“Alright, Glass,” Duncan says. He looks at me, and beneath Dad’s suspicious eye, we both walk to the back room. On the way there, I almost instinctively grab Duncan’s hand, but pull back at the last moment.
Close, I think to myself. Managing this secret is only going to get harder and harder.
The back room is larger than I expected, and I realize the basement expands to the building next to the restaurant, and even the one after it.
The whole street is mob-owned, and this whole block is one giant front. But we’re not in Dad’s part of town, which probably explains why he’s acting a little nervous.
Duncan walks around, checks under the benches, on top of the lockers.
“What are you doing?”
“Just being paranoid.”
“For what?”
He shrugs, then turns to me, grins.
“Is it everything you hoped for?” I ask, laughing. Even though there’s lots of equipment back here, it’s pretty dark and dingy, not glamorous at all.
I wonder if this is what Duncan had in mind when he envisioned becoming an underground fighting star.
The glitz and glamor won’t come for a while yet. When I tell him so, he just nods, gives me a small grunt, like that doesn’t really matter.
“I thought you wanted to be the best?”
“I don’t need it to sparkle.”
He begins to take off his clothes, and immediately I look away without knowing why. It’s just… awkward. It’s been so long since he and I—
“You don’t have to turn around,” he says.
So I don’t. I watch as he unbuttons his shirt methodically, calmly, then peels it off his muscular body.
In the dim light he looks more cut than ever, and then his fingers go to his belt buckle.
I swallow, feel my blood start to surge, thunder in my ears. My face grows hot.
He pulls off his underwear, and I gaze at him, eyes wide as his naked body comes into view. He catches my eye, and says, “I’m glad you came,” while approaching me. He takes my hands, places my palms on his chest.
I start breathing quicker, feel a rush of excitement, of thrill. His chest is so hot, firm, and I swear I can feel his heartbeat thumping underneath.
He holds my face in his hand now, tucks my hair behind my ear, and then he leans forward, puts his lips right below my ear, and kisses a smoldering trail down my neck.
“Oh, I want you right now, Dee. Right fucking now.”
I suck in air, feel a tension in my thighs that pulses right down to my toes, and I shiver, goose bumps exploding all over the tops of my arms, my hairs standing on end.
“You smell amazing,” he tells me, and I feel the press of his teeth against my skin, and it only makes me shiver more.
His hard chest is inviting, and slowly I run my hands down his torso, across the undulation of his tight stomach.
I slide my hands around to grip his strong waist right above where it dips into his Adonis belt. He takes my hand, sidles it around his front, through the buzz of his pubic hair. I grip onto his shaft, my breath hitching, a ball of desire growing in my belly.
But then nervousness takes ahold of me. We can’t do this here. What if Dad walks in? What if someone else does? It’s too dangerous… and I step backward, flustered. “You know that this… is impossible.”
“What is?”
“I don’t know,” I say, growing frustrated. “Us?”
“Why?”
Without warning he rings my wrist, tugs me toward him, catches my lips in his, kisses me hard. I don’t push off him, I let him kiss me, shut my eyes, run my hands through his hair.
I feel his hardness against me, instinctively press my body against it, but then there’s a knock at the door and we separate instantly.
“One minute,” Duncan says, pulling on compression shorts and then his fighting shorts.
Dad pokes his head in after a moment, looks at both of us slowly.
“Let’s go, Duncan,” he says. “Round one. You’re up. They want to kick off early.”
“I haven’t warmed up properly yet,” Duncan says, standing with his back to Dad. I put my fingers to my lips, struggle to keep my smile from forming. He’s hiding his boner! At once it’s funny and dangerous… a heady concoction.
“You’ll be fine, your first opponent is a nobody.”
“Just give me a minute.”
Dad disappears, and Duncan turns down to me, takes my lips in his again. He kisses me urgently, his breaths quick, his body-heat seemingly doubled.
He presses me up against the lockers, pins my hands above my head, and kisses and bites a swathe of skin down my neck.
“We want what we want,” he tells me. “So live a little.”
He takes my hand, pulls me toward the door. Just as he opens it I pull my fingers from his grip, and he walks out, his gait all business, all swagger, his shoulders swaying. He doesn’t even look at Dad, but he looks at me once more, smirks.