Grudge Match

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Grab the bars," Ross demanded, reaching out to snag my wrists when I didn't immediately comply, pulling my arms up, and wrapping my fingers around the cold metal bars. My fingers curled to hold on. "Good girl." His hands whispered up my bare arms, pressing in under my shoulder blades, making me arch forward, and my ass to press out toward him. "Fucking amazing view," he said, and I knew it had nothing to do with the beach.

  The head of his cock pressed against my ass, then between my thighs, a hard pressure stroking up my slit to press into my clit before moving back down.

  And slamming inside me.

  There was nothing slow or sweet or gentle.

  He claimed me.

  Every last inch.

  "Fuck," he growled even as my moan drifted out across the air.

  There was a pause, his hands drifting up my sides, then moving under to cup my breasts as he started fucking me. Hard, rough, wild. Complete reckless abandon.

  Each thrust sent my body jerking forward, the sound of his hips slamming into my ass as he fucked me making an impossibly heavy weight press into my lower stomach.

  His fingers pinched and twisted my nipples, a pain/ pleasure mix that nearly pushed me right to the edge.

  "You gonna come for me, Addy?" he asked, voice rough, sounding like his teeth were grinding together, like he was struggling to keep control.

  I liked that.

  I liked that I had the power to take it away from him.

  "Y...yes," I whimpered, slamming my ass back into him, wanting, needing more.

  "Come," he demanded, slamming even harder.

  Then just like that, I did.

  Screaming, screaming his name off into the wind, mildly aware of it echoing back as the orgasm ripped through my body hard enough to make my legs give out.

  Ross' arms left my breasts, half-shoving me forward against the bars, my breasts actually slipping between them, as he fucked me through it, dragged it out, before jerking deep, and coming with a harsh curse of my name.

  I don't know how long we stayed like that, Ross still inside me, his forehead pressed into my shoulder as he struggled to even out his breathing, my torso pressed against the cold bars as I willed life back into my legs.

  "You're shivering," he told me, making me aware of it for the first time as well.

  He pulled slowly out of me; then I felt his jacket, still warm from his body heat, drape around me as he walked a few feet away toward a small trash can. He came back a second later, wrapping an arm around my center, and dragging me back against his chest as he leaned against the windows to the inside.

  And while a part of me was absolutely cold, and would have liked the warmth all the candles could provide, the other part of me wanted to stay just like this, in his jacket, against his warm chest, his arms around me, bodies both post-orgasm contented, looking off into the world.

  His lips pressed into my temple, and there was a fluttering in my chest.

  I knew then.

  There was no mistaking it when you felt it.

  There was no logic that could hold it back.

  It didn't matter that it was too soon.

  It didn't matter that it was born out of a bad situation.

  It didn't matter that he wasn't my usual choice.

  Sometimes, it wasn't a choice at all.

  It just knocked into you.

  And took you along for the fall.

  I was falling for him.

  Harder and faster than I should have, but it was happening nonetheless.

  The quiet after that revelation was panic-inducing.

  On one hand, my knee-jerk reaction was to ask him why he was so quiet, what he was thinking. But then my brain tried to convince me that by doing so, I would let him know that I was falling in love with him. And that, as we all know, was a really good way to scare off a man.

  "You're quiet," he surprised me by saying, never usually being the one to start the conversation. I guess, maybe, that was why he was making the comment.

  "My brain isn't working right," I admitted, it being mostly true.

  He chuckled at that, pure male self-satisfaction. "Come on, let's get you back inside and dressed," he offered, releasing me to stoop down and find my clothes before leading me inside.

  "This was the best date," I informed him when I was fully dressed, but I held onto his jacket, slipping it on, weirdly loving how the sleeves engulfed my hands when I put my arms down at my sides.

  "You wanted to see more of Navesink Bank," he told me, grabbing the flowers off the table, like he somehow knew that was exactly what I wanted. "From up here, you can see all of it. Naked," he added, smirk devilish. "You want to head down?" he asked, checking his watch. "It's almost eleven."

  "But what about..." I started, waving toward the candles, the table, the mess we had left behind.

  He reached inside his pocket, hitting four buttons, then tucking it back away. "By the time we get to the bottom, someone will be here to deal with it."

  Okay.

  So I had been raised humbly.

  We didn't need extravagance.

  We had always been happy with what little we had.

  But I was starting to see that there were absolutely some perks that came along with wealth.

  Then something else snuck through.

  When we get to the bottom.

  "Oh, right," I grumbled, looking at the doorway with a grimace.

  Ross smiled, shaking his head at me. "Thought the wine would take the edge off that anxiety. You can piggy-back if you want to," he offered, lips twitching. And, well, mine twitched too. Because the very idea was ridiculous.

  "You go ahead of me. You know, in case I trip. Your body can break my fall."

  He gave me a smile, then started down the stairs, leaving me to follow.

  Thankfully, fifteen minutes later, with only one mild breakdown, we hit the bottom floor.

  And were met almost immediately by Igor and someone dressed in a guard uniform.

  "Boss," Igor said, nodding at him, then giving me a small smile.

