Page 2 of Clinch'd

The sight tightens my chest painfully and when my stomach whooshes, I grab my abdomen with a low groan. I now know what people mean when they say sex on a stick because this guy embodies it, and I suspect he would be a brutal lover. Strangely that doesn’t turn me off like it should.

“Wow,” Lorri breathes, and I silently nod. That one word pretty much sums it up. Fucking wow.

“Weighing in at two-hundred fifty pounds and currently the reigning champion from Brooklyn, New York...Salvatore Beast Costa!”

Cheers erupt in the crowd once more but not quite as rabidly, at least not on the part of the women as Lorri’s Beast enters the ring. He’s fucking huge. From his neck all the way down to his waist, he’s thick and muscular and I stare in horror.

Holy shit. He’s going to take Cooper down with one damn swing.

Lorri squeals excitedly, bumping my shoulder in her exuberance. Cooper looks on with a bored expression. He’s not the least bit cowed by Beast’s size and this gives me hope. Maybe he has a plan or something. Although looking closer at his expression, I see what I hadn’t noticed before, he’s not bored...no, he doesn’t fucking care.

There's no fear, no anger, no anticipation. He’s completely unaffected by it all. Why is anyone's guess, but the void creates acuriosity that will forever be unanswered. Whatever his reasons, he looks positively dead inside and I recognize the expression because it took me years to build back the life behind my own. I thought for a while, I never would but it's slowly come back to me.

But what’s his trauma? What killed his light?

When the bell rings overhead, I flinch watching in horrified awe as they go at each other. Cooper is smooth muscle and grace while Beast is brute force. Cooper takes a hit to the jaw, flying back and I wince, but just as quickly he’s on Beast, returning a few jabs to his stomach.

From there, it's a beautiful but deadly dance as they trade blows, both equally ferocious as they move around each other. Cooper’s eyes track Beast’s movements with a lethal intensity that makes me shiver as Beast flies at him with no real maneuvering. He expects to take him down because he’s bigger and as I watch this play out, I realize that Cooper has the advantage because he’s looking for weaknesses and using them when they present themselves.

It’s still painful to watch though, because for every hit Cooper manages, Beast gets in two. It’s excruciating and I wince and groan with every jab. After a time though, Beast starts to slow. He’s tired. He’s expended all his energy, and this is when Cooper pounces, wailing on him. It’s so fucking brutal I turn my head away even as I watch out of the corner of my eyes.

Cooper has no mercy, and eventually, Beast drops to the mat dazed before landing on his face with an audible boom.

Cringing, I watch in awe as they declare Cooper the winner, a bewildering tingle rising in my core at the sight and even still, Cooper takes his win with nothing but a blank mask on his face. There’s no glory, just resignation behind his eyes.

After the fight, Lorri pulls me along to a nightclub a few blocks down. Normally I’d be insisting we go home, but she seems to think Beast might be there and only curiosity about Cooper keeps me going. Will he be there, too?

Ignoring the thrill at the thought, I remind myself that even if he were, it's not like he’s going to spot me across the room and be interested. Lorri has the sex pot vibe and it's more likely he’d choose her.

My stomach rolls at the thought because where she’s effortlessly beautiful with a sexual intensity that she cultivates, I’m well…not.

I’m not tall nor skinny. I’m short, curvy, with nothing remarkable about my features. It's never been a thing for me. I don't usually care. This is me, and frankly if looking like Mom means acting like her, I'll take being the boring sister any day. Except just this once as we push through the crowd in the packed club, I wish I had a little more zazzle.

The place is hopping when we arrive, and it's hard to do more than try to breathe in the crush as she leads us unerringly to a specific spot toward the back and on a raised dais. There are few places to sit because the floor consists primarily of dance space. The walls are black, with a strobe light that bounces off the dancers bumping and grinding to the music. It smells of stale booze and sweat as we pass through the masses and emerge at the steps to the dais, where a beefy bouncer stops us with a look.

From this angle, I can see the patrons of the VIP area, including Beast standing with a bevy of scantily clad women, but to my disappointment, I don't see Cooper. Just as well, he’d probably be surrounded by women too and I’m not sure I’d like the view in that case.

Lorri gestures wildly with the bouncer, her frustration evident before shouting Beast’s name. Miraculously, he hears her over the din and turns but I’m not sensing love at first sight vibesor even all that much interest from Beast. He does nod at the bouncer who lets us through though.

Lorri makes a beeline straight for him and I break off, heading for the bar. Truthfully, I’m not interested in meeting the brute, because more than likely he won't last through the evening. Besides, he doesn't look all that friendly and I feel strangely disloyal speaking to him after his fight with Cooper. Stupid but whatever.

The bartender, a cute guy with curly blonde hair and pretty blue eyes approaches with a friendly smile. “What can I get you?” he shouts over the din.

“Vodka tonic, please,” I shout back, shrinking away when I realize he's not talking to me as a deep male voice says over my shoulder, “Whiskey. Neat.”

Glancing behind me, somewhat annoyed because I was standing here first, my eyes go wide and I’m sure my jaw drops to find none other than Cooper Jackson standing behind me.

He glances down at me absently and says, “And whatever for the lady.”

His face is covered in bruises with a nasty gash over his brow, but the sight does nothing to temper his savage good looks. Up close, I can see the color of his eyes, a deep caramel hue that explodes from the thick dark lashes surrounding them. His mouth is flat, his eyes cool as he accepts the drink from the bartender.

I can't help myself and I glance down at his body, admiring his firm chest basically in my face and stretching a bright white t-shirt that hugs his form like a second skin. His tats ripple as he pays the man, and walks away, all the while, I watch helplessly, drawn to his tight ass in his jeans as he goes.

“Ma’am?”

Turning back with a surge of heat in my cheeks, I ignore his amused expression and dig in my purse, but he shakes his head. “Your drink was paid for.”

“Oh, thanks,” I mutter, grabbing it up and walking away. Although I’m embarrassed, it can’t compare to the liquid heat flying through my veins.

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