Down and Out(93)

Leaning in, I kiss along her jaw. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: I don’t know what I’m doing, either.” I pull back, seeing the faintest smile on her face. “This is all just as new to me, but we’ll figure it out together, okay?”
“Are you sure? I’m—” She swallows and inspects the ends of her hair. “I’m really f*cked up. It’ll take a lot of work and patience to be with me, and I won’t blame you if you want out. But if you stay. . .” She sucks in a quick breath and steals a glance up at me. “You have to stay forever. I know I’m asking a lot—”
My mouth is on hers before she can finish that thought. Her lips mold to mine as I absorb her startled sounds, and when our tongues touch, they quiet altogether.
I kiss her softly, slowly at first, just content to explore her mouth with light presses of our lips and gentle sweeps of our tangled tongues. But then our breathing speeds, and slow and soft turns into a desperate, frenzied mix of lips and limbs.
My hand grips her hip as she throws a leg over my waist, aligning and pressing all the best body parts together. I’m about two seconds away from rolling her onto her back and climbing on top of her when her earlier words pierce through my lust-addled brain.
She’s not used to being on bottom.
The reminder is like being doused with ice cold water.
Breathing heavily, I pull back, keeping my forehead pressed to hers. I hadn’t meant this to get so out of control, honestly. I was going somewhere with this.
When I can find my voice, I lean farther back and brush a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re not asking for anything. You’re offering me the greatest gift I could ever imagine, and right now I’m wondering what the hell I did right in this life to deserve it.” My thumb brushes her bottom lip as I cradle her jaw. “But one thing I know for sure? I am hands down the luckiest son of a bitch to ever walk this earth, because I get to do it with you by my side.”
Savannah squeezes her eyes shut and falls onto her back. A smile slowly curls her mouth as she lays her hand over her chest and taps it. “Stomach flip. Crazy heart.”
I swear her eyes f*cking sparkle when she looks at me again. The joy emanating off her is contagious and has me grinning a big, goofy smile.
“Flippin’ crazy, huh?” I wipe away a tear as it slips down the side of her face. “I think I like making you do that.”
She buries herself into my side, nuzzling her face against my neck. “Me, too.”
And then we just lie there for what feels like forever. I stroke every available surface of skin—her arm, her hip, her back—while staring down the length of our entwined bodies. Her arm and leg are both draped over me, as her head slowly rises and falls with my breaths.
Just when I think she’s fallen asleep, she murmurs, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, my voice sounding gruff from not being used for a while.
“For not telling me you’re sorry about what happened to me.”
I am, though. I’m so f*cking sorry this happened to her.
Instead of saying that, I hug her closer to me. Sometimes words aren’t enough.
Another few minutes pass before her sleepy, slurred voice says, “Declan?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I love you.”
My whole body freezes, and when Savannah doesn’t say anything else, I lift my head. Her eyes are closed and her breaths are deep and even.
As I wait for my heart to restart, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I know you do, Kitten.” I just didn’t know whether or not she realized it yet.




Anticipation buzzes through the locker room as fighters warm up and stretch. Many of them are huddled off into little groups as their handlers give them pep talks, much like Marcus is trying to do with me right now.
“Just relax and breathe.” His brown eyes lift and meet mine as he finishes wrapping my hand. “You’re gonna do fine, baby girl.”
Declan uncrosses his arms and smacks him upside the head. “Watch it, Casanova. She’s not your baby or your girl.”
Marcus stands and swings his leg over the bench I’m still straddling. He puffs out his chest, glaring at Declan, and says, “That’s only because I let your punk ass have her.”
Declan laughs. “You let me have her? Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Macy snickers behind me, her fingers threading through my hair as she fixes it for me. You know, because I have to look my best when I get my ass kicked in front of hundreds of people.
Marcus gears up for some kind of comeback, but I roll my eyes and tune them out, instead focusing on the commotion drifting back into the locker room.
There’s got to be hundreds of people out there waiting for the show to start. How many of them bet on me? Or against me?
As I wonder how much money’s riding on my shoulders, I look around at the other fighters here tonight. Some of them are downright scary, like the Russian woman—Svetlana, I think—who stands close to six feet tall and looks like the female version of Dolph Lundgren. Others, like Melanie, the girl I’m up against, look like regular girls they just plucked off the street.
Well, aside from the fact that her body looks like it belongs on the cover of Shape magazine.
My gaze lingers on her as her trainer tapes her hands and says something I can’t make out.
Is she as rattled as I am? Are any of them?
Probably not Svetlana. . .
I glance up at Declan and Marcus, who are still in a heated debate. After a second they realize I’m staring up at them. Marcus sees the apprehension on my face and holds my stare, telling me with conviction, “You got this.”