What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4)

by Selena Kitt

  He stroked her hair, his cheek pressed against her temple, the gentle gesture making her chest tighten with emotion. Jax was only here for a few weeks, and then he’d be gone. Her best-case scenario. No ties. No lies. No attachments. No risk of wanting to share that secret side of herself and the concomitant rejection that would follow. And yet, a sliver of longing had worked its way into her heart.

  She sighed and leaned into his touch, wondering why their brief encounter was causing her so much angst. She’d had one-night stands before and walked away in the morning without any regrets.

  Damn.

  He could feel her pulling away, her emotional withdrawal evident in the stiffening of her body and the clench of her fist against his chest. Given the nature of their professional relationship, he’d come on too strong, but what the hell was he supposed to do when she’d made it clear what she wanted from him? He’d been holding on to his control by the thinnest of threads, but the moment she’d yanked open his belt, he was gone.

  And as for getting her out of his system, he already knew one time wouldn’t be enough. But something was wrong with his little fighter, and he wasn’t going to find out what it was standing in the hallway at half-mast.

  Jax excused himself to dispose of the condom and grabbed his clothes on his way to the bathroom. Yeah, he wanted her again, but if he didn’t heed the warning in her silence, it would be over before it began.

  When he returned, Marcy was curled up on the couch, her tank top and pajama pants a message he couldn’t ignore. Still, he wasn’t a man easily put off. He settled beside her, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and tucking her against him, her head resting on his chest.

  “You’ve never been so quiet.” He stroked a finger along her arm, delighted when goose bumps rose on her skin. So, she wasn’t unaffected by him, after all.

  “I’ve never been so confused.” She softened against his chest, and Jax let out a breath. Okay, he hadn’t totally screwed it up.

  “What’s confusing?”

  “This.” She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with emotion. “We shouldn’t have done this. How will I train with you now? I’ve got a big event coming up, and there isn’t enough time for Reid to hire someone new.”

  Jax bristled. “You don’t need someone new. I can still work with you—”

  “It changes everything.” She scrubbed her hand over her face and gave him a half smile. “All I’ll be able to think about if you’re mounting me or putting me into submission is sex.”

  “That’s pretty much all I thought about before,” he said, hoping his honesty would ease her tension.

  Marcy gave a light laugh. “Same.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Then nothing changes. We’ll still work together to help you reach your goal.”

  But how? Although dominant in the ring, Marcy was submissive in the bedroom, and he suspected that aspect of her personality was holding her back. For some reason, in the ring, her mind sent a signal to submit instead of fight, just enough to freeze her at a critical moment as her conscious awareness tried to push it away.

  Jax sighed. She’d responded beautifully to his commands. How could he train her to fight submission when she so readily embraced it? He had to ensure she could maintain a barrier between personal and professional.

  Not easy to do with Jax straddling the line.

  Two days after her encounter with Jax, Marcy pushed open the door to Reid’s office and frowned. “So, what’s so important that you have to drag my sorry ass in here just as I was about to go home and sink into a nice hot bath?”

  She tossed her gym bag on the floor and threw herself into the chair across from Reid’s desk, annoyed at being summoned before she could escape the gym after successfully avoiding talking to Jax about anything except training for the last two days. And yet, the memory of their heated encounter lingered, teased and taunted her senses. Distracting.

  Reid shoved a piece of paper across his desk. “I’ve just received the new rules about the state championship. For a shot at your weight title, you need to be in the top four fighters in Washington State. If you’re in the top eight, you have a chance as an alternate. You’re number ten. They make their decision in six weeks, so if you want a secure place, you’ll need to improve your ranking.”

  Marcy sucked in a sharp breath and leaned forward in her seat. “Have you heard from that new promotion, ROC, about the fight in two weeks? I could boost my ranking with a win at that event if they pick me.”

  “They picked you. I just heard from them today.”

  “That’s great.” A smile creased her face. “And perfect timing. A win will kick me up to number eight and…” Her breath hitched when Reid frowned. “Why the long face?”

  He scraped his hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “Jax doesn’t think you’ll be ready.”

  She looked at him, aghast. “Not ready? I’ve been training for this kind of opportunity all year. Until the last fight, I was four and oh, and that fight doesn’t count on the circuit because it was just for show. I’m ready. My issue will be sorted well before the event.”

  Reid gave an uncomfortable shrug. “He doesn’t think so.”

  Marcy’s blood chilled. Why had Jax told Reid there was a problem before discussing it with her? And what the hell was he thinking getting in the way of her dreams? Why had he been with her the other night? Did he know about the upcoming event? Did he feel sorry for her? Was it a pity fuck?

  “You’re my coach,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. “Not him. You signed me up for that event before he even came to Excelsior. If you thought I was ready then, I’m more than ready now.”

  A pained expression crossed Reid’s face. “You’d never been knocked out before I signed you up. You’d frozen before but never when it was a life-or-death situation. I don’t have the skills to deal with that kind of problem. Jax does. So I have to listen his advice, and his advice is not to put you in the ring.”

