by Selena Kitt
On the pretense of getting a drink, she grabbed her water bottle and slipped out of the ring. Her stomach was twisted in a knot, and every minute she spent pressed up against his body practicing submissions made the pain infinitely worse. She couldn’t take another hour. Definitely not two.
As she added a few drops of water to her already-full bottle, Reid joined her at the cooler.
“You okay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fighting in the ROC event in two weeks, and Jax has been replaced by his evil twin brother who is determined to spend the rest of the evening tossing me around the mat like a rag doll.”
Reid shook his head, his face grim. “This is my fault. The minute I saw you two together in the ring, I knew I should pull the plug. In this profession, coaching and relationships don’t mix. Not that it can’t work, but it takes a lot of effort when you’re in close physical contact all the time.”
“We’re not in a relationship.” She sighed and twisted the cap on her water bottle. “Last night when I thought he’d raised issues he wasn’t planning to tell me, things got out of hand. But it’s fine now. He’s probably acting the same as he usually does, and I’m just being overly sensitive. I’ll get over it.”
Reid studied her for a long moment. “Jax is only here for a couple of weeks and then he’s going to Miami. He’s got nothing permanent here. His car, apartment, even his phone were provided by the gym as part of the contract. He’s never stayed longer than two months in a city. Says he prefers it that way. He wants a life without attachments or relationships.”
“Reid … I know. I’m a big girl. I’m not looking to get involved with anyone.”
He held up a hand, forestalling her. “If it’s not working out for whatever reason, just say the word, and I’ll find someone else to coach you.”
Someone else? Despite Jax’s sudden personality change over the last hour, she couldn’t imagine training with anyone else. Jax understood her in a way no one else ever had. So why was he pushing her away?
“Thanks.”
Reid tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and then he swallowed. “Marcy…” He cut himself off when she gave him a puzzled frown and then dropped his hand. “Nothing. Forget it. I just don’t want to see you get hurt—in or out of the ring.”
“It’s nice to know you have my back.”
He gave her a half smile. “I messed up real bad once. Didn’t see something that was staring me in the face, and someone I cared about got hurt. I promised myself it would never happen again. So I’ve always got eyes on you, Marcy. Always have. Always will.”
“Jax?”
Jax’s head jerked up as he reached for the door handle of his rental car, a sporty Audi A4. Damn. No running away for him. But really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Marcy wasn’t a woman who shied away from confrontation, and tonight he’d given her something to be confrontational about.
He’d been a fucking bastard.
Spinning around to face her, he leaned against his vehicle and folded his arms. Aggressive? Defensive? He hardly knew himself anymore. His behavior this evening had been totally out of line, uncharacteristically harsh, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. Part of him wanted to push her away so he wouldn’t have to convince her to fight, when truly, he wanted her submission. Nor did he want to destroy her dreams and open his heart by telling her the truth. But the other part of him, the primal side, wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to his cave, ravage her in every way he knew how, coax her surrender, and then hold her in his arms until he had the energy to do it all again.
Unfortunately, he’d taken out his internal struggle on her.
“What’s going on?” Marcy had changed into a pair of tight jeans that hugged the curves of her hips and her long, lean legs. With a short leather jacket thrown over a tank top and a pair of worn cowboy boots, her hair loose and spilling over her shoulders, she took his breath away.
For a long moment, he didn’t speak, caught off guard by her frank question and wary of where it might lead.
She sighed and shook her head. “You were brutal in there. Harsh, abrupt—”
“You weren’t focused.” He scrambled for a plausible explanation. “It was like we were starting from the beginning.”
“You didn’t give me a chance,” she snapped. “Five minutes into the session, you suddenly went on the attack. Is it because of last night?”
Jax’s stomach tightened when her voice wavered, and he cursed himself for allowing things to get this far, especially when he either had to tell her the one thing that might destroy her dreams or walk away.
Run away. Like he always did.
“No, of course not.” Even he didn’t believe his own lie.
She met his gaze with a level stare, her eyes glittering under the dim glow of the overhead streetlight. “Then kiss me,” she said, an unmistakable challenge in her voice. “Kiss me and show me that what happened in the gym tonight is separate from what happened in the gym last night. Show me we can make this work.”
A choice that wasn’t a choice at all.
With a groan, he pulled her into his chest and slanted his mouth over hers, crushing her lips in a bruising kiss, slaking the thirst that had burned in him since she’d walked into the gym this evening.
Marcy moaned, a deep, guttural sound that hardened him in an instant. His hands glided over her body, cupping her ass and pulling her tight against him. Blood pounded through his veins as he devoured her mouth, giving her no respite until she whimpered.
Appalled at his loss of control, he pulled away. But Marcy followed him, pressing her soft, sweet breasts against his chest, her breath whispering over his lips.
“Jax?”
No. God. No. He had to stop. It could take weeks to find her a new coach, and he would do her more harm than good if they became involved while he was training her. Tonight had been a case in point.
