Love Tap (30 page)

“Like what?” My voice light, almost scared to ask.

He slowly glances my way, and I instantly regret asking.

“I killed someone.”

I hold my breath, my eyes widening. Surely I didn’t hear him right.

“You… killed someone?” Shivers run up my back repeating the words.

He looks back down, flexing his fingers. It’s as if he’s back in that fight, replaying it all out. He looks broken.

“Yes. I killed someone.” I look the other way, closing my eyes. My mind races, trying to think if I ever heard anything on TV about it but nothing pops up.

“Was it on TV? I never heard anything about it.”

“No, it was a private fight and everything was covered up.” The way he snaps his reply, I know he’s about done talking about the subject.

“So that is why you won’t get back in the ring,” I more state than ask.

“I was lined up for another fighter shortly after that one, but when I got in the octagon, I didn’t feel like I had when I stepped foot into it before. It felt like a cage. I felt like an animal. When my opponent walked into the cage, I wanted to rip him apart.” He stops, and I glance his way, finding hooded eyes staring right at me. I cross my arms, not sure what to say. I never thought Camden was capable of murder.

“They say when you kill someone, the second time is a lot easier… They were right.” His voice is laced with malicious intent, almost like he gets off on the idea of hurting someone, and I have to admit it scares me.

Quickly he maneuvers over me, his body hovering above mine until I have no choice but to lay flat on the mattress.

“I knew then that I couldn’t be in a cage again and not kill someone. It was one of the hardest things I had to do, next to letting you go. So I drank, and I sabotaged my career.”

My hand raises, and I palm his face. He closes his eyes, nestling into my hand.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person Camden,” I whisper.

His eyes pop open, and he grabs my hand, stopping my tender caress.

“That’s because you weren’t the other person in the ring with me.”

My eyes narrow, my heart thudding in my chest.

“I know you, and I know you don’t want to hurt anyone.”

He smirks. “You knew a boy. I’m a fucking man now, don’t confuse the two. Understand?” He tilts his head to the side, and his large hand grabs my thigh, wrapping it around his waist. His hips thrust forward and his hard length presses into my clit just right.

He pushes forward and his length spreads me open, filling me to the brink.

“Camden Fucking Steele, celebrity by day, murderer by night.” He drives his length into me so hard a moan spills from my throat as pressure builds in my toes and coils up my legs.

My fingers fly at the sheets, clawing them as pleasure quickly spreads up my limbs like wild fire. The idea that Camden is a murderer fades as quickly as it came.

He fists my hair with one hand, his other grabbing my bare tit like a lifeline. His fingers pressing into the soft skin so hard it bruises.

I breathe in the pain, and moan out a mewl of satisfaction.

“Yeah, you like that?” He pumps into me hard, my tits bouncing. “You want to know why you couldn’t move on and be with anyone else? Because nobody can fill your dark desires like I can.” His voice is laced with need, with anger, as he continues to fuck me. I don’t answer him. I couldn’t if I wanted to. I didn’t think I wanted this; that I was too unfocused to feel anything, but I was wrong. This is just what I needed. Sex. Hard, hot, sex.

He releases my breast, and cups me right above my collarbone. My eyes pop open in panic finding hooded eyes looking right at me as Camden hovers over me.

“Trust me?”

I swallow, my heart racing. I do trust Camden, I always have, but we’ve never taken it this far in the bedroom before. Him revealing his darkest secrets to me, I bet he’s worried I don’t trust him. He’s testing me.

One thing he should know about me, is I don’t back down so easily.

“I trust you.”

“Tap my shoulder if it becomes too much,” he tells me rather than asks, and I’m not going to lie, a little bundle of nerves release themselves in my stomach.

Leaning down he kisses me hard, his tongue filling my mouth and taking the fear with it.

His hand on my neck he pulls his mouth from mine, and thrusts his hips into me hard.

“No more childhood crushes and whispering sweet nothings, Tate. You left and I became a broken monster who circles a gym daily… waiting for the chance to be released. A beast that is in between your legs, and will be damned if you leave me again.” The grip on my neck tightens, not to the point I can’t breathe, but enough that my body tingles with awareness. Fear driving my want for more, I arch my neck into his hold. His perfect lips form into a smirk as he tightens his grip a little more. The rush of excitement settles between my legs, as Camden takes control of my body. “We’re not so different though. When you let me in between your legs I discovered Tatum Davis was a saint looking to get fucked hard.”

My chest burns, my head lightens, and warmth blazes through me as I come harder than I ever have. A guttural roar vibrates his chest as he comes. His body stiffens and he shoves his face into the crook of my neck. His hand releasing my neck and scratching down my arms. A trail of red streaks left behind their wake, as he falls from his euphoric high.

We lay there, him on me, and me panting underneath for what seems like forever. At some point my arm reached around, and I began slowly tracing circles along his back in a sense of comfort. A lot has happened in the four years I have been gone. He’s right, he’s not the guy I left behind. He’s a man, a broken one at that. Sadly, I think I like this version of Camden better.

“Well, now you know,” he whispers.

Sliding my hand into his hair, I pull on it just enough to make him face me.

“I don’t love you any less, if anything… I love you more.”

His brows pinch together in confusion.

“Why would you want to be with someone like me? I have urges to kill people, I’m not… I’m not normal.”

“I’m more afraid of those who claim to be normal. I love you and your madness Camden, conformity is an illusion, you are real.”

He smashes his lips to mine. His mouth working mine like magic, and instantly I know I have nothing to fear with Camden. He may be broken, but I am the adhesive to keeping him together. I can feel it in the way he kisses me, the way he looks at me, the way his heart beats against my chest when he fucks me. I know it, because he’s the glue to my broken reality too.

