Yield to Me

by Sarah Castille

  Coach. Training. Professional. But her body, now a live wire, wasn’t on board.

  “How do you want me?” Her breathy voice shaded into a whisper of desire.

  For a long moment, he didn’t move. She could feel his heart drumming in his chest, hear the rasp of his breathing, and when she looked up at him, the heat in his eyes made her shudder.

  He dropped his body, his hips pressing against the juncture of her thighs, his lips only inches away. Her pussy throbbed, and she arched under him. If she stretched up just the tiniest bit, she could have a little lick of his enticing, full lips. Just as she had imagined last night and every night since the day they’d met.

  Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

  As if he had heard her unspoken demand, he dropped his head, and his lips brushed over hers. Firm but fleeting, his kiss was there, and then it wasn’t.

  Fire streaked through Marcy’s body with such intensity she forgot to breathe, burning its way straight to her core. She blinked and Jax was gone.

  Alone, limp on the mat, she drew in a ragged breath. What the hell had she been thinking? Had she learned nothing from her breakup with Preston? Just because Jax was dominant in the ring didn’t mean he was dominant in the bedroom. Or that he had any interest in her besides being a coach. Yet the more she was with him, the more she craved his touch—like a drug addict who had found the source of an endless fix.

  It could only end in disaster.

  * * *

  Christ.

  Jax scrubbed his hand over his forehead in the back alley outside the gym. What the fucking hell had he done? He had always maintained a rigid line between the personal and professional aspects of his life. And what about the control he had fought so hard to achieve? Had he learned nothing from the deaths of his mother and sister? He had promised himself he would never feel that helpless again, and yet the minute Marcy walked into the gym, all he could think about was stripping off her clothes and getting her beneath him.

  No doubt, she’d complain to Reid. And well she should. He’d taken advantage of his position and the physical proximity fight coaching required. But when he’d felt her soften beneath him, her breath soft and sweet on his cheek, he’d lost any semblance of control. Only the sight of Two Step, watching them from the cross trainer, had brought him to his senses long enough to get away.

  Run away.

  Just like he’d been doing for the last ten years.

  The back door opened and closed, and Two Step joined him in the alley. For an awkward moment, neither of them spoke, and then Two Step leaned against the brick wall and sighed. “Gets hot in there.”

  Tension curled between them, born of an understanding only two men with an interest in the same woman could share. “Yeah.”

  “So you done for the night?” Two Step folded his arms, his massive biceps shimmering with sweat. Although Two Step didn’t move away from the wall, Jax understood the underlying threat. He wasn’t afraid of Two Step. Even after leaving the professional circuit, he’d kept up his training regime to stay in shape, focused, and better able to help the fighters with new techniques. Still, he wasn’t interested in getting involved in a physical altercation, and Two Step’s body language suggested he was spoiling for a fight.

  “I’ve got Susie at eight and Davy at nine.”

  “But nothin’ for the next forty-five minutes.”

  Jax raised an eyebrow at the unspoken admonishment. “You got something to say?”

  “You hurt her and I’ll come down on you so hard you won’t know what hit you.” Two Step’s voice was soft and all the more menacing for it.

  “I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to help.” He met Two Step’s gaze. Marcy was lucky to have friends who cared about her so much. Always on the road, Jax didn’t have time for friendships, and the constant relocation helped him avoid putting down roots. Roots meant relationships, and relationships meant pain.

  “Good to hear. Hope it stays that way.” Two Step let out a relieved breath. “So, you coming to the barbeque tonight? We’re taking advantage of the downtime between events. Marcy will be there.”

  Jax frowned. “I thought you just warned me to stay away from her.”

  “I warned you not to hurt her. Couldn’t go through that again. She was with this guy…” He swallowed hard. “She didn’t show up at practice for a coupla days and didn’t answer her phone, so I went to her place to see if she was okay. Bastard had hurt her bad. There were bruises on her wrists and ankles and … fuck … the marks on her back and the backs of her legs…” He scraped a hand over his head. “I was gonna go after him, but she told me he was gone and wouldn’t be back. She wouldn’t go to the police. Said she’d consented, but who’d consent to something like that?”

