But I gave my head a light shake. Focus, Marc. You need to get this off your mind so you can get back into shape ASAP. Otherwise you won’t be bouncing anyone on your dick for a while.
Grunting, I got to my feet and went to change into my gym clothes. Whenever these kinds of thoughts buzzed around my head, the best way to handle it, I’d found, was to head to the gym and work them out physically.
The walk to the gym was as calm and quiet as it got in this part of Vegas. Must not have been a lot going on around town. Even as I did something as simple as taking a walk, though, my mind drifted to Gemma.
I wondered what she’d be like walking along beside me. Maybe we’d hit the gym together, shooting the breeze and talking about the latest gym gossip as we headed to lift weights together in the late hours of the night when we couldn’t get to sleep for restless minds. Or maybe we’d go on walks around the city on our off-days, her in a sundress that flowed around her knees, teasing me while we laughed together.
Maybe we’d get up to less innocent things together, and I’d take her out to the park one evening, where we’d find a secluded spot, and she’d beg me to rip that pretty dress off of her and pound her until she was the one who needed a few sessions of physio.
Holy fuck, Marc, get a grip.
My inability to focus only agitated me more as I got up to the gym and headed through the doors, the receptionist giving me a nod before going back to their book as I headed onto the gym floor, out of sight.
I wasn’t really supposed to do any intensive exercise with my recovering injury. I was fitter than I’d been all week, and I felt absolutely great, but I figured a little resistance training wouldn’t hurt anything. Better than dead-lifting weights with one arm, I thought with a chuckle. Though when all this was over, that didn’t sound like a bad idea to show off my regained strength.
I made my way to one of the punching bags, tossing my gym bag aside and flexing my arms a little in preparation. Nothing worked out a little aggression like pummelling something until I was exhausted.
But if I wanted to work myself that much, I’d be here all night.
The sounds of my fists connecting with the punching bag filled the empty room, and after a few minutes, my quick breaths joined it. I tried to get my mind to take me back to the ring, back to a place where there was a real, deadly opponent squaring off with me, ready to tackle me to the ground and put me out of consciousness in a competition for fame and glory and money.
But there was so much else filling my mind.
What the hell did Selena want, anyway? I couldn’t have been less interested in talking to someone in the entire city. With this newfound aggravation about Gemma swarming my thoughts, there was no way I’d risk talking to her and adding more stress to my life.
I wondered if word had gotten to her that Nick Dewsbury was talking to me about making me a poster child. I’d shot Nick an email about some of the terms and conditions I wanted included in my theoretical contract, but he hadn’t gotten back to me yet. Kenny had warned me that they’d fight me on a few of the points I should be firm about. I knew it definitely wouldn’t be above Nick to go to Selena, thinking we were still together.
He probably would have reached out to her as a fellow ad worker, trying to get her to make me cave for less than what I was asking. I wondered how Selena had reacted. Maybe he’d offered her a spot along with me, and that was why she was so desperate to get in touch with me again?
Or maybe she really was sincere, and she just regretted breaking up with me while we were both totally shitfaced at Haze. She was a cutthroat model, but she wasn’t above human emotion, just like anyone else.
As I jumped around the punching bag, I realized that neither of those options changed my opinion about wanting to talk to her in the slightest. If she was just after money, then it was an easy decision to brush her off, I could make my own way just fine without her, with people like Kenny at my side.
And if she really did want to get back together, well, if there was one thing my time alone this round had told me, it was that me and Selena weren’t a good match for each other. I realized that I didn’t miss her at all, and to boot, my body and my mind were utterly focused on Gemma. She was the one I wanted beside me in bed every night, and she was the one I wanted to fill up at every chance.
Fucking hell man, get it together!
Each time those lustful, downright romantic thoughts invaded my mind, unbidden, I got that much more aggravated. My knuckles were almost bleeding from how hard I was pummelling the bag, and I had to stop for a moment, as I realized my motions were going out of the realm of healthy exercise and into animalistic brutalizing, and I was risking making my shoulder worse again.
My chest heaved as I stepped back, swinging my arms back and forth as I looked up at the ceiling to take slow, steady breaths. It wasn’t because I was exhausted - I could have gone for another few hours at this rate. But I needed to settle down.
Unfortunately for me, the footsteps I heard coming into the room belonged to someone who would only serve to do the opposite.
“Well, well, Marc. Didn’t expect to see you here this late.”
I looked over at the man and gave him a curt nod, hands on my hips as I breathed. “Dante.”
Dante was trouble. Everyone knew that. He was another of the gym’s regulars, and when it came to exercise, he was just as fit and agile as anyone else who went to The Fighting Chance. But he wasn’t the kind of guy many of us associated with outside the ring.