  "That food was amazing. I told Ross that I want a table at your restaurant when you open it."

  "Baby girl, you want a home cooked meal at any time, I'm on call," he offered.

  "Igor," Ross called, voice firm but amused at the same time, like he wanted Igor to know that it was disrespectful to flirt with me, but also that he knew there was no threat. Even if Igor was definitely attractive in his particular way.

  Igor gave me a wink before slapping the guard on the shoulder, then disappearing inside.

  "You want to go home?" he asked, handing me my flowers as he opened the door for me. "Or you want to come home with me?"

  "Is that really even a question?"

  So I went home with him where he promptly stripped me out of my clothes, slid into bed with me, and folded me up.

  He, this man who hardly ever got any sleep, passed out well before me, holding me tight, and I swear, it was the safest place in the world.

  "Addy, baby," Ross' voice called, forcing me toward consciousness with a very unladylike growl that made him immediately chuckle. "I have fresh coffee, and a phone that won't stop ringing. If you don't get up and take the fucking call, I'm gonna have to answer and introduce myself to your mother."

  "Ugh," I grumbled, sitting up. "I'm only getting up because of coffee," I declared, reaching out for the cup he offered me. "What time is it?" I asked as soon as I had a sip, panicked. I didn't have an alarm clock here.

  "Relax. You have over an hour to get to work," he informed me, making me realize that, for the first time, he actually wasn't in a suit. No. He was in basketball pants and a wifebeater instead.

  "Going to the gym?" I asked, rolling my eyes at my phone as I silenced it. I would text her and tell her I would call her on my lunch break, that I was running late. I actually wanted to talk to her without Ross hanging around so I could gush endlessly about the perfect date. Minus the naked parts, obviously. We were close, but I hoped we wo
uld never be that close.

  "For a run," he corrected. "Once I drop you off."

  "Any grand plans for your day?" I asked, going for casual, but actually fishing around for whether or not I would see him later.

  "Hex is closed tonight, but I have some other business to handle for most of the night," he told me, voice almost seeming a little guarded again, which had me stiffening a bit.

  So he was busy tonight. And I knew Hex had fights Thursday through Sunday.

  That just left Wednesday that I could possibly see him.

  I wondered if I would even get that.

  "You want to order some breakfast?" he asked, giving me a smirk, knowing how much I liked my food.

  "I think I'm good with just the coffee today," I declined, moving to put it down so I could sit up, snagging his shirt from the night before as I did so.

  "You okay?" he asked, moving to stand as I did, brows drawn together.

  "Yeah, I..." I trailed off as I reached up to run my hand through my hair, jerking slightly at the pain. Feeling wetness, I brought my hand back and saw blood. "Oh," my air whooshed out of me, my stomach feeling a bit wobbly. It was too early in the morning for blood.

  "Shit," he said, giving me a sad look as he grabbed my shoulder to turn me. "You must have rolled over onto your stitches." His hands parted my hair carefully, tilting my head forward so he could get a better look. "Looks like you ripped one out."

  "Ugh, I don't want to go back to the hospital," I whined. Yes, whined. It was barely seven-thirty in the morning, I was faced with not seeing a guy I was falling for for possibly the better part of a week, and I was bleeding. I earned the right to whine a little.

  "I can clean it up and butterfly or glue it if you want," he offered. "You're mostly healed. The stitch probably got yanked out by your hair or something. That's the only reason you're bleeding."

  "If you think it will be fine," I agreed, liking the idea of a butterfly or some glue a lot more than an hour in a hospital whose smell reminded me of my grandmother slowly wasting away in one.

  "It will be fine. The stitches will dissolve in just another couple of days anyway."

  With that, I was led into the bathroom where Ross cleaned out the wound carefully, then put a line of glue on, figuring it was the better choice with all my hair.

  I carefully arranged my hair, got dressed, and met Ross in the living room.

  I thought I wasn't even going to get a kiss as he pulled up into my lot right next to my car. But before I could reach for my door, he snagged the back of my neck, dragging me over the center console, and kissing me until I forgot all about having a crummy start to my morning.

  "I'll text you," he told me as I climbed out.

  It wasn't until late that afternoon when Igor, of all people, walked into my office that I started putting the pieces together.

  "Hey! You work here," he declared, signing in.

  I had been so lost in my swirling negative thoughts that I somehow missed a name like Igor on the schedule for the day.

  "I work here," I agreed, giving him as much of a smile as I could muster.

  "You alright? You look a little..."

  "I tore one of my stitches this morning," I cut him off, not wanting to hear what I really looked like. Sad. Confused. Disappointed.

  "Ah that sucks, baby girl," he announced. "So will we see you at the barracks tonight?" he asked.

  "The barracks?" I parroted, brows drawing together.

  "Oh, shit," he said, looking completely taken aback by something. What? I didn't know. "Just... forget I said anything, okay?" he asked as the door opened and Dr. Wilmer called him in.

  Yeah.

  Fat chance of that.

  I waited until Igor was good and gone, trying to pretend like I did exactly what he demanded - forget he said anything - before I asked my boss.

  "Hey, Doc, what are the barracks?"

