Breaking Beast (Pounding Hearts)

by Izzy Sweet

  “Shit!” I cry out and hear a deep “Omph,” in response.

  Two big hands grab me by the hips, stabilizing me and keeping me from falling on my ass.

  Eyes stinging with tears, I blink them away. My nose throbs and I think I bit my tongue. I feel like I just ran into a big fucking rock or got hit by a truck.

  I can’t decide which.

  “Shit. Are you okay?” Alex asks, looking down at me with a frown.

  I nod my head and immediately regret it. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” he grins down at me. “I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, but it’s usually not that hard.”

  “Ha, ha,” I grumble, reaching up to inspect my nose.

  Alex’s grin fades away and he stares intensely down at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I don’t think it’s broken,” I say, though it certainly hurts like a bitch. “Just a little bruised.”

  He watches me tentatively prod at my nose and a little wrinkle appears between his brow.

  “May I?” he asks, and I suddenly realize that we’re really close and he’s still gripping my hips with his hands.

  I’m so close I can feel the heat emanating off his chest and smell the minty toothpaste on his breath.

  “No, I’m good,” I say, pulling away.

  I watch his eyes fill with sudden realization. He looks down at his hands and nearly jumps away from me, like I’m toxic or something.

  There’s this weird, uncomfortable moment. The air is charged between us as we stare at each other.

  Then Muffin barks, breaking it.

  I wince, the sound cutting right through my poor brain.

  “You want some Advil before we head out?” he asks, turning away.

  “You didn’t run yet?” I ask, surprised.

  “No, I was waiting on you.”

  “Oh.”

  Muffin barks at us again and scratches at the door.

  “The HMIC is getting impatient. You want some Advil?” he asks again.

  I turn the offer down. “No, I’m okay. Once I start running, the pain should fade away.”

  “Alright,” he sighs and walks up to Muffin, giving her a pat on the head. “Let’s get going.”

  He pushes open the door and Muffin darts out, squeezing past him.

  Looking at me over his shoulder, he flashes a grin. “Keep up if you can.”

  The two of them take off, leaving me in their dust.

  For a moment, I consider just letting them run ahead of me. I could use the time alone to clear my head and get my shit together.

  But his parting words were clearly a challenge, and I have such a hard time backing down from a challenge, especially from a guy like him.

  What? Does he think I can’t keep up because I’m a girl?

  Fuck that. I’ll show him.

  Closing the door behind me, I take off, feet pounding the pavement. The cool air hits my lungs and immediately I feel invigorated.

  I feel alive.

  I love running. I love the rush of adrenaline. I love the little burn in my joints.

  I especially love the numbness that settles over my brain. The worry fades away and my animal instincts take over.

  With each step forward I’m putting my past behind me. There’s no looking back, I can only go forward.

  My pace is a bit harder than I’d prefer to start at but it’s only to catch up with them. I suspect he’s taking it easy on me because I catch up to them in a matter of seconds.

  He glances over at me in surprise. I flash him my own version of a grin and push my body harder, edging past him.

  Muffin barks excitedly and the next thing you know our little jog turns into a full-blown race.

  I guess Alex isn’t content with letting me have the lead. I hear him mutter something under his breath and then his shadow is overtaking mine. I push myself harder, faster, stubbornly refusing to let him pass.

  For a big guy he sure does run fast.

  I manage to hold on to the lead for a couple of miles before my strength begins to flag. My pace just isn’t sustainable and I knew it from the beginning. This isn’t jogging, this is more like sprinting.

  As I begin to slow, I fully expect him to overtake me, to gloat about his superiority, but he doesn’t.

  His pace slows as well, matching me stride for stride.

  Is he tiring too or is he letting me win?

  I glance behind me. His face is hard, his eyes pointed down, and his jaw set with determination.

  He certainly looks like he’s trying, but…

  If he’s letting me win, I’m so going to be pissed.

  Looking forward, I focus on the horizon. Thoughts fade away, I get lost in the numbness.

  A few minutes later, I spot his house in the distance and feel just a little pang of disappointment. I could go a bit longer but don’t have the energy for another full lap.

  Slowing down to a walk, I sense him come up beside me, matching my rhythm. We walk the last few feet together, side by side, the three of us panting as we catch our breath.

  “Did you let me win?” I ask, stopping as we reach the front of his house.

  Bending forward, I place my hands on my thighs and stare at the ground. I’m feeling just a little bit lightheaded after that.

  Perhaps I pushed myself a little too hard…

  “Nah. I just didn’t feel like running that fast,” he chuckles.

  I look up from the ground and immediately get an eyeful of his glistening eight-pack. He’s yanking his shirt up and using it to wipe the sweat from his face.

  All of his rippling muscles are on display and I feel a hot flush roll through my body as I stare at him.

  I can count each bulging muscle of his eight-pack, and there’s these two delicious grooves at his hips that disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. I want to follow them, and maybe lick them.

  Damn. I don’t know why I feel all warm and tingly looking at him. I see shirtless guys at the gym all the time, but none of them have ever made me feel like this.

