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“You’ve been avoiding me again,” I say through gritted teeth, my feelings filtering out more than I would have preferred, but there is no hiding how I feel with this woman. In an office full of suits running their mouths and begging to be punched, I can control my anger. I can control my emotions even around my infuriating manager, but with Dawn, I am as weak as any man can get.
I’ve always questioned those folktales about men brought to their knees by women much smaller than them, so much so that they would go to war for the woman they love. I never understood it until I met Dawn.
I have fought for well over ten years, both professionally and in illegal cage matches before I turned it into a career, but no one’s ever left me feeling helpless the way Dawn does.
She undoes me.
Better yet, she is my kryptonite. A weakness I am unwilling to be parted from.
“Rocky!”
“You can’t leave me, kitten. I won’t let you,” I say, narrowing my eyes on hers. I don’t care that my words make me sound like a domineering asshole, but the truth of that matter is I am not letting Dawn go now that I know what she feels like . . . what she tastes like.
“Rocky . . .”
“I am not letting you go, not now, not ever, so whatever it is that’s got you acting this way, you need to tell me so we can solve it once and for all.”
“Can we talk in the morning?”
“It is morning.”
“When the sun is actually up, Rocky. Look, I don’t want to talk to you right now. I have so much going on with school and . . . and my family, and I don’t really have the time to see anyone right now.”
She’s lying.
Fury rises in my chest at her words, not because of what she’s saying, but how she’s saying it. Perhaps if she meant her words I would take a step back, not much, but I would give her some space to breathe. But she’s lying, and I need to know why.
“I will not let you push me away without a valid reason, Dawn,” I say, my voice dangerously low.
She backs up to the wall, almost knocking over a flower vase with her hip as she tries to move away from me. “I just gave you a reason. I said—”
“I don’t believe you, kitten. You are not a very good liar. You can’t even look me in the eye right now.”
“I don’t care whether you believe me or not.”
Christ, this situation is infuriating. Whatever it is she is hiding from me seems to be erecting some sort of wall between us, and getting Dawn to admit what is really going on feels like I am squeezing water from a stone. I guess asking nicely won’t get me the answers I want.
She squeals in surprise when I grab her waist and spin her around so she’s facing the wall before delivering a series of sharp slaps to her ass. “W-what are you doing!” she cries out, but I can tell she likes it with the way her hips tilt and her ass leans into my palm.
“Answers, now!”
“I’m not a child, you can’t—” Her protests turn into a moan when my palm connects with her ass cheek again.
“What happened, kitten?” I demand, leaning down and biting the back of her ear gently, and I see her visibly shudder from the move.
“What do you care? You’re going to dump me anyway.”
I freeze at her words. “Why would you think that?”
“All the pretty women I’ve seen on the gossip sites,” she says with an annoyed huff. “You’ve never been in a relationship with any of them for more than a couple of weeks.”
This is a serious conversation, and I know I need to sit Dawn down and explain the politics of dating in the world of sports and how most of the photos she’s seen were staged, but for the life of me, I can’t get past the jealously I hear in her voice, and it makes my cock hard.
I guess it makes me a sicko to hear the venom in her voice and get turned on by it.
“Do you really think I am playing games with you?” I ask, slipping my hand up her shirt to grab her little thong, yanking it down her thighs. “Do you believe even for a moment that I have ever carried even an ounce of the feelings I have for you for any other person?” She gasps when I tear the flimsy little thing off her completely and bring it to my nose. Fuck me, her scent is like a drug, enough to have me addicted for life. I can’t get enough of it. Of her!
“I . . . I don’t know. It’s what that creepy old man said.”
