Griffin: Bad Boy MMA Romance

by Ashley Hall

  And I had to get to work.

  Griffin

  I always had to admit, a sparring match was far more fulfilling than driving my fist into some random stranger at a bar. Not that the guy from the previous night hadn’t had it coming, but I knew that the average man didn’t drop people left and right.

  No, in the ring, I was much more controlled. It was almost as if I had a hold on the temper Riley had warned me about for so long. That didn’t mean, however, that I was going to go easy on my partner.

  Ross and I had been sparring ever since he’d joined the gym two years ago. The first time Riley put him in the ring with me, the kid looked like he was about to shit himself. I thought Riley was out of his mind. Ross was sixteen. I was ten years older than him and probably had about fifty pounds on him.

  But I should have known better. Riley knew me better than almost anyone alive – and he’d picked Ross for a reason.

  He was like I had been – angry, overcome with the need to hit something to let out his anger and frustration. I taught him not only how to channel that anger, but also to take a hit like a champ. I had no doubt that he’d soon be ready for amateur fights.

  That was, just as long as he stayed away from the juice.

  At the thought, I frowned. There had been a period when I first started competing when I would have done anything to get bigger – anything to be the best. It was then that I met Ivan, and I’d regretted being on his roster ever since.

  My brief foray into the world of steroids hadn’t been pretty. Yeah, they made me stronger and faster, but they also made me feel like I had the worst hangover imaginable twenty-four seven. My head always hurt, and at a point in my life where I was just coming close to understanding my anger, the juice multiplied it exponentially. I snapped at anyone and anything at the slightest trigger.

  So I stopped.

  And I’d been dealing with a pissed-off Ivan ever since.

  That was the last path I wanted Ross to go down; and that day, on top all the shit that had gone down last night, I’d found empty containers with injectable steroids in his bag. I was pissed. So pissed that yelling at him wasn’t going to cut it.

  So we took it to the ring. From the moment we stepped beneath the ropes, Ross knew I wasn’t going to take it easy on him. What I needed to make him understand was that I wasn’t punishing him for doing the stuff; I was punishing him for selling himself short. I’d be damned if I watched the kid suffer like I did for some edge he thought he’d gain.

  So I went hard.

  Usually, Ross would be able to land a punch or two, but today I wasn’t having it. When he came at me, I dodged every single blow he attempted, finally going for his shoulder. I lashed out with enough force to drive him back – even if the punch didn’t completely land.

  Knowing I wasn’t about to play nice, Ross got his hand up to block.

  And I took my opening. I kicked him twice, in rapid succession, and he hit the ropes, momentarily stunned. I went after him, cracking my knuckles as I advanced. Ross recovered with just enough time to dodge my next punch. I was basically chasing him around the ring – but then again, I wouldn’t want to be hit by me when I was pissed either. As I easily sidestepped a front kick, I turned to walk away from him, winding up for my next attack.

  And in that moment, time seemed to stop.

  It seemed that the reporter who was supposed to interview me had arrived – and I was in a fucking world of trouble.

  Blondes. Why did it always have to be blondes? If I was pulling a comparison, though, this one made the one from last night look like the fucking hunchback of Notre Dame. She was tall and slender, with long, long legs and hips that wouldn’t quit. She wore a dark navy dress that was relatively modest, but, like the dog I was, I only wanted to see what it exposed. The elegant, pale line of her neck, the full length of those gorgeous, perfect legs…and then there was her face.

  The face of an angel.

  Full, rosy mouth and pert nose with high, almost regal cheekbones. Her eyes were a soft caramel color, and a patch of freckles painted her nose and forehead. That sweet, innocent face was framed by a fall of blonde waves that went nearly to her waist, and immediately, I imagined what they might look like fanned out over the pillows of my bed.

  What she might look like.

  It was clear from her sack-like blue dress to the flats she wore that this girl definitely wasn’t dressed to impress. What she needed was something slinky – tiny. Something that accentuated what I suspected was a damned divine chest and those magnificent gams.

  But that wouldn’t be her style. No. I wouldn’t be surprised if she went to church every Sunday and volunteered on Friday afternoons. The air of innocence that hung around her was almost like a halo.

  And fuck if I didn’t want to corrupt the hell out of it.

  Unfortunately, while I was eye-fucking her, Ross was busy getting the drop on me. I came back to reality when his foot connected with my jaw with enough force to send stars bursting to life before my vision. I hit the floor, hard, and I could immediately taste blood in my mouth.

  For a brief second, the world went blank, and I sagged to the mat with a curse on my lips.

  I couldn’t have been out for long.

  But when I came to, it was to the sight of those mouthwatering legs I’d just been admiring mere feet away from my face.

  She was in the goddamn ring, along with Riley, staring down at my sprawled form with mild amusement in her gaze.

