Page 22 of The Fight

I start heading toward the locker room, but then I spot Shay across the gym, talking to the same guy I saw the last time I was leaving. Shay’s eyes flick to mine, and I’m almost frozen in my spot. Even from this distance, I can feel the intensity of his gaze, like he’s trying to figure me out and read my every thought.

Swallowing hard, I force myself to keep walking. I’m not here for him. I’m here to make some money, then leave. As I reach the locker room door, I throw one last look over my shoulder. Shay is still watching me, studying me, with an expression I can’t quite make out. I push through the door and head inside, trying to ignore my racing heart.

I’m barely through it when it slams open behind me again and Shay comes barging through. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.

I spin around to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. It’s a feeble attempt at some sort of protection against his gaze. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here to work.”

“Work?” He scoffs, looking me up and down. “Is that your idea of working, walking around in that?” He gestures to my shorts.

I lift my chin. “Yes, actually. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it last time.”

“Yeah? Well, last time, you were just some girl who followed me into the locker room. Now…” He trails off momentarily. “I don’t need the embarrassment tonight.” He changes the direction of what he was going to say. “So why don’t you get your shit and go?”

“I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I can and can’t do, Shay.” I turn, giving him my back, and start toward Hannah’s locker to snag a shirt.

“You don’t belong here, Blair,” he bites out.

“Yeah? And I don’t give a fuck. I belong wherever I want.”

He yanks me from behind and spins me around so we’re face-to-face, centimeters apart. “Why do you have to make shit so difficult?” His voice is lower, strained.

“Why do you always have to act like you’re in charge?” I shoot back, hoping he can’t hear the hammering of my heart against my chest.

For a moment, we just stand there, glaring at each other, the air thick with tension. Then, before I know what’s happening, he shifts his hands to the small of my back and presses into me, crashing his lips onto mine.

The kiss is fierce and urgent, all heat and frustration. I’m stunned for a second, but then something inside me snaps, and I’m kissing him back. My hands tangle into his hair, and I push into him harder. No matter how close I am, it isn’t close enough. I want to breathe him in, seep into his bones, taste every inch of his skin with my tongue.

His hands move from my back to my face. He squeezes my cheeks between his palms almost painfully, but I get it. He feels the same way I do. Whatever we’re doing right now isn’t enough. For days, it’s been nothing but tension and anger, and now that’s all spilling over and turning into pure fucking need. The fights don’t matter, the shit-talking doesn’t matter. All that matters is our bodies together.

He steps forward, forcing me back, but he never breaks his lips from mine. He tastes like sweat and salt, and everything about him is overwhelming—his scent, his touch, the way his lips move against mine with a desperation that matches my own.

My back hits the lockers with a thud, and it’s almost as if that’s some sort of starting horn for him. He drags his lips lower, kissing my chin, then my neck, as I try and catch my breath. He dips lower and lower, finally stopping only for a second when he’s hovering over the waistband of my shorts. This time, I don’t stop him. Fuck what I’ve said, and fuck everything else. Whatever he wants to give me, I’m going to take it.

Hooking his fingers into the elastic, he yanks them down, exposing the one part of me I’ve never shared with anyone else. For a second, I’m nervous, but the next, all I want is his lips back where they belong—on me.

Gripping one of my legs behind the knee, he raises it, then rests it on his shoulder. I’m completely exposed and bare, no more fabric or distance separating us. He brings his mouth back to my skin, nibbling and sucking at the tender flesh of my hip before he moves lower.

Hit tongue dances across my mound before he trails it lower and slides it between my lips. My hips buck forward, searching for more as my mind tries to process what is happening. I’ve never been this far, but it’s like my body knows exactly what to do.

I look down at him as he licks and laps at my pussy with vigor. His brown hair glistens in the dim light, and the muscles of his back flex and contort with each movement he makes. It doesn’t take long before my knees are trying to close. Either my body thinks it feelstoogood, or it never wants him to leave, so it’s trying to trap him.

Either way, Shay isn’t fazed. He reaches up and pries my knee away from his head and continues his feast between my legs. It’s like I’m the last thing to eat on Earth, and he’s a starving man. No matter how my body moves or tries to get away, he’s one step ahead, making sure his mouth never leaves my center.

Seconds later, a ball of fire starts to build in my gut. A few more strokes of his tongue, and it’s exploding, sending flames along every inch of my skin. I close my eyes as my knees go weak, and goose bumps break out all over me. Complete euphoria takes over, and I can’t help but sag against the lockers.

When I open them, I look down and see Shay staring at me, his chin and cheeks glistening with my arousal. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t get the chance.

The announcer comes over the speakers, announcing the start of the fight, so Shay stands up, studies me for one last second, then leaves the locker room, never even wiping his mouth.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SHAY

My lips tingle with the taste of her, and my mind is a haze of adrenaline. That moment… It felt like a dream, but I know it was real because my head is still spinning from it. I shake it off, forcing myself to focus on the fight I’m walking into.

As I head toward the ring, I spot Blake standing near the edge of the crowd, watching me closely. When he catches my eyes, he dips his head slightly, a subtle but clear gesture that saysI’m watching. A chill runs down my spine. It’s a reminder of the stakes tonight if Blake is who he says he is.

I nod back, keeping my expression unreadable, then turn my attention forward.

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