  Someone with a kink or an interest in BDSM. A submissive. Just like he’d thought.

  “All sorts of people with all sorts of interests out there.” Jax understood better than most the prejudices faced by the kink community. He’d been ostracized by his family when he’d been open about his involvement with a local BDSM club. As a result, he’d lost valuable years with his mother and sister. Years he would never get back.

  Two Step pushed away from the wall and headed for the door. “So, you coming?”

  “Given the nature of my work, I don’t usually socialize with my fighters. But thanks.”

  “Address is posted on the bulletin board in case you change your mind.” Two Step pulled open the door, and the scent of lemon cleaner and stale sweat from the gym drifted into the alley. “We’re a family here. We don’t exclude people no matter how they want to fuck with our heads.”

  Jax laughed. “Not really what I do, but thanks.”

  Two Step paused and looked over his shoulder, his lips curled in an amused smile. “She likes whiskey. Straight up. No girly drinks for our Marcy. There’s a good place round the corner … just in case you feel like picking up a bottle.”

  * * *

  “You’re cut off, baby girl.”

  Marcy glared when Two Step snatched the shot glass out of her hand. “What the hell? I’m a grown woman. I know when I’ve had too much, and I’m not even close. I can still stand.”

  “You gotta eat something before I give it back.” He gestured to a short Australian fighter with a surfer-dude twang flipping burgers on the grill. “Porter will set you up. He bought out Costco’s meat department to make up for the lack of buns. You get something in your stomach, and then you can drink all you want.”

  “If you don’t give me back that drink, you’ll be getting something in your stomach, and it won’t be food.” Hands on her hips, she took what she hoped was a menacing step forward.

  Two Step laughed, but his smile faded when Val handed her another glass.

  “Her hand was empty,” Val said with a shrug. “This is a party.”

  As if on cue, someone turned up the music, and Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter” blasted through the speakers.

  “Christ.” Two Step spun away with a speed that belied his heavy frame, shouting as he stalked toward the sound system. “Who’s responsible for the noise pollution? Where’s my metal?”

  “Thanks.” Marcy clinked glasses with Val. “Sometimes he gets a tad overprotective.” She’d never told Val what Two Step had seen that day he’d come to check on her after Preston left, although Val was pretty open-minded. Some secrets were better left buried.

  They spent an hour catching up with the fighters. Tara and Lou had become a couple. Silvia and Stan had broken up. A few of the guys had new jobs, and some had been laid off. The Jackal was getting a divorce and wanted to know good pickup places. Val suggested he come by the sporting goods shop and hang out in aisle six, where she’d seen a couple making out beneath the cups. Marcy jabbed her in the side with her elbow, but Val was laughing too hard to care.

  When the sun went down, Two Step turned on the outdoor lights and set up a makeshift fight ring. He offered a bottle of his best bourbon to anyone who could take him down.
No takers. Two bottles?

  “Make it whiskey and I’m in.”

  Marcy sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of Jax’s voice, then stiffened when he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I heard it’s your favorite drink.” His voice was a low murmur in her ear, sending ripples of pleasure down her spine.

  “You’re going to fight Two Step?” Marcy shot him an incredulous glance over her shoulder. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body, smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

  “No one else wants to do it.”

  “Doesn’t that tell you something?” She had to fight the urge to brush her lips over his cheek. “They’re fighters. They see Two Step every day, and they won’t get in the ring with him.”

  “Tells me if I want to win, I’d better get moving.” His hand slid down her arm, warm on her cool skin, and he gave her elbow a squeeze before joining Two Step in the makeshift ring.

  “Oh. My. God.” Val fanned herself with her hand. “That was seriously hot. He is so into you. Lookit him over there getting all ready to do the primal male thing and prove himself to you. Too bad it’s gonna be so painful to watch. Two Step will crush him like a bug.”

