Page 72 of Hooks In

As he stares back at me, waiting for my answer, I shake my head. “No.”

Luca tilts his head, waiting for more.

I let out a small sigh. “You’re fucking with my head, Mitchell. I’m distracted, I’m not performing like I know I can and should, and it’s unacceptable. My fight, and my progress, is the one thing I know for absolute certain I can control, and I’m losing that control.” I pause for a moment. “I’m afraid to lose that control. I needed the pressure of this tournament to prove to myself I can do this and get my head back in it.”

Luca remains silent, observing me.

“It had nothing to do with you.”

“You want nothing to do with me.”

He says it like a statement, but it’s a loaded question. He’s asking me. Asking me if the distraction is worth it, or if whatever we have going on between us will end because I can’t handle it.

But I don’t want the distraction to stop.

I shake my head. “I think I proved today that I can do both.”

His eyes narrow, and the corner of my split lip tilts up, painfully.

“But back to my original question.” I wipe the blood from my lip. “Why is this bothering you so much? I think there’s more to this than the fact I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

His jaw ticks, but then he sighs, his eyes dropping. “Just… feeling sorry for myself.”

My brows draw together as I take in the defeated look about him. “Why? You got silver in a huge and talented bracket.”

He nods, ever so slightly. “But it’s not gold. After all that work, it’s not quite good enough, is it?”

Realization hits me, as I think back on what he shared with me about his parents, and how hard they were on him. That nothing was ever good enough. MMA is also the one thing he has that he can control. But he wasn’t able to today.

He did everything right. He trained hard, he put aside his anger and hatred towards me, he was vulnerable with me when asking for help… and then I took it from him in the end. We both needed this for seemingly different reasons… but I think it was the same reason. We just wanted a bit more control.

“I’m not sorry I won,” I say, observing him as he sits on his knees on the floor across from me.

“Of course you’re not.” He moves to get up, but I quickly reach out to grab his wrist.

“But you’re a great fighter, Luca, and you deserve to be here.”

His eyes meet mine as he freezes.

Silence surrounds us as we look into each other’s eyes, and his finally soften. We each take in the blood and swelling on our faces, the evidence of our frustration and anger being let out to play. Then, he nods slightly, and the tightness in my chest lifts.

“So,” I grip his wrist tighter, “you going to let me celebrate my win?”

He yanks his wrist out of my grasp, narrowing his eyes at me. But he doesn’t move, and a light dances in his eyes as the corner of his lips quirk up.

“I guess. But just so you know, I’ll be winning this one.”

My chest thumps at the look in his eyes, as they trail down my body.

And as our lips crash together, a new tension forms within these cage walls. One that we are both ready and eager to unleash.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ty’s back hits the floor with a thump as I land on top of him, lips still locked. Our gloved hands roam as we devour each other, unable to get enough.

The cut above my eye still bleeding and swelling, and my jaw is going to be bruised and sore tomorrow… but I don’t care. And when Ty winces as I subtly bite his busted lip, it’s obvious he doesn’t care either, as his hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me in to deepen our kiss even more.

It’s messy, frantic, and full of the crazed energy we brought into this cage. I feel an intense need to let this energy take over as I rock my hips against his, and feel that he is just as hard as I am. As I grind against him, he groans and tightens his grip on the back of my neck, urging me on.

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