Spent - Part 1 (Spent, a New Adult Romance, MMA Series) (6 page)

“I’m sure Tasha can sensationalize it enough to make it sound fabulous,” Cameron winks at me as she takes a sip from her coffee.
 

“Fine,” I shrug, “I’ll do it. When would you like to meet?”

“I have a fight tomorrow night in Baltimore. We could meet there and I can tutor you after the fight.”

I arch an eyebrow, “You’ll feel good enough to tutor after a fight?”

“Pssh, it’s a fight with Kris Jackson. If I can’t beat him, then I’m not worth interviewing for your paper,” Luke smirks.
 

“Alright, I can do Baltimore,” I smile, knowing that I likely won’t be running into Derrick at a Baltimore fight.
 

“Cool,” Luke’s face brightens, “Text me later and I’ll send you the address.”

“Okay,” I smile sweetly, enraptured by his adorable expression, “See you tomorrow.”
 

“See ya later, Tasha,” Luke smiles, “And it was nice to formally meet you, Cameron,” Luke nods his head towards her, smiling kindly.
 

“You too,” Cameron mutters, her wild eyes looking over Luke’s muscular physique.
 

Once Luke walks away, I turn my attention back to Cameron. Her eyes stare at me wickedly as she sips from her coffee. Judging from the smirk on her face, one would get the impression that she just managed to strip Luke naked with her eyes.
 

“That is one delicious looking muscle-bound dildo.”

I roll my eyes, “Ugh, Cameron! He’s a friend.”

“Still,” she mutters, “He might be pretty fun to roll around with. Besides, it’s pretty obvious that he’s totally into you.”

“Really?”
 

Cameron gives me her best annoyed face, “Yes, doofus. Just go with him tomorrow and enjoy yourself. If anything, it’ll at least be an excuse to get your ass out of your apartment. I’m tired of seeing you mope.”

Pulling her wallet out of her purse, Cameron gets a few dollar bills out and sets them down on the table. Getting out of her seat quickly, she smooths out the wrinkles in her dress.
 

“I need to get back to school. And you, my dear, need to shave.”

“Shave?” I look at her quizzically.
 

“Just in case your little tutoring session leads you two into the bedroom,” Cameron winks.

Sighing, I pull into the nearly empty parking lot for the Baltimore arena. Numerous questions run through my mind as I pull into a spot near the entrance. Should I act as a cheerleader for Luke while he fights? Should I just act professional and get the information I need for my story? Turning off the ignition, I take in a deep breath. Determined to think of Luke as nothing more than a friend and someone to interview, I grab my backpack and open the car door.
 

***

With a rather slow right hook from the brutish looking Kris Jackson, Luke is down on the ground. I had seen the hit coming. The way Jackson lazily threw his punches, anyone could have seen the hook coming, so why didn’t Luke? I make a mental note to try to see if I can tell if Luke might possibly have vision problems.
 

The few people who are in the stadium quickly leave. Realizing that Luke really isn’t getting very far up in ranking, I sigh. I know that the result of this fight, along with any others he loses in subsequent weeks, will only lead to him falling even further until he likely loses his pro status.
 

Standing up, I pick up my backpack from the chair beside me and make my way towards the ring. Jackson walked off the moment he realized that he wasn’t getting any applause, leaving Luke behind to sit in a corner. As I get closer to him, Luke notices me and flashes a smile. As his muscles glisten against the bright lighting of the stadium, I notice just how sexy he is, despite having a puffy left eye from the right hook Jackson dealt him.
 

Walking up the steps, I make my way through the opening and into the arena. Surprisingly, it’s my first time to ever walk into a fighting stage. I take in the scene around me. The bold colors of the flexible cord that encloses the cage isn’t as bright on the inside as it is on the outside. Instead, the inside has endured enough blood and sweat to dull the colors. Looking down, I observe the mottled staining of the floor under my feet, cringing as I think about all the people who have fought so violently on the ground I’m walking on. The fighting itself I find beautiful, but the gore that comes with it has always been something that makes my stomach churn.
 

