I like it better like this.
“You want to ditch the characters and just be us?” Olivia asks with a sheepish shake of her head.
I extend my hand to her. I’d love nothing more than to be myself, but Olivia wanted something different, to ignite a spark I know hasn’t burned out. So that’s what I’m going to give her.
“I’m Leo.” I tell her, picking the name of the actor I saw on TV at the gym earlier today.
Olivia’s eyes flare with indecent excitement. A good start. I thought she’d be disappointed by the Italian name, considering she had her heart set on French. She slips her warm, sweaty palm into mine and the grip she has surprises me.
“Clara.”
I nod. Nice enough, I suppose. Not as nice as Olivia, but it’ll do.
“I hope you chose a table by a window,” she states, opening her purse to drop her phone inside.
“A woman who knows what she wants. I can admire that.”
Something in her features shift, as if she sees me as a threat. Her plump friendly lip becomes firm and thin.
“If you admire that, you can also admire the fact I’d like a bottle of Jack, no ice.”
I arch a brow. “Bossy too, I see.”
She bites back a wicked smile. “If you can’t handle me at dinner, Mr. Leo, I’ll find someone else to handle me at bed time.”
My spine stiffens as images assault my mind. I don’t fucking think so.
“Jack it is. Park your ass at table thirty-nine and don’t move.”
She sighs and avoids my eyes. “Don’t take too long. I’m known to wander.”
Olivia flicks out her hair and I drag in an inhale as she brushes against me. Her sweet scent engulfs me, building something sinister in my chest. ‘I’m known to wander.’ The sinister feeling in my chest becomes tainted with jealousy. What the hell does she mean by that?
I rush to the bar and grab her damn bottle of Jack, plus two glasses, skipping on the ice—like she ordered. I know Olivia’s playing a character and I shouldn’t be taking it so literally, but I can’t help it. I’m so caught up in her. I can’t seem to regain control.
When I join her at the table, she’s already ordering off the menu. I don’t know why she even bothers to read menus. If they sell fries, her order is always the same.
“I’ll have the Chicken Caesar and a side of fries, please.”
The waiter, who smiles at her with too friendly lips, takes her order down on a small black notepad.
I can’t help myself. “Salad and chips?” I ask, setting the bottle down on the table, followed by the glasses. “Who knew you’d be such a cheap date?”
The waiter scowls at me, but I’m not looking at him. I see it out of the corner of my eye.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Olivia says, her green irises flicking up at me from her menu. “Since Mr. Leo is paying, I’ll have the full lobster, a side of caviar, two soft shell crabs, and a side of fries. Please.”
I glare at her while the waiter takes down her order once again before he turns his beady blue eyes on me. “And for you, sir?”
He uses the term loosely and it rubs me the wrong way. “No. It seems she’s eating for the both of us.”
Olivia—or Clara—smirks as the waiter turns and walks away. I smile down at her, squeezing the soft back of the chair in my hands.
“Having fun?” I ask, amused by the bossy persona she’s taken on.
I’m starting to think she used this Valentine’s Day thing as an opportunity to fuck with me. Olivia’s hard exterior melts away with an excited giggle. She covers her mouth and laughs louder into the palm of her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she says, dabbing her eyes with the inside of her index finger. “I don’t know what came over me. I wanted my character to be a confident, successful woman, but as soon as she met you, she decided to be a bitch instead.”
Releasing the chair, I pull it back and sit down. When I’m comfortable, I nudge the bottle of Jack in her direction. Like I expected, she cringes at it.
“To be honest, I’m not a huge fan. It’s too strong.”
I nod. I already know she doesn’t like Jack. Olivia can’t stomach anything other than minimal amounts of Vodka mixed with orange juice.
“And where did your love of lobster spring from, exactly?”
She scrunches her nose. “Ugh. I can’t stand seafood.”
Of course. I knew that already.
“Since Mr. Leo is paying,” I mock her and she hides her burning face behind her hands. “We have a joint bank account.”
“Okay.” She exhales, shifting in her seat and fanning her face. “So I went overboard. What do we do now?”
“What do you mean ‘what do we do?’”
“Don’t make me drink Jack and eat the lobster, Seth. We have to come up with a plan to get out of this.”
The empty glass on the table makes a light sound I barely hear as I tap it with my index finger. We’ve barely been here twenty minutes and she already wants out. I have half a mind to make her see this through. I should force her to eat the lobster—or at least the caviar. But, if I do that, I see this night ending with a nauseous Olivia in my bed instead of an aroused one. I grab the bottle of Jack and open it. Casually, I fill both glasses a quarter full and push one across the table. She eyes it up before quirking an eyebrow at me.
“Drink,” I tell her. “Then we’ll go.”
“As Seth and Olivia?”
With a nod, I grip my glass in my hand and raise it to my lips. I swore off hard liquor when I was younger and realized how badly it affected me. Most of the time, I like to avoid booze altogether because I get all punchy and horny, but tonight, to make it a night Olivia will never forget, I’m going to need to be horny and punchy.
Tonight will be a blast from the past.
If she wants Seth, I’ll give him to her in full force.
