Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood

by Meghan Quinn

  “I don’t believe what everyone said to be true,” she stated softly. “I don’t believe you would do such a thing to your body, not after seeing the strong work ethic you have. It doesn’t match up.”

  I ran my hands down my face, trying to wipe away the moment. They stopped mid stroke from her confession. “What?” I asked, almost shocked by her statement.

  “I don’t believe the accusations.” She pulled a paper from her back pocket and unfolded it. “Your trainer did it. See?” She pointed to the paper as if she’d solved the world’s greatest mystery.

  “I know he did,” I responded, relaxing only slightly.

  “Oh,” she replied, a little shocked by my knowledge. “Well, if you knew he did it, then why didn’t you clear your name?”

  I shook my head and looked at the ground. “Too late.”

  “It’s never too late—”

  “It’s too fucking late, Lyla, so just drop it.”

  I leaned against the wall and crossed my legs at my ankles and my arms over my chest. Her gaze landed on my bare chest, and she lightly licked her lips, like I was her lunch, waiting to be consumed.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I told her.

  “I can look at you however I want. You’re not the boss of me,” she replied defiantly.

  “Mature.” I nodded.

  “It’s the truth, but if you ever let me into that closed-off world of yours, I might let you be the boss of me.”

  The proposition was incredibly tempting. To be able to control the mouthy yet sexy woman standing in front of me would be something I would enjoy immensely, but that would mean letting her into my world, letting her know who I really was, and that was something I just couldn’t do.

  “Tempting, but I’ll pass,” I answered, hating the betrayal I was playing on my true feelings.

  She shrugged as if my rejection was no big deal and started putting on the boxing gloves she held in her hands. The first one went on smoothly, but the second glove she struggled with because she didn’t have the use of her right hand anymore. A seasoned boxer had no problem slipping on gloves, but she was a newbie, and it was painfully obvious she had no clue what she was doing.

  Instinctively, I went up to her and grabbed the glove from her struggling hand. Her green eyes searched mine as I held the glove open for her to slip her hand inside. A small smile crossed her lips as she slipped her hand into the glove. Once the gloves were on, I helped secure the straps. She punched her fists together to test them. Clearly she was happy with their fit from the light in her eyes.

  Lightly, she tapped me on the shoulder with the gloves and said, “Thank you.” Then she knocked her gloves together once again and bounced on her toes. “All right, how does this work?”

  Shaking my head, I grabbed her hand and led her over to the row of punching bags. “Go ahead.” I nodded at the first one in the row.

  “Just punch it?” she asked, looking hotter than hell in her skimpy outfit and boxing gloves. Visions of her only wearing the gloves and possibly tied to my headboard ran through my mind. That was a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing.

  “Punch it,” I confirmed.

  She cocked her arm back and geared up for what seemed like was going to be the whammy of all punches. Before she could do serious damage to herself, I grasped her arms and stopped her.

  “Hey, I was about to gut this bastard.” She nodded at the bag.

  “Yeah, and you were about to most likely snap your wrist while doing it.” Standing behind her, I wrapped my arms around her upper half and held her wrist. “See this?” I breathed into her ear. “This is a weak little wrist that can break if you’re not careful. You don’t have any wrist stability on, and by the way you were about to hammer out a punch on this bad boy, you were going to snap something.”

  She leaned into me, her hair brushing my shoulder and her face turned toward mine. “Okay, so teach me how to knock things out.”

  Her voice was breathless, and a faint flowery scent wafted from her hair, practically bringing me to my knees.

  I wanted her.

  I ran my hand from her wrist up her arms, feeling the effect I had on her from the goosebumps that instantly rose on her skin. With my hand on her elbow, I pulled her arm back and showed her the proper technique for punching, all the while holding tightly to her hip.

  “So just pull back like this and let go?” she asked, her face turned toward mine, slaying me with those green eyes of hers. I nodded to confirm, not able to open my mouth in case I said something stupid.

