Page 95 of Fighting Fate
“Yeah, I’m good. You?”
There’s a pause as he draws in a deep breath, and I wrap my arm around his shoulders so he can get more comfortable as I stroke my other hand lightly over his jaw.
“I’m good,” he finally breathes out.
“Tired?”
“Tired.”
A nagging feeling tells me it’s more than that, but I ignore it for the time being. If it is more, now isn’t the time to dig into it. I want to lift his spirits.
“Here I thought that you’d be raring to pound out a few rounds of a different kind…”
That low, deep laugh I adore fills the quiet as I hold on to his vibrating body tighter.
“I guess Mr. Diva Champion would rather his ice bath and his beauty sleep for the press tomorrow.”
“Hey,” he groans, tipping his head back to find my face. “You’re always welcome to climb on top and take full advantage.” Lifting our joined hands to his lips, he bites down on my knuckles playfully before peppering kisses over each one.
“I’m not sure the medics would appreciate that, especially if they’re concerned about your rib.”
“It’s nothing but a bruise. The kid’s knees are almost as hard as his fucking head.” The grit in his voice is impossible to dismiss, even as he assures me. “I’m fine. My ribs are fine. Promise.” He adds the latter with a squeeze to my hand as the car comes to a stop.
The hotel manager is already waiting for us at the private entrance with the suite butler. The racket from the main entrance is so loud that we can hear it as we get in the service lift. Rory’s politely quiet, nodding at the information the manager shares with us about using the private entrance when we’re ready to leave tomorrow.
By the time we’re alone in our suite, it’s the early hours of the morning. The floor-to-ceiling windows all around us overlook the river, with Canary Wharf lit up to one side and the city to the other. The midnight sky is lightening with a deep orange-hued horizon and dark clouds that promise an early autumnal day.
“Want me to close the curtains?” Rory asks, sitting on the edge of the bed as he drinks down half a bottle of water before taking the painkillers and anti-inflammatories that top up the dose the medics gave him earlier.
“Not yet,” I say, standing in front of him as he finishes the rest of the bottle. “London city always looks so pretty when you see it like this. So quiet…still…it’s almost a phenomenon.”
Rory smiles up at me, and it takes everything for me not to cringe at the sight of the cuts and bruising coming through. My heart lurches as I hold his face between my hands and lean down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“I love you,” I whisper over his lips as his hands cup my arse, thumbs hooking into the eyelets of my jeans. “Very, very much, Rory Knight.”
“So much that you’ll get in that ice bath with me?” he asks, raising his brows.
“Think of the baby…” I giggle lightly as I slowly roll his T-shirt up his torso. “But I’ll help you strip for it, and I will even sit next to you. The heated floor is pretty nice.”
When he lifts his arms, I gently tug the T-shirt off before taking a step back for him to stand. He’s in loose shorts that practically fall off, leaving him completely naked, when I pull the ties undone. Even with the bruises coming through, his body is a sight to behold. I can’t help but kiss and worship every dip, groove, and etched line that is more beautiful than the last. His body is chiselled in a strength that completely envelops me. I’ve never felt as safe or precious as I do with him.
“How was it?” he asks when we make it to the expansive en suite with a direct view to the O2 Arena.
“Honestly?”
“How’d you feel about it?”
I watch him pour the champagne buckets of ice into the cold running bath. I’m tugging my jeans down, stripping out of my silk blouse as he gets into the bath with a hiss. Once he’s settled, I take my hairband from his wrist and use it to knot my hair on top of my head before I grab a bathrobe and kneel on the floor beside him.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he says, pinching my chin with his ice-cold fingers.
“I was getting comfortable,” I tell him, crossing my arms on the side of the bath and resting my head on them. “Mostly, I was worried. The thought of you being hurt makes me anxious, and tonight was insane. I’ve never seen anything like it, Rory. Not even that first fight I went to…this was…intense and personal, and…I thought that my heart was going to explode several times. But watching you do your thing…”
“Did it scare you?”
“What?” I scoff at his question. It’s bizarre, and I don’t understand where it’s coming from. “The possibility of you being hurt or worse scares the crap out of me, but that’s it. Tonight was incredible. Watching you fight was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And I was so proud—I still am… Despite how it all started, you still came out on top, Rory, and you are the most brilliant man I’ve ever known. You’re a champion, and you put that little dickhead in his place.”
“I should’ve knocked him out, but…”