Without each other, we’re destined to fail.

It’s fate’s way of keeping us together.

I palm his face, making him look me in the eye.

“You know what I think your problem is? You’re stuck in the past and can’t move forward, Camden. You have to forgive yourself, grieve, and move on.”

He shakes his head, pulling my hand from his.

“I can’t, hell I don’t even know where to begin if I wanted to.” His voice is raw, his eyes pained as they find mine.

“You do, you’re just afraid, Camden.” His eyes flash in knowing. The ring is the only place Camden can let his ghost free.

He breaks eye contact, and lays his head on my chest.

“I can’t, it’s not safe.”

My brows raise, my heart beating painfully for him. I wish I could take all his pain away, and show him the way to forgiveness.

Sadly, that’s a road he’ll have to find himself.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Camden

Tate sits on a wooden bench, her foot tapping the floor as she wrings her hands anxiously. Pre-fight jitters. They’re the worst, and will call your fight before you even step foot in the ring.

Reba pulls and tugs on Tate’s blonde hair, braiding it into cornrows along her scalp. It’s protocol to have your hair tightly braided to keep from injury inside the ring. Tate winces, and scratches at her head as Reba continues to jostle her head around. I remember how much those damn things itched and hurt when my hair was considered a hazard. I don’t miss them.

Pulling the door to her locker open I open a gym bag I packed, and pull out an old school Walkman.

Kneeling in front of her, I place an earbud in her left ear and she flinches aggressively, like she didn’t even notice I was in the room.

“Easy.” I pinch my brows together. “You’re too wound up, babe. This will help.” I place the other earbud in her ear.

“A Walkman? You know they have iPods and stuff now.” She eyes the tape player with a smirk on her face.

“I’ve had it since I was a kid, it’s never let me down in getting my head where it needs to be. It’s yours now.” I press play, and hand it to her.

“Eye Of The Tiger” by Survivor echoes through the headphones.

Debs walks in the room, her hands on her hips. “She ready?”

Reba wipes her hands off on a white rag. “I don’t know, she’s really nervous,” Reba exhales on a long breath.

“She will be,” I mutter.

“She
better
be,” Debs snaps, her tone of voice hitting me wrong.

“Why don’t you back off? This is a lot of pressure for a first fight Debs,” I bark. Reba gives Debs and I an off look and leaves.

“I’m getting a soda, when I get back, she better be more relaxed than that.” Debs points at Tate.

I grab the roll of tape, kneel in between Tate’s knees, and start wrapping it around her wrists and hands.

Her eyes find mine, her face serious, revealing how vulnerable she is right now. I feel more connected to her than ever after telling her everything. I can’t lie though, being here has me on edge. My heartbeat has been rising by the minute, and every time I close my eyes I see Bret lifeless on the ground.

Maybe Tate was right, if I want to lay my demons to rest… I need to take them to where I most fear them. The ring.

A knock sounds at the door that breaks mine and Tate’s connection.
“Dad?” Tate’s face brightens with surprise.

“You didn’t think I’d miss your first fight did you?” Her dad Nicky wraps his arms around her, bringing her in for a big hug.

“Camden got your sister and I last minute tickets.” Tate’s eyes flick to mine in appreciation, and I shrug. Any man would do it. I know how important it is to Tate having her Dad’s approval.

Tate

My eyes fill with unshed tears as I stare at my father, the look of something I haven’t seen in a long time flashing in his eyes.

Pride. He’s proud of me.

He cups my cheeks, making me look him in the eyes.

“This is in your blood, Tate. Do what you were made to do.”

He kisses my forehead, and walks out. A single tear escapes my eye, trailing down my cheek.

I have to win this fight.

Glancing to my right I find Camden smiling at me, knowing how much this moment means to me.

“Thank you,” my voice cracks, and more tears spill from my eyes.

He shrugs, “Anyone would do it.”

I laugh. “No, they wouldn’t.”

That’s how I know I have won already. No man assumes to bring his girlfriend’s family to her first fight. It speaks volumes of the man Camden is.

I sit down on the hard bench and place the earbuds back in one by one. The reality of the situation weighing down on my shoulders once again. I shake my hands out, close my eyes, and inhale a calming breath. Damn I hope this gets easier.

“Tate, it’s time,” Debs announces, poking her head through the door. I pull the earbuds from my ears and stand. My heart is racing, adrenaline making me feel wide awake and ready. I can do this. This is my fight. This is in my blood.

Camden grabs my shoulders and rubs tightly. “Show that bitch whose ring she just stepped into Tate,” he whispers into my ear. My brows furrow, and I nod. He pats my back. “Go knock her ass out.”

I’m escorted back stage where a black curtain hangs. The announcer shouts my name and stats to the cheering crowd, which considering I have no stats, I sound ridiculous. Apprehension and excitement rush through me. This is happening, this is really happening.

“Go!” Debs shoves me, and I push past the curtains, body guards and my team right behind me.

Lights blind me, and fog clouds the floor. The smell of food, sweat, and perfume overwhelming. My walkout song so loud I can barely hear the crowd and announcer. “Bitch Better Have My Money” by Rihanna.

I smile, knowing Camden picked it for me.

Approaching the cage, my back begins to sweat. My heart pounding so hard it’s all I hear.

Nearing the octagon I’m stopped by the UFFL sanctioned cut man. He’s skinny, and bald. His black shirt sporting the UFFL logo, paired with black shorts. He grabs my shoulders positioning me where he wants me. Using his right hand he dabs at the black glove containing a glob of Vaseline between his thumb and index finger.

He smears the goo along my eyebrows and nose, sealing my pores to the point they can’t breathe. It reminds me of the time I tried to wear makeup.