  Her hands tightened on the armrests of the chair until her knuckles whitened. “You can’t pull me from the event now. My name is on the card. And I want to fight, Reid. I’ll fight and I’ll win and I’ll get a place on the list.”

  “Jax thinks it would be a mistake, and I agree.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re number ten. The state championships are a few months away. Plenty of time to deal with the problem, and maybe by then a few people will have dropped off the list.”

  “That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” She didn’t wait for his response. Even if they weren’t done, she couldn’t stay there another minute. Jax had some explaining to do.

  “Marcy.”

  She paused on her way out and looked back over her shoulder, smoothing her face into an expressionless mask.

  Reid’s throat tightened as he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I thought he’d talked to you about it.”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  “Bastard!”

  Jax grabbed a towel and wiped himself down as Marcy stalked across the mats, her shout echoing in the near-empty gym. Eyes glittering fever-bright, jaw tense, body trembling, she was breathtaking in her fury.

  Don’t go there. Their nightly training sessions had become one erotic torture after the next. Rolling across the mat with Marcy’s sweet body tucked against him, wrapping himself around her and coaxing her to fight submission without giving in to his base desires had introduced a whole new level of hell for his self-control. He should never have let things go as far as they had. Talk about a major fucking disaster.

  She pulled up short in front of him and drew in a ragged breath, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. Jax’s skin prickled. Except for the brief time they’d been intimate, he’d never seen Marcy anything but calm and controlled and maybe just a bit flustered. This was a different Marcy. Marcy in full armor.

  “You told him I wasn’t ready,” she spat out. “If I don
’t fight in the ROC event, I won’t have a shot at the state championship.”

  His stomach tightened. Damn Reid. Their conversation was meant to be confidential, at least until he’d had a discussion with Marcy. But Reid was up against a deadline and hadn’t given him a choice.

  Still, it didn’t change the facts, and he had never been one to dance around an issue.

  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t lie to him. And he’s worried you’ll wind up in the hospital again. He didn’t want to risk your safety.” Neither did he, especially not now.

  Her nostrils flared. “You’re supposed to tell me first. Let me explain or fix things. Update me on my progress. I could have worked harder, trained more…”

  He held up his hands, palms forward. “It doesn’t work like that, Marcy. There’s nothing else you could do. It’s a process.”

  “A process.” Bitterness tinged her words. “That’s what our training has been? A process?”

  The pain in her voice sliced through him with the accuracy of a surgeon’s blade. He knew exactly what she was saying. He could read between the lines. But he couldn’t give her the reassurance she so obviously needed. And he didn’t want to raise the concern that was keeping him up every night. He didn’t want to destroy her dreams, especially if he wasn’t one hundred percent certain he was right.

  “Yes. It doesn’t happen at once.”

  She bristled. “What about the other night? What was that? Did you fuck me because you felt guilty? Or out of pity because I’ll have to train another full year for a shot at the title? Was that your twisted way of saying sorry?”

  His stomach clenched at the pain and anger in her voice. “I didn’t go looking for you the other night thinking things would turn out as they did. But you were already under my skin. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And when I saw what you’d been hiding from me, it was too much. You’re impossible to resist. I wanted more of you than I get in the fight ring. I want the softness under your armor, too.”

  “I hate you.” Her voice rose in pitch, drowning out his words. “I knew I didn’t need a coach. Especially someone who would mess up my career. If it weren’t for you, I would be on that card with the full support of Reid and the team. Now I have to fight knowing he doesn’t think I’m ready to be there.” She turned away, and he reached out and clasped her shoulder, spinning her to face him.

  “Wait.”

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.” She wrenched herself away, and then, as if a dam broke, she hit his chest, one frenzied blow after another until he grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back.

  “Stop, Marcy. I don’t want to hurt you. What happened at the Tri-Star event would’ve happened even if I hadn’t been here. Reid had doubts about you before, and has the same doubts now.”

  Chest heaving, chin quivering, eyes glistening with tears, she met his gaze. “Too late. You already hurt me.”

  He only meant to kiss the tear away. But as his lips glided over her cheek, she turned into him and pressed her lips to his, so soft and sweet he ached with pleasure. Before she could back away, he cupped her head with his hand, holding her still, and kissed her with infinite tenderness, showing her in his gesture what she refused to hear in his words.

  “Don’t.” Breaking their kiss, she choked back a sob and leaned her forehead against his chest. “I told Reid I was going to fight anyway. I want it so much. I’ve worked so hard. I’m not about to let it slip away for something so intangible I’m not even sure it’s real.”

  He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. “I was going to talk to you, but Reid put me on the spot, and I can’t recommend putting a fighter in the ring if she isn’t physically or mentally ready. Especially because that’s what happened to me, and I know how bad it can be. One month after my sister died, I went into the ring. I was still an emotional wreck, and I thought I heard her voice in the crowd. Lost focus. Got knocked out so bad I was unconscious almost a week. That’s when I decided to give it up and help people instead.”

