. It's Adam Russel, a fellow MMA fighter and a class-A asshole. I've never had the pleasure of punching his lights out in the cage, but from what I've seen, he's not half-bad. Now, though, he grabs the blonde's arm and grates something through gritted teeth, and I'm not about to stand idly by while he bruises her in an attempt to drag her out of the club.
"Let go of me, Adam!" she shouts, yanking her arm out of his grip. Her eyes are furious, her face flushed with anger. I'm instantly drawn to her strength, to that fire that burns in those blue eyes.
I quicken my pace, the distance between the three of us vanishing in a few long strides. Without thinking, I wrap my arm around this gorgeous young woman, pulling her close against me.
"Is this jackass bothering you, babe?"
For some unexplained reason, my heart drums fast and hard in my chest the instant my hand comes in contact with her skin. She's wearing a halter top, showcasing her delicious curves, and I have to fight the urge to run my fingers up and down the contour of her waist.
She looks up at me, having to tilt her chin all the way up to meet my gaze, surprise dancing in her electric blue eyes. After a moment, her expression softens. "He's just leaving."
Adam scoffs. "Watch your mouth, pretty boy. This doesn't concern you. And I'm not done talking with you, slut. I'm not going anywhere."
The smirk that crawls onto his lips is slow and arrogant, his brow raising high on his forehead. I feel a surge of anger coursing through me at Adam's derogatory words. My grip on the mystery woman tightens instinctively, a protective instinct kicking in.
"You heard the lady; she said she's done with you," I growl, my voice low and menacing. Adam is a big guy, sure, but he doesn't intimidate me. I've faced opponents much tougher than him in the octagon and come out victorious.
Adam narrows his eyes at me, sizing me up. "You think you can take me on? I'd like to see you try."
I huff, and my grip on the woman's hip grows territorial. "Fuck off, man. I don't want to hurt a worthless little fucker like you and ruin my night out with my girl."
"Your girl?!" he barks, and I can see the veins of his throat bulking out like cords.
"Yeah, did you think I was going to die a spinster after breaking up with you?" She challenges him, and the fire in her voice matches the one I saw in her eyes.
Before I can respond, my entourage jumps in, ready to defend me. Mike steps forward, his towering presence looming over Adam. "Back off, Russel. You don't want to mess with us."
Adam glances at the group behind me, assessing the situation, but he's too stupid to back away. "So that's how it is, huh? You can't handle yourself outside of the cage."