  It takes a lot to embarrass me. I’ve drunk myself into a near coma in public places all over the world. Fucked women with their ankles over balconies and gone swimming naked in the Mediterranean. But the combination of the blonde goddess, Riley, and Ross all staring expectantly was enough to make my gut twist.

  Fuck.

  She was supposed to be interviewing one of the world’s greatest fighters and the first thing she saw was me getting knocked on my ass. Great first impression.

  I got quickly to my feet, wiping blood from the corner of my mouth as I glared at Ross. His expression went from triumphant to scared within the space of a millisecond and he knew that he was going to have to pay.

  Just not at this exact moment.

  “Griffin.” I met Riley’s gaze, still tasting blood in my mouth as I scowled. “Meet Sadie Warner. She’s with The Grind. Wants to ask you some questions.”

  Sadie. Sweet Sadie.

  I managed to collect myself enough to extend a wrapped hand. She seemed to hesitate slightly before placing her slender, pale one in my grip. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like peaches.

  I fucking loved peaches.

  “Pleasure,” I grunted, hoping there wasn’t still blood on my mouth. Sadie gazed up at me, her eyes widening slightly. A tiny tongue darted out quickly to lick her lips and I swear to God I nearly hauled her off to the locker room right there and then.

  I knew exactly what I’d do to her too. Technically, there weren’t any women allowed in the men’s locker room, but for her, I’d make an exception. Bundle her into the shower and keep her wet until that god-awful dress got drenched – and became infinitely more appealing. Then, I’d peel it off her, expose all that glowing skin…

  I wanted to see what color her nipples were. I was willing to bet they were sweet, pink, and perky. She would squirm when I sucked on them. Then she would scream when my mouth found the haven between her legs and found out just how tight she was.

  At the intensity of my stare, Sadie flushed slightly and I loosened my grip. I must look like a goddamn predator.

  I’d always had trouble hiding my true nature. If there was one good thing my father ever taught me, it was that we can’t fight who we really are.

  And I was a fucking monster.

  Sadie

  If I thought Griffin was mouthwatering from all the way across the gym, up close he was enough to scramble my very educated brain.

  He was a good six inches or so taller than me, and from three feet away, I could see every r
idge of every divine muscle. It was enough to make me forget that I’d just seen him get taken down by a kid half his size. Though, when I thought about it, Griffin had seemed kind of distracted when the teenager had kicked him.

  In the face.

  Apart from looking a little dazed, the man appeared no worse for wear- though the telltale spot of blood at the edge of his mouth was enough to let me know that he’d been dealt some damage.

  When his vibrant green eyes met mine, however, it was hard to think of anything. He held out a hand wrapped thickly with white bandages – stained with sweat, and I hesitated a moment before taking it.

  The contact was like an electric shock. Sensation jolted down my arm, shooting down to pool warmth between my legs – where I was already uncomfortably damp. As I looked up at Griffin, the scent of him assaulted me – sweat, spice, and masculine musk.

  It was no wonder women threw themselves at him. The man’s biceps were as big as my thighs, for God’s sake, and the way he moved…When he took my hand, the low, gruff baritone that escaped him made every muscle in my body tense. Of course, a fighter like Griffin Webb would have a low, growly tone that matched his demeanor. Though he attested that it was a pleasure to meet me, he still hadn’t smiled.

  Nor would he ever, I reckoned.

  Was it awful that I thought the man was no less gorgeous for it?

  We held hands for perhaps a beat too long, his gaze so intense on mine that I flushed slightly. It was almost like he was trying to look into me – to test my mettle and to see what I was made of. The very notion made me swallow thickly.

  I had a crazy impulse to just sink to my knees before him – to worship that amazing body of his and taste every bead of sweat that adorned it.

  But that was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

  It took a moment, but I managed to snap myself out of the trance – and once I did, the anger started. Not at Griffin Webb, but at myself. What the hell was I doing? I was supposed to be interviewing this man – making cover history, and here I was mooning over him. Sure, Griffin was good-looking but so were tons of other guys!

  Guys that were violent, brusque, and left a trail of broken hearts in their wake.

  As if I needed a reminder of why I stuck to intellectuals.

  They weren’t trying to screw their way through the world’s population of models and superstars. They didn’t prance around half-naked most of the time, and wouldn’t start a fight if you paid them.

  Intellectuals were safe.

  Griffin Webb was almost certainly the opposite.

  I slipped my hand from his grasp, clearing my throat as I tried to regain my confidence. “I have to admit, you don’t disappoint, Mr. Webb.”

  If anything, his scowl only deepened – making me long to kiss it away. “Call me Griffin. No one calls me ‘Mr. Webb’.”

  He was already getting familiar – which did nothing to serve my nerves.

  “Alright then, Griffin” My lips quirked a bit as I glanced at the teen who had knocked him out. “Do you usually let kids get the drop on you?”

