Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Heart pounding wildly, I jump to my feet, trying to see Griff better. The coaches and another person surround him in his corner. Did he get hurt?
The third round starts. Griff’s just as bouncy and eager as he was in round one, while Magic seems to drag himself over the canvas.
Please finish this soon.
Magic ducks, like he’s preparing to take Griff to the mat, at the same time Griff lifts his knee. Face and knee collide. Blood sprays from Magic’s mouth and he staggers backward.
“Yikes, he gonna knock his own ass out!” Shelby yells.
The knee to the face was an accident, I think, but Griff uses Magic’s disorientation to his advantage. He lands several body shots, steps back, then throws a punch straight to Magic’s jaw.
Magic’s arms fly out to his sides, he staggers backward, then crumples to the canvas.
“Done!” Remy jumps to his feet.
“Yes!” Shelby squeezes my hand. Everyone in our row explodes out of our seats.
I run over and hug Ella. “He did it! He did it!” she squeals in my ear.
Trinity gives me a big hug. “I couldn’t breathe through the first half of that!”
Wrath’s standing so close to his wife that I move from hugging Trinity to giving him a hug too. He freezes for a second, then pats my shoulder. “He did good,” he bellows.
“He did! He did! Oh my God.”
Remy’s big hands curl over my shoulders and he steers me toward the cage. “He wants you in there!” he shouts.
I can’t even see Griff with all the people blocking our path. “Get behind me.” Remy takes my hand, pulling me along behind him while he muscles his way through the wall of people.
I scream at the top of my lungs with pure joy.
Rooster and Jigsaw meet us near the cage steps. Together with my brother, they form a protective semi-circle around me.
“You proud?” Jigsaw asks me.
“Damn right!”
Finally, I can actually see Griff. His dazed expression squeezes my heart. I raise my hand and wave wildly.
“Winner by knockout in the third round,” the announcer shouts, “Griffin ‘Stonewall’ Royal!”
Griff raises his hands high.
Underhill’s clapping and grinning like a proud papa.
The arena security guards who walked us down earlier notice me at the bottom of the steps and push some guys out of the way. “Let her through.”
I run up the stairs but step carefully onto the canvas, so I don’t trip. Griff’s looking toward our seats. I open my mouth to shout his name, but I break into a run and end up squealing a bunch of nonsense. Underhill steps out of my way and I crash into Griff.
“There you are!” He grins down at me. “How’d I do?”
“Amazing.” I study his face. He’s red around his right eye but not bleeding at least.
“I feel like I could’ve gone ten more rounds with him.”
“You looked like it.”
He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Were you okay?”
“Yes.”
Someone taps his shoulder and he swivels away but still keeps his arm loosely around my waist.
A man wearing a blue polo shirt, carrying a microphone, stops in front of me. Behind him another man holding a camera aims it at me. Nerves flutter in my stomach but I lift my chin and smile.
“You and Griffin have been together for a while, correct?” The man with the notepad asks. “This was a big fight for him. His debut. Now that he won, are you hoping for a marriage proposal this weekend?” The reporter shoves his microphone in my face.
Griff’s still distracted with questions from a different reporter.
I rest my hand on his sweaty chest to capture Griff’s attention, then answer the reporter. “Do you just assume every woman is waiting for a marriage proposal? Or am I special?”
“Well…” The guy works his jaw up and down but can’t seem to answer.
“This is Griff’s weekend.” I glare at the reporter. “His victory. He trained hard for this fight. Everyone said he was the underdog this weekend, but he dominated this cage. Why don’t you talk about that? I want him to enjoy every second of his win. That’s the only thing I’m ‘hoping for’ this weekend.”
He pulls his microphone back, ducks his head and scribbles something on a notepad, then turns and mutters something to his cameraman.
“Thank you, Miss Holt.”
“Sure.”
Griff wraps himself around me and lifts me so we’re eye to eye. “Thank you, Muffin,” he says in a low tone meant for my ears only. “You know I definitely plan to ask you that one day.”
I tighten my arms around his neck and dust my lips against his sweaty cheek. “And I plan to say yes,” I whisper in his ear.
Someone brushes a hand against my back and Griff carefully lowers me to the ground. I tug my dress into place.
Remy’s standing behind me, glowering at Griff. “You lift her up any higher, she was gonna be flashing all these cameras.”