by Riley Ashby
“I need you to leave me alone.”
My breath caught in my throat before I could respond. I definitely wasn’t expecting her to be so angry.
“I ignored your voicemail. I ignored your texts. And I told you I wasn’t interested in pursuing this further.”
“Okay, you hinted. And I told you I preferred directness.”
“Well, consider this me being direct. I don’t want to see you again.”
She stared at me, inches from my face, but she didn’t leave. She was breathing hard, mouth slightly parted, and her eyes couldn’t stay in one place. And as she stood there telling me to leave her the hell alone, she drifted closer to me.
She was waiting to see what I would do.
If that was the case, I would teach her very quickly not to underestimate me.
One hand reached out and wrapped around her arm, the other landed on her hip. She sucked in a deep breath but didn’t resist as I pushed her backward, farther and farther until she hit the wall.
“Then go,” I whispered. “You can leave whenever you want. I won’t stop you.”
Her hands fell across my stomach and clenched in my shirt. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to give you what you want.” I stepped a little closer and pinned her with my body. Her head barely came to my shoulders, and I had to duck my head a little. “You just need to tell me.”
She let her head fall back against the wall, and I bowed my neck to kiss hers.
“Use your words, Victoria.”
“No.”
I bit her chin as I raised my head to look her in the eye. “You’re telling me to stop?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No.”
It wasn’t exactly enthusiastic consent. I put my hands on her cheeks and brought our lips together. She opened her mouth for me so willingly, whimpering softly as I stroked her lips with my tongue. “Then tell me to keep going.”
“I can’t.”
Such a change in such a short period of time. She’d been intent on shutting me down a few seconds ago, but she wasn’t fighting me off—on the contrary, she pressed back against me, trying to get closer. My hands couldn’t keep still. I ran my fingertips down her front, skirting over her breasts until I reached the waistband of her pants. I hooked my fingers in her belt loops and yanked her against me. “I can’t go further if you don’t.” I rocked into her and let her feel exactly how much I wanted to keep going. “I can feel the heat from your pussy through your jeans. I know you want me. You just have to admit it.”
“I can’t, Jamie. I just can’t.” She shoved at me suddenly, and I convinced my fingers to release their hold on her with some reluctance. “Please give me some space.”
She wandered a little unsteadily into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door open, then the sound of a beer can opening. I rounded the corner to find her taking a long pull before she held the cold can against her forehead.
“I’m sorry if I pushed you too far.”
“You didn’t. It’s not you.”
“Tell me more about it.”
She drained the beer and tossed the can in the sink. “I’m not opening up to you about that. To anyone.” A drop of beer remained on her upper lip, and her tongue darted out unconsciously. “I came here to tell you not to contact me any more.”
“Did you drop this week? I told you to call me.”
“There’s a reason I didn’t.”
“Tori.” I stepped into the kitchen. “You have to tell me that stuff. It’s my responsibility to take care of you when you’re in that place.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me!” When she lifted her head, I was shocked at the shining tears in her eyes. “Why are you trying to make this harder than necessary?” She wiped at her face angrily.
I took another step, so we were as close as we had been in the living room. She jerked away when I reached for her face, but I grabbed her anyway and tugged her in for another kiss.
“It’s my job,” I whispered against her lips. “I can’t let you suffer.”
I tasted her tears on her cheeks as she finally let herself fall. My other hand wrapped around her waist, and this time, she didn’t pull away.
“Do you want another beer?”
She nodded against my shoulder. I grabbed another beer from the fridge—just for her—and led her to the couch. I pulled a blanket around her shoulders, threw her legs across my lap, and wrapped one arm around her back to support her while she drank from the beer. Slowly, she let her head fall against my shoulder.
“Want to finish the movie? Because you are a powerful and complex woman with diverse interests?”
She didn’t laugh, but nodded, so I flipped on the TV. She nursed the beer like a bottle, but after a few minutes, she stopped sniffling. Her breathing slowed and evened, and as the credits rolled up the screen, she began to snore softly. I wondered how well she’d slept this week; if she’d been able to get rest or if she’d been anxious and felt guilty all week. I kicked myself again for not checking on her sooner. What we’d done was brief, but intense, and we barely knew each other. I should have been more careful. If I had been thinking properly, I would have driven out there myself and forced her to talk to me. But I was so concerned about coming across clingy that I let her bleed out beneath her remorse for an entire week. When we slept together again, I would have to be more careful.
When I was sure she was out, I slipped from beneath her and guided her head to rest on a pillow. I retrieved another pillow and some blankets from my bedroom, covering her completely before settling onto the ground next to the couch. I had a feeling she wouldn’t take kindly to waking up with me right next to her, but I wanted to be nearby, especially if she tried to sneak out.
Her sleeping face in the moonlight was calm for the first time since she’d arrived back here. She was always anxious, always watching for threats. Was that because of her job? Or was there some other peril she felt the need to be on the lookout for, even when she was off the clock? Had something happened in her past to turn her into this restless creature, or was it her nature?
