Banging Reaper (17 page)

Today is the day of the big fight. The big rematch between Chase and Ethan. I can’t even stomach the thought of watching it.

It’s not that I’m bothered anymore that they’re out to cause each other intense, physical pain. I know they both want it. From watching them both train, I’ve come to realize they both get off on it in some way. And Ethan, he knows what he’s getting this time, so if he wants to get his ass kicked again, that’s all on him. He wants it so bad he’s pretty much begged for a repeat.

It’s that I’m afraid to see Chase again.

I’m afraid to see his handsome face. Afraid of the urges I’ll feel and the need he brings out in me. The want, the surge of lust. There’s too much longing.

I can smell him still, he smelled musky and somehow sweet. I can feel his presence in my apartment even though it’s been six long lonely weeks since I last saw him. Sebastian meows at my door every night, reminding me. It’s been near torture not reaching out to him.

When I pushed him away, he took a little piece of me.

Every day I’m dying just a little bit. Dying without Chase. Dying while I work under Ethan. It’s as if my soul is withering away.

I’ve fucked up and I don’t know how to fix it. Or maybe I do know how to fix it, but now I’m just too damn afraid. I’m a coward.

I check my phone. It’s still early in the morning. The only work Ethan has for me is at the arena. He wants me with him just like before, dressed up as his lucky charm. Dressed up in a short skirt and a bra for a shirt so he can parade me around like I’m his arm candy. I can’t do it. I won’t do that to Chase.

I’ve got the outfit and the tickets but I plan on staying home today.

I’ve picked up groceries and now I’m wearing my favorite pair of soft, snuggly PJs. I drift into my kitchen and get ready to actually cook some breakfast for myself this morning.

There’s just a little twinge when I get out the bacon and eggs.

I pull up a website and check up on the information about tonight’s fight. I plan on refreshing the page all night to see the results. Even though I’m making triple what I was before, I still haven’t been able to bring myself to splurge on cable for my TV. The website with all the fight information thankfully though is running a live stream. I start up the live stream and rest my phone on the counter while I go about cooking.

There are two commentators talking about tonight’s matchup. They give the stats on both Ethan and Chase. And even though Chase won the last match, they can’t agree as they speculate who will win tonight’s fight. Then they start talking about something that happened last night to Chase. One of the commentators is convinced Chase will lose tonight because there’s been rumors he was injured after being attacked by four armed men last night.

Four armed men attacked him behind his gym. Fuck me.

Abandoning the pan on the stove, I run over to my phone, pick it up and immediately shoot a text off to Chase.

Me
: Are you okay???

I wait and wait for a reply. The bacon starts burning. I have to toss my phone down as the smoke detector goes off.

Shit.

I grab the pan of burnt bacon off the stove and dump it in the sink. After opening all the windows and waving my broom at the smoke detector, it finally stops wailing. I check my phone again. Chase still hasn’t responded to me.

Maybe he blocked me.

I search the web for information about Chase. I scan the news articles about his attack. They arrested the four perpetrators last night and Chase escaped unscathed. Then it hits me. I’m reading all the details and one of the articles dates the attack at about six last night.

Four on one at six? Did Ethan set up Chase?

I shoot off a text to Ethan.

Me
: We need to talk!

Ethan responds almost immediately to me.

Ethan
: Meet me at the arena tonight.

Me
: No, we need to talk now.

Ethan
: Can’t. Busy. If you wanna talk, you know where to find me.

I know he’s not that busy. He’s probably hanging out with his posse and pre-celebrating. Now that he knows I want something from him he’s going to manipulate me.

“That fucking dick,” I hiss between my teeth.

Sebastian looks up at me with his knowing cat eyes and meows as if he’s agreeing.

***

He did it. I know he did. Four on one at six. When I gave that message to Ethan, he looked so damn smug and pleased. Ethan wants to win so badly he set up Chase. Hoping to what, though? Hurt him so he can’t fight? No, Ethan wants to fight him, he’s anxious and been irritable about the three-month delay. If he did it, he did it to injure Chase. He did it to give himself the advantage.

If he did it, I might just kick his ass myself before he even gets a chance to step in the cage.

All day I’ve been stewing. All day I’ve thinking about what to say to Ethan. If I’m not thinking about Ethan, I’m thinking about what I’m going to do if I run into Chase. A part of me really hopes we do run into each other. Even if it’s just for a moment.

I pull up to the back parking lot of the arena and my heart does a little flip-flop when I see Chase’s black Impala parked in the back corner.

If I run into Chase, will he even talk to me? I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve his attention. Who am I even kidding? He’s probably already moved on from me. I’ve heard Ethan’s friends talking before, jealous of how the fighters get so much easy pussy. What if he has a girl with him? Oh my God, I think it will kill me.

I rush into the back entrance and the bouncer manning the door eyes me up and down, checking me out with a critical frown. I’m not showing enough skin and I don’t look official. I have a VIP ticket and front row seats, but I’ve decided not to wear the outfit Ethan picked out. I’ve chosen a black tank top with a modest cut and a pair of tight fitting, butt flattering jeans. Subconsciously I know I picked this outfit out because Chase really loves me in jeans.

Chase
.

All day my thoughts have been stuck on Chase. Is he hurt? Does he miss me? I’ve survived the past few weeks by trying my damnedest not to think about him. Out of pure survival, I locked all the memories away. I convinced my heart that what we had was just a short lived fling… a kind of young infatuation that was never meant to be. He offered me everything, and I pushed him away. I’m a silly fool. I know it now. I realize it. I own it.

I wish I never accused him of trying to control me.