  “All right, look out.”

  With the biggest wallop she could muster, she cocked her arm back and let it fly, making contact with the punching bag. An immediate cry escaped her as she bent and gripped her wrist. She sat on the floor and started to rock back and forth, holding her arm.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, sitting on the ground next to her and pulling her onto my lap so I could take a closer look at her hand.

  “Remove these,” she said, referring to the gloves.

  Quickly, I took off the left glove and chucked it aside. Then I went to her right one and held it steady as I took off the strap and pulled it, fearing I was going to find a bone popping out of her skin. To my surprise, everything was fine. There was no bruising or swelling. I looked at her to see where she was hurting only to find her smiling at me with an evil grin.

  Before I could even move, she straddled my lap and pushed me back on the floor so she hovered over me.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting you into a position I know we both enjoy.”

  “Are you hurt?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes away from the obvious cleavage shot Lyla was handing me on a silver platter.

  “No.” She lowered herself so her face was mere inches from mine. “I just wanted to get you in a position where I could entice you.”

  “Not going to happen, Lyla,” I gritted out, annoyed she’d faked an injury to top me and annoyed I’d fallen for it.

  “Oh, really?” Her hand seductively found its way down to my crotch, where with one stroke over my workout shorts, she had me growing in seconds. It was impossible not to when I was presented with such a gorgeous and enticing woman. “Looks like your dick is singing a different song,” she teased.

  “What do you expect when your shirt is hanging open like that?” I nodded toward her shirt. She looked down and smiled right before she pulled on the hem of her shirt and took it off, revealing her perfectly toned body.

  “Is that better? I don’t want my shirt distracting you.”

  “It was the contents inside, not the shirt itself.”

  “Mm, I love it when you get all moody.” She ran her hands up my bare chest, gradually running her fingernails over my skin.

  “Lyla,” I warned, starting to lose control.

  “Take me out to dinner tonight,” she demanded.

  I wouldn’t have been more surprised by her demand if she’d kicked me in the dick. “What?” I asked, confused from the change of subject, from her change in attitude.

  “Take me to dinner, Kace. Take me out on a date. It’s the least you can do.”

  She was now lying flat against me with her elbows propped up on my chest, looking down on me. If I paid close attention, I could feel the weight of her breasts on my chest, which was turning me on even more.

  “It’s the least I can do? How do you see that?”

  “You can’t just fuck a girl and leave her throbbing up against a wall, wondering what the hell just happened—at least not a girl like me. You owe me a date if you’re going to toss me aside like that.”

  “Isn’t that a little backward?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but you owe me. We’ve fucked, but now you owe me a date. It’s protocol.”

  I gripped her hips and tried to move her off me, but she planted her hands on the floor and hovered her mouth right above mine.

  “You know you want to,” she teased.

  There was a
whole lot more that I wanted to do to this woman, but fucking her against the mirror in the Haze Room seemed like a bad idea.

  “Please,” she said, batting her eyelashes. She cupped my face and very slowly lowered her mouth to mine. I gripped her hips tightly, bracing myself.

  A low growl escaped me as I grabbed the back of her head and pressed her down to my lips so she couldn’t move. Like it was second nature, her mouth opened to mine and gave me access. Warmth spread through me from her touch, from the way her tongue matched mine, and the heat that poured off her and into my very core.

  My hand that had once been on her hip found the back of her bra and without even thinking, I snapped the clasp and let the straps fall down her shoulders.

  I thought I’d known what perfection was. I had been so fucking wrong. How I’d missed the fact that Lyla embodied everything I ever looked for in a woman was beyond me. Her skin was a beautiful mocha color, her eyes penetrated me every time I looked into them, and her attitude matched mine perfectly. She didn’t put up with my crap, hence why I was inches from stripping her naked in the new community center.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Goldie asked from the doorway of the Haze room.