I reached up and touched her fingers hanging over the edge of the couch, expecting her to pull back. But for the briefest moment, they tightened around mine, holding my hand firmly in her own, before disappearing beneath the blanket. I watched her until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
I didn’t move when I first woke, unsure of my location but knowing for certain I wasn’t in my bed at Ellery’s house. Then I caught the scent of spicy cinnamon aftershave, and I remembered.
Suppressing a groan, I rolled over and rubbed my face with my hands. I could feel my swollen eyelids, the congestion in my nose from the crying. I knew it was a bad idea to come over here. I should have listened to my better judgment and gotten over the drop on my own. But he was so damn persistent. I worried he would show up at the house if I didn’t respond.
Yeah, right. You wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you.
“Shut up,” I muttered to myself.
“Huh?”
The sleepy voice coming out of nowhere put all my senses on high alert. I sat up straight, ready to jump to my feet, but my left foot landed on a hip bone instead of the floor.
“Shit,” Jamie muttered as I fell back onto the couch.
“Sorry.” I didn’t want to feel bad about stepping on him. What was he thinking, sleeping right there? I could have hurt him.
“It’s okay.” He rubbed his stomach where my other foot had landed. “I shouldn’t have scared you.”
I bristled. “You didn’t scare me. I was just … surprised.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I huffed. Now he was patronizing me. Dammit, why was this guy so fucking nice? “Thanks for letting me stay over. I’ll get out of your hair.”
“No, no, stay. I’ll make breakfast.” He stumbled to his feet with a blanket still wrapped around his waist, kicking it off as he walked to the kitchen. After a m
oment, I heard the clatter of a pan landing on the stove, the whisk of a fork against porcelain as he whipped eggs, or, more likely, egg whites.
I stared between the kitchen and the door, wondering what to do. If I ran out now, would he chase me down? He was more persistent than I gave him credit for, but maybe if I could maintain my fucking dignity, I wouldn’t come running back to him again. I stood gingerly, stepping toward my purse, when he poked his head out of the kitchen.
“I have cheese,” he said, and I stopped dead. Cheese was a no-no for fighters. Did he buy it for me?
My eyes narrowed. “What kind?”
He grinned. “Colby jack and cheddar.”
I dropped into a chair instead of grabbing my purse. “Fine.”
His smile widened as he raced to finish the eggs.
I wasn’t the type of person to get all worked up over a one-night stand. I’d had plenty in lieu of relationships, choosing to seek out carnal pleasure only instead of the emotional connection everyone told me I should crave. But it had been a long time since someone had done to me what he did, and I missed it. I missed getting told what to do in a tone that told me I could expect punishment if I didn’t follow instructions to the letter. Being held down while a man rammed into me, getting as much pleasure from giving up control as I did by the physical stimulation. Letting go for a few fucking minutes and not worrying about paparazzi or kidnappers or—
I wouldn’t think about that.
I didn’t have any shame around my predilections. I knew there was nothing wrong with what I desired. But I hadn’t been able to trust anyone with that part of myself for years, and I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
My hunger turned from nagging to ravenous when Jamie dropped a plate in front of me, eggs piled high with cheese. His own plate held egg whites and spinach with a dash of pepper and some roasted vegetables. A bowl of steel-cut oats sat half-eaten already. I ate like a woman starved, and the moment I finished, he whisked my plate away to refill it. I ate the second plate more slowly, more aware of how I must look.
“Did you eat much this week?”
I shrugged. “Haven’t had a huge appetite over the past few days.”
He nodded solemnly. “I won’t apologize again because I know it’ll piss you off. But we should talk about this if we’re going to go any further.”
I shook my head. “It’s not. I’m sorry I freaked out on you, but it won’t happen again.”
“You know you have no reason to ask forgiveness. It’s me who should have followed up sooner to make sure you were okay.”
It took me a minute to chew and swallow the huge bite of food. “You’re trying really hard not to apologize right now, aren’t you?”
He smiled and took another bite of food. “Are you going to tell me you aren’t the kind of person who enjoys sex on the rougher side of normal?”
I held his eyes. I had to be firm on this. “Whether or not I am is irrelevant. I’ve told you, we’re not moving forward.”
“What is it? You don’t trust me?” He finished his food and pushed away the empty plate. “That’s fair. We can get to know each other more.”
“What aren’t you understanding? I’m telling you no. It was a one-time thing.”
“I don’t think so. Something’s blocking you from saying yes, and I’m going to figure out what it is.”
Before I could respond, he stood and took both our plates to the kitchen. “I have to be at the gym for my workout in twenty minutes. Are you coming with?”
“No,” I said. “I have to…”
What did I have to do today? I hadn’t been called back to the house yet. Everyone was turning into homebodies now that they’d paired off and were living in a constant state of post-coital bliss. It was obnoxious to be around so many happy couples all the time. Sticking around the house all week and working out in Ellery’s gym instead of coming in with the group had been torture. Every time I turned a corner, someone was making out or talking about babies. It would be nice to get out and see some people working up a sweat and talking about something other than nursery decorations.
