Combative
Page 28
I let her this time.
She looks at the clock and says, “It’s time for you to leave.”
I pull on her dress until she’s between my legs. “You’re mad?”
She shakes her head.
“You can’t be mad. I could have lied to you.”
“I know,” she says, her hands in my hair.
My eyes drift shut at her touch.
“I just feel less—I don’t know—you tell me that you’ve been with girls that probably mean nothing to you and I’m scared that maybe I’m one of them.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Sell yourself short. You’re pretty much the only thing that means anything to me.”
She leans down, resting her forehead on mine. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
She sets her mouth on mine, her lips curving to a smile. “Good.” And then she kisses me. Her tongue sweeps across mine as I pull her back on top of me—her hands on my shoulders, and mine on her thighs—skimming her skin—lifting her dress higher with the movement.
We kiss for nowhere near long enough before I have to pull away. “I have to go.”
“No!” She exaggerates one of her now world-famous pouts. “Skip it.”
“I can’t.” I grab my phone off the coffee table and look at the time. I’m already running late.
“Why not?”
I kiss her once more before pushing up and off the couch, moving her out of the way. “Because I have to go.”
“That’s not a good enough excuse.”
I look at her, fighting a war in my head. Train and get slaughtered—or stay in and...hopefully slaughter her. I laugh out loud at myself.
She eyes me sideways.
It makes me laugh harder.
“Come with me,” I say, before I can think straight. I walk over to the kitchen counter and grab my iPad. “You can use this. It’ll make time go faster.”
She gets off the couch and straightens her dress...and then her bra. “Jesus Christ,” I moan, turning away from her and glaring down at my dick—warning it not to get excited.
Lucky for me, it complies.
***
Gunner’s eyes widen when he sees Madison walk in behind me. “You’re late!”
“I was busy.”
He looks Madison up and down, more than once.
I ball my fists at my sides and keep my jealousy in check. The last thing I need is another unexpected brawl.
Leading Madison to a chair against the wall, I connect the iPad to the gym Wi-Fi before handing it to her. “I’ll be done soon.” I make sure Gunner’s watching us when I lean in to give her a kiss...a nice, long, possessive, kiss.
She rolls her eyes when we pull apart. Her gaze darts behind me to where I assume Gunner’s standing, and then she smirks, pulls me down by my shirt and gives me an even longer, even sexier kiss. I chuckle into her mouth before she pulls away. “Good luck,” she whispers.
I shake my head, laughing as I make my way over to the weights.
“Well well well,” I hear, and stop in my tracks. Fucking DeLuca. I quickly face him, but he’s already sitting next to Madison, whose face has paled completely. She sits up straight, her shoulders rigid.
“Maybe it’s time I watch you in action,” DeLuca says, setting his ankle on his opposite knee. He leans back in his chair, throwing an arm behind Madison. Slowly, I stalk over to them and ignore DeLuca. “You good?” I ask Madison.
She nods quickly. “Yeah. You go ahead. I’ll...” She lifts the iPad. “I’ll just...yeah...”
“Let’s spar!” Gunner yells.
I back away, my gaze flicking between the two of them. DeLuca doesn’t budge. He doesn’t show a single emotion.
I hate it.
I hate him.
Finally, I turn to Gunner. “We sparred this morning. I thought we were doing strength and conditioning?”
“Is this your gym?” he spits. “I didn’t think so.”
“Whatever you say, man.” I head back over to Maddy where my gear is.
“No gloves. No gear!” he yells.
I rest my hands on my hips and shake my head, but then I think, fuck him. I strip off my shirt and throw it at Madison.
When I get in the cage, Gunner’s eyes skim over my ribs, pretending to ignore the remnants of the damage he’d helped create the week before.
I try to concentrate because I want DeLuca to see that I’m not just some chump in the cage. I want him to know that I’m learning—and that I’m good—so that if he ever feels the need to attack me again, I’ll be more than fucking happy to fight back.
After an hour of sparring, and Gunner ‘talking’ me through things, he says he wants to show me one more move before taking a break. I’m beat, but my conditioning is good. I train hard every day, pushing myself to my absolute limit. Gunner—he’s fucked. He can barely speak, from both his lack of oxygen and the sweat covering his entire face.
