"Hey," he says quietly, lifting my gaze to his, "I want you in bed with me."

I laugh.

"I've never spent a complete night with a woman, not in my life."

I stop laughing.

Oh god. He's emotionally a virgin too.

What are we doing?

His expression intensifies, and he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. Knuckles, which are the way he makes a living, probably one of his most prized body parts after the obvious one. "I liked what just happened in the back of that cab, Reese."

"I liked it too."

"Then don't regret it," he whispers in my ear.

He heads to the elevator.

"Maverick." I stop him.

I want to kiss him for luck.

I want to kiss him for me.

"I wish I could be at the next fight," I say instead.

He stops by the elevator, hot and delectable, laughing softly as he rakes his hand through his hair. "I'm glad you're not."

"Why?"

He shakes his head woefully. "I need my head with my opponents." He sends me a meaningful look, as if I fuck with his head.

"Riptide is undefeated, Maverick. He's . . . unstoppable. I don't want either of you to get hurt."

He comes back and tells me gently, "One of us will." He chucks my chin. "Don't worry about me. I can take a beatdown. I learn best when I'm on the ground 'cause I fucking hate it there."

He goes back to the elevator, and I lean on the door as he disappears inside. I open the hotel room door, dine on cereal, and head to my bed. I lie there, still breathless, squeezing my eyes to relive what just happened in the back of the cab with him.

I have never been so scared.

Reese, is this really you? Are you ready to be bold and brave?

TWENTY-SEVEN.

HER.

Maverick When we reach the hotel, I take a shower, drop into bed, and I'm restless. I replay the cab. I replay her kisses. I replay her words. I replay what she said about herself.

You make me drunk, Maverick. . . .

Fuck, I shouldn't have taken her to her hotel. I should've brought her with me. To lie here, on my chest. Like she wanted. And talk all night, either with words or with silence.

And I'll kiss her, for hours, her tongue coming out to play with mine, and I'll have her breasts in my hands. She's going to moan into my mouth. And I'm going to draw out those moans, because when I'm with her, I'm intoxicated and I'm crazed and out of control.

Reese in bed, looking nice and sweet, wrapping her arms softly around me as I spread out on her. Her saying my name in a way I know she wants me, needs me like I need her. "Maverick."

I can't talk, I'm groaning against her mouth, then squeezing her ass in my hands as I taste her nipple. I turn her around and kiss the mounds of her ass too. Slip my fingers between her legs, and she's all wet and juiced up. I'm memorizing her. It'll take me forever, but I'm dedicated and I want to memorize every tiny inch and pore with my eyes and my fingers and my tongue.

Her breaths jerk and she rolls around and grabs me to her and takes me inside. She's hot. Wet. I can't get enough. She accepts me inside her. She welcomes me inside her. She rubs her hands all along my back, over my tattoo. And she knows what it means. She's the only one who knows what it means. It's not about my father, it's about me.

And I know who she is. I know she's strong and sweet, I know she fights to balance what others need and what she needs. I know she's finding Reese, and I know that I'm the lucky guy who's gotten the privilege of watching her find herself.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

STRONGER.

Maverick One . . . two . . . three . . .

Fifty-seven . . . fifty-eight . . . fifty-nine . . .

A hundred . . . a hundred and one . . . a hundred and two . . .

I'm doing sit-ups. Training in an empty hotel room Oz and I wrangled for the day.

I'm thinking of finals six weeks ahead. And of her. Always of her.

I know losing can get to your head. I know losing can ruin a fighter's life. I also know you'll never win if you don't believe you deserve it. Because when your body's about to give up, and you're on your last push, you won't ever go that extra mile if only a fraction of you didn't believe you could nail this.

Maybe it's my rebel inside. I've always believed I could; mainly, because I don't think anybody else did. I believe I can. So I will.

And she is mine. I'm claiming her as mine. Slow and easy. That's how we'll do this.

But in the ring, I'm not going easy. I'm getting stronger, I'm getting faster, and I'm getting shit done.

I'm pumped up after yesterday.

I'm pumped up thinking of Reese, in the back of a cab, putting my hand between her legs. In my mind, the better I become, the more deserving I will be of Reese formally dating me.

"Oz, you need to watch Tate when we're fighting. Tell me if you see an opening."

"Maverick, I tell you what to do, not the other way around. Get yourself to semifinals first."

I stop with the sit-ups and ease to my feet, jumping rope now. "Still mad I took you to AA?"

He glares, takes out a water bottle, and guzzles it down.

I toss the rope aside and go slap his back. "Hey. You can do this." I toss him the tape so he can tape up my hands. "Oz, I can't be everywhere in the ring. You need to tell me if you see weakness 'cause his coach is sure as hell telling him mine."

"Not his coach, YOU ARE. All those times training with him? That guy's been studying you like an encyclopedia." He scowls bleakly.

"Good," I murmur, letting him tape my hands. "I'll know my own weaknesses before finals when he comes at me. I've been studying him too."

"Get yourself to fucking finals first. Twister's all up on standings, climbing the ranks. There's talk that he's cheating the system, pumped to the balls in steroids."

"His balls have nothing but air." Hell, I'm insulted he thinks I'm losing to Twister. I already beat him once. I glare. "I can take him."

Oz guzzles more water. I narrow my eyes. "You dehydrated?"

"What?"

My eyes widen when he closes his bottle like it's holy water and slips it into the inside of his jacket. I reach out and wiggle my fingers. "Give me that water."

"No."

"Oz."

He tosses me a new bottle of water from a small cooler. I catch it, set it aside, and take a step. "You put vodka in your water bottle, Oz?" I ask quietly.

He stands up and puffs out his chest as he looks up at me, trying to intimidate me. "Drop it, Cage."

"Give me your water, Oz."

"I said it's water," he growls.

"Are you drinking?" I ask.

He glares, stomps away, and slams the door shut.

I grit my teeth and stare down at my untaped hands, curling my fingers into my palms. Then I run after him before he catches an elevator.

"Oz, come on. Let's talk about it."

The elevator arrives, and he boards defiantly. "There's nothing to talk about. You're gonna be on my back, then I quit."

"Oz."

"You either lay off me, or I'm not going to be spending time here to be lectured. I got enough of that before with Wendy."

"I'm not Wendy, all right? Just chill and we'll figure this out. Get back on this fucking floor, Oz," I growl.

He glares but steps off. "I'm chill. Just back the fuck off." He storms back into the room, and says, "Heavy bag."

I follow him inside, simmering in frustration as I spread my hands out in helplessness. "I don't know how to help you, Oz."

"I can take care of myself. You worry about you. Heavy bag."

I grind my molars. Then I go hit the bag, bare-knuckled. And get the perfect sound. And I keep going. And going and going. Getting it all out of my system. Getting ready for a fight.

THE CROWD ROARS outside, and then there's silence and the announcer speaks. "For the first time in Chicago, ladies and gentlemen, we give you the man causing waves . . . the man causing whispers . . . the man you all fear . . . the first rookie ever to get this far in an Underground championship . . . We give you, Maverick 'the Avenger' Cage!"

I turn to Oz. "If we win tonight, promise you'll try again tomorrow."

He smirks. "I'll promise tomorrow." Then he sobers and opens the door, where the crowd starts with a combination of name-calling and booing. "Let's do this, son. One match at a time."

I nod and I step outside and head to the ring.

TWENTY-NINE.

RUN WITH ME.