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The crowd erupted, and I winced at how fucking loud it was. The fighter left standing had clearly sustained some head trauma, his previously sharp and focused gaze now appearing hazy and distant, and he was swaying in place as if he’d lost the ability to stay upright.
“Don’t let that happen to you,” I tossed at Paxton, nervous energy running through me.
He just winked at me, because he was an asshole like that.
“I’m going to go to the locker room and get ready,” he said, smacking a kiss against my lips before sauntering away.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea, and whispers spread out in the crowd as they realized who he was.
“Stop looking like a kicked puppy; you can fuck him in the locker room later,” Cain drawled.
“I would never!” I said sarcastically, and all three of them grinned.
“Do you know who he’s fighting?” I asked Remy since he was the one who set it all up.
He smiled excitedly and leaned forward. “Damien 'The Viper' Vega.”
“That’s really his name?” I responded incredulously.
“What’s wrong with his name?” Stellan asked, a small smile on his lips.
“Fighter names are just weird. I mean…what would your fighter name be?” I asked them.
Remy snorted. “Remington “The Thunderbolt’ Taylor,” he answered quickly…as if he’d spent a lot of time thinking about it already.
We all stared at him incredulously for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“What?” he snapped defensively. “It’s a good name.”
“Okay, ‘Thunderbolt’,” said Stellan. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Remington stuck his tongue out as Cain let out a heavy sigh as if he was fucking above it all.
Which we all knew he wasn’t.
Just then, the music changed, a heavy club remix of Nine Inch Nails filling the warehouse, signaling that Paxton was walking in.
The screams of the crowd grew deafening. The girl in front of me literally slumped to the ground, passed out, like the adrenaline from Paxton entering the room was too much for her.
“Remember when we used to have cheese fries at these things,” I complained, my stomach rumbling.
“Best I can offer you is a cold beer, sweetheart,” Stellan murmured, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer. I snuggled in closer to him, trying to calm my heartbeat that wouldn’t stop trying to race out of my chest. “He’s going to be fine.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Why does it feel like you can see inside my brain?”
He stared at me, the look on his face…undecipherable. “I wish I could.”
Before I could question him on what he was thinking, the crowd somehow got even louder, to the point that the walls of the warehouse were actually rattling.
Paxton had stepped into the ring.
He leaned against the metal barrier, his body relaxed and his expression seemingly detached. His gaze wandered lazily across the crowd, his eyes half-lidded with a hint of disinterest. It was as if he were in a world of his own, unaffected by the surrounding chaos and the pulsating energy of the warehouse. Paxton seemed almost bored, as if this fight held no real significance to him. The anticipation of the crowd and the fervor of the moment appeared to be nothing more than background noise, failing to ignite any spark of excitement within him.
Combined with those tiny black shorts of his…that displayed everything.
I was literally frothing at the mouth, my panties wet, my body primed for this perfect specimen of a man.
“Down girl,” smirked Remington in my ear.
