It's no one's responsibility to make you happy; that was what my father used to say. As a sixteen-year-old I couldn't fathom all there was to come. No one owed me anything, and even though that was a hard pill for me to swallow, I had to learn the hard way, how I needed to work for what I wanted, get hurt by my mistakes and then, with disappointment and guilt weighing me down, pick up all the pieces before I started again. And again.

There was no perfect recipe, just a series of failures, of letting down myself. It was only through a near-death experience that I realized, I was nowhere near who I wanted to be, to make him proud; to make myself proud.

Trying to convince myself that she deserved better, was my own way to stay away from her for my own good. I was convinced that love hurt; that I'd rather be in pain, than open up to her. But that fucking battle proved useless, since all I truly wanted, was to be consumed by her, live in the feelings she erupted in me, in a way that left me high and bewildered.

She deserved so much. So much more than I was. But here I was, selfishly pursuing her, because now I couldn't stand to imagine my life without her in it. Even on nights I wasn't allowed to be with her, per Elijah's rules before each boxing game, I couldn't stay away for long. I craved the calm she brought with her, the soft caress of her fingers on my skin, her kisses, her moans.

Everything.

Being committed to a real, serious relationship used to be a joke to me. I never had girlfriends; I was never committed to one woman. That woman at the front of the club, Francis, was just one example of all the mistakes I've done in the past. The real question was, how the fuck was she working at the exact same club my sponsors were organizing the party? And how the fuck did she know who Erika was; what she looked like, what she was to me.

"Don't look at me like that, Brandon. Francis was just eager to see you, only to find out you were infatuated with someone else. The look on her face, though, when she walked into my office later... damn, that little vixen is on another level when it comes to angry-sex."

There came my answer in the words of one James Inkles, who was having fun in yet another game of his.

Francis didn't have the right to play the jealous-ex card. She was never more than a night's fling; one, that James, behind my back, shared on multiple occasions. Like me, he didn't care about her or any other woman, for that matter, which bared the question: why bother telling her about my personal life. It frustrated me beyond belief, because - even after all this time, even after his numerous attempts at mending our friendship and collaboration - he couldn't stop himself from stirring the pot and all the shit that got stuck to the bottom. It gave him power, meddling with people's lives; that I knew, but when was this game over? Trust was still a sensitive subject, one we both knew wouldn't work between me and my old friend, but the games he played proved me right; I should always keep an eye on him, because he was always a few steps ahead in his twisted games.

"Don't get me wrong, brother, you know your happiness is the most important thing to me. It's just, when you're angry, you're ruthless in the ring. A fucking beast."

"So, messing with my relationship will give you, what? More money?"

"Such a clever bastard, you are."

My relationship with him was the epitome of toxic. But I knew, with James back in the picture, it was my only chance at shining light on my father's case. His death cost us both so much and, even though it drove us apart, with his knowledge and resources we could finally end this, once and for all. I had to hold on a little while longer. Alex was already creating a case, but with the little information we had, any type of attack would be reciprocated with a much stronger, ruthless blow. We had to be patient and thorough, without James' father finding out, or else the story would repeat itself.

And then there was Erika Ricci.

Every time I got close to her, was never enough. We were always interrupted, always seized by our daily routines. Each kiss, every breath caught on my skin, was stirring a side inside of me I couldn't control. She always left me wanting more, frustrated beyond belief. I was a very patient man, but she sucked every last drop of my self-restraint, leaving me a thirsty beast.

A true recipe for a cataclysm.

Which brought me to the question of the century: what on earth was I doing here?

I'm sure my mother's Italian ancestors had something to do with this, because I was cheering like a maniac at the screen in front of me; a green pitch, a black-and-white ball passed between eleven players in the field, who tried to outrun their eleven opponents and score, while at it.

When I stepped in front of Erika's apartment door, I was startled and filled with fear, when I heard screaming from the inside. Turned out they were watching soccer. Or, as they called it to my face, real football. Before I knew it, I was sitting between her and her brother, watching the game on their TV, while cheering at the Italian team who was fighting against Spain for the world cup.

A big moment for everyone involved.

"Dio mio, what do you have feet for? Che diamine!" She was on her feet, staring at the screen, calling profanities at the other players who were not making her very happy, at the moment.

This reminded me of my first match against Meyers, when he punched my left shoulder with enough force, I thought he ripped the muscles apart, before a stronger blow landed on my face and I ended up on the ground. She was then on her feet, refusing to sit down for the rest of the match. To everyone else it looked like she was stressed for the outcome, but I knew her better. There was a pinch of anger mixed in to all that anxiousness, simply because she warned me against fighting until I was fully healed. I knew I was making her nervous, and even though I only wanted to see her happy, it warmed my heart.

She cared about me. Maybe just as much as I cared about her.