  Marcy was looking. In fact, she couldn’t look away. She’d thought he’d decided the training wasn’t going to work after he’d cut their practice short earlier this evening. Maybe he’d had a change of heart.

  Her pulse kicked up a notch when Jax and Two Step stripped off their shirts. God, he was breathtaking, all taut pecs and a six-pack for real. Although they wouldn’t be doing many moves in their jeans. She indulged herself for a moment, imagining stripping off his jeans, sliding her hands over that tight ass, sinking to her knees, and taking him in her mouth.

  “Uh … hello.” Val jabbed her in the side. “You keep looking at him like that and he’s gonna think you want to eat him up.”

  “I do.”

  * * *

  What the fuck was he doing?

  Jax leaned forward, hands on his knees, drawing in a deep breath. When he’d been fighting full time, he’d been a middleweight, at least eighty pounds lighter than Two Step. And although he’d stayed in shape and kept up his skills, he was no match for a heavier fighter in his prime. Already every part of his body ached, and he doubted he’d make it out of bed in the morning if he even made it out of the ring. And they’d only been fighting for a few minutes. But when he’d walked into the yard and spotted Marcy in that little black dress, her hair fanned out across her back, Two Step calling out his challenge, something in him had snapped. He wanted to show her he wasn’t just a coach. He was a fighter, too.

  “Tapping out?” Arms folded, Two Step grinned from the corner of the ring.

  Bastard wasn’t even winded.

  Jax mustered all the bravado he could, given the screaming pain in his ribs. “Giving you time to come to your senses.”

  Two Step chuckled. “I got nothing to prove.” He looked over Jax’s shoulder at Marcy, standing at the edge of the ring. “You do.”

  He straightened, biting back the flush of humiliation at being so easily read. “That’s not—”

  “Looks like you’re ready to keep going.” Two Step lunged forward, sweeping Jax’s leg from under him. He hit the grass and rolled before Two Step could get his back, then jumped to his feet. Unbelievably, Two Step was wide open. Jax hit him with a right cross followed by a left hook, and Two Step went down hard.

  “Fuck.” Jax bent down beside him. “What’s going on? I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  Two Step tapped the grass, indicating he was conceding the fight to Jax, then rubbed his jaw. “You owe me, brother. Big-time.”

  “You threw the fight for me?” He helped Two Step to his feet as the fighters around them cheered.

  Two Step’s gaze flicked to Marcy and then back to Jax. “Not for you. For my baby girl. Told you. We’re a family here. We look out for each other. Can’t have her thinking she’s hooking up with a guy who can’t hold his own in a fight.”

  “We’re not—”

  “You’d better be.” Two Step’s eyes narrowed as Marcy joined them in the ring. “Or else you owe me a fight.”

  Jax thought she’d go to Two Step first. After all, he’d supposedly taken two hits that had knocked him to the ground. But it was Jax she spoke to first.

  “Congratulations. No one’s ever taken Two Step down.” She traced a finger over his bicep, and all his blood rushed to his groin.

  “For a while there, I thought you were in trouble.” Her finger lingered on his skin, and with adrenaline still coursing through his veins after the fight, it was everything he could do to keep his hands by his sides. “I thought you were … just a coach.”

  He didn’t want to lie. “Marcy, I…”

  Two Step cleared his throat and drew a warning finger across his neck, mafia-style, drawing Marcy’s attention.

  “You okay?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “All good. Just didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Indeed.”

  Jax shot Two Step a questioning look. He couldn’t tell if Marcy knew or not, and if she did, what she thought of Two Step’s performance. She was very difficult to read. But then, so was he.

  Two Step just shrugged and gestured at the makeshift bar on a picnic table in the corner. “Your prize is over there. Make sure she eats between shots, otherwise she gets a bit crazy.”

  “Two Step!”

