My lips twitch as he gives me the exact answer I want. “Do you want to spar with me?”

“Seth,” Darryl warns me again, but I pretend I don’t hear him. There’s no harm in a little friendly sparring, right?

Mike checks his watch. “Uh, I guess we have a little time.”

I pivot on my heel and saunter over to the ring, trying my hardest not to appear too eager to box this fucking guy into the ground.

“Seth, you have a full half of training to get through and you’ve already sparred today,” Darryl says, following closely behind me.

I ignore him again. He isn’t going to talk me out of this. I’ll only hit him twice—once for giving Olivia a creepy twice over right in front of me and once for shamelessly looking at her ass, again right in front of me.

Mike sheds his jacket and Jackson helps him into a pair of gloves. I grab my own gloves and slip them on as Darryl leans into me.

“Seth, you’re wasting energy. Who cares if he looked at your girl, she’s beautiful, it’s going to happen,” he says, his voice hushed so Mike doesn’t hear.

“I know that,” I reply. “But if someone is going to look at my girl while I’m holding her hand and he can clearly see she’s mine, then there are consequences.” To me, disrespect doesn’t come any clearer than that.

“Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy.”

I laugh once. Sometimes I wonder if Darryl knows me at all. “I am crazy, Darryl. Now, you either let me smack this guy or I’m going home to Olivia to break your rule six times in a row.”

His thick, dark eyebrows rise to his hairline. “Six times? Really, Seth?” Darryl pinches his thin nose. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“You love it.” I smile, sliding into the ring.

“Two hits. That’s it.”

I nod and he hands me my head gear, but I don’t take it. This guy won’t get a hit on me.

“Wear your gear,” Darryl demands, but I shake my head.

I shrug him off. “Don’t need it.”

He swears under his breath, dropping the head gear and mouth guard before storming away. Poor Darryl, he’s always putting up with my shit. I bring my attention to the ring and watch as Jackson holds open the ropes while Mike climbs in. He has his full gear on and I smile because he’s definitely going to need it. I put my fists up and he follows suit. I’ve never seen a more unintimidating opponent in my life.

I take my steps slow, inching closer to him and analyzing his face. His blue eyes are narrowed in on me, determined to get at least one hit. Abruptly, I launch forward, catching him off-guard and slamming my gloved fist into his stomach. Air flies from his lungs and he hunches over with a loud grunt. I step back, giving him time to catch his breath. His face turns red as he struggles to refill his lungs and I smile. I actually fucking smile at his pain. Jackson is on the sideline laughing his ass off and slapping the ring with the palms of his hands. Jackson loves this because he’d do the exact same thing for Selena—hell—Jackson would have punched Mike’s teeth through his head if his eyes lingered on his girl’s face for a second too long. He’s protective—borderline controlling—and that’s not just in general, but when it comes to sex as well. I’ve seen his bedroom, the weird straps and chains and whips…it scares the shit out of me. I’m all for taking control in the bedroom and getting what I want, but Jackson…he needs it. If he isn’t in control he can’t handle it and he can’t finish.

Mike straightens his posture and brings his fists back up to his face. “I didn’t see that coming…” He groans.

That was the point. I smile, lurching forward again. I swing my fist and it connects with the side of his face. With a grunt, his head is tossed to the side and he falls flat on his ass. Well… that was quicker than I expected. I pull my gloves off and toss them across the ring. Despite my disgust with Mike, I extend my hand and help him to his feet. I’m not a total asshole. He cringes, shaking his head and clasping his stomach.

“I guess this is the reason why I’m on the promoting side of the MMAC,” he jokes with a nervous chuckle.

“Yep.” I drop his hand and turn from him. For a second, I wish he was a fighter. Then I could go against him and punish him to my full potential. He’s lucky I hit him with my full-pad gloves on.

I slip from the ring, letting Mike gather his broken pride in peace. Then he needed to get back to work so he can finish quickly and get the hell out of my gym. I can’t promise I’ll go so easy on him next time.