Neither of us brought up the subject of what this between us was. At first, I thought it was confusing; it wasn't anymore. I knew I was reckless, but I was sure of my feelings for her. I just didn't know what the protocol, what the rules were. It wasn't like I could follow the terms of international law or the fighting rules. In MMA fighters were not allowed to strike their opponent on the back of the head or the spine, no groin attacks, no head butts, and no knees to the head on a grounded opponent. But this was no MMA fight; she was a street fight, were everything was allowed. Erika Ricci was my sudden death.

I wanted to do this right; take her on a date, show her how serious I was about us. She had other plans, as she dragged me inside her apartment in shorts, a casual t-shirt and a scarf tied around her ponytail, all in the colors of the Italian flag. Everything was so out of the ordinary. The only item familiar to me were her round glasses, adding to the sexy image in front of me.

This was a minefield.

"Are you sure you don't mind this?" I was in her kitchen, away from prying eyes, while I tried to open a can of beer, when she caught me off guard with her sultry voice; the adrenaline pumping through my veins was a blow to my self-restraint and all that was left was but a thin, strained fiber. "I know we had plans, but I forgot the game was today," She whispered in my ear, her lips just a breath away from my skin.

"Don't worry, Angel." I turned to look at her, trying to create some distance between us so I could stay sane. "We can take it easy for tonight and go for dinner another time." I met her gaze, her eyes examining my reaction under her long eyelashes.

"Are you sure?" She bit her lip, a pleading look on her face, and I tried to cover the groan in my throat with a chuckle.

"Of course. I am actually enjoying this." This: the game, the company... her in casual clothing and shorts, looking at me like that.

I wasn't lying.

"GOAL!"

"Get your ass back in the game, you idiot."

"You call that a pass?"

"This is what I call fucking teamwork. Get in there!"

"GOAAAAL"

The adrenaline was too much, I couldn't sit still. I screamed at the screen, while Erika dragged me to sit down once more, but how could she blame me? She was the one that suggested watching the game with her brother and best friend, so now she had to take responsibility for the new monster she created.

What the hell was happening to me?

Italy won, but the adrenaline of the game left as hungry; a hunger, peanuts and chips could never satiate.

"I need to tell you... about that woman at the party... a few nights ago." I said between kisses, after the front door to my house closed. My words halted her movements, and her bright eyes found mine. She had an unreadable expression on her face like a mask, a shield that hid her emotions, probably to prepare herself for the worst.

"Is she still in your life?" Her words were strong, trying to keep the mask from cracking.

"No! She was never in my life. No one was, in that way. But now, I want this. I want to try, 'cause there's no one else I want to spend my time with, other than you."

Her lips silenced me, while her fingers scratched my neck, pulling me closer to her. I hoisted her up in my arms, her legs circling my waist to keep her in place. My lips were unrelenting on hers, but she wasn't going down without a fight of her own. The distance was distasteful for both of us, and we tried to eliminate it with everything we had, as we kept pulling, scratching, kissing.

"This... Us, is important to me." I tried once more.

"Good!" She sounded breathless. "I want this, too."

No more words were needed, as the energy between us shifted into something different. Too many layers were in our way, and so I slowly moved us from the front door to my bedroom.

"I won't lie, I was jealous. She was beautiful, and I thought I -"

Before she could finish her sentence, my lips found hers, silencing her as I laid her carefully on my bed. "Don't. Stop thinking." I said, my lips pressed softly to the corner of her mouth. "I know you can't help it, but there's no overthinking what I feel about you."

My hands stroked her cheeks, placing her glasses on my nightstand, as I kept kissing her, earning soft sighs from her lips. "Let me show you, how much I want to be with you."

She nodded in affirmation, kissing my lips softly, while my hands caressed her curves above her clothing. I was content with kissing her like this, but she had other plans, as she pushed me to the side, before straddling my thighs. Her lips were warm, soft, delicate in their own way, but she powerfully took everything she wanted, as she found her way from the corner of my mouth, across my jaw and down my neck. I couldn't do anything other than relish in the feeling.

There was so much I could endure, but Erika Ricci's lips on my skin were definitely not one of them. Her tongue swiped along my neck, biting the skin before relieving the slight pain with her lips. It was all so amusing for me, as she tried to trap me with her body on my bed, pinning my hands beside my head and intertwining our fingers. I liked how powerful she was, but innocent moments like this, when she craved comfort, romance, were the death of me.

I wanted everything. Everything she would give me.

I flipped her over, glaring into her dark orbs that held so much intensity, so much fire, before taking her lips in mine. My right hand travelled down to her waist, playing with the hem of her thin shirt, before dragging it upwards, teasing the skin there. Her breath hitched under my touch, as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pushing her hips closer to mine. Reflexively, I pushed down on her, grinding on her clothed core, when another gasp left her lips. I swallowed every moan escaping them, as she repeated her motion, pushing closer to my growing erection.

Slowly kissing down her neck to her collarbone, I felt her hand tangle in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me hiss as I dragged my teeth against her skin, sucking on the spot, before releasing it. My lips moved down to her stomach, stealing glances her way every time I sucked on her skin, loving her small gasps for air, while she nibbled on her pointer-finger to muffle her moans.