  Behind me, Riley snickered before taking his leave, stepping through the ropes to head elsewhere in the gym.

  “Hell no!” I was surprised when the kid himself piped up. I turned to face him with an arched brow. “I never fucking get a hit in on this guy.” He seemed to realize what he’d said, and flushed slightly. “I mean…he’s good, Ma’am. I just got lucky.”

  I looked back at Griffin to see him cracking his neck as he rotated his massive shoulders – and my breath started to come a little faster. “Ross has got an ass-kicking coming to him.” The menacing way the dark-haired fighter spoke made me shiver. “You arrived just in time to save him.”

  Well, wasn’t I the lucky one? Clearing my throat, I tried to change the subject. I needed to talk about something that would get my mind of Griffin’s incredible body – and his devil-may-care attitude.

  “Well, why don’t we find a quieter place to have a discussion? The publication has prepared a plethora of questions for you. The answers should tantalize our readers.”

  Griffin just stared at me as if I’d just spoken in another language. “English please?”

  Jesus Christ. Here I was chomping at the bit to get in this man’s pants and he didn’t even understand three syllable words. What was wrong with me? Webb was a bruiser, pure and simple; and like all other bruisers, he was most probably a moron to boot.

  Hardly even worth my time.

  But I’d come for the story and I wasn’t leaving without it.

  When I next spoke, I couldn’t help the sarcasm that colored my tone.” The interview. Is there a place where we can do it?”

  As snide as I was being, I couldn’t stop the slight tremor that crept into my voice.

  He’s not worth it, I tried repeating to myself, Get a hold of yourself. But even channeling my nervousness into snark wasn’t helping me very much.

  “Right.” To my surprise, Griffin’s lips quirked into what might have been the tiniest hint of a smirk. “And how long is this interview supposed to take?”

  Ross took that as his cue to take his leave. He slipped away in much the same manner Riley had, disappearing into what I assumed was the locker room.

  And leaving me alone with Webb.

  Well, we weren’t alone per se, but when I was the only person in that ring with him, the other occupants of the gym didn’t seem to matter as much. He filled my vision, assaulted all of my senses, and made me uncomfortably hot.

  My solution? More condescension. “It’s an interview.” I replied dryly, crossing my hands over my chest to put some distance between us. “When you’ve answered all of the questions to my satisfaction, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  One of Griffin’s brows shot upward. “Your satisfaction?” He chuckled, the sound dark, chocolaty and utterly devastating to my libido. “Look, sweetheart, calm down. I’ll answer all your questions.”

  Sweetheart? I sure as hell wasn’t this callous man’s sweetheart. I couldn’t even imagine the emotional wreckage he made of anyone he deemed worthy of a pet name. “And I promise,” my attention jerked back to him when he continued, “by the time we’re done you’ll be very satisfied.”

  I don’t think my womb had ever clenched harder in my life. This man was challenging everything I formerly thought defined sexy: articulation, education, poise…Griffin Webb was none of those things.

  And yet every part of my body was screaming for him. “I’d appreciate it if you weren’t so familiar,” I managed, with a thin smile, “I like to keep things professional.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you do.” Griffin leaned back onto his heels, mimicking my stance as he crossed his arms over his well-sculpted chest. As he looked down at me, his eyes burned, and I had to tell myself that the man probably looked at every pair of boobs that way. He wanted a conquest, but I wasn’t going to give him one.

  At least…I hoped I wasn’t. “But unless you’re willing to go head-to-head with me in the ring just now, sweetheart,” He went there again, this time purposefully to raise my ire, “I have to take a rain check. I’m in the middle of training for a match at the end of the week.”

  My eyes widened in outrage.

  A rain check? After I had battled my way through traffic to get downtown – after I got all my hopes up that this would be my big break?

  “What do you mean?” I blurted – though I knew very well what he meant. He was putting me off.

  Griffin sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I’m currently in the midst of preparing myself for confrontation.”

  He couldn’t have surprised me more if he’d physically struck me – and judging from his imperious expression, he knew it. “Am I speaking your language now, Ms. Warner?”

  I wanted to be angry. Usually, I would be. Even mild-mannered Sadie didn’t take too well to men lording over her. But for some reason, the anger didn’t come. Instead, I was hit with a fresh wave of arousal.

  There seemed to be n
o possible way I could ruffle this man’s feathers. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d knocked out more men in the cage than I had ever dated – was I supposed to scare him with my standoffish attitude?

  Apparently not. But there we found ourselves at an impasse. I needed that article, and if I wasn’t mistaken, Webb had just told me no. Which left me with sweaty palms, a racing heart, and a butt-load of sexual tension that I had no idea what to do with. How was I supposed to change his mind?

  More importantly, how was I supposed to regain my cool and stop seeing the man as a very intimidating bruiser who obviously had the upper hand?