“Jax?” Her voice rose in pitch, and his stomach clenched with guilt.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, as much to clear the fog from his brain as to keep his gaze off her lush lips, pink and swollen from his kiss. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, and last night … and the night before, I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
Her breath caught, and she stared at him, aghast. “But … I wanted it all to happen. It was my choice, too.”
He shook his head, jaw tight. “It’s my responsibility to stay in control. You’re just so beautiful, sweet. You were hurting…” His voice trailed off as the irony of the situation twisted his gut. Her success as a fighter depended on his failure as a dominant. If he stayed, he would destroy them both.
“I’m cutting the contract short,” he said. “I’ll talk to Reid in the morning, but I expect to be gone by the end of the week.”
For a long moment, she stared at him, her body trembling. Then her eyes hardened. “Because of me.”
“Because of us.”
“There is no us.” She folded her arms across her chest. “There is you and there is me. We did some training and had sex, but that was all. I didn’t want more. You didn’t want more. If you want to leave, don’t make us the reason.” She took one step back and then another, and then she turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Fuck.
Every instinct screamed at him to go after her. But his thoughts were too twisted up to sort through the tangle of emotions churning in his belly. He should be relieved, happy even. It was done. He’d broken it off. Reid would find her another coach, and he’d almost finished with the other fighters he’d been contracted to help. One or two more sessions and he would be free.
So why did his heart ache at the thought of moving on?
After turning down an invitation to join the other fighters for a drink at the bar, he drove back to his corporate rental apartment, furnished in bland beige and brown. Here and there, he’d tried to add his own touch: a White Sox pennant, pictures of his family, a drawing from hi
s niece who still hadn’t given up hope he would one day give her a cousin to play with, and a bottle of George T. Stagg, his favorite whiskey.
Unable to focus long enough to watch TV, he changed into his fight shorts and ran through an exercise routine in the spare room he’d set up as a makeshift gym. When even physical exertion could not calm the raging torrent of need coursing through his blood, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.
“Dammit.”
He turned the shower to full blast, and as soon as the water hit his skin, he fisted his cock and began to stroke.
Eyes closed, chest heaving, he handled his cock with an uncharacteristic roughness, his hand quickening as he visualised Marcy’s sweet face flushed with arousal. The gentle curves of her body. The dip of her stomach. Her beautiful heart-shaped ass, so soft beneath his fingers. His cock thickened in his palm, and he pumped harder, imagining her breasts, soft and warm in his hands, her pussy wet and ripe for him…
Fuck.
Firm now. Faster. Every stroke bordering on pain as the hot water beat down on his body. Punishing himself for drinking deeply of her honey and tasting the sweetness of her lips when he knew that banquet was not meant for him.
Oh god. Those lips.
Close. So close.
He beat himself without mercy, the slap and slide of his hand clearly audible over the pulse of his shower, the sound driving him almost insane as he imagined himself driving deep inside her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His muscles tightened, and in his mind, he buried himself in her soaking pussy, pinching her clit so they could come together in a violent, heated rush.
His balls lifted, tightened. Finally he came, his release bursting from his spine in long, heated jets of liquid pleasure as he groaned, “Marcy.”
He was well and truly fucked.
Chapter Nine
“So he’s really gone?”
Marcy’s heart stuttered in her chest as she dropped into the chair across from Reid’s desk. She hadn’t really believed Jax when he’d said he was leaving, and when she’d seen him in the gym yesterday, she’d thought he’d decided to stick around. But the minute Reid had called her into his office, she’d known. He was gone, and he hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye.
Reid scraped a hand through his hair and gave her a sympathetic look. “Jax talked to me yesterday. He said something had come up, and he had to break the contract. He flew to Miami this morning.”
Stunned into disbelief, Marcy just stared. What kind of fighter gave up after one fight? She’d had worse disagreements with Preston and, except at the end, they’d always managed to work things out. But then she and Preston had been together for years. She’d known Jax only a few weeks, and that knowing wasn’t knowing at all.
“Did he leave a number?”
Reid shook his head. “He dropped off the keys, refunded the money I’d paid him, and apologized for his abrupt departure. I told him to keep the fee since he’d helped everyone through their issues, but he refused.” He paused and his eyes softened. “He said he’d hurt you more than he’d helped you, stalled rather than progressed your career by telling me you weren’t ready, and it was something he would always regret.”
“I get it, Reid.”
Reaching across the desk, he squeezed her hand. “You gonna be okay? I know there was something between you—”
“No. It was nothing. He was just a coach.”
Just a coach.
Nausea roiled her gut, and she spun around and walked into the hallway.
“Marcy.” She could hear the distress in Reid’s voice, but she pushed open the front door and just kept walking.
Marcy returned to her usual routine of days at the sporting goods shop and nights at the gym. Determined to put the problem behind her, she drilled her submissions to the point she could do them in her sleep, hauling anyone and everyone onto the mats to practice with her, but always, at the back of her mind, she worried. What if Jax was right?
