Page 52 of Undefeated

“Do it,’ he said.

I smacked my fist against his.

“Guess it’s settled,” he said.

“Guess so,” I admitted.

“When you wanting to start?” he asked.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I responded, excited about training with Ripp.

“Let’s start today. Just stay off this jaw,” he said as he rubbed his jaw.

“You know I can’t make any promises once I step into that ring, Ripp,” I said apologetically.

“I know you can’t. It’s what makes you the beast that you are. It’s that devil inside of you. The one you’re either fighting against or fighting for. Never seen another one like ya. You got that devil inside,” he said as he stood and grabbed his wallet.

He was right.

And I needed to feed the demons.

KACE. There are instances in our lives that we will never forget, no matter how hard we try. Other events, although we will attempt to retain those precious memories, somehow fade away. The memory of yet other events will simply remain forever, stuck in the backs of our minds; we often remember the year, day, and sometimes even the hour associated with these occurrences - even the smell that lingered in the air will remain in our mind as a reminder of the event that we have so preciously tucked away.

Ivan Povlov, a Russian physiologist, in studying classical conditioning, had a theory about the human mind. He rang a bell each time he would feed his dog. Over time, the dog associated the ringing sound with an opportunity to obtain food. The scientist, in proof of this theory, would ring the bell, and watch the dog salivate at the sound of the bell alone.

“Babe, I’m home,” Shane said as he walked in the front door.

“I’m in the kitchen,” I replied as I moved the groceries around on the countertop.

As he walked into the kitchen, he unzipped his hoodie. He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. He dropped his gym bag on the floor and walked behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Ripp and I just got done training. What are you making?” he smelled clean, as if he had just taken a shower.

“I’m not really sure. Some kind of pasta. I bought wheat pasta, fresh basil, vegetables, and some lean beef. I was going to broil the meat and make a pasta dish. It just sounded good. You want anything in particular?” I asked as I shuffled the groceries around.

“I want you, Kace,” he responded as he kissed the back of my neck.

A chill ran down my spine. Seeing Shane was enough to make me wet. Seeing Shane shirtless made me an uncomfortable mess. Having Shane touch me and talk to me like this made me melt into a puddle on the floor.

His warm breath on my neck moved my thoughts from cooking to other things - things from the books that I read. My books are both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes I feel as if I have actually experienced all of the things that I read about, and I feel far more experienced than I actually am. Truth be known, I have minimal experience with sex, period.

He raised his hands to my shoulders and turned me around to face him. Without speaking, he slid his hands from my shoulders to my neck. Softly, his hands moved up my neck to my face, holding my face in his hands as he kissed me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the kiss as much as the first time we kissed. Kissing Shane was not kissing alone, it was experiencing - experiencing feeling and emotions that were unfamiliar to me. I felt alive when Shane kissed me. As my body tingled from head to toe, I smelled the sweet basil as I inhaled a breath through my nose.

“I could kiss you forever,” he said as his face slowly moved away from mine.

I opened my eyes and focused on his face.

Bad idea.

I takes every ounce of my ability to resist desire to keep from raping this man. I can’t even look at him without thinking of sex. By simply being himself, he gives me both a reason to live and he kills me.

Right now I am dying.

“Babe, what are you thinking?” he asked me, my face still in his hands.

You gorgeous, muscled, alpha male boxer – more than anything I want you to fuck me unconscious.

He let go of my face and removed his unzipped hoodie, tossing it into over the bar stool.