“Never been in one before?” Luke calls from the corner.
 

“Nope,” I mutter, my eyes still locked onto the floor.
 

“It’s a little unnerving the first time, isn’t it?”

I look up and nod, noticing that he’s staring at me with an expression of intrigue. The penetrative gaze he has moving along my body sends a chill through my body that vibrates against my dampening sex. He smiles, this time not a fake smile, but an adorable smile that nearly makes my body explode.
 

“It bothered me a little the first time I entered the arena. It was a place here in Baltimore, but an amateur ring,” I walk closer to him, his voice drawing me into his story, “I was about a hundred pounds lighter fighting a guy about fifty pounds heavier than I am now,” Luke chortles as he recalls the memory.
 

“Did you beat him?” I sit down beside Luke, spreading my legs out in front of me and crossing them below my knees.
 

“I did actually,” Luke beams, “But I didn’t beat the angry mob that came after me when they lost their bets against me.”

Luke and I both laugh in unison. I’m quickly enraptured by the sound of happiness coming from deep within his chest. I watch as his face brightens up almost immediately from the sullen expression he had shortly after the fight. Nervously, I begin fumbling with my backpack on my lap, drawing my focus to it. I need to distract myself away from his handsome face before my aching vagina causes me to do something I might regret.
 

Suddenly, Luke eases his massive body through the bottom cord. My eyes widen as I watch his muscles flex and stretch as he reaches for something on the ground outside of the enclosure. Hungrily, my orbs run along his shorts and lock onto his massive bulge. The way his pants contour around his shaft displays perfectly the beautiful outline of his impressive root. I bite my bottom lip and quickly look away, trying to control the throbbing happening in the muscles deep below my stomach.
 

As he comes back up, I notice his arm flex. When he’s finally up, in his hand is a case of beer. My mouth begins to salivate as I stare at the sexy man beside me and the thought of relaxing the mood with a delicious beer.

“You’re old enough, right?” Luke asks as he grabs two beers out of the case.
 

“I’ll be twenty-two next month,” I smile sweetly, grabbing the beer that he hands me.
 

“Ah,” the lovely pop and sizzle from the can when he opens his beer sends a yummy chill throughout my body, “So you’re dark and mysterious, but extremely loyal and inquisitive.”

“Huh?” I look at him, dumbfounded. Even though his assessment was incredibly accurate, I have no idea how he’s managed to gather that much on me in the short time we’ve known each other.
 

Luke winks, “I’m an Aquarius, too. February sixteenth.”
 

Oh, Aquarius. Duh...

“Seventeenth for me,” I tip my beer towards him, “Here’s to February birthdays.”

Smiling, Luke nods and tilts his beer towards mine. The two cans clink together, filling the ambiance around us with the sound of the delicious liquid inside of them sloshing around as we move our cans towards one another.
 

I take a sip from my beer. The bitter liquid burns as it runs down my throat, but I quickly want more as my mouth begins to salivate the moment I swallow. It’s been so long since I’ve had a beer, so I savor the taste, enjoying the silence that surrounds Luke and I as we both lean back and enjoy our beverages.
 

“So,” I’m the first to break the long silence, “How did you get started in MMA?”

Luke arches an eyebrow, “Interviewing me already? I don’t open up until I’ve had at least one beer.”
 

Pulling my pen and notebook out of my backpack, I quickly scribble something down. I try to stifle a giggle as I notice Luke trying his best to see what I’m writing.

“I haven’t even said anything interview worthy,” Luke grimaces.
 

“Sure you did,” I smile sweetly, “You admitted that you’re an alcoholic.”

“Ugh,” Luke rolls his eyes, “Hardly. This is the first beer I’ve had in months. I just don’t do interviews really well.”

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, causing an annoying thumping sound to ring through the stadium. Quickly fishing it out of my pocket, I look to see who it is.

“Crap,” I mutter when I realize it’s my mother, “I keep forgetting to call her back.”
 

“Who?” Luke cocks his head to the side in an almost irresistible manner.
 

