Fighter's Kiss: An enemies-to-lovers MMA romance (Irish Kiss Book 3), page 27
I shook my head in confusion. “Distract you?”
“Yes.”
“And…that’s not what you want…with you…in Dublin…”
I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. My mind flashed over the times Declan had paused his training to kiss me, to yank his shirt off his body so I could kiss the sweat off his chest, the mornings I rolled over him, mewling in his ear to stay in bed longer. Yes, I suppose I was. But I thought being his distraction was a good thing.
“It’s important that I stay as focused as possible for the fight.”
It took me a moment to realise that Declan was speaking again. I looked up to find him watching my reaction with searching eyes…that blue, vivid and deep.
“And when you’re around me all I want to do is spend time with you, baby,” he went on.
“Oh. Right.” My hands instead fell limply into my lap and all I could manage to do was stare at my slightly quivering fingers.
It shouldn’t have affected me that way; Declan’s words shouldn’t have made my breath quicken like each one was the last gasp before I went underwater. My heart would accelerate like it was speeding toward a cliff I wouldn’t survive the fall from. It shouldn’t have affected me at all. I should have been used to it by now—being left behind, pushed away, set aside, abandoned.
My parents. All the orphanages, foster families, institution after institution. All those bright white, fake smiles that promised each and every time “I was home, finally home.”
Why did I ever believe that Declan Gallagher would be any different?
My fingernails dug painfully into my palms as I bit back tears. There on the bed with Declan inches away, I told myself that I deserved to feel that knife pressed deeper and deeper into my heart for being so stupid, so ignorant, so goddamn naïve.
I knew better.
I fucking knew better.
“You’re the most beautiful, wonderful, rare distraction, River,” Declan continued, trying to appease me. “But you’re still a—”
“I get it,” I interrupted, forcing a casual, carefree smile.
Declan blinked in surprise and studied me, hesitated, and then asked, “You do?”
I tugged the corners of my lips up higher. “Of course,” I answered, laying a hand on Declan’s thigh.
Over the years, I’d perfected goodbyes. I knew just how to make them fast, the right words, the right smile, the right tilt of my chin, so I could get a head start on the pain that followed after me like a bloodhound.
“I understand completely,” I insisted.
Declan rested his hand over mine and weakly squeezed my fingers. “You’re just too stunning is all,” he said lamely.
He spoke with a sweet smile, but I could hear the strain in his voice. There was something he wasn’t telling me. But that didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that I kept smiling.
“I’ll stay,” I said, getting to the point. “It’s fine.”
Declan’s eyes met mine and his mouth opened as if to speak, but then he closed it and dropped his gaze from mine. “Alright, well, are you ready to come to bed then?” He stood and reached his hand out to me.
I kept my tone casual despite the lump in my throat that was only growing and growing. “Um, actually, I think you should really get some good rest tonight,” I said. “You know how my cold toes wake you up at night,” I added with a laugh I hoped sounded real.
Declan’s smile was barely there as he nodded and laughed, too. “Okay, then,” he agreed too quickly…far too quickly. “I’ll come say goodbye in the morning then.”
He was already heading toward the door when I spoke. “Maybe we should just say goodbye now.”
Pain was on my heels. It was time to run, time again to run.
I watched, fingers fidgeting, as Declan turned around and looked over at me.
I shrugged with a smile and said, “I haven’t had a morning to sleep in with all the preparations. Need those beauty z’s, you know?”
Declan remained silent as I chewed at the inside of my mouth.
“We can say goodbye now, right?” I asked softly.
After another tense moment without words, Declan finally nodded and grinned. “Of course.”
My heart rate spiked as he neared me, closer, closer, closer. I could do this, I told myself. I’d done this before. I’d done this before more times than I could count; I wasn’t sure why this one seemed to be infinitely harder.
Standing in front of him, we awkwardly grinned, laughed, and wrapped our arms around each other more like we were close co-workers than lovers destined to be together.
