Page 49 of Craving the Edge

He stepped back and I turned, moving through the final motions of locking up. He waited by the door as I switched off the last light and set the alarm. We walked out into the cool night air together. I heaved down the roller doors and clicked the padlock into place.

He watched me, then gave a small nod before turning towards the car park where his silver Audi was parked. I started the walk home in the opposite direction. The winter air did bugger all to cool the heat in my body. Every step was punctuated by the memory of his hands on me, his tongue against mine, his erection…

We hadn’t just crossed the line. We’d obliterated it.

I felt a familiar dread coil in my stomach. What the hell was I going to do when he left? If he recovered, he’d go to Sydney for the fight. After that, Tokyo, because of course he’d win. He was an elite athlete at the top of his game. And after that? His life was a map of places that were not here, not with me.

I walked through the dark, quiet streets of Brunswick, trapped by my growing feelings for a man whose world was destined to take him away.

I’d let go of Carla, but could I let go of Declan Walsh?

CHAPTER 17

DECLAN

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The heavy bag groaned on its chain, the rhythmic impact of my gloves and shins against the cracked leather was the only sound in the otherwise silent gym. I threw myself into the combinations that’d become second nature. Jab, cross, hook to the body. A brutal workout. The plan was to sweat her out of my system.

It was a piss-poor plan.

Every time I blinked, she was there. Sprawled across my sheets, hair a dark mess on my pillows, eyes hazy with pleasure. I could still feel the heat of her skin under my palms and taste her on my tongue. I could still hear the sound she made when she came.

I gritted my teeth, driving a right cross into the bag with everything I had. The force sent an ache through the knuckles of my right hand. Acute synovitis in the knuckles. A fucking bruised bone. It barely registered anymore.

The need to have Char near me again, drowned out everything else. My focus was shot to hell. I wanted her in my bed. I wanted her against the wall of this gym. I just wanted her. The intensity of it was blinding.

I moved, circling the bag. My breath came in harsh pants. Every hit was her name. Char. Char. Char. I was supposed to be a machine. An elite athlete with a singular focus. Instead, I was a mess, haunted by a woman who said she couldn’t think straight when she was with me. The feeling was bloody mutual.

The heavy bag stilled, swinging gently on its chain. My concentration shattered. My gloved hands dropped to my sides and I stared at the scuffed concrete floor. The gym’s grit, grime, and stale air felt a world away from the woman who owned my thoughts.

“Dude.”

I looked up at Tomas.

He’d been watching me for a while. He dragged a towel over his brow, his dark eyes missing nothing. He didn’t say a word because the bastard knew.

A hot stab of frustration jabbed through me. Frustration at my own piss-weak discipline. I was a fighter, weeks out from a career-defining bout, and my head was anywhere but here. The pull toward her, was a rope cinched tight around my gut, yanking me from the mat. I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I stood there, ignoring Tomas’s silent judgement. My fingers found the edge of the zinc-oxide tape wrapped around my right knuckles and began to unwind it. The careful layers unravelled, sticky and damp with sweat. My mind was made up. The need to see her, to stake some kind of claim, had eclipsed everything else.

I ripped the last of the tape from my hand and tossed it onto a bench. I started across the concrete floor, my bare feet silent on the worn surface.

She was sitting behind the desk, her dark hair pinned loosely back. A few stray strands had escaped, framing the sharp line of her jaw. She was focused on her laptop, her brow furrowed in concentration. The sight of her was enough to stop me in my tracks. She was so fucking beautiful.

She must’ve sensed me because her head lifted, her grey-green eyes finding mine across the gym. The intensity in her gaze told me everything. It held the same chaos, the same desperate hunger I felt clawing up my own throat.

I reached the desk and braced my hands on the edge, leaning into her space. My resolve to be patient shattered into dust.

I didn’t give myself a second to think. My hand lifted from the counter. I reached across the desk, my fingers finding the warm, soft skin of her jaw.

I leaned further across the desk and pulled her flush against it, my mouth crashing down on hers.

Her lips parted for me instantly. A soft, desperate catch of a sound snagged in her throat, and I knew I would hear it in my sleep for the next month. It was the sound of her falling apart for me.

I pulled back an inch, my forehead resting against hers. Her grey-green eyes were wide, dark, and wild.

“I want you,” I murmured.