Chapter Two

Olivia

(T-minus six days until Las Vegas)

I tap my fingers along my arm, waiting for my alarm to go off. I’ve been up for a while, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I had much sleep last night. Since the gym with Seth (more specifically, the shower room), my brain and my body have been conspiring against me. My brain refuses to dish out any rational thoughts or responses and the only thing I’ve managed to think about is Seth’s hard body and hard…everything else. As for my body, I can’t keep still. It constantly has me moving and squirming, working with the less-than-wholesome thoughts my brain comes up with. My alarm blares its annoying beep and I roll over and slapping the stop button.

Can girls get blue balls? I roll my eyes at myself, there I go again. In a huff, I sit up and push the blanket down my legs. I rake my fingers through my hair and then over my face. Seth told me to call him if I need him (and boy, do I need him) but I can’t, for Darryl’s sake. Darryl wants one last shot at training Seth his way before the MMAC officials start dictating the way he trains Seth. I don’t want to be the one to take that away from him. Besides, it’s only three more weeks until his fight and then Seth and I can do whatever the hell we want to each other. Oh, the endless possibilities. Vividly in my mind, I run my tongue up his chest, feeling all of his muscles tremble beneath my mouth. A soft knock taps on my bedroom door, startling me from my thoughts. I shake my head. I barely made it two seconds before I started thinking about him again. I slide from my bed and stretch my hands up to the ceiling, arching my back like a cat.

“Come in.” I yawn, dropping my arms and pulling my tiny shirt down.

It does nothing to really cover my belly button and if I lift my arms any higher, I’m sure the bottoms of my breasts will pop out. Mom’s face peers around the edge of my door and she smiles warmly at me. “I made breakfast.”

As she finishes her sentence, the delightful smell of butter and fresh toast filters into my nostrils, making my stomach grumble. I smile back at her.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Mom is slowly coming back to herself. After the unexpected death of my father eight weeks ago, things got pretty hectic with Mom. With every passing day she began to break—just a chip at a time—until she emotionally broke down. For her, I moved back in. The thought of her alone in the family home with all of the photos and memories of her dead husband crushed me. It isn’t all selfless; moving back in also helped Seth keep his hands off me, although there’s been more than one occasion where he’s forced himself on me with my mother in the next room.

“I’ll make my bed and be right out.”

With a swift nod, she closes the door. I pull my hair over one shoulder and tap my index finger on my bare hip as I glance around the room. Maybe today is the day I take all of my things out of their boxes. All of my big items, like my fridge, bed, and couches are currently sitting in a storage shed somewhere, but everything else is packed in boxes and stacked in this room. There’s no space for anything and I have no idea where to start. I exhale and shrug my shoulders. I’ll deal with the boxes tomorrow, I think for the fifth consecutive day in a row.

I stroll from my room, enjoying the feel of the cool tiles on the base of my warm feet as I enter the dining room and drop into a chair. Mom definitely went overboard this morning—fruit salad, yogurt, toast with melted butter, pancakes, and various cereals.

“Expecting company?” I ask, reaching for a bowl.

“No, but I figured we could take our time and chat, you know, like we used to when you were younger.”

Although I have things to do, I scoop fruit salad into my bowl anyway. “Sounds good.”

A wide smile curls her lips and she pulls two pieces of buttered toast onto her plate.

“So, how are things with the gym?”

I almost flinch. Mom never talks about the gym, in fact, whenever Seth and I discuss it, she leaves the room.

“Good,” I say cautiously. “They’re putting Seth’s billboards up today.”

“And how are things with him?”

I put a piece of fresh, juicy apple in my mouth. “Great. He’s training for his first pro fight in Vegas.”

As I finish my sentence, there’s a knock at the front door and Mom rises to her feet.

“I hope that’s the delivery man with the new set of curtains I ordered online. They were meant to be here two days ago.”

