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I lift her and throw her onto the bed. “You.”
By the time we say goodbye, I’ve spent the last hour eating her pussy and making her come, and she’s reciprocated by giving me a blow job that will keep my knees weak and my body humming for damn hours.
I leave her spent amongst the tangled sheets on her bed and step into the early morning light.
We won’t see each other again.
Because it’s better that way.
ARES
The punch lands directly on my face.
The right hook makes contact with my eye and sends me stumbling backward. I manage to recover but the blow has left me seeing stars. I cover my face and regroup, collecting my opponent in the gut just as the umpire calls time on the round.
We’re three rounds in, and I’ve collected more blows to my body tonight than in all my fights put together.
I retreat to my corner, where Paw and Doc are waiting.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Paw asks, wiping my face with a towel. “You’re fighting like a fifth grader in the playground.”
“You’re distracted.” Doc squirts water onto the freshly reopened cut in my eyebrow. It stings, but I barely feel it because my body is flooded with adrenaline. “You need to focus on what you’re doing because if he gets you down, he’ll shove his knee so deep into your face you’ll be knocked out before you can say, I’m on my ass because I wasn’t paying attention to what the fuck my opponent was doing.”
“I got this,” I assure them, adjusting a loose piece of tape across my knuckles.
“Then start telling him that.” Paw nods toward my opponent, a six-foot Samoan named Punisher. “Preferably with your fists and a couple of round kicks.”
Blood from the reopened cut in my brow streams down my cheek, and I taste the metallic tang on my tongue.
Doc dabs something on it and says, “This isn’t like you. Whatever is on your mind will have to wait until after the fight unless you want your ass kicked. Then, by all means, keep doing what you’re doing.”
I raise my unwounded eyebrow at him. “I said I got this.”
But he’s right. I am distracted. Because the moment I stepped into the cage tonight, I started searching for her in the crowd, and when I couldn’t find her, my mind spun chaotic thoughts in every direction. Even now, blinded by all the blood dripping in my eyes, I’m still searching the crowd for her familiar face.
Why isn’t she here?
And why the fuck does it matter so much to me that she’s not?
By the time I stand and meet Punisher in the center of the mat, I’ve already made up my mind. After the fight, I’m going to swing by her apartment, but that means dealing with Punisher first.
When the bell sounds for the round to start, we grapple, and I send him unconscious to the floor with a double collar tie followed by a flying knee to the chin.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Paw adds as I leave the cage, victorious not five minutes later.
Doc says nothing but eyes me suspiciously—he’s trying to figure out what’s going on with me.
They follow me into the locker room, Paw even following me into the showers, wanting to know what has gotten into me.
“You seriously going to watch me shower?” I ask.
“If it means I find out what the fuck that was,” he says, pointing in the direction of the cage.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You never let your opponent make contact more than once or twice, but tonight you let Punisher put his hands all over you. Are you thinking about that girl?”
“Are you leaving? Or you planning on joining me in the shower?”
