Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Connor!” I squealed, breaking away from Mara and running toward him.
Without thinking, I launched myself at him, jumping up and wrapping my arms around his neck.
He caught me easily, his strong arms supporting me as he held me off the ground.
His laughter rumbled through his chest, a sound of pure joy I felt as much as I heard.
“You were amazing!” I exclaimed, staring at him in amazement. “I couldn't believe it when you knocked him out. One minute he was standing, and the next—down he went!”
Connor's smile was radiant, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made my heart flutter. “You liked that, did you, sweet girl?”
“Yes! Everyone was cheering for you. I’m so proud of you.” My arms tightened around his neck, torn between hugging and staring at him. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on me to a more comfortable position.
“I saw you, you know. I was scared you’d fall over the railing.”
I blushed at that. “I got a little carried away,” I admitted.
“Don't apologize,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that never failed to send shivers down my spine. “I loved seeing you like that. All fired up for me.”
Someone cleared their throat nearby, and I turned to see Jax and Adrian approaching, both wearing identical smirks.
“Congratulations, Killer," Jax said, clapping Connor on the shoulder. “Another one for the books. ”
“Our bee seemed to be flying over that railing in excitement, too,” Adrian added with a wink in my direction.
I felt my blush deepen and tried to disentangle myself from Connor, suddenly embarrassed by my public display of affection. But Connor held me firmly in place, clearly having no intention of setting me down.
“The press are waiting,” Jax reminded him. "Five minutes of questions, then we can get out of here."
Without warning, Connor shifted us so one strong arm was curled under my thighs while the other supported my back. Sort of like I was using his arm as a perch.
He began walking right to the press room. “Connor!” I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck for balance. “What are you doing?”
He grinned up at me, his dark eyes dancing with mischief and something deeper, more possessive. “Taking you with me to the press conference.”
My eyes widened in alarm. “But—I'm not—I don't—” I stammered, suddenly imagining all those cameras focused on me, the nobody in leggings and an oversized pullover, clutched in the arms of the undefeated heavyweight champion.
“You're perfect,” he said firmly as if reading my thoughts. He pressed a kiss to my hair, his lips lingering there for a moment. "And you're mine. I want everyone to know it.”
Behind him, Jax and Adrian exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying our interaction.
“Our bee's about to make her official media debut,” Adrian sang with a grin, his eyes twinkling with affection. “The internet's gonna to go batshit again.”
“Better get used to it,” Jax added, his usual cocky smirk in place. “Once Killer claims something as his, the whole world will know.”
The way Jax worded it made me bury my face against Connor's neck, inhaling his clean, masculine, soapy scent from the shower. “I'm not dressed for cameras,” I whispered against his skin, embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“You're beautiful,” Connor murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “And I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks. You're coming with me.”
His tone had a finality that told me arguing would be pointless. Besides, a small, surprising part of me was thrilled at the idea of being so publicly claimed by him, of not having to hide in the shadows of his life. It was terrifying but also exhilarating in a way I'd never imagined before.
“Okay,” I whispered, tightening my arms around his neck. “Just don't let me go.” His answering smile was triumphant. “Wouldn't dream of it, sweet girl.”
With that promise, he strode toward the pressroom, still carrying me effortlessly in his arms. Jax and Adrian fell into step behind us, and I could practically feel their gazes on my back. Mara walked behind us, her presence another promise of protection.
The second we entered the pressroom, a storm of flashes erupted, momentarily blinding me. The reporters' surprised murmurs and excited whispers created a wave of sound that washed over us. I instinctively tensed in Connor's arms, my fingers digging into the solid muscle of his shoulders.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to my hair. “I've got you. Always.”
He carried me confidently to the center of the room, where a table had been set up with microphones and the championship belt displayed prominently.
Instead of setting me down in one of the empty chairs, Connor took his seat while keeping me firmly on his lap, one strong arm still wrapped possessively around my waist.
The flashes intensified, and I could hear the rapid clicking of camera shutters all around us. Jax and Adrian took seats near us, looking completely at ease with the chaos, while Coach Miller stood behind us, his face impassive.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a WBC representative began, trying to bring some order to the suddenly excited room. “We'll now take questions for our champion, Connor 'Killer' Graves.”
A forest of hands shot up, but many of the reporters were whispering to each other, their eyes darting between Connor and me. I could read the recognition on some of their faces as they placed me as the girl from those viral photos.
The girl Connor Graves was humping on the hood of his Audi.
“Connor!” one reporter called out, not waiting to be acknowledged. “Is this the mystery woman from the tabloid photos?”
Connor's arm tightened around me, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against my belly. “This is Sierra,” he said simply, his voice carrying effortlessly through the room. “The love of my life.”
The word sent a sharp shiver down my spine. We'd never officially labeled what we were to each other, though it had been clear in a thousand different ways. Hearing him declare it so publicly and matter-of-factly made it feel suddenly, wonderfully real. I couldn’t hide the smile on my lips.
“Sierra, how does it feel to be dating a champion?” another reporter called out, directing the question at me. I froze, unprepared to be addressed directly. Connor sensed my panic and pressed his lips to my hair again, the gesture both reassuring and possessive.
