I stood outside the bathroom door with a raging boner taking most of the available blood pressure in my body. I felt dizzy. Lightheaded. Crystal tasted every bit as good as I had anticipated. Even sweeter.

It all went to shit, though, when she tore off with the sheet wrapped around her like a toga, and barely-stifled tears.

Where had I gone wrong? Hearing her tears coming from the bathroom tore into me. I thought we were on our way to a wonderful evening, and now anxiety spun me out. I wanted to avoid this, walk away and act like I didn’t hear her sobbing.

I might be an asshole, but I couldn’t do that to Crystal. Not when my heart throbbed with this stupid feckin’ softness whenever she was near.

I did my best to tuck my cock back into my boxers, but I wasn’t going soft any time soon. My future held a serious case of blue balls. That wasn’t important in the face of her tears.

“Was it something I said?” I asked through the door.

“Go away!” she cried back.

The cabana was one room, and there was a tropical fucking storm outside. I tried to ponder where exactly I could hide to get out of her hair. I tried to refocus although I could still taste her juices on my tongue.

“Just let me in!” I knocked on the door again.

“I’m naked!”

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you didn’t just fuck my face.”

“I don’t like it when you call it that.”

I rolled my eyes. She’d been so eager. Why was my southern belle suddenly getting prudish on me? “Give me a break. Like you weren’t just quivering two seconds ago. Crystal, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to tell me what I did.”

That was a universal truth that even I, in all my fuck ‘em and forget ‘em style, knew. If a girl was crying, it was because a man had fucked up somehow.

The door swung open slowly. She had the sheets l wrapped around her waist, and her arms were crossed, puffing her breasts up high into her chest so they swelled over the edge. She wiped away a tear from her cheek.

Seeing her tears was a fist to the gut. El Toro could only wish he hit as hard as the impact of that sight did.

“So, you just want to have a good time with me for the next month and a half, then we’ll both go our separate ways? I’m just your little fucktoy out here, then when we get back home we’ll just pretend this never happened. I’m your island girl. That’s your plan?”

The raindrops beat down hard against the thatched roof.

I scrubbed at my nape as a feeling I wasn’t quite accustomed to crept over me--disgust. Especially at her word ‘island girl.’ “When you say it like that, it sounds bad. I just meant, we are here for the next month and half together. Clearly, there is an attraction and it’s mutual. We’re here until then. That’s all I meant.”

“Of course, that’s all you meant.” She suddenly drilled her fingers into my chest, punctuating her words. “I.” poke. “Told.” poke. “You I was not a fucking ring-bunny!”

I took hold of her wrists. “I’m sorry. I’m a fucking idiot. Too many blows to the head or something. Forgive me? Let’s just get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning. It’s late.”

Crystal searched my face, and then relented. “Fine, just one more thing.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Anything.”

“I want you to cuddle with me tonight. I’m scared of storms.”

“Of course.” Just don’t mind the big erection that’s going to be poking in the ass all night.

We got under the covers and I wrapped my arms around her. I could see how she could take out of context the words I said.

At some point sleep claimed me, despite the boom of nature’s fury outside. When I woke, I swore I could still taste Crystal on my lips, but it was probably all in my head, wishful thinking brought on by an interrupted sexcapade.

As I got out from underneath the covers, stood and stretched like a cat. Hell, I was going to be disappointed when I had to shower and get rid of her scent after my run.

After last night’s massive storm, the morning stillness felt especially calm and soothing. Crystal slept angelically on her back, her ample chest rising and falling, covered only by a white lace bra. I smiled, happy that I’d at least gotten to enjoy a fleeting taste of this gorgeous specimen of a woman. I’d encountered my fair share in my day, but there was something about her that had me off my usual game. MMA fighters aren’t exactly struggling for pussy, and I could go get any woman I wanted. Every night groupies camped out at the hotel, even at a location as remote as Easter Island. Sex aside, I was just pissed I didn’t get to spend the night in a post-coital glow with Crystal.

After my usual morning run, pushup, and sit-up routine, I showered and threw on some jeans to head to Erma’s for breakfast. I was in the middle of making my most difficult decision of the day--white t-shirt or green t-shirt--when Crystal emerged from the shower.

I pretended not to look at her as she threw on cutoff jean short shorts, a tank top, and a baseball cap. It was a departure from her usual very dressy attire and it caught me off guard. She had this hot country girl look going on, and the fact that I could tell she was trying not to look sexy, ironically made her extra sexy.

“I’m heading into town today,” she said sweetly. “I have some extra work to do, then see you after the fights?”

“I can do that.”

Outside, a taxi picked her up. I was proud of her. She’d figured out that since we didn’t have a landline, we had to go to Erma’s next door to request them.

She was adapting to the island one small step at a time.

