Page 35 of Between the Ropes

By the time I pull into my driveway, my chest is tight, and I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I need to burn this off, so I head straight to my personal gym, blasting some classic rock through the speakers as I tear off my shirt and grab the weights. The music pounds in my ears, the heavy guitars and screaming vocals fueling me as I work through the tension. Chest and triceps today. I load the barbell, heavier than usual, and drop onto the bench.

With every press, my muscles burn, but it’s not enough. Sweat pours down my back, coating my skin, but my mind is still back in Tampa with her. Every grunt, every heave, it’s like I’m trying to push the thoughts out of my head. But it’s no use. All I can see is her face, the way her body moved underneath me, the way she gasped my name. The way she came all over my cock.

I slam the barbell back onto the rack with a growl, wiping the sweat from my face. "Focus," I mutter to myself, but it’s impossible. Natalie has wormed her way into my mind, and now she’s all I can think about. This is exactly the type of thing I was worried about.

I’ve always kept my heart locked up tight, walls so high no one could scale them. It’s easier that way—less risk, less pain. I don’t get close to people. I can’t afford to. Not with this life. But with her... something’s different. She’s different. She makes me want to be different.

I can’t screw this up.

I hit the weights harder, pushing myself past my limit. My muscles scream in protest, but I don’t stop until I’m on the edge of exhaustion, until my body feels like it’s going to give out. Only then do I finally drop the dumbbells and take a breath, my chest heaving, sweat dripping down my back.

I strip down, my body aching for relief, every muscle tight with exhaustion and something darker—something restless. Stepping into the shower, I twist the handle until the water is nearly scalding, the heat searing against my skin as steam rises, curling around me like a fog. I brace my hands against the cool tile, letting the spray pound against my shoulders, trying to ease the tension coiled deep in my body.

But the heat does nothing to quiet my mind. Nothing does.

Natalie.

Her name alone is enough to send a fresh wave of need surging through me. I can see her so clearly—those soft pink lips, the way they parted when she moaned my name. The innocent hunger in her eyes that drives me insane. The way she fits against me, like she was made to be mine.

My breath comes heavier, my grip tightening on the tile as my other hand drifts down, wrapping around my thickening length. A low groan rumbles in my chest as I stroke myself, slow at first, my mind conjuring every filthy image of her I can.

I picture her on her knees, looking up at me with wide, needy eyes. Picture the way she’d part those lips, taking me in, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks me deep.Fuck.I imagine her hands gripping my thighs, her nails digging into my skin, her soft, breathy moans vibrating around me.

A growl rips from my throat as I pump my cock harder, the wet heat of the water doing nothing to compare to what I know her mouth would feel like—hot, wet, perfect. My abs tighten, my legs shaking as I chase that sharp, electric edge.

"Fuck," I breathe, the word ragged, echoing against the tile.

The pressure builds, my muscles clenching, and then it crashes into me—hot and violent. My head falls back, jaw tight as my release hits me like a tidal wave, my vision going white for a split second. The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain, and I ride it out, every sharp pulse wringing me dry.

For a moment, I just stand there, the water washing away the evidence of my thoughts, but not the ache that still lingers. Not the way my body still burns for her, even now.

Even after this, she’s still in my head. Still under my skin.

And I know—she’s not going anywhere.

I dry off, my mind still running wild with thoughts of her, and head into my room to pack for Washington. My flight’s early tomorrow, and I have one of the biggest matches of my career this week. If I win, I get the championship match I’ve been fighting for. I need to stay focused, but all I can think about is Natalie.

As I fold my clothes and shove them into my duffel bag, I replay every moment I spent with her in my head. The way she feels in my arms, the way her body fits perfectly against mine. It’s like she was made for me. And that’s terrifying.

I don’t do relationships. Not real ones. Not anymore. It’s safer that way. But with her... everything feels different. She feels like something I can’t walk away from, even if I wanted to. And that scares the hell out of me, because I’ve resorted to only ever needing myself.

Once my bag is packed, I throw it by the door and head to bed, my body exhausted but my mind restless. I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, willing myself to sleep. But it’s no use. I can still smell her on my skin, still feel the way her hands roamed over my chest, her nails digging into my back.

With a sigh, I grab my phone from the nightstand and shoot her a quick text.

I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

It’s simple, but it’s all I can manage. I don’t want to come on too strong, but fuck, I miss her already.

I toss the phone back on the bed and try to let sleep take me, but it’s a losing battle. My mind is racing, filled with thoughts of her and this match, and everything in between. Tonight’s goingto be one of those nights, the kind where I toss and turn, unable to shake the feeling that something big is about to happen.

And whatever it is, I just hope I don’t screw it up.

27

The arena hums with energy as I make my way down the long corridors, the walls lined with posters of past events and faces of wrestlers I’ve seen on TV and in person. My nerves are buzzing, but not just because of the night ahead. I can’t stop thinking about Ryan—where he is, what he’s doing right now.

I keep my eyes peeled, scanning every passing wrestler and staff member for a glimpse of him, my heart picking up every time I round a corner. The last day and a half without him have been torture. He consumes my thoughts, even when I try to focus on anything else. I want to see him, be near him. The memory of his touch, his voice, lingers in my head like a sweet echo. I need that again.

---