Page 12 of Big Wild Fighter

“God, Grace,” I mutter against her neck, my lips brushing the sensitive spot just below her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She tilts her head back, her pulse racing against my lips. “I think I’m starting to get an idea.”

The teasing lilt in her voice makes me chuckle, low and breathless, but the laugh dissolves quickly as her nails scratch gently over my scalp. Her legs tighten around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. The soft fabric of her dress rides higher with every movement, and my hands follow the path of her bare skin, feeling the curve of her thighs under my palms.

Her lips crash into mine again, and it’s like every nerve in my body is on fire. I let my hand slide higher, feeling the edge of lace where her dress ends, and she shivers against me. My heartis pounding so hard it drowns out everything else—the world outside her apartment doesn’t exist.

Her voice is a whisper, but it’s enough to undo me. “Marlon…”

The way she says my name—breathless, full of heat and longing—makes me want to give her everything. To stay here, tangled up with her, where nothing else matters.

But just as my hand dips lower, my phone buzzes. At first, I ignore it, too caught up in the moment, but it buzzes again. And again. Grace pulls back slightly, her lips swollen and her breathing uneven.

“Your phone,” she whispers, her forehead resting against mine.

I groan, the sound guttural and annoyed as I drop my head to her shoulder. “It’s probably nothing.”

She laughs softly, her fingers brushing over the back of my neck. “You should check. What if it’s important?”

I want to argue, to convince her that nothing could possibly be more important than this moment, but the phone won’t stop buzzing. Reluctantly, I pull it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. My manager’s name flashes across it in bold letters.

I sigh, my free hand still resting on Grace’s hip. “It’s my manager. He doesn’t call this late unless it’s urgent.”

She nods, pulling back slightly, though her hands stay on my shoulders. “Go ahead.”

I answer the call, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Marlon, I’ve got news.” My manager’s voice is sharp, all business, and it instantly puts me on edge. “There’s a huge opportunity for you. An off-season fight in Chile. Short notice, but this could be career-changing. Build your fanbase, get international exposure—this is the kind of event that gets you on magazine covers.”

“Chile?” I echo, glancing at Grace. Her eyes are on mine, searching, though her expression is unreadable.

“Yeah. It’s a major deal, Marlon. We need to lock it down immediately. Flights leave the day after tomorrow, so you’ll need to head back to LA first thing tomorrow to start prep. Think of the doors this could open for you.”

My chest tightens. The world I’ve always known—the world I’ve fought tooth and nail to succeed in—is calling me back. And I know I need this for my career. I’m on my way to retirement. Another few years and I’ll be old news. I need a steady international fanbase to transition in the sports arena to something more than a fighter.

But it feels wrong. The very thought of being somewhere that Grace isn’t feels like the air is being dragged from my lungs. I glance down at her where she’s still sitting beneath me, her hands now resting in her lap.

“I’ll call you back,” I say abruptly, ending the call before he can push me further.

For a moment, the apartment is silent except for the faint sound of our breathing.

“You know you’re going, don’t you?” Grace’s voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the tension in it.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my hand running through my hair. “This fight…it’s huge. It’s everything I’ve been working toward. But, Grace…” I pause, struggling to put everything I’m feeling into words.

She stands, adjusting her dress, her arms wrapping around herself. “You have to go. It’s a big opportunity for you and you need to start considering what you’re going to do in retirement. Getting a global base of fans is a big deal for that.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She knows exactly what I’m thinking. She gets me and she isn’t wrong, but hearing it feels like a loss I can’t quite name.

I reach for her hand, but she takes a step back. “Grace, I don’t want to leave you.”

She offers me a small, sad smile, her voice soft but firm. “I know. But you’re going to.”

With those words, she turns away from me, walking into her bedroom and softly shutting the door, leaving me staring behind her wondering what the hell just happened.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t knowanythingbut this ache between my ribs. So I do the only thing I can.

I walk away.

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