“Good luck then,” I said, fighting down the emotion.
“Yeah,” Declan said against my hair before clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks.”
I should have pulled back then. I should have ended the embrace, smiled, and said one simple word—“Goodbye.”
But with his arms around me and mine around his, I couldn’t help the sting of tears at my eyes as I buried my head against his strong shoulder I had mistakenly thought would be around to cry on for forever. The smell of his cologne, the security of his hands on my back, the steady beat of his heart against mine, it was all too much.
I wanted to tell him that I wanted to go with him.
I wanted to tell him that I feared him leaving me behind.
I wanted to tell him that I needed him.
But I couldn’t get the words out, I feared getting the words out, and so I just clung to him. It was all I could do.
I bit my lip to keep a ragged, wretched sob from escaping my lips as my fingers grasped as much of his sweatshirt as I could hold. I held my breath so he wouldn’t hear my shaky exhale. I made sure not to rest my cheek entirely on his chest despite how terribly I wanted to for fear that a tear would slip from my damp eyelashes and wet his clothes, because then he’d know. I had to keep space between us so he wouldn’t know, so he wouldn’t know I needed him.
I needed him.
I needed him.
When we finally pulled away from one another, my tears were replaced with a smile, just like I’d always done.
“Goodbye,” I said, kissing his cheek. “Good luck.”
Declan lingered. I could practically see the words on the tip of his tongue, but I prayed he would swallow them; I couldn’t bear to hear them. My eyes fluttered closed when he leaned over and pressed his lips to the crown of my head.
“Goodbye,” he said.
We were two magnets, I supposed as I crawled beneath the sheets, scrunching up my legs to accommodate the suitcase I didn’t yet have the strength to unpack. The connection between us was only hard to sever for a moment. But with more distance between us, it’d get easier and easier as the draw lessened and lessened until there was no way at all to find our way back to one another.
No way at all.
Declan
I prayed Seamus put his credit card, and not mine, on file for any damages inside my suite at the Merrion in Dublin, because the night before the fight I was wearing a hole in the luxurious carpet between the crackling fireplace and the burgundy suede couch as I paced back and forth...back and forth...back and forth...
My darting eyes glanced again and again at the manila folder on the glass coffee table. I wrung my sweaty hands before turning yet again on my heel and marching back in the opposite direction. I had already tried just sitting and waiting, but I found myself growing more and more restless as I watched the second hand of the ornate grandfather clock tick around and around. I quickly stood up and started pacing when I had thoroughly convinced myself that time itself was slowing down as I continued to wait.
This was inevitable, I told myself. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. This was bound to happen at some point or another.
The knock at my hotel door simultaneously drew a relieved sigh from my tight lungs and sent cold chills down my spine. After exhaling a shaky breath and dragging my fingers through my hair, I reluctantly walked across the suite’s expansive living room and forced myself to open the door.
Before I even invited her in, Giselle strode confidently past me into the suite. “About damn time,” she said as she slipped her black fur coat from her shoulders.
It fell to the floor, pooling around her five-inch Louis Vuitton stilettos. I watched, stunned, as Giselle immediately stepped out of the fur coat and continued toward the bedroom, her long red nails already at the gold zipper of her skin-tight black minidress. She paused just before the door and glanced over her shoulder at me.
“Shit, Declan, I know you’ve been hit in the head one too many times,” she said with that condescending click of her tongue I used to dread, “but even you should have come to your senses sooner than this.”
Giselle then dropped her dress, revealing a red lace thong and bra that left little to my imagination. Before I could even manage to open my mouth, she disappeared into the darkness of the bedroom.
Left alone in the living space of the Merrion suite, I glanced at the door behind me. I should leave, I thought. I shouldn’t be here, with just her and me. I should leave.
Now.
The clink of ice echoed from the bedroom as I reached for the door handle. I paused when out of the corner of my eye I caught the manila folder still on the couch. With a sigh, I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled my hand from the handle.
