Combative

by Jay McLean

  I look back into her eyes.

  “Ky?” Her voice echoes in my mind, playing havoc with my heart.

  It’s just like her knocks.

  Quiet.

  Timid.

  And then it happens.

  That final gasp of breath before I can no longer breathe without her knowing the truth. “I…” Love you. Say it!

  I can’t.

  But I don’t have to.

  “I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”

  Our mouths crash together, frantic at first, and then after a beat...imperfectly perfect. My body covers hers—my hands everywhere all at once, matching hers.

  And then, in sync, we slow down.

  Maybe both of us know that this isn’t like the other times. We aren’t driven by lust—or by our physical need to be together. This is so much more.

  More than I ever expected.

  And I know it now—that I was wrong.

  I wasn’t waiting for her to be ready.

  She was waiting for me.

  And I’m finally ready to give her everything.

  I pull away, intent on telling her how I feel.

  But the words are caught—not in my throat—but in my heart.

  So I do the next best thing. I place my hand on her chest, covering her heart.

  She looks up at me—eyes wide and waiting.

  “Madison,” I whisper, “I exist in here.”

  MADISON

  I can’t recall ever seeing magic. Not in person—and not on TV. So it made me wonder how I knew what it was—or how it was supposed to make me feel.

  But when Ky Parker places his palm on my chest—holding my heart in his hand—I somehow knew.

  I felt it.

  Magic.

  And magic, at least for me, was undeniably, unequivocally, real.

  24

  KY

  SHE TAKES MY hand and leads me to the bedroom, the same room we’ve spent so many nights together. But we both know that tonight’s different.

  It’s the beginning of a new existence.

  She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands twisting on her lap. “I’m scared,” she says.

  I sit next to her. “Of what?”

  “Everything.” She turns to me. “I’m scared of feeling too much—of wanting too much.”

  I watch as tears pool in her eyes. She tries to breathe through it, but the air’s too thick. I know—because I feel it, too.

  I reach up to cup her face, my thumb wiping at her tears. “You have no reason to be scared, Maddy.” I kiss her once. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her eyes flick between mine, carrying an emotion I can’t decipher. We stay that way, a thousand unanswered questions between us. But none of them matter. Not to me—and not to her—because when she leans forward and captures my mouth with hers—we become lost in the moment. And in each other.

  I gently push on her shoulders until she’s on her back and I’m resting on my elbows, looking down on her—kissing her—feeling her—wanting her—needing her.

  My hand drifts down her body, past her breasts, her hips, and down her thighs until I feel the hem of her dress. Then I move up under the material and onto the softness of her thighs until my fingers meet the lace of her panties. She reaches down, pulling on my shirt, asking for permission.

  I sit up slightly, just enough for her to pull it over my head. And then I’m back, my mouth on hers and my hands between her legs, moving her panties to the side. A gasp escapes her when my finger slides effortlessly inside. Her back arches, causing her head to tilt back away from our kiss. So I kiss her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, down to her chest—the entire time my finger causing her to moan—to grip the covers underneath her. “Ky...”

  I kiss each breast, over her dress, and move down her stomach. Her fingers lace through my hair—her body writhing beneath me.

  I stand up and remove my jeans and boxers in one swift move. Then I remain at the side of the bed and eye her from head to toe. “Your turn.”

  She sits up on her knees and smiles. “You do it.”

  I smile back, taking a step forward and slowly lifting her dress over her head, and then her bra. I lean down, taking her nipple into my mouth while my thumb skims over the other. She pushes my head away after a long moment and scoots back on the bed so her head’s resting on a pillow. “I need you.”

  “You’ll have me,” I assure, “as soon as I finish worshipping you.” I climb between her legs again, where I plan on finishing what I started. Her fingers find my hair the same time my tongue finds her clit.

  “Oh god...”

  I flatten my tongue at her entrance and do something I know drives her insane. Slowly, softly, I lick all the way from the bottom to the top.

  Her hips jerk up. “Oh Jesus...”

  I do it a few more times until her thighs tighten around my head—then I pull back. She looks down at me, confusion clear on her face.

  “What are—”

  I quickly drop my mouth back to her waiting pussy and suck hard.

  “FUCK!”

  I hear her panting, her thrusting hips matching the sounds. My hand reaches up, pushes one finger into her. She buckles beneath me. “Ky!”

  I pull out my finger, replace it with two, and match the rhythm of her thrusts.

  “Stop,” she pants. “Please. It’s too much...I can’t...I’m going...shit...fuck!”

  Her hips lift, her fingers gripping my hair tighter. Her thighs tense...and then…

  “Oh...oh...OH!”

  She moans through every single wave of her orgasm.

  “Fuck. Shit. Holy shit.”

  She collapses, her phenomenal breasts heaving as she tries to catch her breath. A sheen of sweat coats her entire body. I kiss her mound one more time before making my way up, wiping my mouth as I do. I kiss her stomach, each breast, up her neck and to her ear, my cock resting at her entrance. “Are you sure, Maddy?”