  “Shit.” I fumbled, trying to get Lyla off of me, but she was no help because she just giggled and clung on to me, making no attempt to get out of the way. “Lyla,” I warned.

  “Looks like you’re about to christen the new mats,” Goldie said, walking toward us.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I replied even though I was still lying on the ground with Lyla’s half-exposed body stretched out against mine.

  “Not what it looks like, huh?” Goldie asked, moving over to sit next to us with her legs crossed. She pointed at our connection and said, “Looks like you two are making out on the floor and about to hit second base, judging from the way Lyla’s bra is undone.”

  “Kace undid it,” Lyla said proudly.

  “I bet he did. He’s always had a thing for your boobs.”

  “No I haven’t,” I lied.

  “Oh look, he’s blushing,” Lyla said, patting my face. “How adorable. It’s all right, Kace. My boobs are pretty hot.” She bent and kissed my lips one last time before sitting up on my lap.

  I watched in fascination as her bra slipped down, exposing her breasts for a few seconds before she readjusted it, taking away one of the sexiest views I’d ever seen.

  I knew she could feel my arousal because the minute she shifted her seat on my lap, she winked, letting me know she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

  She turned to Goldie, who was smiling like a dork, and said, “Kace is taking me out on a date tonight.”

  “Ahhh! Yay!” Goldie clapped her hands in excitement.

  “No, I’m not,” I replied, getting annoyed by these two, who should never be left alone together.

  “It’s all right, big guy. No need to be shy about it.” Lyla turned to Goldie. “He can be so tender and sweet at times, but he doesn’t want to let people think he’s going soft.”

  “You damn well know there is nothing soft about me,” I gritted out.

  “Oh my,” Goldie cooed, glancing down at me. “Looks like you’ve poked the bear.”

  Lyla shrugged. “I’ve dealt with it before. A quick tap to the nut sack, and all will be right with the world. Isn’t that right, Kace?”

  “Touch my nut sack and get your hand cut off.”

  “Damn,” Goldie replied. “Be nice to the girl, Kace.”

  “What did you want?” I asked Goldie, hating that she’d interrupted my make-out session with Lyla.

  “Just got a shipment in of towels, wanted to know if you want me to divide them up in the locker rooms?”

  Running my hands over my face, I let out a long breath. “That couldn’t have waited?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know it was sex-o’clock in the Haze Room. Next time leave a tie on the door or a condom hanging off the knob so I know not to enter.”

  “Run the towels through the wash first, then divide them,” I ordered, ignoring her sarcasm.

  “Thanks, boss man,” Goldie replied, getting up and taking off. “Want me to hang a condom on the door?”

  “Get out,” I shouted, making her squeal and laugh at the same time.

  Once the door was closed, I looked at Lyla, who was still sitting on my lap.

  “Are you going to sit there all fucking day, or are you going to let me get up?”

  Without a word, Lyla got up and grabbed her shirt. She quickly put it on and didn’t look at me as she headed for the door.

  I should have let her go, let her walk away, because that was what would be good for me, but fuck if I still didn’t feel the heat of her body on mine. I didn’t want to lose that feeling.

  Groaning, I chased after her and pulled on her arm before she could open the door to leave. When I spun her around, a giant smile spread across her face.

  Motherfucker. She’d played me. “Shit,” I mumbled.

  “I knew you cared.” She poked my chest with her pink painted finger.

  “I don’t,” I lied once again.

  “Lie all you want, Kace, but I can see it in your eyes, the longing you have for me. Strap on your balls, because you’re taking me out tonight. We’re going to spend an evening living in the present and forgetting the past for at least a couple of hours.”

  I bowed my head and gripped her hips, wishing she would just give up on me, wishing she would leave me alone, but the determination in her eyes told me that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. So I gave in. “What time should I pick you up?”

  “Seven.” She leaned in, pressing her chest against mine and placing a soft kiss on my jaw. “Don’t shave. I like you all scruffy.”

