Just One Regret(11)

I want her. All of her. I want as much as she’ll give me and then I’ll demand more. Screw my fears of hurting her again.

She blinks at me and I see the uncertainty pool in her light brown eyes. “Okay…”

“I want to spend all of it with you.”

She inhales a little gasp and it’s cute as fuck. I press my lips to hers, needing to taste her for just a moment.

When I pull back, I smile at the slightly drunk look in her eyes.

“Sarah and I leave Sunday.”

“Then I want to spend every minute with you that I can before then.”

“And after?” she asks, and the light is gone in her eyes. So is the happy drunk look. “When I’m back in Cambridge, and you’re back in Chicago?”

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, giving myself time to think. The problem? I have no fucking clue.

“We’ll work something out,” I tell her.

She flinches slightly and I hate it.

I want to make promises I don’t know I can keep. Promises like we’ll stay in touch. Or I’ll train closer. We’re only three hours away from each other and can get together on the weekends.

“Hey.” I run one hand through her hair, brushing it off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “I just got you back in my life. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

“I don’t want that either.” Her voice is soft, a bit breathy. I fucking love it.

“So let’s take the time we’re in town, have some fun, and catch up. And whatever else happens,” I say, groaning through the words. I’m so hard my dick could cut through cement right now. “I mean it. We’ll go at your pace, okay?”

A small whimper escapes her lips as she nods. I lean forward, brushing my lips across hers. She tastes like coffee and me.

I don’t deepen the kiss. I pull back before I start something I can’t finish. I really do need to eat. Landon keeps me on a strict training schedule with my diet and workouts. He’ll kick my ass if I skip breakfast for a few hours in bed with Kennedy. Last night’s fight wasn’t much of a workout, but I’ve got another fight scheduled in ten weeks. There’s no time to slack off.

The first time I have her again, I don’t want to be rushed. I want to take my time, tasting every inch of her.

“Kennedy?” I ask, my lips by her ear. “We need to go eat.”

Her hands tighten around my neck. “I’m comfy here.”

I laugh and press my lips to the goose bumps that prickle on the side of her neck.

“Damn it,” I groan when she rocks into me. “We need to stop now.”

She huffs and does another full body tremble. “I know.”

Using the minuscule amount of self-control I have left, I pull away from her tempting, pale skin. I want to mark every inch of it with my teeth and my lips.

“Come on,” I say, moving my hands back to her ass. I grunt as I push us off the bed, but I don’t set her back down.

She laughs, a soft, tinkling laugh that spears me in my heart.

“Let me go.”

I silence her with a quick but fierce kiss. “No way in hell.”

Which makes me an asshole.

Because as much as I want her, as much as I really have missed her, and as much as I’ve been a bastard and haven’t admitted that the one night with her was the best fucking night of my life—I’m still not sure where our future can lead.

I just know I want one with her.











“That was quick.” Sarah laughs when we reenter the kitchen. She’s sitting on the countertop where I just had Kennedy minutes ago, short legs swaying like a kid on a swing, cup of coffee in her hand.

Landon is still at the stove, flipping eggs and frying bacon.

Lynx is at the kitchen table, flicking through screens on a tablet. The twins are identical, it’s easy to tell, but they’re distinguishable by Lynx’s baldhead that is in stark contrast to Landon’s black-haired crop cut. Lynx’s scowl grows deeper with every flick of his finger.

“No faster than you were,” Kennedy teases.

Lynx glances up and winks at her, his frown momentarily disappearing, then goes back to the tablet.

I slide into a seat across from Lynx at the table, keeping my hands on Kennedy’s ass. When she shifts to get off me, I hold her tighter until she submits to my hold.

“Stay here,” I whisper and turn to Lynx.

“What is it?” I ask, nodding in his direction.

“Seems like you made all the news last night, but they’re not talking about your fight.” He raises his head and skewers me with a seething glare. “Or the lack of an actual fucking fight.”