  “What time do you have to be at work?” he asks and begins to drop his shirt.

  Immediately, I turn away, afraid he’ll catch the bright scarlet blush on my cheeks and know that I was just ogling him like pervert.

  “Not till eight,” I croak out.

  “What was that?”

  I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “Not until eight,” I repeat more clearly.

  “Alright,” he says and I turn back around to catch him frowning at me again. “Let’s clean up, and have some breakfast, then I’ll give you a lift.”

  Chapter Six

  Alex

  Ass, ass, and ass. Fuck, I’m a schmuck.

  A total schmuck. How else can I explain why I’ve stayed two steps behind Christy the entire time?

  I have longer legs, more stamina and a shit ton more experience running. She’s not truly that damn fast.

  But that damn ass.

  I’m a horrible man for not being able to stop looking. She is really well put together; long legs, juicy ass and a nice set of tits on her. That she is healthy, and her face is more attractive than I care to think of, just puts her into the realm of fucking insanely hot. Fuck.

  Did I let her win? Nah, I just didn’t want to go so fast that my view wasn’t as good. Besides, I was being the good guy. I was watching to make sure no one bothered her and that she had the correct running form.

  Yeah, even in my head that sounds like a jackass thing to think.

  Pulling my shirt up and off my body, I wipe the sweat coming down my face. I may be sweating because I have been working out but that isn’t the only reason I’ve been perspiring.

  As we head into the garage, I have to slap myself mentally.

  I need to get my head out of my ass… and hers. She’s a baby, like she just turned legal baby. I doubt she has had a single thing in her life that was truly hard or difficult to deal with.

  Walking th
rough the garage, Muffin bumps happily into my leg and she has her big goofy grin going on. Normally, I drop her off then head back out for a half loop but today I figure I can skip my full run. I have a guest after all.

  “Come on, baby,” I say as I dig my fingers into her fur and give her a good ear scratching. “Daddy’s going to get some water for ya.”

  Woofing, she rushes through the door and into the kitchen.

  Glancing back, I nod my head at Christy. “I got some water for you too, Runt.”

  Stopping, she looks at me with definite annoyance. “Did you just call me Runt?”

  “Sure, soon as you can keep up with us you move up to girl.”

  Her eyes widen with dismay. “Oh my god… I…”

  Laughing at her reaction, I walk through the door and head over to the fridge to pull a large jug of water out. Taking two bottles out as well, I toss one to Christy as she enters the room.

  Only two ways it’s going to go with that, either she drops it in a fumble or she catches it.

  Snapping it out of the air, she growls out a, “What the hell?”

  “Just testing your reflexes.”

  “Great, did I pass the test?” she asks with what I think is sarcasm.

  Not really sure though, it’s hard to tell with teens these days.

  “You didn’t drop it.”

  She actually did pretty good, she’s got good movement. Fuck, it also helped that her chest jiggled a little when she grabbed it, but that was just an added benefit.

  Fuck, I’m such a creeper. If she was maybe five years older…

  Dammit. Instead of checking her out, I should be protecting and watching out for her.

  Dumping out Muffin’s old water, I fill her large water dish with fresh, clean water. Putting it up on its stand, I give her a good scratch behind the ears.

  “What time do you have to be at work today, again?” I ask.

  Looking towards the clock, she says, “Eight.”

  “Alright, cool. I’ll drop you off there and then I’ll head on to the gym for conditioning.” Heading back to the fridge, I start pulling out eggs, bacon and cheese. “You hungry?”

  “I guess.”

  Nodding my head, I walk to the island and start getting my pans down to make breakfast.

  Not sure how much she wants to eat, I ask, “How many eggs? Three or four?”

  She laughs. “Are you kidding? I can eat maybe one. Two, if I’m really stuffing myself.”

  “You’ll need to increase your intake if you plan on going further. Protein will help you rebuild after a punishing day, and it helps you prepare for one as well.”

  “Um… Sure. Two please, and I’ll eat some bacon.”

  Nodding my head, I start warming the burners. “How do you like ‘em? Sloppy or neat? Want cheese?”

  “I’ll take whatever you do. I’m going to go get ready for work.”

  Dropping in ten eggs, I start scrambling them up.

  Today marks the three-week point until I step into the ring to defend my middleweight title. As I cook, I start mentally planning my training for the day.

  I hear her coming down the stairs just as I finish crumbling up half the bacon into the eggs.

  Christy comes down in what must be the most absurd uniform colors I have ever seen in my whole life—mustard brown pants with a ketchup red button-down shirt.

  It’s fucking horrible, but the white, multi-colored polka dot tie is the topper.

  “Holy shit! What the fuck? Do they plan on making sure all the employees die virgins? Or get beat up for their lunch money?”

  “Ha-ha, meathead. It pays the bills.”

  “So does bank robbery but I would lump that in the same category as that outfit.”

  “Funny man, listen to the old fart with the jokes.” She smirks as she pulls up a stool to the counter where I have the food set out. “What did you do with the eggs?”

  “Scrambled them with cheese, bacon and Tabasco. A few other things, but that’s a secret. It puts hair on the chest.”