  Before she took off, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why, Lyla? Why now?”

  From over her shoulder, she answered, “Because everyone deserves a second chance in life, Kace. It’s about damn time you take yours.”

  Fucking hell.

  Chapter Twelve

  My past…

  Everything I had ever cared about, ever worked for completely vanished in the matter of a day. I was stripped bare. I was left with nothing but an old pair of boxing gloves, my worn out guitar, and a picture of me and Jett from when we were young. Those were my items, my valuables, the only things besides clothes that I moved into my new dwellings with.

  The first room Jett tried to give me in the Lafayette Club was unacceptable. It was lavish, it was expensive looking, it had amenities I didn’t want. I wanted simple, I wanted plain, I wanted something that resembled the four cell walls I was supposed to be in.

  Luckily there was a room on the first floor of the old servants’ wing that was suitable. New construction made that part of the house more modern, but it wasn’t as lavish as the rest of the house. There was a double bed against a wall, a nightstand, and a single chair in the room. To the left, there was an attached bathroom that would do the job. There was minimal light coming through the one window on the largest wall, and the room seemed almost cold, sterile. It was as close to a jail cell as I was going to get.

  It was surprising how much a person’s life could change in a matter of minutes. One moment, I’d been on the verge of a breakout career and the next, I was hiding in my best friend’s mansion, helping him start a gentleman’s club for the city elites.

  This wasn’t how I’d envisioned my life ending up.

  No, I’d spent hours upon hours training and making the right decisions in my life to help accomplish my goals, to help me become the boxer I’d always wanted to be, but one wrong move, one lapse of judgement and I lost everything. I lost my house, my job, but most importantly, I lost the respect of everyone not only in my life but everyone who had ever believed in me, especially the city that I loved.

  My father passed away shortly after his reprimanding, leaving behind debt and a spiteful diary of how much of a disappointment I was. Using the money from selling my house and belongings, I
paid off his debt, leaving me with nothing left from my past besides guilt.

  The only person who had even given me the time of day was Jett, and that was because he knew the truth, he knew who I truly was. He knew the kind of hard work and passion I had for the sport I loved. He knew I would never do anything to compromise my future, but only one person believing in me could only get me so far, even if Jett had some pull in the city we called home.

  I hung my boxing gloves on a nail that was already in the wall and stared at them solemnly. It was a symbolic and gut-wrenching move for me. I was hanging up my career. I was done and painfully moving on.

  The next chapter in my life was starting, and to my demise, I wasn’t fucking ready to move on, but stopping life wasn’t an option, so I swallowed my pride and let the changes overtake me, starting my new job as a glorified babysitter. That’s how I saw it, even though Jett said it was a lot more than that. Apparently there were plentiful activities the club was offering, but with my faded outlook on life, I couldn’t quite see the big picture.

  A light knock came at my door, and Jett entered with a neutral look on his face.

  “I don’t like you down here,” he said, looking around and taking in my bleak surroundings.

  “You can’t control everything in the world, so fucking deal with it,” I replied. I tossed my duffel bag on the bed. “What do you want?”

  “Our first girl is about to arrive soon. Thought it would be appropriate if we both greeted her.”

  “I thought you wanted to be elusive with these women.”

  “I do,” Jett replied. “But Barbara is different. She needs a lot of help, and the state you’re in right now, it doesn’t seem you’d be the best welcoming committee.”

  “You got that fucking right,” I replied. “Why are you doing this, Jett? Why are you taking these women in? Trying to change them?”

  Jett blew out a long breath and ran a hand over his face, clearly not wanting to engage in this conversation right now, but I didn’t care. Anything to take the all-encompassing ache off my chest for a short period of time was all I cared about.

  “Why?” I asked again. “Does this have to do with Natasha leaving? You just want to be a man who doesn’t get close to another woman, so you bring them to your mansion, fuck them, and give them a place to stay?”