He was with the mob. And he was proud of it. Worse yet, given his connections, he was more likely than anyone else to be in the know about the secrets and back-alley deals that surrounded the fighting world, and he always used it to his advantage.
“I can understand that, though,” he said, dropping his bag not far from me and squaring up with a punching bag of his own. “Less people around at night means less people to get on you about your injury.”
“Careful, Dante,” I said, resuming my punching, a little harder and more focused than before.
“I don’t mean it like that,” he backpedaled insincerely. “I mean, I can just hear those assholes now, getting on your back over trying to work out like a normal person when you ‘should be recovering,’ ” he said with a dark chuckle. “I come out here later at night for the same reason.”
“When you aren’t out doing dirty work, eh?” I said, smirking as I gave another solid wallop to the punching bag.
“Yeah, when I’m not smuggling millions’ worth of cocaine across the border and killing rival kingpins, right?” he shoots right back. “Hey, at least I keep work and pleasure separate, unlike some of the people around here. How’s that physio going, by the way?”
“Warning you, Dante,” I said, this time holding back the fire in my chest at that remark. I came here to work off steam, not build it up, I reminded myself.
“Aw, did I hit a raw nerve? Maybe you’d like Gemma to give it a nice massage and ease the tension.” He grinned, and at that, I abandoned my punching bag and strode towards Dante.
“What was that, asswipe?”
“I wouldn’t walk away from the bag, Marc, Gemma will be disappointed if you can’t pound her like you’ve been pounding away at that thing.”
I brought my fist up and into his stomach, but he tensed before I could sink the hit in, and he threw back a jab at my face, which landed squarely on my eye. I took hold of his arms and tossed him aside, but he kept his footing and got ready for me as I charged in again, one hand grabbing his wrist while my injured arm pummeled his torso. His fist struck my nose, but I responded by bringing my elbow up to connect with his, and he staggered back, dazed. Fast as lightning, he was in at my stomach this time, pounding my abs with quick shots before I brought my head down on his--a move that would have gotten me kicked out of the ring, before getting one more solid blow on his stomach, making him back off, holding up a hand.
“Fuck, alright, alright, it was a joke!” he sputtered between
breaths, but even as battered as he looked, the swelling I felt on my face told me I wasn’t any better off, my breaths heavy.
“Careful who you pick fights with, Dante,” I growled. “Next time, you might not catch me in a good mood.”
Without another word, I picked up my gym bag and turned my back on him, heading out the door and back into the cool night air as my eye started to swell shut and I tasted blood running down from my nose.
CHAPTER 13 - GEMMA
Ever since the last session, when I told Marc our little indiscretion was a one-time deal, I’d been stuck in a major funk. I couldn’t get his disappointed face out of my head, and every time I crawled into bed at night, my dreams were filled with images of the two of us naked and unrestrained. I knew it was killing some part of me, having to pretend I didn’t want him. Because I did, so much, and it felt so inauthentic to deny myself.
After all, I’d already sacrificed so much of what I wanted out of life just to make things work with the new game plan I had to adopt since my father’s death. I’d already had to give up on my flashy dreams of becoming an Olympic runner, foregoing the gold medals and bright lights of the camera in exchange for a quiet, humble life here in Vegas with Alice.
But when it came down to it, there was nobody else in my life I loved and care about more than my little sister. She was my world, and anyone or anything that posed a threat to our happiness and success had to be put aside.
Even though it killed me.
“Don’t forget I have my ice-skating show tonight!” Alice called out down the hallway as I trudged into the bathroom to get ready for work.
“Let me drive you to school so you can tell me about it,” I responded. There was an overdramatic sigh from the kitchen and she popped her head around the corner. She looked exasperated, but I could tell there was a hint of pride in her smirk.
“Fine,” she said, then disappeared back into the kitchen to make breakfast.
I smiled to myself as I climbed into the shower. She never let me drive her to school, so this was a big deal. Alice always wanted to do things by herself, on her own terms, even if it was more difficult or inconvenient than the alternative.
Massaging shampoo into my hair, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, as always, back to Marc. Even though I’d forced myself to shut down our little fling, or whatever it was, I couldn’t quite stop my brain from reliving our tryst over and over again. He was so damn strong, so intense in every single minute movement. He scared me, in the best way possible. I knew he could break me with one simple twist, that he could totally destroy me if he wanted to.
Just knowing the kind of power he had to constantly harness and keep tied back made me long for him more. I wanted to ride him. I wanted to feel his strength rippling beneath me as we rocked together through the waves of pleasure. I wanted his thick, muscular arms to bend me and control me like I knew he wanted to.