He glances over at DeLuca for a second, but it’s long enough for me to follow his gaze—and long enough for me to see DeLuca jerk his head once. He gets up from beside Madison, taps her once on the shoulder and leaves the building.
“Focus,” Gunner clips. “You need to work on your sprawl. Your balance is off.”
My attention now on him, I nod in agreement. Sprawling isn’t my greatest skill.
“I’m going to go for a single leg take-down,” he says.
“Okay.” I set my feet apart, plant them to the floor and bend my knees, giving myself maximum defensive resistance. The plan is that he’ll move forward—try to take me down by grabbing one of my legs. If it works out for him, I’ll be on the ground. If it works for me—I’ll be able to scoot my legs back quick enough that I’d land on his upper back and gain an advantage.
But he doesn’t go for the takedown.
He goes straight for my ribs...
With his goddamn shoulder.
I fly back, all air leaving my lungs.
Flashes of white hit the back of my eyes, and somewhere in the distance, I hear Madison scream. I wince, rolling to my left and nursing my right ribcage.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole!” Madison yells. I hear the cage door open and slam shut and the next moment...tits...all up in my vision.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
“Ky! Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I try to move, but the pain’s too overwhelming.
She’s on her knees, her hand stroking my forehead. Then suddenly, rage fills her eyes and her face turns red. She looks up. “You did that on purpose. You dick!”
Gunner stutters some form of apology.
Madison looks back at me. “Can you sit up?”
I shake my head. I can, but I like my view just fine.
She runs her hands through my hair and lifts my head off the mat, holding me to her. I smile against her chest. “Are you hurt?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I moan, ignoring the pain in my ribs and basking in the glory of my face in her tits. “It hurts so damn bad.”
She pulls away, her eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking with me?”
I laugh, which reminds me of the true physical pain I’m in. “No,” I lie. I reach out and grab her arm, trying to bring her back to me. “Come back and comfort me, that made me feel a whole lot better.”
She looks at the clock and says, “It’s time for you to leave.”
I pull on her dress until she’s between my legs. “You’re mad?”
She shakes her head.
“You can’t be mad. I could have lied to you.”
“I know,” she says, her hands in my hair.
My eyes drift shut at her touch.
“I just feel less—I don’t know—you tell me that you’ve been with girls that probably mean nothing to you and I’m scared that maybe I’m one of them.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Sell yourself short. You’re pretty much the only thing that means anything to me.”
She leans down, resting her forehead on mine. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
She sets her mouth on mine, her lips curving to a smile. “Good.” And then she kisses me. Her tongue sweeps across mine as I pull her back on top of me—her hands on my shoulders, and mine on her thighs—skimming her skin—lifting her dress higher with the movement.
We kiss for nowhere near long enough before I have to pull away. “I have to go.”
“No!” She exaggerates one of her now world-famous pouts. “Skip it.”
“I can’t.” I grab my phone off the coffee table and look at the time. I’m already running late.
“Why not?”
I kiss her once more before pushing up and off the couch, moving her out of the way. “Because I have to go.”
“That’s not a good enough excuse.”
I look at her, fighting a war in my head. Train and get slaughtered—or stay in and...hopefully slaughter her. I laugh out loud at myself.
She eyes me sideways.
It makes me laugh harder.
“Come with me,” I say, before I can think straight. I walk over to the kitchen counter and grab my iPad. “You can use this. It’ll make time go faster.”
She gets off the couch and straightens her dress...and then her bra. “Jesus Christ,” I moan, turning away from her and glaring down at my dick—warning it not to get excited.
Lucky for me, it complies.
***
Gunner’s eyes widen when he sees Madison walk in behind me. “You’re late!”
“I was busy.”
He looks Madison up and down, more than once.
I ball my fists at my sides and keep my jealousy in check. The last thing I need is another unexpected brawl.
Leading Madison to a chair against the wall, I connect the iPad to the gym Wi-Fi before handing it to her. “I’ll be done soon.” I make sure Gunner’s watching us when I lean in to give her a kiss...a nice, long, possessive, kiss.
