Free Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance by Shanora Williams Page B

tickled the corners of her mouth, but she said nothing. She relaxed the tension in her shoulders and back, bringing her arms up and hooking them around the back of my neck.
    My cock pulsed in my jeans as she rubbed against the fabric, rotating her ass in small, full circles. I tried hard not to shudder from the grind—tried even harder not to rip her fucking clothes off and fuck her against the very wall my back was pressed against.
    Sighing, she dipped low, then brought herself back up again, proving she’d done this before. And she didn’t party? Who was she kidding? Without much thought, I pressed my mouth to the bend of her neck, breathing in the sweet strawberry scent that lingered on her skin.
    Her hair smelled good, like citrus. My hands had no fucking idea what to do, so I kept them on her hips, doing my best to avoid bringing them up to cup her perky tits.
    “Why do they call you Doomsday?” she asked, hips still working.
    “Why do you want to know?” I countered.
    “Just curious.”
    I tightened my grip on her waist, keeping her still, and bringing out another heavy gasp. “Always curious… Snoop.”
    “You fight…” This was a statement. Not a question.
    “Fight to protect myself.”
    “And for fun.”
    “No. For a living.”
    “Just get a real job.”
    “Real jobs aren’t my thing.”
    “Then what is your thing ?”
    “I don’t know, but I don’t see you with a job.”
    She laughed.
    I fought one.
    “People think you’re so bad… but you can’t fool me.” Her body stopped moving, and with a quick jerk, she spun around, landing between my arms.
    Snaking her arms around my neck, she looked me straight in the eye. I watched as the flashing lights made her brown irises shimmer, the heat of her lips so close I felt I was already kissing her.
    “You don’t know me,” I rasped. “And it’ll stay that way.” I tightened my hold around her.
    Her lips twisted for a moment, and then she grinned. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know all about you, Drake.” As if something obvious registered, she said, “God, I like that name so much more than the Doomsday one.”
    I shrugged a shoulder. “I’d rather be called Doom.”
    “Sounds scary.”
    “That’s the point.”
    “Why?” she murmured, her face turning straight. “Why do you do that to yourself?”
    I hated her stare, how she went from playful to fully concerned and serious in a matter of seconds. No one was ever this concerned about me but Grandma Marie, and that’s because she had the right. She was my grandmother.
    I looked away, focusing on the DJ.
    “Drop it,” I grumbled, my arms going slack around her.
    “Just… tell me.” She pressed her body into mine. I was pinned against the wall, her tits pressed on my chest, her leg hooked around mine, in somewhat of a trap.
    I had no clue how she ended up in the position she was in, but when I realized my hand was cupping her ass, I figured I was to blame.
    Natural instinct. Couldn’t help myself.
    “Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “I am who I am.”
    “You don’t have to act like you’re a monster… or go with what everyone else calls you.”
    “I don’t care.” I gritted my teeth, pushing her leg off mine.
    Her body buckled, but I kept her steady with the grip I had at her waist. Eyelashes fluttering, she swallowed thickly, eyes wide and honestly annoying. “Your dad makes you fight, doesn’t he?”
    Frowning, I snatched my hands away, and gripped her by the shoulders. “Jenny, just fucking stop .”
    She blinked rapidly. “Stop what?”
    “Stop asking questions you don’t want the answers to. Stop telling me what to do with my life!”
    I observed her startled expression, how her eyes clouded with fear.
    Whether she realized it or not, her bottom lip began to tremble, her hands sliding down my arms and, soon, away from me. I felt some sort of absence within me when her touch went missing. A part of me wanted her arms back around my neck, or her hands in