  He widened his eyes in mock surprise at her outburst. “What? Have you forgotten the beach barbeque last year when you decided to go swimming naked outta bounds? Or the time you decided to drag race with Susie down that country lane behind Stan’s place? Or how ’bout that time you told the cops—”

  “Enough.” She blushed and pressed her lips together. Jax’s stomach tightened. He wanted to be the one to put that flush in her cheeks, and now that he suspected they might share a kink, he could think of a dozen ways to put it there, none of them involving words.

  “Sounds like you lead an exciting life.” Jax pressed a hand against her lower back and led her toward the picnic table. Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t help curling his fingers into the curve of her narrow waist. His cock stiffened, and he dropped his hand. Fuck. Maybe showing up tonight wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Authority issues.” She laughed lightly and chatted with a fighter at the bar who procured the promised bottles, one for each of them, giving Jax a wink after Marcy had turned away.

  “Name’s Lou. Heard about you coming to help us out. Good fight … I think.”

  Jax gritted his teeth. “I didn’t really…”

  Lou cut him off with a laugh. “It’s how we do things here. We got each other’s backs. You’ve been at lots of clubs. I’m sure it’s the same.”

  “Actually, it isn’t,” Jax said. “A lot of clubs I’ve worked at have been highly competitive, everyone looking out for themselves, because ultimately it’s one person and not the team in the ring. But this club”—he looked around at the crowd spread across every inch of Two Step’s lawn—“is a real team. This kind of support can make the difference between a mediocre fighter and a great one.”

  “Family.” Lou smiled. “We’re a family. Not just a team.”

  Jax nodded. Excelsior was the kind of club he had trained in when he had first started fighting: small enough to be supportive, but big enough to attract good quality fighters and coaches. His disenchantment with the fight world had started only after he’d joined a larger, more competitive club. Now, as he looked around at the Excelsior “family,” he wondered if that kind of support would have made a difference, not only when he’d lost his mother and sister, but also when he’d suffered the knock-out punch that ended his career.

  “Hey, you okay?” Marcy slipped her hand around his arm, and his moment of melancholy dissolved in a rush of heat that shot straight to his groin.

  “Yeah.” He nodded at the open bottle in her hand. “Drinking it
straight, I see. No glass for you.”

  Marcy laughed and his chest tightened. “I was about to pour when I saw you with Lou. You looked kinda lost in thought for a second.”

  He raised an eyebrow to hide his discomfort at being caught out. “I was wondering what was taking you so long with the drinks.”

  Warm and throaty, her laugh did strange things to his stomach. He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the soft curve of her jaw, and in that moment, something changed in the air between them. Marcy’s eyes darkened, and she licked her lips, that lovely blush spreading across her cheeks.

  “You want to take this bottle to my place?”

  Jax didn’t even try to dissemble. Didn’t waste a moment wondering if this was the right thing to do. If the looks they were getting from Marcy’s teammates were anything to go by, he already had the Club Excelsior stamp of approval.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Six

  His arms were around her before she had even closed the front door.

  Pulling her into his body, Jax groaned and covered her lips with his. Hot and hungry, his tongue swept into her mouth, leaving no inch untouched, a promise of what was to come.

  “Jax. Wait.” She tried to pull away. “Let me close the door.”

  Without releasing her, he shifted position, backing her against the door, stopping only when it closed with a loud bang.

  Marcy grimaced. “The neighbors aren’t going to like that.”

  “They’re not going to like listening to you scream with pleasure, either.” Jax nuzzled her neck. “And that’s what’s going to happen next.”

  “Someone is overly confident in his abilities.” She fought to repress a smile as she met his half-lidded gaze.

  “Realistic.”

  Marcy melted. She’d never been with a man as confident as Jax. Or as sexual. Everything about him, from the way he moved his body to the husky timbre of his voice, to the firm, unyielding press of his lips, suggested he wasn’t lying. And, oh god, she was dying to find out if that was true.