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I kiss him slowly. Deliberately. I savor every single fraction of a second, because tomorrow everything changes. The cage door will lock. The cameras will turn on. The entire world will tear into our private orbit. We will step into the harsh glare of the arena lights and wage a war we are contractually obligated to fight. Once that bell rings, there’s no turning back. Nothing will ever be quite like this again.

My hands map territory that has become familiar over the past few weeks, yet never stops feeling incredibly precious. I trace the hard, heavy lines of his chest. I drag my thumbs across the dense ridges of his abdomen. I find the thin, pale white scar curving just beneath his left pectoral muscle. I lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss directly over the old wound.

I give every scar, every line of muscle, every inch of his skin its due reverence.

“Let me take care of you.” I brush a damp lock of dark hair off his forehead. “You’ve been holding yourself together for so long. Let go. Let me have you.”

Zane surrenders.

The transformation happens in real time. The undefeated Ironside king completely dissolves into the cheap mattress. The rigid, defensive posture he carries like a shield simply melts away. His wide shoulders drop. His spine uncoils. He parts his thick thighs, opening himself to my gaze without a single flinch of hesitation.

I grab the bottle of silicone lube from the nightstand. I pour a heavy pool of the cold liquid into my palm, coating my fingers. I slide my hand down his flat stomach, tangling my fingers in the dark hair below his navel. I wrap my hand around his thick, heavy erection.

Zane tosses his head back on the pillow. A sharp, breathless gasp tears from his throat.

I stroke the slick length of him, watching every reaction. I catalog every gasp and shiver. The streetlamp outside bleeds orange light through the plastic blinds, painting harsh, beautiful shadows across his face. I watch his amber eyes blow wide, the pupils swallowing the gold irises entirely.

I take my time. I don’t rush toward a finish. I want him to feel every touch.

I slide my slick hand lower, finding his tight entrance. I press my thumb against the hot ring of muscle. Zane arches his lower back, pushing his hips up toward the ceiling.

“Relax your jaw.” I slide a single finger inside him.

He groans loudly. He tightens around my finger. I keep my movements excruciatingly slow. I pull my finger back until it almost slips out, then press it deep inside him again. I add a second finger, stretching the tight muscle, working the lube in.

I lean down and capture his mouth. I swallow his ragged breathing, dragging my tongue across his lower lip. He tastes like salt and raw anticipation.

I curl my fingers upward, hitting the spot that makes him shudder.

Zane breaks the kiss with a violent, full-body shudder. His hands fly to my shoulders. His short nails bite into my skin. He thrashes on the mattress, his head tossing side to side, exposing his throat.

“Micah.” He gasps my name like a lifeline. “Please.”

“I know.” I add a third finger, widening the stretch. “I know you want it. Just breathe for me. Let me make you ready.”

He fights to catch his breath. The strain of the past week still has us on edge. The sensitivity destroys his remaining composure. I pump my fingers in a steady, relentless rhythm. He whimpers, a high, broken sound that sends a massive surge of blood straight to my groin.

I pull my fingers out.

I position myself between his spread legs. I grip his narrow, muscular hips. My thumbs dig deep into the sharp ridges of his hip bones, anchoring him to the unmade bed. I press the blunt, flushed head of my cock against his entrance.

When I finally push inside, Zane wraps around me and holds on like he’s drowning.

His long, powerful legs hook over my lower back. He locks his ankles together, trapping my hips against his. The tight, slick heat of his core swallows my entire length. I bury myself to the hilt in one smooth, unbroken motion.

The intense pressure nearly snaps my control in half. I squeeze my eyes shut, locking my jaw until my teeth grind together. We stay perfectly still. The only motion in the humid apartment is the rapid, syncopated rhythm of our chests rising and falling.

I open my eyes.

Zane stares up at me. The vulnerability shining in his gaze steals the air right out of my lungs. He hands over all his defenses. He trusts me with the softest, most fragile pieces of his identity.

I pull back, letting him feel the movement. I drive forward again, sinking deep into his heat. There’s no competition tonight. There’s no frantic struggle for dominance. I don’t try to pin him into submission. He doesn’t try to reverse the hold.

We move together, neither of us trying to win.

The wet slap of skin meeting skin fills the quiet room. The cheap bedsprings creak under our combined weight. I slide my hands up his chest, tangling my fingers with his. I press our palms together, pinning his hands to the pillows on either side of his head.

I rock my hips forward. I establish a deep, grinding pace.