She rolls her eyes when we pull apart. Her gaze darts behind me to where I assume Gunner’s standing, and then she smirks, pulls me down by my shirt and gives me an even longer, even sexier kiss. I chuckle into her mouth before she pulls away. “Good luck,” she whispers.
I shake my head, laughing as I make my way over to the weights.
“Well well well,” I hear, and stop in my tracks. Fucking DeLuca. I quickly face him, but he’s already sitting next to Madison, whose face has paled completely. She sits up straight, her shoulders rigid.
“Maybe it’s time I watch you in action,” DeLuca says, setting his ankle on his opposite knee. He leans back in his chair, throwing an arm behind Madison. Slowly, I stalk over to them and ignore DeLuca. “You good?” I ask Madison.
She nods quickly. “Yeah. You go ahead. I’ll...” She lifts the iPad. “I’ll just...yeah...”
“Let’s spar!” Gunner yells.
I back away, my gaze flicking between the two of them. DeLuca doesn’t budge. He doesn’t show a single emotion.
I hate it.
I hate him.
Finally, I turn to Gunner. “We sparred this morning. I thought we were doing strength and conditioning?”
“Is this your gym?” he spits. “I didn’t think so.”
“Whatever you say, man.” I head back over to Maddy where my gear is.
“No gloves. No gear!” he yells.
I rest my hands on my hips and shake my head, but then I think, fuck him. I strip off my shirt and throw it at Madison.
When I get in the cage, Gunner’s eyes skim over my ribs, pretending to ignore the remnants of the damage he’d helped create the week before.
I try to concentrate because I want DeLuca to see that I’m not just some chump in the cage. I want him to know that I’m learning—and that I’m good—so that if he ever feels the need to attack me again, I’ll be more than fucking happy to fight back.
After an hour of sparring, and Gunner ‘talking’ me through things, he says he wants to show me one more move before taking a break. I’m beat, but my conditioning is good. I train hard every day, pushing myself to my absolute limit. Gunner—he’s fucked. He can barely speak, from both his lack of oxygen and the sweat covering his entire face.
He glances over at DeLuca for a second, but it’s long enough for me to follow his gaze—and long enough for me to see DeLuca jerk his head once. He gets up from beside Madison, taps her once on the shoulder and leaves the building.
“Focus,” Gunner clips. “You need to work on your sprawl. Your balance is off.”
My attention now on him, I nod in agreement. Sprawling isn’t my greatest skill.
“I’m going to go for a single leg take-down,” he says.
“Okay.” I set my feet apart, plant them to the floor and bend my knees, giving myself maximum defensive resistance. The plan is that he’ll move forward—try to take me down by grabbing one of my legs. If it works out for him, I’ll be on the ground. If it works for me—I’ll be able to scoot my legs back quick enough that I’d land on his upper back and gain an advantage.
But he doesn’t go for the takedown.
He goes straight for my ribs...
With his goddamn shoulder.
I fly back, all air leaving my lungs.
Flashes of white hit the back of my eyes, and somewhere in the distance, I hear Madison scream. I wince, rolling to my left and nursing my right ribcage.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole!” Madison yells. I hear the cage door open and slam shut and the next moment...tits...all up in my vision.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
“Ky! Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I try to move, but the pain’s too overwhelming.
She’s on her knees, her hand stroking my forehead. Then suddenly, rage fills her eyes and her face turns red. She looks up. “You did that on purpose. You dick!”
Gunner stutters some form of apology.
Madison looks back at me. “Can you sit up?”
I shake my head. I can, but I like my view just fine.
She runs her hands through my hair and lifts my head off the mat, holding me to her. I smile against her chest. “Are you hurt?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I moan, ignoring the pain in my ribs and basking in the glory of my face in her tits. “It hurts so damn bad.”
She pulls away, her eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking with me?”
I laugh, which reminds me of the true physical pain I’m in. “No,” I lie. I reach out and grab her arm, trying to bring her back to me. “Come back and comfort me, that made me feel a whole lot better.”
