Page 4 of Last Round

“Don’t care. Give me your keys.”

With a heavy sigh, he digs into his cargo pocket and retrieves them before slamming them in my palm a little harder than necessary.

“Perfect, now run home.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He all but stomps his foot—he might as well have with how whiney he sounded.

A victorious grin spreads across my face. “Dead serious. Oh, I almost forgot.” I unclip his house key and toss it back to him. “You’ll need that.”

“Dude, it’s like ten miles.”

“Twelve,” I correct him and glance down at my nonexistent watch. “You better get going. It’s late and you need to rest up for our session tomorrow. And you’ll have to be up early if you want to make it on time.”

“You’re going to make me run to the gym. That’s even farther!”

“Better hurry.” I spin the key ring around my finger, then tuck it away in my pocket.

“Fuck off, old man.” Lukas flashes me a cocky grin before doing a quick stretch. Glad to see he’s taking this seriously.

“Oh, don’t be late. Believe me, you won’t like what I’ll have in store for you tomorrow if you are.” With my parting warning, I open the door to the bar, close my eyes, and enjoy the brief blast of cold air that hits me in the face. It’s short-lived as this place is packed tonight. More bodies, more heat.

As I weave in and out of the growing crowd, offering the occasional greeting, the clamoring of voices gets louder. I won’t lie. In the beginning, I doubted this place would be successful. But Sean was adamant. And I figured fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen? Six years later, this bar is still thriving. It might not draw in tourists as much anymore, since I’m no longer relevant in the fighting world. But I don’t give a flying fuck. While it is a job, most of the time I don’t notice. I get to spend the night drinking and chatting with my favorite people. Then, at the end of it all, select a lucky lady or two to warm my bed. Just to wake up the next day to rinse and repeat.

“How’d the interview go?” Sean asks with a half-cocked grin. He might roll his eyes at me, but the bastard wouldn’t love me any other way.

I make a show of fishing around my pocket. As soon as I find it, I hook my finger and pull, bringing the black lacy thong to my nose and giving it a quick sniff before grabbing a pushpin and displaying it with the rest of my trophies. “It was climactic.”

“No way,” Jack says in astonishment as he inspects the undergarment. “Did you seriously bang that hot-as-fuck news chick?” He was training at the gym this morning and likely saw me walk off with her.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Like fuck you don’t,” Sean chimes in. “You’re literally advertising yourkisson a goddamn billboard with the rest of your victims.”

“The only victim is the unfortunate bloke who’s going to have to follow up this performance.” I gesture to my genitals with both hands.

Sean shakes his head, laughing. “It’s packed in here tonight. Get to work and we will talk later.”

An icy shiver runs down my spine. For a moment, I forgot all about Sean’s latest brilliant idea. I don’t know if there’s enough alcohol in all of Minnesota to prepare me to talk wedding with the man, and not remind him what a stuck-up cunt his future bride is. While my preference is a smooth whiskey, that’s something you sip and savor. No, tonight I need hard and dirty.

I snatch a bottle of tequila from the shelf and pour myself a shot. Skipping the lime and salt, I slam it back and pray good old José will help me through this. Just to be sure, I quickly down another. Then I shake my head and stick out my tongue as the burn settles in my gut.

Now to wash off the lingering aftertaste.I grab a pint, fill it to the brim with Murphy’s, and chug.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur as I laugh, joke, and serve up drinks, sharing the occasionalwar storywith the handful of tourists who slink in between locals. I’ve lost count of the phone numbers girls have shoved into my pocket. It’s the same song and dance as every other night… until I seeher.

My blood pumps like I’m back in the ring. It’s the fifth and final, with the championship on the line, and I’ll be fucked if it goes to decision. The ref gives the signal, the cheering crowd all fades away, and all I can see is my opponent. Nothing and no one can stop me because I have my eyes on the prize. And tonight, with her heart-shaped ass peeking out the bottom of her frayed denim shorts, she’s it.

She’s also new.A man doesn’t forget an ass like that. Likely a tourist. Which means she’s here looking to get a piece of the K.O. I have a piece for her. It’s long, hard, studded, and will gladly make sure she gets her fill.

I quickly pour myself a shot of Dr. M’s peppermint schnapps to freshen my breath and finger comb my hair back as I navigate the crowd. My dick is a heat-seeking missel. Eyes closed, I let him guide me as he’s already locked on his target. If her orgasm is half as sexy as her laugh, I’m not sure she’ll ever walk again. Everything about this chick, even the whiff of her floral perfume, sets my blood on fire.

I tap her shoulder, interrupting her conversation. But before I can get a glance of the fucker she’s talking to, she spins on her heel and the world around us falls away. Her loose curls graze my chest, sending a shockwave of something unfamiliar through my every nerve ending. I haven’t even seen her face yet, and I’m already dying of anticipation. Desperate to taste her.

Craning her neck, she looks up at me. I’ve heard about this anomaly before. I’ve never once experienced it though—assumed it was a figure of speech and not literal. But, fuck me, I’m left gasping as her bright-green eyes go wide and take me in. Her mouth forms an O as she gawks at me.

Standing nearly a foot taller than her, I feel like a giant as my gaze travels over each nuance. Despite her attempt at hiding them with concealer, I can make out the faint dusting of freckles that cover her cheeks and nose as heat creeps up her neck. Fuck, I want to lick every single one of them, trace them with my tongue like an adult version of connect the dots.

Come on, Kill, it’s showtime.

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