  "The barracks?" he asked, brows together.

  "Yeah, I heard someone say this morning that they were going there. I have no idea what they meant."

  "Oh, they must mean the old, abandoned army fort. They have barracks over by the water. Creepy over there, I hear. Kids always going in there to get drunk and nonsense. Bad scene. I hope you're staying clear."

  He said that as he was walking away, leaving me to wonder.

  What the hell was going on at the barracks tonight?

  And why was Ross keeping it from me?

  ELEVEN

  Ward

  She was upset about something.

  That was what was on my mind as I got to the woods and started running.

  I wanted to get the run in to focus, to get my body loose, to be able to go into that match tonight with a clear head, and a working body.

  It had been years since I needed to fight. My body hadn't exactly gotten soft, but it was used to a different routine to keep it hard.

  Kenny had that on me.

  But he didn't have the anger.

  He didn't have my past.

  He didn't have the blood of a girl he cared about all over his hands that morning, reminding him why he needed this match to begin with.

  It had been easy over the past two days to forget that shit, to shelf it, to crowd it out with the good.

  And there was a lot of that.

  When I let myself think about it, it was impressive how easy it was, how little I fought it. I wasn't a man who was supposed to have a woman, let alone a woman like her. That wasn't supposed to be in the cards for me. I already had way more than I thought I could. And it had always been enough.

  But then there she was.

  With so, so much more.

  And, here was the crazy fucking part, willing to give it to me.

  She was just there with those understanding eyes, that nonjudgmental soul, and those open fucking arms.

  It wasn't something I had ever known in my life.

  Maybe she was right.

  Maybe there were issues with women leftover from a crummy relationship with my mother.

  Maybe it was easier to see them as disposable, just like my mother had allowed herself to be.

  Maybe keeping them all at a distance allowed the cycle to continue.

  But then there was Adalind with her bleeding head, her unlocked door, her too-trusting spirit.

  And my first instinct had been to protect.

  Not to fuck and leave.

  I guess that made the difference.

  Hell, we hadn't even slept together when I laid claim to her in front of everyone in Hex when I had confronted Kenny.

  Kenny.

  Who didn't deserve to be a memory in her head, let alone one that ended with her tossed by a dumpster like trash.

  Which was exactly why I needed to fucking focus. On beating his ass. On thinking about his fighting tactics, in knowing which ones to use against him.

  Not thinking about Adalind.

  And whatever it was this morning that had her going from a little annoyed to be woken up, but happy, to standoffish and guarded in a heartbeat.

  She turned down breakfast.

  The woman practically had an orgasm every time she ate something, and she was turning down food?

  No.

  That wasn't normal.

  But before I could call her on it, demand an explanation, she realized her stitch had come out, and looked a little bit like she might actually pass out from the small bit of blood on her fingertips.

  And protection-mode reared up again.

  It wasn't something I could have truly ever even known I was capable of before. I hadn't been protected as a kid. No one had protected me from shit in that basement for years.

  I hadn't learned it.

  Yet there it was whenever she needed it, like it had been waiting all along.

  It was a strange thing to realize so late in life things about yourself that you had never uncovered before.

  And you would think that, for a man like me, so set in his ways, I would have fought against it, no
t welcomed it.

  I couldn't say, no matter how much I thought on it, what the fuck made the difference. Why I had opened up. Why I was putting effort in, stepping out of my comfort zone. Letting her in.

  Hell, she was the only non-hotel employee who had ever stepped foot inside my place.

  Shit was changing.

  And fast.

  I should have been freaking out.

  But, oddly, it simply just felt right. Easy. Uncomplicated.

  Except for maybe whatever put her in a mood this morning. That, at least, seemed a bit more complicated. Normally, I found her easy to read. She had a shit poker face. She wore everything on her sleeve.

  So this morning, yeah, that meant she was actively trying not to be so transparent. Which, for her, did not come naturally. That wasn't good. I didn't know dick about such things, but I knew that a woman pretending to be fine meant she was definitely not-fine.

  But that was something I would have to handle tomorrow when I saw her.

  Today and tonight, I had other things to deal with.

  I pushed myself through a forty-minute run before I made my way back home to shower then head into Hex, knowing there wasn't much to do, but wanting to try to keep myself focused.

  "Kenny went on a bender, and has been telling anyone who will listen which, when it's a drunk guy in a bar, is not many, about the match tonight," Laz informed me from the doorway to my office.

  "So I should be expecting more than just the entire group from Hex when I confronted him?"

  "I think it's going to at least double Hex's usual occupancy. Igor is handling the bets."

  I didn't give a shit about the bets.

  I had enough money.

  I was glad I left my having to fight for money days long behind me.

  The money could go to the women's shelter in town. It would do much more good there.

  And there was no doubt in my mind I would be winning. There was simply no other choice.

  You didn't lose your own fucking grudge match.

  "What are the bets like?" I asked, curious.

  I might have owned a fighting club, but not once had I stepped foot in my own ring. Those days were long past. Hearing that I was holding a grudge match must have surprised most people. I might have been a bit of an intimidating presence, but no one had seen me get physical with someone before.