Reese

But I’m not the only one who grew up. His body is fitter now. He’s turned it into a machine, and as a result, he’s toned and muscular in all the right places.

That shy boy is gone, and as a cocky smirk graces his face, I can’t help but shake my head when he whips off his T-shirt to show me just how ripped he is beneath.

“Damn, but you grew up.”

He laughs before kicking off his sweatpants, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that do nothing to hide his arousal.

We stare at each other for a minute. A minute that might as well be an hour with how electrically charged the room feels.

I shake my head to break the spell, knowing that fucking Blink now might bring me a world of pleasure, but it would be fleeting. I’m not the woman he remembers, and I won’t taint the history between us by lying to him.

“Show off. Let’s see how smooth your moves are when I’m pummeling you into the mat.”

He smiles, reaching for a pair of basketball shorts he must have placed on the bench when he walked in and pulls them on before slipping his sneakers on and lacing them up.

“Ready?”

I blow out a breath, his question feeling far heavier than it should. I know somehow that as soon as I step into that ring and people realize who I am, everything will change again. The shadows I had retreated to will disappear, leaving me exposed.

Am I ready for that? Maybe, maybe not, but when I think of Melanie and remember her tragic story, I don’t have the liberty to be afraid. Someone stole her voice and if I don’t speak for her now, speak for all of them, nobody will.

“Let’s do this.” I smile.

He signals for me to lead the way, and I do, though I know it’s only a ploy so he can watch my ass.

“Don’t think fighting with a hard dick is gonna be much fun,” I tease.

“Are you planning on wearing that to fight?”

“Well, yeah.” I look over my shoulder at him with a frown.

“Then I’d better get used to fighting with a rock-hard cock because this thing isn’t going down anytime soon.”

Having nothing to say to that, I push open the door that leads to the hallway and hold it open for Blink.

We walk side by side, our arms brushing against each other as we do. Turning the corner, we walk into the main area of the gym, where we are hit with the sounds of fists hitting bags and the squeak of feet shuffling across the mats in a choreography of precise moves.

The smell of sweat and chalk lingers in the air. To some, it would make them wrinkle their nose in disgust, but it’s always been a comforting smell to me. My home away from home. A shelter from the streets when I had nowhere else to go.

We head to the octagon, not bothering to use any other equipment first, the anticipation of fighting each other too enticing to resist.

I catalog the others in the room and dismiss them. Nobody has paid any attention to me yet. They are all too busy doing their own thing. It’s another reason I love this gym over the one Lollie occasionally drags me to, where the women use it as a dating service, arriving with a full face of makeup.

Blood, sweat, and tears are all I want to worry about, not mascara running down my face. There is a time and a place to get all prettied up. Surprisingly, I like it as much as the next woman. But nothing gets my blood flowing faster than the thought of dirty, no-holds-barred fighting.

Blink lifts the rope for me to climb under before joining me, bouncing on his feet.

“Rules?” he asks, looking down at my feet as I kick off my flip-flops. His lips twitch as he toes off his sneakers and kicks them outside the ring.

“When did I ever follow the rules, Blink?”

This time, his grin turns wicked. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.”

He lunges for me, but I twirl out of his way, his shoulder barely grazing mine as he dips his head, anticipating my high kick.

When he moves to sweep my legs out from under me, I jump and flip back out of reach.

“Well, that’s new.”