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feeling so claustrophobic crammed into this coffin like building that could fall in around them at any given moment.
    She’d been a fool to think she could handle this, witness Larson in full-on scary mode. But all of that didn’t dim her desire for him, the need and want that filled her at just the thought of him. Maybe she was sick in the head and desperate for something that wouldn’t be hers? She just needed to get out of here and think, because staying would only make things worse.

Chapter Six
     
    Larson left the fight as soon as he had his winnings. He grabbed his duffle, pushed past all the Chasers that came clamoring over to him, and didn’t stop to talk to anyone. People wanted his autograph, wanted to speak with him and hang all over him. He didn’t want any of that shit. He just wanted to get home, shower, and not have to think about anything as he drowned himself in alcohol, and let the adrenaline rush from the fight numb his inner pain for a time. His body throbbed, and his face ached fiercely. But he liked the agony. He hadn’t known if he’d throw the fight and just let that younger fighter knock him around when he’d first set up the match. Sometimes that was what he needed, the pain that came with the punches and hits. Tonight he’d needed to kick ass though, because giving that beat down instead of receiving it made his head lighter and the internal, emotional darkness he carried a little less intense.
    Pushing people out of his way, Larson tried to be civil, to be appreciative that they came and watched the fight, but he needed to get out of here. He headed toward the back exit, pushed open the doors, and saw over his shoulder that the two bouncers stood in the way so no one else could come through. There was a set of stairs that led to another door on the side of the club, one that came out in an alley, and wasn’t used by the spectators. He was safe to make a clean getaway¸ head home, and drink until he passed out.
    He fought to forget about his pain, to forget about his loss. Although it had been ten years and he knew things moved on, he still had anger built up inside of him. Haines was gone, dead, but so was Melanie. It wasn’t like he held onto the past, wasn’t like he pined for a woman that had been gone from this earth for the last decade, or was still in love with her. Larson wasn’t, but he’d always love Melanie. She’d been his wife, and he’d always hold a special place for her in his heart. But the world moved on, and he was trying to desperately do the same. It just wasn’t working out that way. The earth didn’t stop on its axis, and Larson had put the past behind him, to a degree. But moving forward didn’t mean he didn’t still feel pain and regret, didn’t hate himself because he hadn’t been home to save her. It was what it was, and he didn’t know if it would ever change for him.
    It was the same routine every time he fought, and although he’d enjoyed the lustful advances from many women in the past, used them to help him forget things, ease his self turmoil, his mind hadn’t been his for a long time. In fact, he hadn’t just been thinking about the fight, but also about the brunette that worked at the gym. Tasha was a girl far too young for him, far too innocent as well. But he saw her watching him constantly, knew that she saw something in him that would never be.
    He didn’t speak with her, didn’t try to take for her what she’d be willing to give. He moved on with his life, keeping her away because no matter how beautiful she was, Larson could never be anything to a woman again. He’d hurt them like he’d hurt Melanie, and he couldn’t handle that kind of devastation again. So he fought until he couldn’t fight anymore, hit harder than the next guy, but also took hits because he needed that pain.
    It was that pain that helped him forget, to wash away the agony he held so deep inside of him he couldn’t even breathe sometimes. He wanted to keep