Chapter Seven
Olivia
The brown liquid burns my throat unlike anything else and I grit my teeth with a violent shudder before slamming the glass to the table. Nervous excitement mixes with the burn of the alcohol in my chest. I’ve never ordered food and then ran before. The fact Seth even suggested it is crazy. We’re adults, not teenagers. Yet here we are. If I wasn’t so worked up, I’d be slumping and wallowing in my own self-pity. Who would’ve thought I’d single-handedly ruin Valentine’s Day? It turns out my character was a little too confident and a little too bitchy, but I’ve never had more fun. It felt awesome confusing Seth the way I did. I bet he thought tonight would be easy. Dinner. Chat. Sex. I thought that too, but my character wanted him to work for it. The way he let me walk over him filled me with power. To have him under my heel, however temporarily, was invigorating.
“Get up. Let’s go,” he orders, his eyes scanning the kitchen area on the other side of the room.
Seth grabs the bottle of Jack in one hand and extends the other to me. I clench my purse and thread my fingers through his. His thumb strokes the top of my hand as he pulls me along behind him. I walk quickly, only just managing to keep up with his wide, determined steps. We keep our heads down as we pass the bar and slip by reception.
The feeling of being outside doesn’t fully sink in until the coolness of the air-conditioning falls away and is replaced by the warm outside air. At the bottom of the steps, I pull out of Seth’s grip and lean against a golden post with a huff.
“I ruined Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry.”
Seth turns around, his lips curved with the ghost of a smile. “We’re thirty minutes into our date and you’ve already managed to cost us dinner and a hotel room—non-refundable, by the way—but you haven’t ruined Valentine’s Day.”
I frown and fold my arms tightly over my chest. “I haven’t ruined it? We’re standing outside a restaurant with empty bellies, a full bottle of Jack, and less money in our bank account than when we started. That sounds like a fail to me.” I blow air out of my cheeks and slip my feet from my heels. “Hail a taxi, Se
th. Let’s go home.”
I bend down and reach for my shoes. When I straighten my spine, Seth is holding open the rear door to a taxi.
“Don’t be a quitter, O.” There’s a wicked grin on his face. “I’ve got a plan. Get in.”
I hesitate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that smile on Seth before. As much as it sends electricity shooting to the apex of my thighs, it also scares the shit out of me.
“Is it legal?”
He tips his head to the side. “Trust me.”
I look inside the empty cab, then back to Seth. I do it a few times before finally making a move toward the cab. Whatever he has spontaneously thrown together, it can’t be as bad as what I had planned.
***
I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. This is bad. This is terrible. I squeal and cling to Seth’s arm as my heart leaps into my throat. A large body is tossed over the worn top rope of a ring, narrowly missing me. He groans as his body crashes onto the concrete beside me. With a chuckle, Seth wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close.
I knew he was going to force me out of my comfort zone. I heard the party and the music leaking through the taxi windows long before we even arrived. How Seth knew about it is beyond me.
“You wanted more life in our marriage—more spontaneity,” he shouts into my ear over the loud cheering and death metal. “The only thing missing from our relationship—the only thing that stops it from being like it was in the beginning—is the sport that brought us together.”
I move slowly, absorbing Seth’s words as he pulls me over to three white plastic tables adorned with countless kegs and littered with red cups. Seth sets the bottle of Jack down on the table and it’s immediately picked back up by randoms. They clap Seth on the shoulder and he returns their greeting with a smile and a single nod of the head as he snags two clean red cups and fills them with beer. He hands one to me and I take it in my still-trembling hand, a result of almost being cleaned up by a flying fighter.
“How’d you find this place?” I ask, glancing around the enclosed warehouse.
He shrugs. “I might not fight anymore, but I make it my business to know all the spots. You know, in case the need ever arises.”
I frown and Seth leans in until his breath blows across my cheek, making me shiver.
“You want our spark back? Fighting is what made you wet for me in the first place.”
“Seth—”
As he pulls back, the scattering of people erupt with a roar and I jump, spilling a small amount of my beer on my dress. It soaks through immediately, chilling my skin enough for goosebumps to spring up along my arms. Seth laughs and pinches my ass.
“Relax, O. Enjoy yourself.”
He points to the ring and when I turn, I see a large fist slam into a cheekbone. I flinch as bile threatens to force itself up my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve witnessed a live fight. It’s good to see it hasn’t dropped in brutality. Not.
The man who was punched in the cheekbone quickly regains his footing and launches at the man who hit him. He moves fast—much faster than I assumed a man his age could go—taking his opponent by surprise. ‘Salt ‘n’ Pepper,’ the name I’ve decided to give the man with the swollen cheekbone and ash colored hair, connects with some powerful punches hit after hit. Every time the sound of flesh being battered is heard over the spectators, I tremble a little more—and this time, not with fear. The pulse between my thighs is unbearable, unbelievable. Fighting is an aphrodisiac to me—the movements, the strength, the speed, the stamina! I lift my cup and swallow a large mouthful of beer to quench my thirst and ease the burn in my throat. The show of force is captivating, sure, but nothing gets all my parts clenching quite like seeing Seth doing his thing.