  Her hands run down the center of my back and rest on my hips.

  She doesn’t respond with words, but she raises her hips and grips mine, pulling me inside her.

  My mouth clamps around her shoulder, muffling the moan that escapes me.

  I lean up on my elbows, resting them on either side of her head. Her eyes lock on my lips. She licks hers. Then she leans up, pressing her tongue against my mouth. I open my mouth for her, reveling in the feel of her tongue against mine, tasting her own pleasure.

  I pull back quickly. “Condom,” I pant. “Shit, I forgot.”

  I start to pull out but she stops me. “I’m protected.”

  My gaze flicks between her eyes and her lips. “Are you sure?”

  She nods.

  I pull back, almost all the way out, and then I slowly push back in.

  Her eyes roll before they close.

  I do it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  I keep doing it until her whispers of my name turn to moans and I can no longer hold out.

  And then she says it.

  “I love you, Kyler.”

  And I fall over the edge.

  Physically.

  Emotionally.

  And wholeheartedly.

  25

  KY

  I SIT ON the couch after training the next morning—phone in hand.

  Madison and I spent the entire night naked and in each other’s arms. She fell asleep right away. I stayed up most of the night—lost in a sea of my own thoughts.

  I was still that way when I fumbled my way through this morning’s sparring session. She’d sent me a text and told me she was at Debbie’s and would be home about an hour after I got here.

  And for the first time since I met her, I’m grateful she isn’t around.

  I stare at Jackson’s number, palms sweaty and heart racing at the thought of how he’ll react to what I’m about to tell him. I flake out last second and dial Christine’s number instead.

  She answers, but she doesn’t speak.


  “Ma?”

  “I just wanted to hear you say it again,” she says, and I can actually hear the smile in her voice. “How are you, Ky?”

  I sigh loudly and rest my head on the back of the couch.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “How do you know something’s wrong?”

  “Kyler.”

  I clear my throat. “I’m in love, Ma.”

  “No shit.”

  I laugh.

  “So...what’s the problem?” she asks.

  I swallow down the knot in my throat—the revelation of the truth feels like a vise surrounding my heart. “I don’t feel worthy of her, or love, in general.”

  “Shut up, Ky!”

  “Ma—”

  “No. You listen, and you listen good. I will not let you sit there and talk nonsense, do you hear me?” Her voice is strained, like she’s holding back tears. “I will not listen to you talk about yourself like that. After everything you’ve been though, Kyler, that night when you fell through my back door, bleeding and pleading for help—I thank God every day that you chose me. That you let me help you—because Lord knows you needed help. Those people that raised you—those monsters—they’ll rot in hell for what they did—for the way they treated that poor, poor boy you used to be. How you—” She chokes on a sob but recovers quickly. “How you got out alive...I’ll never know. But fate was on your side, and on ours, and you became a blessing in all our lives. So don’t you dare—” Another sob. “Don’t you dare ever, ever,” she grinds out, “believe that you aren’t worthy of every great possibility this world has to offer. And Madison—she sees that. And she appreciates you for everything that you are. And she loves you for everything that you’ve accomplished and the man you’ve turned out to be.” She pauses to take a few calming breaths. “Don’t live in the past, Kyler, dream about the future. You and Madison—you can have a future. You can have it all.”

  “Like you and Jeff?” I whisper.

  “Better. Because you, more than anyone, knows how quickly life can change. You’ll know not to take it for granted. Every sense. Every step. Every breath, Ky. There’s so much of everything—”

  “And all I have to do is exist,” I finish for her.

  She laughs through her tears. “Yes, Ky. Exactly.”

  “I love you, Ma.”

  “I love you too, son.”

  “I’ll come by soon, okay?”

  “You bring that girl of yours with you.”

  “Of course. It’s hard to be without her.”

  I stare at my phone long after she’d hung up. Then I blow out a heavy breath—Christine’s words the final push I need to gain the courage.

  I call Jackson.

  “You okay?” he says in greeting.

  “Yeah...” I settle my hand on my knee to stop it from bouncing uncontrollably. “Actually, no,” I finally admit.

  “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I say quickly.

  I hear him release what I assume is a relieved breath.

  “But I did want to talk to you and I just want you to hear me out.”

  “Okay?”

  Rubbing my eyes, I curse under my breath.

  “Just say it, Ky.”

  “Remember how you said that if I ever wanted out—to say the word?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Word.”

  Silence.

  Followed by more silence.

  I stand quickly, my head spinning from the sudden movement.

  “Say something, Jax.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  ***

  Ten minutes later he shows up, loosening his tie as he walks through my door. “Where’s Madison?” he asks, searching for her.

  “She’s working over at Debbie’s Flowers.”

  “Beer?”

  “Fridge. Aren’t you on duty?”

  “Fuck it.”

  I move to the kitchen and rest against the counter opposite him.

  He pulls out a beer from the fridge and takes a swig, his eyes never leaving me. When he’s done, he swallows loudly and crosses his arms. “Is this about Madison? Does she know?”

  “No! Of course not. I wouldn’t tell her.”