  Looking at me with a flat expression, she says, “I’m a girl, I don’t need hair on my chest.”

  “It would give you an edge in the ring… other fighters would be wary of squaring up with you.”

  “Still not funny, old man.”

  Taking a large bite of the eggs, I groan with happiness. I love my cooking.

  Christy lifts the fork to her nose before taking a sniff at it. Taking a tentative taste, the corners of her eyes lift in a smile. “Wow, that is really good. What else did you put in it?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Trade secret.”

  She’s probably about four bites in when I see a sweat break out on the bridge on her nose.

  “Holy shit, that’s deceptively hot!” she gasps out.

  Motioning to the fridge, I say, “Milk’s in there if you need a coolant.”

  * * *

  We’re in the car, sitting in front of the Burger Bells, killing time before the start of her shift. I wasn’t sure how long it would take us to get here so we left a bit early.

  “So… you don’t actually eat here do you?” I ask.

  I can only imagine the nasty shit that goes into the body when you consume one of their sandwiches.

  “It’s cheap and filling,” she says with some indignation.

  “Point taken… Okay, we need to pack you a lunch before you go to work. Shit like this will only slow you down.”

  “I’m doing just fine, and what do you mean pack me a lunch? Are you calling me a kid?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “If the shoe fits.”

  “Asshole.”

  Smirking, I watch as she pulls her backpack up from between her legs. She pulls out something I’ve never seen before in real life.

  Setting the beanie cap with a propeller on top of her head, she checks her reflection in the mirror before reaching for the door.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” I say almost breathless. I can’t fucking believe it, it’s a real propeller cap.

  Turning to me, she frowns. “What?”

  “Can… can I touch it?” I ask, my hand lifting up, my finger pointed out.

  “What the hell are you…” she says before I reach up and give the propeller a push.

  Her eyes cross over her nose.

  “Holy fuck balls with fleas! It spins!”

  Grinning, I try to push it again but her hand flies up to slap mine away. “Stop that!”

  “No! I need to do that again, that was almost as good as sex!”

  “I fucking hate you…” she grumbles as I flick it again, watching it spin round and round.

  Pushing open the car door, she starts to get out so I ask her, “When do I need to come get you?”

  “I’m not a kid. You don’t need to keep doing things for me like this. I’m not going to sleep with you!”

  I don’t know where the hell that came from but that wasn’t what I had in mind at all as I consider where we’re sitting. This place isn’t as rough as last night but it sure isn’t a nice neighborhood.

  “I wouldn’t sleep with your scrawny ass anyways. You need to get to the gym and the dojo if you want to go further. You can’t just sit by.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You want to fight, right?”

  “With you? You would break me in half, meathead.”

  “I mean in the ring.”

  “Well… yeah, but... Look, I’ll see you at the gym tonight, okay?”

  “How are you going to get there?”

  “I just will!”

  Shutting the door with more force than I think is really needed, she stomps away from the car and heads into the restaurant.

  * * *

  In the gym, my mind floats around inside my head as I push myself further into my cardio routine than I normally do.

  My body wants to rebel against the hard work I’m pushing it through but I won’t allow it. I have to keep my body up and ready. Rocko Williams, my
opponent, will be making sure his body is ready to go the full distance.

  This is our second fight, and both times it has been for the belt. He was the reigning champion when I came into the company. It took me a year and a half to get to the title. I had been flirting with the top ranks, but the president wanted to make sure I would be staying with the company when he gave me the shot.

  I won a year ago and it’s been a pretty good fucking reign.

  This fight isn’t something I am worried too much about, but shit, every fight has the potential to be the last.

  Dropping the barbell onto the floor, I check myself out in the mirror. I’m fucking ripped but Christy calling me an old man got my dander up. I do a couple of flexes in the mirror and watch my muscles move. Fuck that shit, I’m in my prime baby.

  She keeps coming into my head as I step into the ring with a couple of different guys to work on my routine. I’m sure it’s only because of the newness of the situation, but I can’t stop it from happening. It’s bothering me though, because I can usually focus on what needs to be done.

  I don’t usually allow myself to be distracted like this.

  During a break in between the ring and working on the floor bags, I walk around the gym with my arms on top of my head. Taking deep breaths in and holding them, I stop at the bulletin board. There, on the board, is a flyer from World Cage Fighting. It’s a come one, come all type of thing for female fighters.

  On the top it announces a five thousand dollar purse for the winner.

  All over the nation women have been dropping into dojos, wanting to take part in women’s MMA, and our company has been no different. The company has been trying to attract talent but hasn’t managed to discover enough worthy ladies yet, though they are trickling in.

  My day passes by as it always does, and before I know it I see Christy walking in through the doors, her uniform replaced by her normal street clothes.

  Heading to the bulletin board, I yank down the promotion sheet and walk over to where she is standing with a few other kids. Chase hasn’t started talking yet so I flag him down.

  “I need to speak with the Runt over there,” I say, pointing to Christy.

  Walking over to her, I pull her to the side and put the promotion sheet in her hand.