I couldn't help but smirk against the small red mark I created on her smooth skin, and she pulled me back to her lips in retaliation, kissing me with so much intensity. My tongue met hers and the arch of her body gave me the opportunity to unhook her bra.

"Brandon," she moaned against my lips, feeding fuel to the fire already burning within me.

Consent was important. Every step of the way I pulled back to be sure she wanted this, and every time I was met with lust-filled eyes followed by insatiable kisses. It didn't matter if she experienced this before. All that mattered, was that she wanted this now.

Her cold hands found their way under my shirt, scratching down my chest, before smoothing her palms on my skin. It was the end of summer, but her hands were colder than my skin, making shivers travel down my spine, as she struggled to pull my shirt off my body.

"Take it off," she said frustrated between kisses.

I chuckled against her lips, before pulling away to take off my shirt. When my eyes fell back to her, she was already pulling her own shirt over her head, leaving her in her black lace-bra, that barely hang on her shoulders. I just stared at her, a smirk on her face, as it was her turn to tease me with clever eyes under those full eyelashes of hers.

Fuck, she'll be the death of me.

I wanted to see everything, save this moment in my mind forever; every little goosebump that my touch brought to life, every shiver, every moan as I touched her.

My fingers travelled up her abdomen, just below her breast and to her side. I reached for the strap, pulling it down her body slowly. My touch lit a line of goosebumps along the way and her lip was back in between her teeth, her eyes half closed.

Once free from the lace-undergarment, I stared at her beautiful body, trying to master my own breath. She was fucking perfect, and I wanted her to feel as such. She placed her hands on my shoulders, sliding them in my hair while I held her chin in my hand never breaking our eye contact. My lips brushed against hers before moving down her neck, wanting to taste the skin exposed to me, as I placed teasing kisses along her collarbone.

"Please..." She breathed seductively near my ear.

I kissed between her breasts, my tongue sliding upwards, before my lips wrapped around her hard nipple. I sucked it into my mouth, while swiping across the other with my fingers. Her voice, uttering my name between soft gasps, was my new favorite sound. The goal, my award, was to elicit these sounds again and again. Seeing as she was sensitive to my touch, I pinched her nipple, making Erika arch her back as I sucked harder on the one in my mouth. She was delicious. And I couldn't wait to taste every inch of her body.

Releasing her breast from my hand, I slid my fingers down her tanned skin. Her hands run down my back, scratching my skin, as I reached the fabric of her jean-shorts, undoing the button before dragging down the zipper. My eyes locked with hers, when I released her nipple, only to leave a trail of kisses down her abdomen. I pulled back, amused at the sounds of her protests at the loss of contact. Biting my lip, I hooked my fingers inside the hoops of her shorts, before pulling them down her legs.

The only fabric left on her skin, was the black lace of her underwear.

"Just for me!" I breathed near her ear, touching the lace fabric. "You're so fucking beautiful." My words were huskier, deeper, as I dragged my fingers over her core.

"You're driving me crazy..." She writhed underneath my body when I put some pressure over that sensitive spot. My movements paused for a moment, giving her a chance to stop me if this was too much. She retaliated in seconds by pulling my hair in protest, as she breathed against my lips, "Dio mio, don't stop!"

My fingers moved the fabric to the side, and I pressed a finger against her already wet core. "Fuck!" I breathed against her lips, drinking in all her moans, as I rubbed her clit with my finger. She was so responsive, arching into me with every swipe of my index finger over the sensitive skin.

It was intoxicating, but I wanted more. I needed to taste more. My fingers never stopped teasing, as I kissed, and bit and marked her skin, all the way from her collarbone, over her chest and stomach, to her strong thighs. With slow, dragging movements, I got situated between her legs, with my lips traveling to the spot we both yearned for the most.

"I- I've never-" She pulled my hair to gain my attention, and I tore my gaze away from her clothed core to find her cloudy eyes; the golden specks still burned with utmost intensity, even at this lustful state. "I've never done this before." She whispered, still in a daze.

Fucking shit. Fuck. Fuck!

It wouldn't have mattered if she did. I wasn't ready to admit my feelings, but I already knew they were strong, intense, beyond just caring about her. And I wanted to be with her, whichever way she wanted me in her life. But I was alarmed, overwhelmed with fear. I didn't want to hurt or pressure her into doing anything with me. I wanted to be good for her, to make her feel like a queen. And I wanted her to be sure...

"I can stop-"

"No, please." She sat upright, her legs wrapped around my waist, as she pulled me in a dazed kiss. "I want you. I want you to show me, make me feel good. I want you, Brandon," she said between kisses.

I was dead. Done for. Beyond repair.

Her words fueled the want inside me. Her kisses, her consent was the only thing I needed before I gently pushed her back on the bed. I was pleasantly surprised when she pushed me down her body, to resume what I was about to do.

I was back between her legs, kissing her core over the fabric, as I dragged my hands up and down her thighs. "God, baby..." all restraints were gone, as I freed her body from the last piece of fabric.