“My mom. She and my stepdad are wanting to visit,” I sigh as I hit the ignore button on my phone, quickly shoving it back down into my pants.
 

“Where are they from?”
 

“Same place I’m from,” I smirk as I take a sip from my beer.
 

Luke frowns, “You’re a butt.”

“I’m more than just a piece of ass, Luke Richards,” I practice my best tone of exasperation, “And I’m from Missouri.”  

“But your ass compliments you nicely,” Luke interjects, without missing a beat, “And I thought I caught a hint of a southern accent.”
 

I blush. All I can think about is the way his own tight ass scoots past me every day he arrives for class. My mouth begins to salivate as I think about my hands running along the smooth skin of his taut…
 

Chill out, Tash. Just get your interview, have him tutor you, then get out before you do something stupid.

“So,” I tap my pen against my notebook, “How did you get started in MMA?”

Luke sighs, “You’re not going to let me finish my beer first, are you?”

“Nope. Now answer the question.”

Luke takes a quick sip from his beer, then rests it down on the edge of his knee. I watch as he sits in silence, his expression blank and unreadable. One day, I’ll be happy when I can finally interpret the many blank expressions of Luke Richards.
 

“I didn’t have the greatest childhood.”
 

Wow… Not what I was expecting.

“Really?” My tone comes out a bit more surprised than what I would like.
 

“Yeah, but we’re going to need way more beers than one case before I can open up about all that,” Luke smirks, “Let’s just say that, through my childhood, I learned how to fight.”

“Well maybe someday you can share it with me,” I smile as kindly as I can. I really want to know more about him, but I can tell by his unease that this isn’t a story that I’m going to hear anytime soon.
 

“So rumor has it,” I continue, “that you don’t have a primary trainer. Care to shed some light on that?”

Luke’s face grows dark, causing me to immediately regret my question. I can tell from his expression alone that not having a trainer is something far deeper than simply being full of himself and thinking he can do it all on his own. This look is something personal and likely something I’m not going to find out about. I’m quickly coming to realize that Luke Richards is a far more mysterious man than I had initially thought him to be.
 

“My trainer and I had a conflict of interest,” Luke mutters as he quickly chugs down the last bit of his beer. Once his beer is finished, he sets the can down beside him and grabs another.

“Conflict of interest?” The journalist in me can’t help but dig deeper.

“We both shared a similar interest which quickly grew into a conflict,” Luke looks over at me, his hazel eyes searching mine, “Do you have a different question?”

“Um,” I fumble with my notepad, “Sure, sorry. To what do you owe your success?”
 

As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, I want to facepalm myself. It’s just a generic question that I ask all of the athletes I interview. Luke is the first athlete I’ve ever interviewed with any sort of background that poses issues for the usual questions I ask, quickly beginning to make me feel way out of my comfort zone.
 

Luke arches an eyebrow, “I’d hardly call what I do a success, Tasha. I haven’t won consistently in over a year. The last fight I won was almost 2 months ago.”
 

“But you used to win consistently.” It’s not a question. I know the answer. Before driving down to Baltimore today, I looked up Luke’s profile. Last year, he was a rising star within the MMA world. He had been undefeated and was on several sponsor lists. For some reason, though, he began losing fights the moment he was about to make it to the major televised stadiums. No matter how much I researched into him, I couldn’t find any information on why this happened. No injuries had been reported, so I’m left to assume it’s something far deeper than my one day of reporting on him will be able to find out.
 

“Why?”

“Why what?” Luke asks, staring at me quizzically.
 

“Why have you been losing?” My tone has changed from journalist to friend. This isn’t something I’m going to write in the school paper. This is something I want to know because I’m quickly beginning to like this guy.
 

Luke sighs and takes a long sip from his beer, “I’ve become emotionally detached, honestly. Something happened to me a year ago, something I don’t want to talk about right now,” He looks at me as he says the words, like a warning to not dig deeper, “that changed the way I feel about fighting. I just don’t have the same love for it like I once had.”

“Then why do you still fight,” I ask as I take a long drink from my beer, letting the harsh fire water burn as it runs down my dry throat.