Chapter 6 #2
“I’m tired,” I respond. I’m tired of being a train wreck. I’m tired of being confused. I’m not trying to be a pity-me kind of girl. Everything that has happened to me is a valid reason to feel this way, at least that is my excuse.
“Go home, mija. Get rest. This weekend is going to be crazy.”
Crazy indeed. My anxiety has been through the roof. I pray he wins and remains unharmed. “Do you mind if I leave a little early?” I unhook my apron. “I forgot I need to pick up Daisy from the groomers. Max has his interview today.”
My words die off when a pair of dusty riding boots stomp in.
My gaze climbs the tower of a man with a black graphic t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and a cigarette dangling on the top of his ear.
His jet-black hair is slicked back with something expensive and glossy, each strand catching the light like obsidian.
He could pass as a Viking with those broad shoulders and that jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
No, I guess maybe a biker—the kind who owns the road and knows it, with forearms roped with veins and a stance that suggests the world has tried and lost. In the far corner, the women who were reading have forgotten their books.
His palms press against the countertop. A neck tattoo climbs one side. My anxiety skyrockets. What if he’s one of Daniel’s men? My mouth is too parched to say anything. I stare at his hands on the counter. Tattoos decorate them.
The man clears his throat, and my gaze trails back up. He removes his shades, which reveal his dark eyes—a scar on the side of his eye.
“Can I help you?” My voice comes out in a squeak.
His lips turn up. “You may.” His grin widens, showing all his teeth.
I’m not sure if I should be amused or frightened.
He reminds me of a teddy bear that can easily turn into a grizzly bear who can rip your head off.
“I’ll have the Max special,” he says, still observing me like a science experiment.
“O-okay.” I jot the order down. “Anything else?”
“Cinnamon roll and”—he points to the rack of candy and chips— “a pack of M&M’s.”
“Anything to drink?” I offer.
“I’m not much of a coffee drinker.”
“We have tea and lemonade.” I point to the drinks list.
“Surprise me.” He smiles again. It’s not a flirty one, more of a friendly kind, if that makes sense.
I nod, then hand the slip to the girls in the back. While they are preparing Max’s protein special, I fix his drink. The man grabs a magazine and flips through it. I can’t stop watching him. Something about him hits a striking familiarity. Maybe he’s a family member. Cousin?
“He’s muscular and handsome,” Isabella whispers. “He came on a Harley.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m nosy.”
I snort. She sure is. From the glass window, I can see a motorcycle parked.
The meaty man turns to glance at us, staring. He gives a smile that causes Isabella and me to jump. Busted. His smile vanishes like a thick cloud of fog on a dark night.
A man reaches over him so close you would think he was about to drop a kiss on his cheek, trying to grab a copy of People Magazine.
“What the fuck, man? Do you mind giving me space? Your rancid breath is all over my face, and not to mention your balls are practically rubbing against my thigh.”
The guy’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. I don’t blame him. He went from a friendly smile to a face that could cut through glass. “Sorry…I was trying to…”
“A simple ‘excuse me’ would have worked instead of rubbing your nut sack on me.”
Oh, great tits. I turn around to stifle my laughter.
Isabella elbows me. Handing me the plate of eggs. “Cuidado. He can kill us and shove us in the freezer. Then force us to fall in love with him.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Too many Telenovelas.”
“Ay, I can’t live without them.” She sighs and wanders to the back.
The biker dude walks up to the counter as soon as the other guy wanders toward the stack of books Leo is stocking. “Sorry about that,” he says in a husky voice.
I give him a half-ass shrug. “No worries. You can’t have him rubbing all over you.”
His head falls back into a full-throttle laugh. It has my cheeks hurting at how wide I’m grinning. He has a beautiful smile and a laugh. Something tugs at my chest.
“No, darling, we can’t have that happen. I don’t like people in my bubble. I hate that shit.” He pulls out his wallet.
Oh, fuck, I forgot to charge him. I ring him up. He gives me thirty dollars in cash and tells me to keep the change.