Marching across the room, I scooped up the folder and hurried to the bedroom. “Giselle, I—”
“Have you missed me, darling?” Covered in the warm, flickering light of several candles set around the bed, Giselle smiled up at me from the centre of the large, silk-sheeted bed while swirling a martini from the minibar in her long, narrow fingers. After taking a delicate sip, she laughed.
I always hated the way she laughed.
“I knew that simple little thing wouldn’t keep you entertained for very long.” Her eyes, dark in the dim light, flashed up at me. “What was her name again? Tree? Pebble?”
I swallowed as I watched Giselle fish the olive from the bottom of her glass with her pinkie. “Her name is River,” I whispered.
Giselle’s head fell back as she laughed again. “Yes, that was it!” She shook her head in obvious amusement.
“Giselle,” I said quickly as I feared I would lose the nerve, “I need to talk to you about why I asked you here tonight.”
“Declan, honey,” Giselle said after finishing her martini. “I already know why you called me here.”
I frowned as she placed her glass on the bedside table and crawled toward me on all fours, licking her tongue seductively over her dark red lips. I flinched when her nails dug into my thighs as they travelled up toward my groin.
“You’re tired of playing in the shallow waters,” she whispered, her voice low and raspy. “You want to dive back into the depths of a real woman, of a real woman’s body.”
She was what I wanted, what I thought I wanted. When she left me, I lost everything, I thought I lost everything. I imagined winning her back and it brought me happiness, I thought it would bring me happiness.
But then I met River and I knew I was wrong, so terribly wrong.
“You’re back on top, Declan,” Giselle whispered. “And you know how much I like to be on top.”
As she reached for the waistband of my sweatpants, I grabbed her wrist. “Stop.”
A flicker of doubt flashed across Giselle’s dramatic eyebrows, but it quickly disappeared as she laughed. “Playing hard to get, Declan, darling?” She clicked her tongue again. “That’s a dangerous game, love.”
I barely saw her reach behind her back for the clasp of her bra, because my vision grew red at the mention of that word. Any word could come from those traitorous lips, any single word in the world. But not that word. Never that word.
How dare she? How fucking dare she?
My fingers clenched tightly on the manila folder.
That word was reserved for quiet forest groves in misty mornings. It was saved for sleepy mornings doing nothing but watching the fog roll over the emerald hills. That word was only for sweet, pink lips, kinky, uncontrollable curls, and a laugh, pure and joyful.
“I didn’t call you over here tonight because I want to get back with you, Giselle,” I said. “I want a divorce.”
Giselle paused, her hands alone holding up her bra, and stared up at me in surprise as I tossed the manila folder with the divorce papers on the bed next to her. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the seriousness in my own. Then she stood and pressed herself up close to me. “Let me show you what you want, Declan, darling,” she whispered against my lips.
I stared darkly at her as she pulled the strap of her bra off her shoulder and slowly stepped back, revealing her exposed chest. She grinned as I followed after her till the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell back. Her long blonde hair spread around her pretty face as she bit her lip, watching me straddle her hips.
“I know exactly what I want, darling,” I leaned over to whisper into her ear.
Giselle squirmed underneath me and gasped, “Show me, darling.”
Lips just an inch from hers, eyes locked on hers, I grabbed the manila folder with the divorce papers and covered her naked tits with them.
“I want a divorce.”
Without another word, I pushed myself up and away from her. Without another glance back toward her, I walked out of the bedroom. I only had a few moments of peace, relief, and ecstasy before Giselle came running out after me, waving the divorce papers as she stood in my way, her bra and dress pressed to her chest.
“What does that little nobody give you that an international model, millionaire entrepreneur, and one of People’s 100 Most Beautiful can’t?” She huffed and puffed and jutted her chin up at me.
Standing my ground, I stared at her, pitying her more than hating her. “Love, love,” I answered softly.
