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“Have the police said anything about any leads yet?”
“Not yet. But I’m going to call them tomorrow.”
“Pretty sure Scarlet’s already given them hell,” Max huffs before he motions toward the TV. “Turn it up.”
They’re interviewing Spider Ramirez. This fuckhead has wanted my title for two goddamned years. He hasn’t earned the fight, but that hasn’t stopped him from talking shit about me and Crucible every chance he’s gotten.
Asshole.
Max leans against the back of the couch. “You gonna give in and fight this little shit after you win next week?”
“Fuck him. He’s gotta earn it.”
I put in my time. He’s gotta do the same.
Even with a bum knee, I’m not worried about winning next week’s fight.
You don’t train like I do year-fucking-round and have a doubt.
My thoughts stop on a dime when the sweet scent of honey and vanilla wafts into the room.Herskin always smells like honey and vanilla. Even after she’s finished sweating through a hot yoga class, Madison Dixon smells delicious.
And like a man searching for an oasis in the desert, she draws me in. I want to taste her skin. Her lips. Her fucking cunt to see if she’s as sweet as she smells.
It takes a few more minutes before she finally walks back into the room and takes my breath away. She drops down on the couch and lets Cinder curl around her. “Hey, baby,” she purrs at the damn cat, and that voice... fuck me.
When she stands up with the black and white furball in her arms, Daphne hugs her and whispers something that makes Maddie blush.
Max grips my shoulder. “I think that’s my cue. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, man.”
Maddie walks my brother and sister-in-law to the door and locks it behind them, then joins me on the couch.
Close, but not touching.
Because Maddie never touches.
Not unless I initiate it.
There’s a story there.
One I’ve never asked about. But I will... eventually.
Her flawless skin has a warm pink glow from her shower, and her long hair is damp and hanging down her back. An old Philly Kings t-shirt is slipping off one bare shoulder and hangs down to her knees, covering the top half of her bare legs, and fuck me... she’s got a pair of socks that look like they’re made from a sweater pulled up to her knees. I’ve got no clue why that’s so sexy. But my new goal in life might be to fuck her with those socks on.
Goddamn, I’m an asshole.
She’s fucking perfect, and I’m fucking screwed.
I run my hand over my face and remind myself of Cade’s rules.
No drama.
No booze.
No women.
Two more weeks of camp before the fight.
