Page 18 of Breaking the Habit

“You can really get a multimillion-dollar sponsorship?” Riley asked a moment later.

“Easily.”

“Well, not easily,” Travis corrected.

“It’ll be easy for me,” Levi said. He made the mistake of glancing over at Riley. She watched him with a dark curiosity that made his thighs tense.

Those looks were dangerous on days like these. When he hadn’t gotten off in days and she was the only person to fill his mind anyway. That was the masochistic part about it. The one girl who didn’t want him, possibly in all of history, was the one girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. Figured.

Riley watched him for a moment too long, then finally yanked her gaze back toward the window. Except now, he was stuck on her, his eyes roaming the funky skull pattern of her T-shirt, the knowing lilt of her lips that told him she could feel his gaze cutting through her.

He could admire in silence. That could be enough for him.

Riley crossed her legs, the fishnet stretching tight against her creamy thigh.

Yeah. Admiring in silence.

Enough for today, maybe.

“All right, guys,” Levi said, burying his fists in the pockets of his hoodie. “Time for the good luck joke.” This was a tradition he’d instituted since arriving at Holt Body Fitness. Sort of aone last joke for the roadsort of thing.

Lex groaned. “Let’s hear it.”

“If athletes get athlete’s foot, what do elves get?”

Silence thudded through the car. Levi lifted a brow at Riley, who had pinched her lips into a curious smile.

“Acid reflux,” Travis said, like he wasn’t even trying to get the answer right.

“Syphillis,” Lex offered.

Levi snorted. “You guys could not be more wrong. Riley?”

“Ummm…I don’t know. Elf-itis?”

“Wrong. Mistletoes.”

Riley burst into laughter, and Levi gobbled it up—the dimple flashing in her right cheek, the way she pressed her knuckles against her nose. Her laugh thrummed through him, and there was something different about it. Something that made him desperate to inspire it in her as often as humanly possible.

Levi loved making people feel good about themselves, about life in general. But with Riley, he wanted more than that.

He wanted her to feel good about the possibility of Levi and Riley.

Chapter 7

The arena thundered with noise when Levi started his strut toward the octagon. Cheers mixed with anticipation and enough testosterone to kill a woodland animal. The second he stepped across the threshold into the arena to begin his prefight strut toward the cage, his fists rocketed into the air of their own volition.

The adrenaline of this shit lit him up. It was why on his down days he watched old fights, to get a taste through the TV screen of this mind-altering madness. This many people and this much noise would drive some people into a hole.

But not Levi. He fucking ate this shit for breakfast.

He hopped and skipped down the tight aisle as photographers snapped pictures and fans cheered him on. They weren’t here for him, necessarily, but rather the start of this new league, the Western Fighters Conference. It was something to rival the UFC, with a faster-paced fight schedule and an instant-gratification approach to defending the title. This was the first day of fights for a whole slew of brackets, and Levi’s match was the very last of the day. The whole West Coast was paying attention.

And Levi wouldn’t accept anything less than winning the WFC title.

Once he hit the cage, he went into autopilot. Travis and Lex lingered on the sidelines; he was distantly aware that Riley had secured her spot down on the photographers’ edge. Then everything but the fight fell away. All he could see was the bloated scowl of Michael Murtson as he came into the ring. The distant echo of the announcer as he introduced the fighters. The thick wrist of the referee as he grabbed the fighters by the shoulders to recite the standard rules of the fight.

Levi entered into a dream space. Caught between the sharp sting of reality and the gauzy clouds of a dream. He bit into the foam of his mouthguard, the only thing grounding him to the moment.

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