Page 6 of Big Wild Fighter

I grab my bag and step out, barely managing to keep my nerves in check as he holds the door open for me to step inside the lobby. The space is clean and modern, but I barely register the decor because all I can think about is him walking so close beside me, his arm brushing mine every so often.

We take the elevator up, and the silence between us feels heavy but not uncomfortable. When we reach his room, he unlocks the door and pushes it open, stepping aside to let me in first.

The room is cozy, with warm lighting and a faint woodsy smell that I recognize as his cologne. A small table in the corner is stacked with takeout menus, and there’s a bag of snacks sitting on the bed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he tells me, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair.

I settle onto the couch, trying to relax as he grabs a couple of waters from the mini-fridge and hands me one. “Thanks,” I say softly, twisting the cap off.

“Movie’s all queued up.” He points towards the TV, sitting down beside me. His proximity is electric, and I’m hyper-aware of every inch between us.

We start the movie, which is the third installment in the series, and for a while, I’m genuinely engrossed. The dim glow of the TV flickers across the room, and the soft hum of the audio fills the space. But then, his hand brushes against mine on thecouch. It’s subtle, almost accidental, but the warmth of his skin on mine sends a ripple through me.

I glance at him, my pulse quickening. He’s still looking at the screen, but there’s a faint tension in his jaw like he’s holding himself back. When he finally turns his head toward me, his eyes meet mine, and the intensity there steals my breath.

“Grace,” he says, his voice low and rough, like gravel softened by rain.

It’s just my name, but the way he says it makes it sound like a promise, like something bigger. My heart stumbles in my chest.

Before I can overthink it, his hand comes up, warm and steady, cupping my cheek. His thumb brushes across my skin and the tenderness of it makes my chest ache. I can see the question in his eyes, the hesitation, but there’s something else there too—something that makes me lean into his touch without thinking.

He leans in slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, but I don’t. I couldn’t if I wanted to. When his lips finally meet mine, it’s soft at first, testing, like he’s afraid I might disappear.

The kiss deepens almost immediately, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that takes me by surprise. His other hand finds my waist, strong and insistent, pulling me closer as if the space between us is unbearable. My hands move on instinct, threading into his hair, tugging slightly, and the low sound he makes in response sends a thrill down my spine.

He kisses like he fights—intense, focused, like there’s nothing else in the world but this moment. It’s overwhelming in the bestway, and I lose myself in it, letting the heat of him drown out everything else.

When his lips leave mine, I barely have time to miss them before they’re trailing down my jaw, feather-light but deliberate. His breath is warm against my skin as he kisses a path to my neck, where he pauses. The soft press of his lips there, just under my ear, makes me gasp, and his grip on my waist tightens in response.

“Marlon,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, and I can feel the heat of his breath mixing with mine. His eyes are dark, searching, and there’s a question there, unspoken but clear.

Before either of us can say or do anything more, a loud knock breaks through the haze. The sound is so sudden, so out of place, that it takes a second for reality to sink back in.

We both freeze, still tangled together and then he groans, low and guttural. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I can’t help it—I laugh, breathless and shaky. “The food, right?”

He pulls back, his lips twitching into a smirk that’s equal parts amused and frustrated. “Yeah. Saved by the damn takeout.”

He stands reluctantly, running a hand through his hair as he heads for the door. I take the moment to collect myself, sitting back and smoothing down my hoodie, trying to calm the frantic beat of my heart.

When he returns, he’s carrying the bags, the scent of warm food filling the room. He sets them on the table and turns to me, his expression softer now but no less intense. “This isn’t over,” he says, his voice low and edged with a promise that makes my stomach flutter.

I bite my lip, trying to suppress the grin that spreads across my face. “Good. I’d be disappointed if it was.”

Chapter Four

Marlon

I don’t know what I’m doing in Cherrywood Village, lingering like some lovesick fool, but I know one thing for sure: I don’t want to leave.

Not with Grace.

The days have passed in a blur of stolen moments with Grace between her shifts at Vito’s and the time she spends with her parents. I’ve learned she’s close to them, which I think is great. Family was never my strong suit, so seeing her light up when she talks about her mom and dad is something I never thought I’d admire so much. It makes me want to stick around and see more of what makes herher.

But today? Today, I need to hit something.

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