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“Okay.” I nod, jumping off the counter and ignoring the discomfort between my legs and in my heart as I gather my clothes and hold them to my chest. My heart clenches painfully when Rocky strokes my cheeks, his eyes warm as he stares down at me.
“I’ve got you, Dawn. Leave everything to me, okay?”
I nod again, just to get him moving. There is a conflict between my heart, which longs to lean into his touch and revel in the warmth of his body, and my brain, which tells me that what I just did is the dumbest thing in the world.
I live right next to this man. We share a hallway and an elevator. I pass him all the time.
What have I done?
Chapter Four
Rocky
My kitten is avoiding me.
“Rocky, so what do you think?”
It’s been two fucking days since she left my apartment, and I haven’t seen or heard a thing from her. I know she’s around; I’ve heard her in her apartment. Now that I’ve quit playing my music, I realize just how thin the walls actually are. The fact that she’s avoiding me stings like a bitch.
I made a mistake.
Even I can admit that I should have slowed down and taken more care with her, but the moment felt right. It never crossed my mind that someone as pretty and perfect as Dawn could be a virgin. Unclaimed!
I need to find a way to make up for my mistake because there is no way I am letting my pretty neighbor escape my grasp now that I’ve had her.
“Rocky!”
Someone taps my shoulder and look up to find everyone in the room staring at me. There is a glare on my manager's face, but that doesn’t faze me in the least. He and I haven’t seen eye to eye since I announced my plans to take an early retirement. Although he knew it was coming, he has not been shy about voicing his protests of my decision. Whether or not he approves, it’s ultimately my decision to retire from the soul-sucking world of Mixed Martial Arts.
“What did you say?” I ask, turning away from my manager to look at one of the suits responsible for planning my retirement event. The very thing that has been stressing me out the last few weeks.
The suit shakes his head but quickly composes himself when my eyes narrow on him. He quickly clears his throat before proceeding. “We were talking about the sponsorship offers you’ve been receiving. I know you said you don’t want to personally endorse any more companies—”
“If you heard me the first time, why are you bringing it up again?”
“Rocky, you have no idea how much money these companies are offering. One of them is willing to pay you close to a million dollars if you let them print your boxing shorts. They are prepared to negotiate.”
I shake my head and lean back in my seat. Whatever money I would get out of these deals, more than half of it goes to them, and they know that. The fact that their biggest money maker is about to take an early retirement has these men scrambling to milk whatever profit they can get from me before I call it quits.
Call me an asshole—and they certainly have—but I am not going to make it easier for them to get more money trading on my name and reputation.
This upcoming retirement fight alone is a huge event, and it’s been driving me nuts, hence the insomnia, the loud music, and my terrible mood. No, that last one I attribute to the girl that’s been avoiding me.
Fuck!
Last night, I knocked on her door, but she wouldn’t open up for me. Today, I intend to camp in the hallway all night—all week if I have to—until she opens the door and talks to me. I need to apologize to her and make love to her body the way I should have in the first place.
“Rocky, you really need to think this over. Once you are retired, you won’t get such offers again.”
“You mean you won’t get such offers.”
The suit flushes red and looks away, which only proves my point. I’ve always liked money, don’t get me wrong. I’m not greedy for it like these motherfuckers, but I was once desperate to earn enough to get away from the trailer park I grew up in. I’ve far exceeded that goal and have more than enough to live comfortably. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point to allow these men who know nothing about me or my past to use me for a quick buck. I don’t want my whole retirement, which should be a celebration of my MMA journey, to become a marketing event.
“Rocky!”
“We go ahead with the sponsors we approved months ago and no more,” I say, slamming my fist on the table and rising to my feet. “I’m done here.” I don’t bother to wait for a reply as I turn around and head for the door. The quick steps behind me alert me that my manager is following behind.
“Rocky, you need to think this over!”
