Page 49

“The fight is in six days.” He speaks into the quiet room. “After that, everything changes anyway. Win or lose, the rematch is done. There’s no more reason to keep circling each other like stray dogs.”

“So we use that.” I trace the sharp line of his cheekbone with my thumb. “The cage door opens, we handle our business, and we decide together what comes next.”

Zane opens his eyes. The terror in his gaze recedes. A determination replaces it. It’s the exact look he wears before the bell rings.

“Together.”

“Together.”

We stay anchored to the edge of the bed. The immense weight of the secret still presses down on us. It feels infinitely more bearable now. We have a plan for when the hiding ends.

Zane shifts his weight. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine.

The kiss starts slow. It carries the bitter taste of exhaustion and the desperate need for comfort. I part my lips, letting him in. He tastes like mint and adrenaline. I slide my hand to the back of his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair.

The energy shifts entirely. He pulls me closer, and I stop talking.

Zane shoves me backward onto the mattress. His heavy body follows, pinning me against the quilted comforter. His hands are everywhere. They grip my waist, drag across my chest, anchor my wrists to the bed. We grapple with the same intense focus we bring to the mat. The objective is just different.

I flip our positions. I roll my hips, using my core strength to reverse the hold. Zane lands on his back with a soft thud. I straddle his thighs, pinning his hips to the mattress.

He grins up at me. It’s a feral, beautiful expression.

I grab the hem of his dark hoodie and pull it over his head. I toss the thick fabric onto the floorboards. His golden skin gleams in the dim light of the bedside lamp. I lean down, dragging my open mouth down his throat. He arches his spine, letting out a low, wrecked groan that sends a surge of heat straight to my groin.

We dismantle each other.

Clothes join the hoodie on the floor. Skin meets skin. The friction builds a relentless pressure inside the room. Zane wraps his arms around my shoulders and flips us again. He cages me in, hovering above me with his chest heaving.

“Mine,” he snarls into my ear.

“Yours,” I confirm instantly.

We’ve had enough of keeping our distance. He touches me with a bruising, desperate reverence. He maps the lines of my tattoos, traces the scar on my eyebrow, learns the exact cadence of my breathing. I return the favor, worshiping the hard planes of his stomach and the broad expanse of his chest.

Later, we lie tangled in the worn white sheets.

The risk of getting caught fades into the distant background. For now, I just want to hold him. Zane rests his heavy head on my chest. My fingers trace the rigid muscles of his wide back. The room is silent except for the hum of the air conditioning and the steady rhythm of our breathing.

The digital clock on the nightstand shifts to four in the morning.

“I should go,” Zane murmurs the words against my collarbone. “Before the sun comes up. Before Dan sends someone to my hotel room.”

“I know.”

Neither of us moves a single muscle.

Zane drags his lips across my sternum. He leaves a hot, damp trail over my skin. “Six more days.”

“Six more days of hiding.” I press a firm kiss to the curve of his shoulder. “Then we figure out how to stop.”

Zane finally untangles his limbs from mine. The cool air hits my damp skin. He slides off the mattress and gathers his discarded clothes from the floorboards. He pulls his jeans on, then the dark hoodie. He pulls the hood up, instantly rebuilding the barrier between himself and the world.

He walks to the door. He pauses with his hand resting on the brass handle. He looks back at me. The bedside lamp catches his amber eyes. He holds my gaze before he leaves.

He slips out into the empty hallway. The door clicks shut.

The secret remains intact.