After the bouncer decides it’s easier to wave me through than turn me away, the sounds of guys whooping and loud music blaring leads me to Ethan’s rematch party. I push my way through the crowd. I look for Ethan but I don’t need to find him. He’s been expecting me. He appears out of nowhere and throws his arm around my shoulder.

“Hey, I’m glad you decided to come,” Ethan grins, but he narrows his eyes as his baby blues take in my tank top and jeans.

“We need to talk,” I say quietly. We’re being watched. The room is packed, guys and girls are standing elbow to elbow. There’s too many people in such a small place, to me it feels too loud and too suffocating. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

“Sure,” Ethan says with a grin. Squeezing his arm around me, he leads me through the crowd and out into the hallway.

“How about here?” Ethan asks, pulling me into a dark corner.

It’s not as private as I would have liked but then again if he tries to hurt me again, someone is bound to see.

“Here is fine,” I tell him and cross my arms over my chest.

Funny, now that I’m peering up at him, I’m not quite as brave as I imagined I’d be.

“So, what do you want to talk about, Ave?” Ethan asks. His baby blues warm with heat, dragging slowly up and down my body.

I take a deep breath then ask, “What does four on one at six mean?”

Ethan’s eyes drop to my lips. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the question. No, unfortunately, he seems to be much more interested in me. “What do you think it means?”

I lean back into the corner, creating space between us and whisper, “I think it means you hired some guys to mess with Reaper.”

Ethan scowls and steps into me, filling up the space. “Why do you even care? Is that why you came here to talk to me?”

“Give me some room,” I hiss at him and push at his chest.

“Why Avery?” Ethan asks angrily. “Why keep playing these games? I’ve waited long enough for you.”

“What games?” I ask Ethan. My push did nothing to move him. Fucker weighs a ton.

Ethan pushes himself against me. I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming in outrage.

This is so not how I expected this to go. If anything, I expected he might get pissed off at me again and try to shove me into another wall.

“I’ve been waiting on you. I thought I’d wait until you finished college then ask you to marry me. I thought I’d get all my partying out now then we could settle down together and be happy. But I can’t wait any more. I have to have you now, Avery.”

Ethan kisses me. His mouth covers my mouth, and he slobbers all over my lips and chin. His tongue pushes at my seam but I press my lips tightly together, ready to bite if his tongue penetrates me.

I shove hard at his chest and when he doesn’t stop, when that doesn’t budge him, I clench my hands into fists and start punching him. Ethan groans. I struggle to lift my knee. He must sense it coming. With an angry snarl, he grabs my face and stops trying to kiss me.

“Why do you keep fighting what’s between us? Can’t you feel how much I want you?”

“Oh my God, Ethan,” I gasp and push at him again as he grinds his erection into the zipper of my jeans. “Get the fuck off me before I scream.”

“I love you, Avery. I fucking love you,” Ethan tells me. I have no doubt he honestly believes it.

“You’re hurting me,” I whine. His hands press hard on the side of my face, his fingers tangled in my hair. Pulling on me, bruising me. I feel tears stinging my eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Ethan apologizes and his grip softens.

I can’t help but cringe as he starts planting kisses on my cheeks. As if his kisses could soothe the hurt he just caused.

“Stop touching me. Please.” I tell him. The anger, the outrage, it’s morphed into something else. Something cold and sad. Small and painful. How did we come to this? Did I do this?

Ethan leans back and his baby blues flare at me. “You’re such a fucking bitch. Always so ungrateful. I’ve done so much for you. I’ve proven myself to you. And this is how you repay me?”

“Repay you? I didn’t know you were running a tab. You always told me not to worry about it.”

“Well, that was when I was planning on asking you to marry me. Now I can see you’re not good enough to be my wife. You’re just going to have to repay me with this.”

He reaches down and forces his hand between my thighs, cupping me in his hand.

No, I didn’t do this. He’s just an asshole. A self-entitled asshole who’s always had a hidden agenda. And I’m so done with him.

Everything inside me revolts at the way he’s touching me. I lift my chin in the air with as much bravado as I can muster and warn him, “Get your fucking hands off me or I will scream.” To show I’m not playing around, I raise my voice and yell, “I fucking mean it, Ethan!”

“Fucking bitch,” Ethan yells and jumps back. “I swear if you tell anyone…”

I bristle beneath his glare as he looks at me now as something that’s beneath him. Something he’d rather step on.

“Tell anyone what? That you just sexually harassed me in the hall?” I challenge him. I’m not afraid of him. No, each second he’s near me, each second he looks at me as if I’m lesser, as if he honestly believes he’s greater, I feel like I swell with conviction. “Or that you cheated? That you hired four goons to handicap your opponent?”

“You can’t prove it,” he smirks at me and crosses his thick arms confidently in front of his chest.

I knew it, I knew he fucking did it.

“Maybe not,” I bluff at him and his grin grows even smugger. It just ticks me off. I straighten from the wall and flip my hair back, over my shoulder. “But I don’t have to. It doesn’t matter. You’re still going to get your ass kicked.”

Ethan laughs and shakes his head at me. Now I just know I have to stick around, whether Chase wants to see me or not, just so I can see the match.

“Go the fuck home, Avery. You don’t belong here. And don’t bother showing up at the office Monday. We’re done, bitch.”

Just like that, six years of friendship done, ended in this dark stinky hallway with no one else the wiser, and I’m not even mad about it. Ethan turns his back on me. He saunters away as if he’s hot shit and he knows it.

And no, I’m still not mad, not mad one little bit. No, I feel liberated. I feel as if a weight has been lifted. A two hundred pound blonde weight is gone, and I can’t even be upset that he called me a bitch. It’s good to finally see his true colors. It’s good to realize I wasn’t just being paranoid and all my suspicions were justified.