  “So?”

  I shrug.

  He rubs his hand across his face, then places the beer on the counter. “You want to know why I became a cop?”

  I nod.

  “Because of you, Ky.”

  “What?”

  He nods slowly. “Yeah, because I wanted to find a way to protect kids in the same situation as you. I wanted to find a way to ruin the people that think it’s okay to beat on defenseless kids. I wanted to take them down. Destroy them.” He clears his throat before adding. “You were my best friend, Ky, and then you became my brother. Maybe you didn’t see it—or maybe I didn’t let it show—but your pain, your anguish, and your anger—I felt all of that.”

  “Jax, it wasn’t your burden to carry.”

  “You think you’d be saying that if it were the other way around?”

  “No.”

  He pushes off the counter and starts to pace. “You know at the start—I had this vendetta...child abusers, molesters, traffickers, I wanted to ruin them all. And I did—for a while...and it felt good, you know? I felt like I was making a difference. And I felt like...somehow—I was getting justice for you. Wherever the hell you were in the world—I felt like I was making you proud.”

  I keep my head down so he won’t see the tears welling in my eyes.

  He sniffs, then lets a chuckle escape him. “And then I don’t know...Maybe I lost my way. Maybe I felt like it wasn’t enough. So I started looking up the night Steve died—for you, Ky. Because I wanted that for you. That closure—or revenge—or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I became a detective so I could get closer to the case. So I could find the people responsible.”

  I inhale deeply and finally face him. He’s still pacing, his head lowered. “Maybe it’s not important to you—and I get that—”

  “Of course it’s important,” I cut in. “But will it change anything? No. No one put a gun to Steve’s head and made him take it.”

  Jax stops in his tracks, his eyes snapping to mine.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate what you did—what you do—who you are...” My shoulders slump with my sigh. “I just need to move on, Jax. And maybe you do, too. I need to stop living there—in the past—holding on to the same guilt and regret I’ve felt for the past five years. I want to move forward.”

  “So you’re done?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll fight tomorrow. See what I can find out on the actual night you think the handover will happen. If I find anything and it actually leads to something then no, I won’t be done. I just need to know there’s an end in sight. I can’t do this forever. It’s not fair on me or—” I break off.

  “Madison?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

  I nod.

  “I don’t know what to say, Ky.”

  “You’re mad?”

  “No.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m kind of in shock.”

  “What?”

  The front door opens and Madison steps in. Neither of us greet her—too busy focused on each other. She comes up next to me and kisses my cheek. “Hey babe.”

  “Hey,” I reply, finally switching my attention to her. “How was work?”

  She glances at Jackson quickly. “It was good. Did I interrupt something?”

  “No,” Jax says, backing away from us. “Did I hear it’s your birthday soon, Maddy?”

  She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed as she looks between us. “No. Not until April.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jax asks. “Sixteenth, right?”

  “No. Twenty-third.” She looks back at me. “Why?”

  Jackson fakes a laugh—though Madison wouldn’t know it’s fake. “Ky was try
ing to organize a trip as a surprise. He said he didn’t know—thought I’d save him the embarrassment of asking you. I’ll let myself out. You guys have a good night.”

  “A trip?” Madison says once Jackson had left. “Where to?”

  Shit. I better start planning. “Surprise, remember?”

  26

  KY

  I TWIST A strand of her hair that’s lying over my chest while we lay in bed.

  “So I have something I need to do tomorrow night,” I say, trying to be as casual as possible.

  “Oh yeah? Where are we going?”

  “Yeah. About that...you can’t come.”

  She tilts her head and looks up at me—eyebrows drawn. “Why not?” It’s not accusatory, just curiosity—which is exactly what I was hoping for.

  “You know all that training I’ve been doing?”

  “Yeah?”

  “So...don’t get mad, but I’m fighting tomorrow. Like, in an organized event.”

  “Why?” she asks, same tone as before.

  I shrug and give her a half-truth. “I just want to see if I’m any good.”

  “So why can’t I go with you?”

  “Because you’d be a distraction. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate knowing you were there—watching me—worried about me. And that doesn’t even count the amount of times I’d be looking over at you making sure no assholes were making moves on you.”

  She smiles, but it’s sad. “Do you have to?”

  “It’s not a big deal, Maddy. It’s all legit. They have doctors—”

  “No,” she cuts it. “That’s not—” She kisses my chest, then looks back up at the ceiling. “Never mind. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “I promise you, nothing will happen. I’ll tap out as soon as I feel the need. Like I said, it’s not about the victory or whatever...I’m just curious.”

  “Just make sure you come out alive, okay?”

  ***

  I didn’t train that morning so I could rest up for the fight. I’d love to say that I was confident about the win, but after researching James Hayden online—I knew I had a decent fight on my hands.

  But the fight wasn’t what made me anxious—it was my word to Jackson. I’d do what I could to find out as much information as possible. Truthfully—I wanted to find something, anything that was substantial enough for Jackson to use so we’d both be happy—or at the least, satisfied.