“Looks good. I will definitely come back for this protein special.” He takes his raspberry iced tea, cinnamon roll, and M&M’s. “Take care, Sunny,” he says, walking out the door. He sits outside on the patio that Max had set up.
Sunny.
Four hours until the fight, and my stomach won’t stop turning. Across the room, Carlos keeps looking at me. I don’t look back. Max and I are on a leather sofa in the arena’s hospitality suite, knees touching, his hand in mine.
“You got this?” I ask him again, the same thing I said five minutes ago, and press my lips to his knuckles one at a time.
Last night, I made sure he slept. This morning was the weigh-in, which was an ordeal in itself.
Now we are here. “God, Max.” I squeeze his hand.
“I’ve been waiting for this for so long.
” It’s the truth—I believed in him even through the years we weren’t together, even when he couldn’t believe in himself. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Don’t say that yet.”
I cup his chin. “Regardless of what happens tonight, I’m proud of you and the man you have become.” Tears fill my eyes.
“Everyone, give me a minute with my girl.”
Carlos, Bliss, Xander, Leo, and two other guys walk out.
“Thank you, corazón.” He wipes the tears from my face. “Are you okay?”
“Max, I’m excited. Nervous but happy.”
“Good.” He smiles, teeth and all. If he’s nervous, he’s not showing it. Max has always been good at masking his emotions. “Things will get better, baby. I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”
His thumb traces the spot where my heartbeat hammers against my skin. His fingertips tap a rhythm against my neck, each touch sending electricity down my spine. With a gentle grip, he pulls me in.
His mouth is warm and firm against mine, tasting faintly of mint.
My lips part instinctively, like a rose unfolding its petals in the morning sun.
My fingers thread through the silky hair at his nape, feeling the heat of his skin beneath.
He shifts his weight, one calloused hand gripping my waist, and lifts me effortlessly onto his lap, where I can feel the hard muscles of his thighs beneath my own.
The kiss is passionate, full of love and lust. I grind my ass against his hard-on.
He groans. “The things you do to me.”
“We’d better stop. We can’t have you distracted,” I say, while wiping his lips.
His hands run up my bare thighs. “I could use a tension release,” he suggests, waggling his brows.
My skin prickles against the tile as I slide from the warmth of his thighs to kneel before him.
The floor bites cold through my knees. The corner of his mouth twitches upward, his forest-green eyes never leaving mine as my fingers find the waistband of the cool silk shorts.
He lifts his bottom as I slide his shorts down.
Max breathes deeply when my tongue traces the lines on his dick.
His arms spread across the top of the sofa.
His head flops back. My tongue works at every angle.
I moan when he grips my hair gently and bobs my head.
I savor every part of him like it’s my last. It just might be my last. I want to leave my mark on him.
I want him to remember how I took him in.
The way my lips feel on his velvet skin.
His body shakes, and every drop flows down my throat.
Max bites his bottom lip, observing me take every drop as I swallow.
His eyes dance with complete satisfaction.
After tucking himself back into his shorts, he stands to get a towel.
He wipes my lips. “I think I took some of your lipstick off,” he says, looking at the towel.
“Well, practically all of it. You still look beautiful. I think most of it you painted on my dick.” He kisses my lips. “I like it there.”
So do I.
When Carlos and the rest of them come in, I kiss him and make my way inside the arena with Nessa.
Lana couldn’t get the day off from work to come with me, but at least I have Nessa.
She’s sweet and beautiful. She loops her hand in mine.
I guide us to our seats that are in front of the ring.
My heart hammers in my chest. People are already seated as other undercard fights are underway.
Crowds are screaming for the two men in the ring.
“Max is going to do great,” Nessa says sweetly, as she holds my cold hand.
Her palm is damp. She’s trembling slightly.
She’s been quiet about Carlos’s confession, and the question burns in my throat.
Does she know what Carlos said? Does she feel the same?
I shove that in the back of my mind and concentrate on Max’s fight. Now is not the time.