Page 51 of Keep Your Guard Up
“Aw, Lynnie. You big softie.” JJ waved a hand and let go of Chance, moving over to ruffle my hair. I swatted his hand away before turning on my heel to leave.
“So, did you give Baltis your answer?” JJ asked hesitantly.
It was that hesitation and my blatant curiosity, that had me stopping in my tracks. “Who’s Baltis?” I asked.
“My manager,” Chance replied, shooting JJ a look that had him wincing.
“What was the answer for?”
“He offered me a fight.” Chance shrugged his shoulders.
“Pfft, not just ‘a fight’,” JJ mimicked. “The fight. The fight of all fights. A real history-maker.”
“Dude, shut up,” Chance scolded.
“I don’t understand what there is to shut up about, man. It’sthe dream. Home stadium. Title shot. What have you got to lose?” JJ rambled.
Those forget-me-not eyes scanned my face, then my body. He huffed an apparently bored breath before shaking his head.
“You’re right. I have nothing to lose,” he replied, turning away from us and heading towards his gear bag.
“So you’re gonna call him?!” JJ squeaked, trying his best to contain the excitement that was clearly vibrating inside of him.
“Yeah, mate,” he said, picking up his phone.
JJ bounced from foot to foot in anticipation as Chance pressed his phone to his ear.
I couldn’t for the life of me understand what all of this hesitation and tension was about. A title shot? In his home stadium? That was the best circumstances possible. No travel days, no jet lag, no paying for the flights of your entire team.
“Baltis, it’s Chance.” He stared at the heavy bag that was still stained with his blood as he said, “I’m in.”
Chapter 26
Mari
The news hit the media in a flash. The top contender in the light heavyweight division of the UFL, Chance Riordan, would take on the current champion, Randy Rager, in eight weeks.
‘I’m itching for it. It wouldn’t take me eight weeks to get ready for Rager, but he’d need a year to get ready for me,’ Riordan says.
‘This one’ll be more than a main event. I’m coming for blood and bones, Riordan,’ Rager responds.
I snapped my laptop shut quickly when the office door burst open. A very sweaty Chance strolled in, kicking the door shut behind him wearing nothing but a white, fluffy towel.
Guess that isn’t sweat …
“Aren’t you meant to have a session with Al and JJ?” I asked, fidgeting with a pair of prototype boxing gloves on my desk, desperate to find a distraction from that valiant white towel that was hiding this man’s magic orgasm stick. The kind that puts a spell on you, leaving you lusting, pent-up and having dirty dreams for weeks.
It took a second to catch onto the fact that Chance was levelling me with a look. He cleared his throat before unzipping the duffel bag on his desk, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“That finished about an hour ago, Sunny,” he replied, stacking up a change of clothes.
An unwanted frown tugged at my lips. Of course, what happened earlier had been a heat of the moment thing.
Don’t overthink it, Mari. He can get orgasms elsewhere, as he very asshole-ily informed you.
“They head off already?” I squeaked, avoiding watching the glorious muscles in his back work as he moved.
“Yup.” He paused. “That a problem?”