She disappears around the corner and I hear the front door open. The deep voice that rumbles through the house and sticks to me like humid air on a hot summer’s night is definitely not the voice of a delivery man, but the voice of the man that has kept me sexually frustrated for the past few weeks. Mom comes back into the kitchen and sure enough, Seth is trailing behind her. I abruptly close my lips around a slice of mango to stop from gasping out loud. He still has that affect on me…Seth has one of those faces that make your heart stutter and stop before picking up speed at an erratic pace. His gaze falls onto me and then drops to my tiny shirt. He flicks the thin toothpick over his bottom lip before they curl into a lopsided smirk and I subtly cross my arms over my chest as my nipples harden. Suddenly, I feel very exposed in my short top and tiny satin shorts.

“Look who has joined us for breakfast,” Mom deadpans.

She’s never happy with Seth’s random appearances, even when he brings her flowers on Saturdays.

“Don’t worry about her,” I tell him, laughing. “She’s just upset you’re not a pair of curtains.”

Seth chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat next to me.

“Are you hungry, Seth?” Mom asks. “I’ve made more than enough food.”

Seth’s eyes scan the table and I know he’s fighting the urge to respond with an obvious, smart ass comment. Instead of antagonizing my mom this early in the morning, Seth removes his toothpick and says. “A little more fruit wouldn’t hurt.”

I slide my bowl over to Seth and grab another one, filling it with fruit for myself. The kettle clicks in the kitchen and Mom turns her back to us to prepare a coffee. The moment her back is turned, I feel Seth’s rough hand on my inner thigh sliding higher and higher until the very tips of his fingers brush against my warm center. White-hot arousal surges through me and I almost choke on my mango. Mom glances over her shoulder, but Seth doesn’t remove his hand as he brings a glass of water to his mouth and I hear him quietly chuckle into his glass.

“Chew your fruit, Olivia,” she tells me, turning back to her coffee.

Seth’s finger curls around the hem of my shorts and stops abruptly when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear. He lowers his glass.

Crap.

The boxes in my room have blocked my underwear drawer and I used my last pair of available clean ones yesterday. Truth be told, when I decided to skip on underwear last night after my shower, I wasn’t expecting Seth to show up at breakfast and try to stroke me while my mother’s back is turned. I glance sideways at Seth and he’s staring at me, his eyes thinned into lusty slits. His tongue flicks out to moisten his bottom lip and I find myself staring at it, watching it closely. If I could just feel that tongue between my legs for five minutes—

“What are your plans today?” he asks me, his eyes flaring.

I look at his eyes. Fuck. I wasn’t planning on seeing Seth until late this afternoon so I made plans to go down to Mason’s office to pick up my last paycheck from months ago.

“Uh…” I drop my sight to my bowl and shovel fruit into my mouth. Seth grows weary as I chew and swallow, buying myself more time. “I was planning on going down to Mason’s office and picking up a few of my things.” I tell him like it’s no big deal.

Seth frowns, taking his hand away from me and I feel strangely bare without his fingers there. “A few of your things?”

I swallow hard, hoping it doesn’t betray the anxious feeling I have inside. “Yes, I’ve been ignoring him for the last eight weeks, just like you wanted me to, but I need my last paycheck and there’s a photo of Dad I had on my desk that I would like back.”

Mom glances over her shoulder at us, eavesdropping. I really don’t want to have this conversation around her. I know how Seth feels about Mason. We’ve had this discussion a million times before, and according to him, he isn’t worried I’ll sleep with Mason, he’s worried Mason will sleep with me—like that makes any sense. I slide my chair back.

“I’m going to get dressed, Mom, and then I’ll come back and have some more food.”

I slip past Seth, and as I stroll up the hallway, I hear his chair screech against the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut briefly. Here we go. I enter my room and Seth follows closely behind, shutting the door behind him. I walk straight over to my drawers and pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt while he pushes my boxes aside and searches in the mess of fabrics for a pair of underwear and a bra.

I wait patiently as he pushes past all of my lacy pretties and eventually throws me a black, cotton pair of underwear. I try not to smile at the fact that he chose the least revealing pair of underwear that I own.