There was nothing more to say than that. It was love, plain and simple. It was love, quiet and gentle. It was love, pure and delicate. It was love.
Her love.
Giselle spit out a dark laugh and shook her head. I held the hotel door open for her. She slipped her coat over her half-naked body and stalked past me, the rest of her clothes over her arm. I was closing the door when she spun toward me one more time.
“Where is she then?”
The question caught me off guard. “What?”
A smug smile of victory wrenched up the corners of her overdrawn lips as she leaned toward me in the hallway. “If she loves you, Declan, then where is she?” she hissed.
When I had no immediate answer, Giselle shook her head and walked away toward the elevator at the end of the hallway. “I’ll be at the fight tomorrow,” she called back to me as the doors closed on her. “Will she?”
The hotel door closed with a dull click behind me and I suddenly didn’t know where to go, what to do. It was the night before the biggest fight of my life and I just felt numb.
My fingers itched to call River.
To tell her what I wanted to, but didn’t, couldn’t tell her when we said goodbye the night before because I was too afraid.
Because I was too afraid to tell her I needed her.
Declan
After an early workout the morning of the fight, I sat on a bench in the stadium locker room, rubbing at my sore shoulder and trying to ignore the dull thud in my head as I imagined entering the cage that night to face Dominic.
The door to the stadium’s locker room burst open, and Danny and Diarmuid strode in with giant grins.
“Who the feck let you two in here?” I asked with a smile as I stood from the bench and embraced each of them in back-thudding hugs.
“We gave the security guard a fifty and a swig of Danny’s naggin’,” Diarmuid said. “I’d had him flown all the way from Australia where he lived with his missus for this fight.”
Danny winked at me as he pulled a silver flask from the inner pocket of his worn black leather motorcycle jacket and tipped it back to his lips.
“Jaysus, Danny, it’s 7:30 a.m.,” I said with a laugh.
“Relax, Dex. You know I’ll share with ye.” Danny offered me the flask.
“No, thanks.” I pushed the flask back.
Danny raised an eyebrow at me. “Since when did you become a dry shite, old man?”
I snorted. “Since my title is on the line, asshole.”
Danny shrugged and took another shot for himself.
“So what’s the story?” Diarmuid asked me.
“Well,” I started, “I think I’m going to win. I prepared for this fight—”
“Ah, shite on,” Danny interrupted. “We’re not ESPN, ye big eejit. Tell us about this woman of yours.” Danny raised his eyes suggestively up and down.
Diarmuid groaned. “Dex, is there any way to switch my seat, so I don’t have to sit next to this eejit for the whole fight?”
Danny laughed and flopped his long arm over Diarmuid’s shoulder. “You’ll be sittin’ next to the sexiest thing in that stadium, you lucky bastard.”
Diarmuid snorted as he tried and failed to push him away.
“Go on, Dex.” Danny grinned. “Out with it.”
I took the towel from around my shoulders and wiped at my still sweaty forehead.
“Lay off, Danny,” Diarmuid shoved at him before quickly grabbing him as he nearly toppled off the narrow bench. “You know Dex isn’t ready for that again after…” Diarmuid’s voice trailed off and I watched as he cleared his throat, ducked his eyes, and awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck.
“Hell, I’m not saying he’s got to propose tomorrow or something, but—”
“Danny!”
Danny threw his hands up into the air. “I mean, we didn’t think Dex would even date anyone ever again and yet, here we are. Don’t tell me you’re not dying to know, too.”
I held back a grin as best I could as they bantered.
“Just not today,” Diarmuid hissed while elbowing Danny in the ribs. “You know that wound hasn’t healed and with his fight in just a few hours…”
As Danny shoved back at Diarmuid, I slowly dropped my head and pushed myself off my knees to stand up. It took everything in me to keep my lips in the scowl both of them had become so accustomed to seeing ever since the accident.