  Her bottom lip quivered, and her body softened. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, but you’re wrong about me.”

  “I was wrong about many things, but not this. The flyweights on ROC’s card are all submission experts. You’re not ready for them yet.”

  Not now. Maybe not ever. And definitely not with him as her coach. He couldn’t deny that something about her called out to his dominant side, drawing him in like a beacon. And yet, in the ring, he needed to teach her to fight, not submit. He’d never faced such a struggle with the professional-personal divide.

  She stiffened in his arms, and for a moment, he thought—feared—she would pull away. Instead, she sagged against him. “Now what?”

  For him, quitting was the obvious solution, but the problem was deeper than that. Aside from dealing with his deep attraction to her, he felt compelled to tell Marcy the truth. She would need to know that, unless she could somehow maintain the divide between personal and professional, she might not have what it took to become a championship fighter. Sometimes sexual needs bled out into the real world. For most people, it wasn’t a problem. For Marcy, it could kill her career.

  And the truth would kill her dreams.

  With impeccable timing, Reid stepped into the gym, his gaze flicking from Jax to Marcy and back to Jax. With a resigned shake of his head, he tossed Marcy the keys.

  “I’m heading out. Everyone else is gone. Lock up for me and then slide the keys through the mail slot. I have another set at home.”

  Jax waited until the door closed behind Reid before he spoke again, seeking a way to put some distance between them, regain perspective … control. Maybe even discover he was wrong. “Show me it doesn’t happen all the time.”

  “Damn right I will.” Marcy kicked off her shoes and stalked through the gym toward the mats. Jax followed behind, admiring the way her jeans hugged her lush ass like a second skin. Despite the emotionally volatile situation, he couldn’t help his body’s response when she turned and he caught sight of the tiny tank top stretched tight over her generous breasts.

  His gut tightened as he took his position on his back on the floor. Marcy straddled his chest and leaned over him, her thighs warm against his rib cage. He drew in a deep breath and caught a light floral scent that made his balls tighten. Perfume. He’d never thought she’d be a perfume kind of girl.

  “Do it, Jax. Do it now.”

  God, he wanted to do it.

  Swallowing hard, he pulled her into the submission, his leg over her shoulder, her throat bared to the pressure of his shin. She struggled for a few seconds until he tightened the hold, and then her body stiffened, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  “There,” he said, his voice calm and even. “That will lose you the fight.”

  “No, Jax. I’m just … tense. It’s hard to grapple in street clothes.”

  “It’s not the clothes, it’s you. Something is still holding you back.” He released his grip and rolled to his side, propping his head up with his hand, trying to maintain enough of a distance to enable him to think clearly. She stretched out beside him, mirroring his position, and he stroked his thumb over her cheek. But instead of telling her what she needed to know, coward that he was, he said, “We’ll keep working on it.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m going to fight in the ROC event, whether you can help me or not.”

  “I can do a lot in two weeks.” Hell, he’d done a lot in one week. He had fallen too hard, too fast, and there was no going back. Throwing caution aside, he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “I can do a lot now,” he whispered.

  Liquid heat surged through Marcy’s veins as Jax caught her mouth in a searing kiss. She hadn’t come here for this. After Reid had given her the news, she’d intended to give Jax a piece of her mind, prove him wrong, and then walk away. Forever. But as he moved over her body, his heat surrounding her as he eased her onto her back, she couldn’t deny she wanted him with
an ache that burned into her soul.

  “Fuck.” He buried his face in her neck, his five o’clock shadow scraping over her skin as he slipped his hand beneath her and stroked the arch of her bare back. His lips slid down to the sensitive juncture between her neck and her shoulder, and he sucked hard until a tiny burst of pain made her gasp.

  “More.”

  He bit down, gently at first, then increased the pressure until the pain made her eyes water and the pleasure sent a surge of moist heat between her legs. A moan ripped out of her chest. God, it had been so long.

  Jax pushed himself up on his elbows and studied her face, considering. Then he eased her arms over her head, clasping her wrists with one hand. Her back arched with the strain, and she sucked in a sharp breath as arousal shot through her like white lightning.

  His eyes widened, and then his voice dropped to a low, husky growl. “You like it rough, little fighter.”

  Memories came back. The soft thud of the flogger. The rattle of chains. Pain and pleasure. Preston’s muttered apologies as he packed up his disgust and self-loathing and ran out the door.

  No. Jax wasn’t Preston, who’d had to be told what to do. He wasn’t a man who had to be guided or led. For the last week, Jax had manipulated her body, coaxed her to do his will. She wanted that again. But not just in the ring. She wanted him to take her as far as she could go.

  “Yes.”

  Corded neck tightening as he swallowed, he slanted his lips over hers and kissed her with a raw, animal need that took her breath away. “Marcy.”

  Her heart surged as he rasped her name, and then his lips were on her again, feathering kisses down her neck to the crescent of her breasts. He nipped the soft flesh straining above the vee of her tank top until she was panting beneath him.