Page 28 of Make Me, Break Me

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DEX

Icanceled the following Friday night fuck session with Zinzi the moment she threw me out of her car and went straight to knocking out my testosterone in the cage the next day, doctor’s orders be damned. At least, that was the original plan. The plan before Nelson and my girl decided it would be fun to fuck with me.

Look how well that worked out.

Not once in my two and a half years at Rippton U had I not spent my Friday night worshiping her body until I let Beau Bennett break me with his goddam fight rules, and when he did, Zin was there for me. We met on our first day of college—thank you orientation week for setting me up with the most gorgeous hottie on campus—at the union bar. She took one look, propositioned me and, well. Why give up on a good thing?

The problem was that now I wantedmore.I always had with her, but I'd bided my time, earned her trust—or so I thought—and worked my way into her heart. Right up until she threw me out. Again and again, pushing me away. Anyone else might have taken that as a sign she didn’t want me but I knew this girl, and I knew why.

She was scared.

We never talked about her ex. The man who hurt her so bad she couldn’t trust anyone else. I never asked, and she never volunteered information. But I didn’t get the grades I did for no reason, and I didn’t live with a billionaire and a mafia heir for shits and giggles.

One night’s virtual stalking brought up everything I needed to know about Zinzi Jones in our first month together. I got curious about the girl I was shagging, and despite the rocking body she let me play with on a weekly basis, I knew those rules of hers had to come from somewhere.

And hell, did she have a reason to be scared.

One Ledger Raymond, currently serving a five-year sentence for essentially beating the shit out his girlfriend. He was also a fan of not so blunt trauma. It didn’t take me long while I was providing Zin with an overdose of orgasms the next week—insisting on one small lamp on for ‘ambience’—to find the faint lines where she’d been stitched back together.

He’d lost a good part of his inheritance thanks to her court case, and the plastic surgeon had done a great job, but he hadn’t been able to remove all the evidence on her body for the damage that she had suffered at the asshole’s hands.

I knew, and so I never pushed.

But I also refused to let her run from me just because I knew why she couldn’t commit. I played by her rules every damn week, breaking a little more inside every time I left, unable to sleep beside her because every time she threw me out, I wanted to stay and hold her. I hurt for her, loved her a little more for what she couldn’t face.

Until we hit here. Wherever the fuckherewas.

And kissing her like I did that last night at the frat party, letting her know I really wanted her…that hurt as much as seeing another man’s hands on her skin. A man I fucking knew.

Lord Nelson Milton was lucky he still has his entrails as in innards and not his outards. And he was lucky I liked him as a roommate. Hell, I even understood why he did what he did with her. I just enjoyed busting his nose up more.

But that didn’t distract me from the girl who became the center of my growing obsession. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t craved more of Zin for a long damn time. More of what we had, more of her time. And it looked like we finally reached an impasse neither of us could compromise on in either direction.

I couldn’t keep going with the meager time I stole from her while for the rest of the week my heart beat outside my chest, raw and breaking. She wasn't prepared to give us any more than a few hours before midnight once classes finished up for the week.

That still drove me insane on several levels even if I understood herwhy. Instead of pounding my need out into her body, taking her home and reminding her why we were perfect together, I slammed my fist over and over and over into the unknown man's face until he was slightly less than recognizable, Beau Bennett’s fucking fight rules be damned.

Fuck it, I’d get him a bumper sticker and we could call it a day. I was done.

The ref, always good for a bloodbath as long as he didn’t have to get his pretty, unmarked hands dirty, called time but I couldn't stop. We didn’t have a standing eight count; when a man couldn't get up, the fight was done. But my mind didn’t want to play by those rules tonight.

Too many fucking rules and I’m done with them all.

Somewhere in my periphery, I noticed the twins' blond heads leave the arena. My brain may have switched off after that. Once the threat was gone I had no reason to do anything but what Jericho wanted: play up to the crowd and earn him money asrecompense for the weeks I was off. I never did get to emcee, distracted by Zinzi.

And so the beatings continue.

Week after week. Saturday nights became Wednesday nights. Monday nights. What the hell was the point of anything if I worked around classes, without seeing Zin? Her soft and sassy touch seemed to have eased something in me that raged to the surface now, unchecked. My nails grew caked with blood and when the post ran out of room for extra marks, I let the ringside tattooist ink my skin instead.

I never chased Zin, and she never came to see me. The boys continued working with her, but they didn’t meet up at ours. Even Falcon watched me with different eyes, but I didn’t have time for him, either. All I wanted was to work, study, and fight. Maybe Beau left a different door open the night he came into my home and started cutting up my friends and threatening the girl I loved.

Maybe he could be the next one in the cage with me.

Afterall, a count was a count.

Tonight was like any other night. The face before me splattered with blood that wasn’t mine. Before the fight was over I could already feel the extra mark burn into my flesh. It had become such a ritual, almost daily at this point. Jericho yellowed something from the other side of the wire. I bared my teeth at him, spittle flying from my lips as I threw my boot into the man’s ribs.

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