His lips brush my ear and his arms circle me from behind, making me gasp. “I knew you’d like it.”
Locked in his embrace, I turn around until his hands rest on my lower back and my face is directly in front of his. My heart beats at an uneven pace, growing wilder by the second.
“Why don’t you get up there and show them how it’s done?” I ask.
His eyes darken, but through the darkness his tiny rivers of honey flare dangerously as his lips twitch.
“All in good time, baby.” He plants a soft kiss on my lips. “I want to warm you up first. Consider this foreplay. In a little while, I’ll drive it home.”
Seth releases me and I hate it. I want him to hold me, to touch me. He turns me around and pulls me tightly against him as we watch the fight from where we’re standing. The salty smell of sweat and the copper scent of blood once twisted my stomach. Now, I can’t deny the effect it has on me. It makes my skin crawl in the most delightful way. I watch the flurry of limbs and relish in the sounds of heavy bodies crashing to the canvas. Until I’ve consumed a few beers and my body starts to numb, they have my full attention.
After three different sets of fights, I’ve lost control of my own body. Sweat, slick and warm, trickles from my hair line and down my back. I’m hot and heavy, and with Seth pressed so firmly against me, it’s almost unbearable. His warmth flows through the fabrics that separate us as if we were both naked. Between my thighs, I clench at the thought of being naked with him. Last night was sexy, but I need more. I need it crazy enough to sate me for a week.
I take note of the tingles dancing across the surface of my skin. I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. Though a part of my heart craves to see my daughter, the other part craves recklessness and danger.
For the first time in forever, I crave something that will make me uncomfortable.
Irrational.
Wet.
***
Seth
I inhale again and breathe her in. Two cups ago, my mind turned fuzzy, but my senses have yet to dull where she’s concerned. Under my hands, her stomach clenches and her chest heaves whenever anyone connects with a powerful punch. I’m not going to lie, seeing the two men in the ring affect my woman the way they do doesn’t sit well on my stomach. Even so, I make no move to take her away from the action. I want her to be worked up so when I get up there, she’ll be begging me to take her right here in front of everyone.
The warehouse is hot and damp. There’s nothing but large industrial fans to push warm air around. No air-conditioning. No open windows.
Sweat coats me, Olivia too. Her hair, once combed and pinned elegantly, is now a sexy mess and she makes it worse every time she rakes her fingers through it. I suspect mine is the same.
We’ve been here for hours, two at least, standing in the same spot. Around us, people dance and carry on like idiots, but Olivia is oblivious to them, focused only on what’s happening in the ring. The alcohol is making my eyelids heavy, coaxing the tiredness out of me. All day I’ve been on my feet. I’m ready to end this night and go home. As the thought passes, one of the fighters—the one with long curly hair and tight, skinny jeans—is hit with tremendous force by a spinning back kick, and he’s down for the count.
We’ve watched a couple fights now, but this is the first that has ended in a knock out. In my arms, Olivia’s body tightens. Whether or not she enjoyed seeing it is beyond me. She turns in my arms, her face a little paler than it was earlier.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” she mutters, pressing her hand to her chest. “I’ve drank too much. We should go.”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Her green eyes widen. “You’re not seriously contemplating getting in the ring with that psycho?” She points over her shoulder toward the victor. He isn’t much…a little on the tall side, but nothing too extreme. I’ve fought some pretty scary guys in my time. The one in front of me doesn’t even make the top ten. I shrug, smile, and polish off the rest of my beer before dropping the cup to the dusty floor.
“I’ll fight him, then we’ll go.”
I release her and press forward, but her hands fly to my chest, preventing me from moving closer. “Seth. I don’t want you to fight. Besides, you’re not all
owed to. Court order, remember?”
I grab her wrists and lower them back to her sides. Fuck court order. Fuck the MMAC and the restrictions they put on me. After Vegas, I was too burnt out to fight. Now, tonight, I feel like I need it. Fighting is the most freeing place in my life, second only to being between Olivia’s thighs. I know I shouldn’t fight—not when I’m feeling this light headed—but I can’t leave here tonight without hitting something with my fists.
“Keep your eyes on me,” I tell her before planting a rough, dry kiss on her lips.
I pull away and storm toward the ring. The man’s bald head glistens with sweat that rolls down his back and chest. He thrusts his arms in the air, celebrating and demanding a new opponent. No one approaches the cage other than me. He sees it, too. With a cocky grin, he winks at me before spotting something over my shoulder that makes his dark eyes narrow. As I grip the middle rope, I glance over my shoulder to see Olivia right behind me. I look back to my opponent and the curious look he has in his eyes as he takes in her bare legs and tight, black dress fucking irks me.
“Cute girl,” he grunts at me as I pull myself into the ring.
I ignore him. What does he expect me to say? Thank you? I treat him like he doesn’t exist as I unbutton my shirt and shrug out of it. I fold it in half and drop it over the ropes for Olivia to catch. She clenches it to her chest and shakes her head at me. I see the worry in her eyes, but she should know me better by now. There’s no way I’m losing to this fucking asshole.