He leaned against the wall, watching me as he sipped a glass of iced coffee. He hadn’t offered me any. Because he knows you don’t like it.
“I could use a workout,” I said, resigned. He tried not to smile.
“I’ll get you some clothes.”
***
I should have gone home. For one thing, his shorts pretty much hung off me. I had to pull the waistband as tight as it would go, and they were still loose.
Note to self—borrow clothes from guys in a lower weight class. Jamie had more muscle mass than most of the guys I had dated or in this gym, for that matter. I was obnoxiously short, and even with my athletic frame, he dwarfed me when it came to body size.
The shirt was baggy as well, but I could deal with that. I generally only wore a sports bra when I was training, but Jamie was oddly insistent I wear one of his old cutoffs. I caught him looking at me as he drove us to the gym, a casual smirk on his face. As we sat in the parking lot, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it, looking at me meaningfully before dropping contact and leaving the car. He turned into the Jamie I thought I knew up until last week. He walked in ahead of me, so it didn’t have to appear we came together. When I came through the door, he was chatting with his friends and sparring partner, pausing only briefly to give me a friendly wave across the room.
“Tori, hi!”
I looked up at the familiar voice to see Josie sitting on a bench along the wall with one leg curled underneath her and a book in her hand.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I strolled over and sat next to her, taking another glance around the gym and finding Archer chatting with Jamie in the opposite corner. They both glanced over at us briefly before going back to their conversation.
“Archer heard about this gym and wanted to come check it out. I was feeling a little cooped up, so he brought me with him.”
Even with him around, I could tell she was nervous. Her fingers drummed on the bench, and she kept looking at Archer even as we spoke. She made sure he was always in her line of sight even though he would never go anywhere he couldn’t see her himself.
“Do you want to work out a little? I don’t mind showing you around.”
She bit her lip and looked at her clothing—loose jeans and a T-shirt. “I don’t know if I’m dressed for it. And Archer had me lift this morning.”
“No worries. Enjoy your book. I’ll be right over there, okay, if you want to talk?”
She nodded gratefully and relaxed against the wall a little more, allowing herself to open her book. I looked up and across the room to find the boys looking at us again. Jamie looked away swiftly, but Archer kept his eyes locked on Josie for a moment longer. After the number of times she’d run out on him, it was natural he’d insist on keeping a close eye on her. But there was more than possession in his gaze as he stared at her. Real tenderness stretched across the room between them, clogging up the very atmosphere with its sweetness.
It made me want to puke.
My warm-up went slower than I would have liked, but I was distracted. I put my back to him purposely, but my ears perked up every time he spoke. Damn him, what did he do to me? Feed me beer and let me watch a movie? Make me breakfast? Yeah, that was probably it. I liked guys who gave me food.
I heard a commotion and raised voices behind me; I turned to see everyone else in the gym abandoning their workouts and gathering around the ring in the center of the gym. Even Josie was on her feet and walking over to stand next to Archer, who put one arm around her waist to pull her close against his side. Alonso, the golden boy, was hopping from foot to foot in the ring like he always did. He was such a show-off, always bouncing around even at the end of his fights when a normal human being would be gasping for breath. He must be the one going to Vegas. Still, it was good he was looking out for Jamie … who appeared to be his sparring partner today.
Of course.
He wasn’t looking at me, but he was definitely turned toward me deliberately. Instead of facing Alonso head on, he was turned slightly to his left, so I had a full view of him. He fought without a shirt, as most guys did, and every muscle I hadn’t been able to see the other night when we were crammed into the back seat of his car was on full display. Sweat made his brown skin glisten, standing out even more than usual against the white of his shorts.
He’d expect me to watch. I didn’t want to, didn’t want to give the impression I cared whether he won or not, but it would look strange for me not to join the others. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to gather around the mat, and for once, Coach didn’t seem to care. He stood next to Alonso, spilling last-minute wisdom before walking to Jamie and dishing out some different advice to him. My feet took me ringside, hanging behind the taller guys closer to the ropes, but they parted for me so I could get a better view. I was ushered straight to the front without any say in the matter.
These two men knew each other’s patterns well. Jamie had been working with Alonso specifically to help him prepare against a Muay Thai fighter. I didn’t understand why they were sparring; Alonso needed to be mixing it up with new fighters to diversify his style.
Alonso made the first move, closing the distance between them quickly to take a swing at Jamie’s face. Jamie dodged easily and landed a few pummels on Alonso’s stomach. The other fighter jumped back to protect himself, but Jamie kept coming. His feet joined the fray with kicks to his opponent’s legs and hips. Now I understood why Alonso was still fighting him. He was still so dependent on his hands, and that didn’t fly in MMA. He had to get more comfortable with his feet and on the ground, and the sooner, the better.
After a few swings and some ringside coaching, Alonso began to work in more knees and kicks. Jamie’s influence on him grew clearer as Alonso stopped relying so much on his natural instincts and worked in his new knowledge. He began blocking more of the kicks Jamie threw at him.
