Page 13 of Until You're Mine
We circled each other, bobbing and weaving, mimicking each other’s movements as we felt each other out. I wondered which she’d start with. Blake Roth was a submission specialist, often ending his fights by choking out his opponents. Liam favored striking, and Finn was all about the ground-and-pound.
She kicked, a high kick toward my head I didn’t know she could complete. I barely jumped back in time, her foot coming close enough it stirred the air in front of my face. I lifted my fists and gave her a couple of seconds to steady herself.
“Not quite as flexible as I used to be,” she said. “I’m gonna have to work on that.”
“Looks pretty damn good to me, but I’d love a full demonstration of your flexibility. I bet together, we could really push it to the next level.”
She gave me a reprimanding glare.
“What?” I asked, putting on my most innocent expression. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant stretching after our workout, dirty.”
I blocked the right hook she was partial to, and we went back to bobbing and weaving. My focus on my opponent and every miniscule movement had never been better—maybe it wasn’t exactly for the right reasons, but it provided great practice on how to hone my concentration.
She kicked again, and when I leaned back and lifted my arms to block, she used her forward momentum to dive for my legs, getting her shoulder in on it as she attempted a single leg takedown. I was about to counterbalance with a sprawl when she swept her outside leg around behind me, hooking both of my ankles as she pushed on through.
My weight went out from under me and I found myself flat on my back.Didn’t see that one coming.
I automatically started to roll, and if it were a fight I’d definitely be attempting the guillotine choke she’d opened herself up to, but then I realized it would be more fun to let her get full mount and see what she did with it. Not to mention it meant her sitting on top of me and a great view of her boobs from a highly underrated angle.
She frowned down at me. “That was way too easy. Do you think I’m a sucker? I don’t want pity takedowns.”
“I don’t give pity takedowns. But as to your first question…” I rolled, pinning her to the mat with my body. “I do think you’re a sucker.” If I were in the cage with an opponent, this would be when I rained down punch after punch, maybe throw a few elbows for good measure.
But I wanted the opposite of punching. I wanted my hands and mouth on her. Nice and slow, tasting and feeling every curve. She squirmed underneath me, lifting her hips in an attempt to escape the mount, and the friction was making it hard to control a certain growing situation in my shorts. I could see the moment she felt it. Her eyes widened and her lips parted on a shallow breath.
The lust pumping through my body fired hotter and faster, turning my desire to taste her into a need. I leaned forward, bracing my palms on either side of her head. “What about you? Are you sure you don’t want pity? Because I’m open to hearing you beg.”
Her eyes met mine and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. That was my opening, and I was going to fucking take it, consequences be damned. My mouth was a breath away from hers when she turned her head. “I can’t do this, Shane. This is…” She tapped my leg—tapped out—and I quickly rolled off her.
I raked a hand through my hair. “I guess I read those signals wrong.”
“You did. Kind of. I mean…” She sat up and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I have a boyfriend. I told you that.”
I placed my hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her down and keep things from spiraling, but she jerked away and I let my hand drop to the mat. “I got caught up in the moment and forgot. And honestly, I thought you’d only said that the other day to get rid of me.”
“I said it because he’s real. He’s real, and I should never have put myself in this situation.” She shook her head, and I could tell she was beating herself up. “I should’ve known better.”
All of tonight’s progress undone, just like that. “I’m the one who fucked up. You shouldn’t let that stop you from enjoying a workout. Now I know where the line is, and I won’t cross it.” The second the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back, so I couldn’t help adding, “Unless you ask me to.”
“I won’t,” she said, no hesitation.
I told myself that was for the best. One of us should be strong enough to prevent line crossing that’d only make a huge mess. But now that I’d had her underneath me, her lips tantalizingly close, all I could think about was finding a way to end up there again.
Chapter Eight
Brooklyn
I’d camped out at Finn’s all weekend, and there’d been much binge watching and consuming of cookie dough. I hesitated at the back door of the gym, not wanting to have to face…so, so many things. The endless piles of work. Dad. Shane. Myself.
Not that I’d so much have to face myself once inside, but every time I caught my reflection, I wondered at the girl looking back at me. She’d let her guard down, gotten carried away talking, laughing, and getting a workout in with Shane, and then…he hadn’t read the signals wrong, but I didn’t know I’d been broadcasting them until too late.
Didn’t mean I absolved myself, and I’d resolved to never put myself in another situation where my body would be on top of or underneath Shane Knox’s—or even too near his in general. Friday night’s incident didn’t mean I didn’t care about my boyfriend. Hormones were physical, undiscerning things, and I believed a big part of remaining faithful came down to not putting yourself in risky situations where you might be tempted.
Growing up in the world of professional athletes who were on the road a lot, I’d seen it time and time again. I’d experienced it secondhand through Mom when I found her crying into a bottle of vodka after Dad confessed to another affair, and then—since that didn’t suck enough—I experienced it firsthand with a guy I’d given up so much for, including a piece of my heart.
It was just one more reason I appreciated the calm, drama-free relationship I had with Trey. He was good during the upsanddowns—like how he’d stuck by my side during that last hectic semester of college, constantly reassuring me about my artwork when I needed to hear it the most. Even if I weren’t already dating him, I’d never fall for another fighter, and over the past two days, I’d amped up my defenses against ripped dudes with wrapped fists and intense eyes that bored right into my soul.
It always ends badly—never let yourself forget that. You’re not the exception to the rule, and a mistake repeated more than once is a decision. Why would you choose future pain?