* * *

Since tonight was the two-week mark of our fights, we had a couple of higher profile fighters coming in to fight. Cole and Michael were both heavyweights, one from the UK and was from Las Vegas. They fought in a different class then me. Still, we respected the fuck out of each other and I loved hanging with them.

Plus, I enjoyed the fact that even though they both outweighed me by at least twenty pounds, I could outdrink their silly asses. One of the benefits of being Irish. And tonight, I’d decided, I was getting fucking hammered.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of the uncontrollable drinking types, although that runs in my family. My dad died from the drink and I wouldn’t follow in his path. I considered tonight a sort of whisky exorcism before I would go stone cold sober for the rest of the time leading up to the fight with Toro. I had forty-six days to turn my body in a perfectly well-oiled machine.

Of course, that meant we had to go to Easter Island’s only club, named Wanna Mana. The doors of the club were wide open to the beach front tonight, and a plethora of people were dancing on the patio that jutted out and onto the sand. Groupies, fans, hell, I thought I even saw the Zoreto people in there. It basically was the only party on the entire island this Saturday night, and the club was bumping.

The three of us sat outside the action, next to the Pacific Ocean in the VIP area. A salty, warm breeze wafted off the ocean water. Michael raised his glass full of whisky neat. “Cheers to this bloody crazy bastard for choosing the most godforsaken, isolated location in the world for his fight series. If Connor bloody McGrath doesn’t know how to pull off a publicity stunt then for fooks sake, no one does. You’re making the Kardashians look like goddamn amateurs.”

I smiled and tip my head back toward the inside of the club, away from the ocean. “Well thanks my good man. If you want to come slob on my knob some more there’s a one-person bathroom we can use.”

Cole cracked up. “Well them sound like fightin’ words now don’t they.”

Michael slammed his whisky and through it back on bar top. “Put cher dukes up mate. Unless your little candy ass is scared.”

I smiled. I’d trained against both guys for years. Even though I was lighter than they were, I’d taken them both to the ground numerous times and they knew it. I threw my whisky back and signaled to the bartender to bring another.

“I hope you like eating sand,” I said. “Because you’re going to be feasting on it.”

Before we could shadow box, the music hitched, and there was a lull in the constant noise. In that brief second, with the mutter of the club-goers, I heard a woman yell. It almost sounded like a scream, but there was fury mixed with the panic. The three of us scrunched up our faces, a little confused, and nodded at each other. We knew what to do. We headed inside, the three enforcers ready to make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.

The people had formed a circle around a couple, and my blood boiled when I saw who it was.

Crystal and fucking El Toro stood in between everyone. He had grabbed one of her wrists, and she was yelling at him. “Let go, I don’t want to dance with you, creep!”

I slowly stepped up. “Let the girl go,” I said calmly. He glanced at me and then at Michael and Cole who stood behind me. Yeah, we were an even match but three on one was not something a sane man would be interested in attempting. On the other hand, I’d often wondered about Toro. If I was slightly crazy, he was ten points higher on the batshit scale.

He let her go and scoffed. “Really brave of you, coming in here with your pussy ass friends,” he said as he walked past us back into the crowd. I lunged at him, but Michael and Cole grabbed either side of me as I kicked and screamed to get past them.

“Come right the fuck, ye maggot gombeen!” I yelled. My Irish blood was going off. “Let me fucking go!” I yelled at my two buddies. They both increased their vice grip on me.

“Fight him in the ring, not in the goddamn club. Don’t be a bloody eejit,” Cole snarled into my ear.

Fuck that, I was going to rip Toro’s goddamn head off right here. This was the fight. I didn’t need sixty days. We’d settle it right here and now.

I was about to break free when I felt a hand on my back. “Connor,” she said in that sweet, slightly southern accent of hers. My anger melted away at the sound of Crystal’s voice. When I turned around, I forget why the hell it was I’d gotten all angry in the first place.

I’d already fallen for overly-fancy, dressed to the nines Crystal. Then this morning, I’d seen down to earth, cut-off jeans Crystal and my cock had shed a tear when she’d left the house.

Club Crystal, however, took this shit to a whole other level. She wore a strapless black leather dress that left just enough to the imagination. The thing couldn’t contain her generous cleavage, but I ran my eyes over the whole outfit like a fucking dream.

I opened my mouth, but there were no words. Her smile was subtle but sweet. She left me utterly fucking speechless. Michael and Cole finally dropped their grip on me completely when they saw I’d surrendered all my aggression to her.

The music picked up again, and the crowd around us seemed to move on from the commotion that had just happened.

“Thanks,” she said simply.

“I think that deserves a dance. It’s only right,” I replied, finally a little recovered.

“Fine. Just one though.”

I grabbed hold of her hips and brought her body into me. “Just one,” I said loudly, and winked at Michael and Cole. They took the hint and headed back to our spot at the bar, only to get stopped by a couple of groupies before they made it.

Just one my ass. I wasn’t letting go of Crystal until feckin’ closing time.