Knocking Mancuso out so quickly was a mistake. I know this. When I saw Kennedy, though, months of planning and my entire strategy flew out of my brain, and were replaced with one thought: get to her as soon as fucking possible. Mancuso became an obstacle to get through…not a fighter to beat.

But I also gain endorsements and money through putting on a good show, toying with my victims before finally laying them out. People paid hundreds of dollars for tickets to not only watch a fight last night, but to be entertained.

I didn’t deliver, and as the guy who handles most of my marketing and public relations, I’m not surprised Lynx is a bit pissed this morning.

Rodney Bartlett, my head coach, is going to be even more pissed about my lack of providing adequate entertainment.

Fortunately, he gets his own hotel room when we travel. Not only that, but he also drinks himself into oblivion after every fight night, so I don’t have to worry about seeing him for hours.

“I never saw the photos,” Kennedy says and leans forward so she can rubberneck her way to the tablet’s screen.

Lynx spins it and slides it toward her. “Take a look, then.”

“Don’t,” I warn her. “It’s all bullshit, whatever they say.”

She flashes me a smile. “Maybe I just want to see if I look good.”

My chest loosens, tightness evaporates that I didn’t even really know was there until it’s gone. Most women who hang around fighters are in it for the attention and their chance at five minutes of photo ops. Kennedy isn’t like them, though, and I figured when I saw the photos this morning that she’d be pissed or embarrassed.

She might be, but at least she’s trying to fight it and be a good sport.

I kiss her shoulder when she turns back around, my lips lingering longer than they should.

I don’t give a shit when Lynx catches me. He knows me. He’s been with me since the beginning, helping coach and train me with Rodney and Landon. The Anders twins are amazing, both having spent years in the rings. They’re five years older than me and both of them have more belts than I’ve won yet. When they stopped fighting, they started coaching and training fighters together under Rodney.

Our plan is to someday take over Rodney’s gym when he retires, and I’ll start coaching at their side. Depending on how much time I have left as a fighter, we might wait until I’ve gotten enough winnings to open our gym.

I watch over Kennedy’s shoulder as she looks at the photos. These are at least better than the ones I saw earlier. In one of them, someone somehow grabbed a photo of Kennedy and Sarah in the stands.

I stare at the photo as she trails her finger down the screen. I’m mesmerized by what I see. It must have been when I stepped into the ring or right before. Kennedy’s eyes are frozen on the cage, her jaw a little slack, her brown eyes glazed over with something that looks soft and amazed and a little bit lust-filled.

I’ve never seen someone look at me the way she’s always done—so full of pride and belief in the best of me. She’s the only person I had in my life, besides my trainers now, who ever thought I could amount to anything.

“I look stoned,” she whispers.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I see everything she feels for me in that one grainy little photo, and my decision is made in the time it takes her to flick to the next one.

I want her.

I want the woman who has always believed in me.

I want the woman who I know will always be in my corner, fighting alongside me, doing whatever it takes to get me there.

And I’ll do anything to make sure that happens.





Seven





Kennedy





Several times this morning, I have caught myself wanting to pinch my arm to see if I’m truly awake or if this is another one of my bizarre dreams brought on by gorging on sugar and chocolate too close to bed time.

Except this feels real. Scary and livening, but real all the same.

After breakfast was eaten, the men and especially Grayson consuming more protein and pork than I’ve ever seen three men shovel into their stomachs, I was hoping for more quiet time with Grayson.

I’ve just missed him.

Which is why I so easily agreed to spend the next three days with him while we’re in Vegas.

But I didn’t get the time with him I wanted. Instead, he pushed his plate away from the table. Then his eyes dipped and scanned my body as he declared, “We need to head to your hotel and get you changed before we head out.”

I didn’t have a chance to ask what we were doing or where we were going before everyone else jumped from the table.

The men showered and dressed.

I didn’t ask Sarah about her night or what happened when she disappeared this morning. She’s either been with one of the twins—or both—or hasn’t. She’s not acting any more flirtatious or free than she usually does. I’ve always admired that about her, too.