After a few days as her grappling partner, Two Step offered to give her a new nickname, the Submission Master, but she refused. She didn’t want anything to change. She had always been his baby girl, and she wanted it to stay that way.
True to his word, Reid hired a new coach, a gruff, retired UFC fighter named Dan. After their first training session, Dan told her she needed to stop fighting so hard and relax into submission. She’d almost laughed at the irony. She was a fighter, and she needed to do what fighters did best. Fuck Jax and his suggestion that she needed time to work through the issue. She’d been doing fine before he’d come, and with Dan and Reid working with her now, she’d turn that four and oh record into a five and oh and win herself a place in the state championships.
But alone at night, with nothing to occupy her mind, Marcy had to deal with the emptiness eating her up inside. Silly, really. She had known from the start Jax was only sticking around for a few weeks. Nothing like the years she’d spent with Preston. And yet she’d felt a much deeper emotional connection to Jax and a much deeper pain when he left. Worse, her old doubts had returned. Not even long talks with Val in the sporting goods shop or a weekend with Two Step at the youth club could ease her anxiety or her deep-seated fear that she wasn’t cut out to be a fighter. Maybe her family was right, and there was nothing Marcy could do to earn their respect.
Still, it wouldn’t stop her from trying. Nor would a pesky issue with freezing in submission. And after two weeks of intense training, she felt ready. She even made weight the day before the event after a few late-night ice cream indulgences to soothe the ache in her heart.
Reid picked her up the morning of the ROC event. “You think you’re ready?”
She hesitated only a moment and then stiffened her spine. Doubt or no doubt, she still wasn’t about to throw away her dreams. “Hell, yes.”
A grin split his face as he pulled away from the curb. “You’ve done great this week. I think you’re ready, too. If you win this bout, you still might have a chance at the championship.”
Warmth suffused her body, pooled in her belly, and for the first time in weeks, a genuine smile curled her lips. “I won’t let you down, Reid.”
“I know you won’t. You’re a fighter. Always have been. Always will be. You can’t change who you are, but if something is holding you back, you just gotta find a way around it. There are different ways of fighting, different ways to win.”
There were also different ways to lose.
Eight hours later, Marcy sat in the ambulance outside the fight venue and wondered how she could have deceived herself to such an extent she’d deceived Reid, too. The fight had been a disaster. Just as Jax had predicted, she’d been paired up with a submission expert. She’d had to change her fight strategy on the fly when she realized her opponent was determined to get her down on the mat. Instead of taking the offensive as she usually did, relying on her strength as a striker, she was forced to defend from body slams and takedowns, backing into the ropes to avoid being drawn into a grappling match. And when she’d finally slipped up and her opponent had locked her in a quick kimura submission, she’d felt the familiar warning rush of confusion that always preceded the darkness. But this time, knowing what would happen next, powerless to stop it, she’d tapped out moments before she’d lost consciousness.
Of course, Reid hadn’t been pleased. He’d been even less pleased when the ring doctor insisted Marcy get checked over by the paramedics in case she’d left it too late. And after she’d received the all clear, he wouldn’t speak to her when she asked him to drop her at the after-party at Two Step’s house instead of taking her home.
But Reid didn’t understand. If she went home, she’d spend the night rehashing the fight in her mind, wondering what would have happened if she’d refused to be intimate with Jax until her professional issue was resolved. Could he have helped her? Even if he’d managed to do so, there was no guarantee she would have had a spot in the state championships. She’d needed this fight. But she�
�d needed to win. Now her record was tarnished, Reid would never support her in another event until the issue was resolved, and she was back to being alone and worried that she wasn’t cut out to be a fighter.
All in all, a bad decision. Just like Jax had said.
“Hey, baby girl, need another drink?”
Marcy took the proffered beer bottle from Two Step and joined Val on the barstools at his kitchen island. “Great party,” she shouted over the not-so-dulcet tones of Stereoliner. “But, as always, you invited too many people. I could barely get through your living room.”
Two Step laughed. “That’s what makes it a great party. And I’m expecting another wave of people now that Club Excelsior is closed for the night. Reid said he would round up any stragglers and bring them over.”
“No doubt I’ll know them all, and the ones who aren’t already hooked up will be gay or on the rebound,” Val muttered. “Seriously. I work at a sporting goods store owned by a bunch of hot fighters, and can I get some of that sugar? No. I’m stuck with accountants, middle managers, and paper pushers. If Reid doesn’t have a decent straggler for me, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”
Marcy grimaced. Reid was the last person she wanted to see, and when she’d heard he was coming to the party, she’d almost bailed until Val promised to keep her distracted with an endless supply of chili lime margaritas. So far so bad. Val hadn’t stopped talking about hot fighters since she’d walked in the door, and the only alcohol on offer had been the one drink she couldn’t stand, beer.
“You’d better get started on your margaritas.” Marcy gestured to the blender. “Reid can be a tad intimidating, but not as much as me when deprived of my promised distraction.”
“Heard you got dragged out to the ambulance. Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking,” Two Step said as Val slid off the seat and headed for the blender.