“She's not here to answer questions,” he said, his tone pleasant but with an underlying steel that brooked no argument. “She's here because this is where I want her. Now, about the fight...”
He smoothly redirected the conversation back to his victory over Volkov, discussing techniques and strategies with the easy confidence of someone who had done this countless times before.
All the while, his hand never left my waist, his fingers occasionally squeezing as if to remind me that he was there, that I was safe.
I gradually relaxed against him, the solid warmth of his body grounding me amidst the flashing cameras and rapid-fire questions. I watched him speak, marveling at how effortlessly he commanded the room, how he could be charming and intimidating in the same breath.
This was another facet of Connor Graves, the public figure, the champion, the man who could knock someone unconscious in a ring and then calmly discuss it with the press minutes later.
“Connor, what's next for you after this victory?” a female reporter asked from the front row.
Connor's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “A celebratory dinner with my team and my girl,” he replied. “Beyond that, I'm taking some personal time before considering my next opponent.”
This seemed to surprise the reporters as much as it surprised me, who exchanged glances. Connor usually had a relentless schedule, taking fight after fight with barely a break in between. The idea of him taking "personal time” was apparently newsworthy in itself.
“Does this have anything to do with your new relationship?” the same reporter pressed, her eyes flicking to me with undisguised curiosity.
Connor's laugh was genuine this time. “Everything I do has to do with her,” he answered, pressing yet another kiss to my hair. “That's all you need to know.”
The press conference continued for another ten minutes, with questions about Volkov's technique, Connor's training regimen, and speculation about future challengers.
Throughout it all, Connor kept me firmly on his lap, occasionally kissing different places on my head when he felt me tense or an especially bright camera flashed.
Finally, the representative announced that time was up, thanking everyone for coming. As the reporters gathered their equipment, Connor stood and lifted me with him, again.
I felt like a koala as he navigated through the crowd toward the exit.
“You did great, sweet girl," he murmured against my ear, his breath sending butterflies through my belly. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I didn't do anything,” I whispered back, still conscious of the cameras tracking our movements. "I just sat there.”
“You were perfect,” he insisted, his hand splayed possessively across my lower back. “And now everyone officially knows you're mine.”
The way he said it was so primal, so unapologetically possessive, that I felt a warm glow spreading through my chest, a sense of belonging I'd never felt before.
In Connor's world of violence and spotlight, I was somehow a point of stability, of softness. And he wanted the world to know it.
We emerged from the pressroom into a private corridor where a small group awaited us. Coach Miller and a few members of Connor's management team. Mara followed close behind, her vigilant gaze sweeping the area for any unauthorized personnel.
“Well, that's going to break the internet,” Jax commented, pulling out his phone with a smirk. "Already trending. 'Killer Graves' mystery woman revealed. '"
I groaned, burying my face against Connor's neck. “Oh god.”
“Relax, bee,” Adrian said cheerfully, patting my back. "You're famous now! Think of all the free drinks you'll get.”
“She doesn't need free drinks,” Connor growled. “She has me.”
“And the rest of us,” Jax added, his expression softening slightly as he looked at me. “Welcome to the circus, Sierra.”
Connor finally set me down as we reached the private exit where several black SUVs waited. I expected to feel relief at being back on my own feet, but instead, I felt strangely empty without the solid warmth of him against me.
When I glanced up at him, he immediately wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to his side.
“We're heading out for dinner," Coach Miller announced to the group. “Private room's been arranged. The cars will take us back to the hotel after."
No one questioned his plans; they just nodded and began organizing themselves into the waiting vehicles.
“You okay with that?” Connor asked quietly, his eyes searching mine. “If you're too tired, we can skip it and go straight back to the room. ”
The consideration in his voice and the way he checked in with me, despite the plans, made a lump form in my throat.
“Dinner sounds perfect,” I assured him, rising on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw. “I want to celebrate your victory properly.”
His eyes darkened at that, his arm tightening around me. “Careful, Sierra,” he warned, his voice dropping to that low register that never failed to make my stomach flip. “Keep looking at me like that, and we might not make it to dinner at all.”
A blush heated my cheeks, but I held his gaze, feeling a newfound excitement after surviving the press conference.
“Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.”
His answering grin was wolfish.
“Later,” he promised, the single word laden with meaning. “First, I'm going to feed you, show everyone you’re mine a little more, and then...” He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear to make the implications clear.
My blush deepened, and I heard Jax chuckle nearby, though he couldn't have heard what Connor said.
“Let's go, lovebirds,” Adrian called, holding open the door of the lead SUV. “Some of us are starving after watching Connor beat the crap out of Volkov.”
Connor guided me toward the vehicle, his hand warm at the small of my back. We settled into the spacious backseat, with Jax and Adrian taking the row of two in front of us, and the hum of the engine helping me reflect.
From the private VIP box to being carried into a press conference, from an anonymous librarian to “Killer Graves' mystery woman,” my life had transformed in ways I couldn't have imagined.
Yet, as Connor's hand found mine in the darkness of the SUV, his fingers intertwining with mine with casual intimacy, I couldn't bring myself to question a single moment of it.
The scrutiny, the attention. I would face it all for the chance to keep feeling this way.
Seen, protected, and utterly, completely his.