Before I could stop myself, my hand was between my thighs, rubbing my clit under the hot spray of the shower. I braced myself against the side of the shower stall, closing my eyes as I imagined Marc shoving my legs apart and burying his face into my cunt, those sensual lips licking and sucking at my aching slit until I begged for more. I was breathing hard now, picturing his enormous shaft positioned at my slick opening, his face contorted in restraint as he guided his way into me, pushing in hard and fucking me with abandon. I could almost hear his breathing, ragged and rough as he moaned my name and crashed into me again and again.
I collapsed to the bottom of the stall as my orgasm came shuddering up through my body, my fingers wet with my own honey. For a minute or two I just sat there trembling as the shockwaves of release passed over me. I tilted my face up into the stream of water and let it wash away my tension. I hadn’t touched myself in a long, long time. But with Marc constantly appearing in my darkest, most scandalous dreams, I was in a perpetual state of sexual frustration. I needed some kind of release, and if I wasn’t going to let myself actually fuck him, I would have to find other ways to relieve the pressure.
I finished up my shower and got dressed, my mind distracted in the process. There was a knock at the bathroom door. Alice! I had almost forgot that I was going to drive her to school!
“Come on! I don’t care if I’m late, but I know you do. So let’s go!” she shouted through the door. I shook the excess water from my hair, glanced at my makeup-free face in the mirror, and was instantly reminded of the last time I went into work fresh-faced.
Apparently, Marc had really liked the way I looked without makeup.
I bit my lip. Remembering this almost made want to hurriedly put on some mascara or something, at least. But I simply didn’t have the time today. Not if I was going to drive Alice.
“Okay, okay! I’m done,” I said quickly, leaving the bathroom.
“Your shirt’s inside out,” Alice commented, raising an eyebrow.
I looked down to see that she was right. In fact, it was not only inside out, but I’d put it on backwards, too. God, I couldn’t even function well enough to put on my clothes properly anymore. Marc Montoya was really infecting my mind. I had to find a way to put this behind me before my entire life unraveled in front of my very eyes.
“Oh,” I murmured, hurriedly taking off my tank top and fixing it.
“You’re a mess,” Alice laughed, taking my arm and pulling me toward the front door. We rushed down the steps to the ground floor and out into the parking lot to get into my Jetta. I was happy to have her around, as Alice always proved to be a great distraction from whatever was going on in my life.
As we drove to Saint Seraphina, she piped up, “So you’re coming to see my show tonight, right?”
I nodded. “Of course! What time is it again?”
“Six.”
“Right, right. Yeah, I’ll be there,” I assured her, glancing over and giving her a smile. She was trying to remain cool, but I could tell she was really excited that I’d be there to cheer her on. I had admittedly not been able to make it to as many of her practice sessions at the rink as I’d wanted to, but then again, Alice was so fiercely independent that she might not have wanted me to tag along anyway.
“Are you nervous?” I asked, turning the corner.
She shrugged. “Hmm, not really.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Not even a little?” I pressed.
Alice sighed. “Maybe a bit. Mostly because Daniel is gonna be there, probably with Katie…” she trailed off, fidgeting anxiously.
Daniel was the older boy who worked at the rink, the one Alice had a massive crush on, and Katie was the girl from Saint Seraphina who teased her. My heart ached for my poor little sister and her first pang of love gone wrong. I wanted so badly to assure it that it would all get better once she was older, but I knew that would be a lie. I was a prime example, myself. Alice couldn’t have the boy she wanted, and I couldn’t be with the man I desired.
Would it ever get any better than this?
Even if I didn’t believe it myself, I had to reassure Alice. It was my job to make her feel better, by whatever means necessary.
“Screw them,” I told her. “If Daniel picked her over you, then he doesn’t know what he’s missing. And tonight, when he sees you perform, he’s gonna realize just how awesome you are. And then you’ll be the winner.”
“I wish,” she murmured bitterly, shaking her head.
“Hey! I’m serious. You can’t always get the boy. But you know what the best revenge is? Success. Nothing like showing those guys that you don’t need ‘em. You’re talented and amazing all on your own, Al,” I said genuinely. “You don’t need their approval to keep shining.”
“That’s so cheesy,” Alice scoffed, but I could see that she was beaming.
I dropped her off at school, a block away so nobody would see her get out of an old, beat-up Jetta, and then moved on to The Fighting Chance. By the time I arrived, I was feeling considerably less awful than I was this morning. Alice was always just the right dose of reality
check and sunshine. Even though I was the one taking care of her, sometimes it really felt like she was the one keeping me in line.
I walked into the physiotherapy room to find Marc waiting for me, but at the sight of his face, my jaw dropped and I covered my mouth in shock.
“Wh-what happened to your face?” I gasped, rushing over to him to inspect the damage. He had a black eye and his nose looked a little crooked, like someone had broken it!
Marc tried to wave me off dismissively, like it was nothing, but I caught his hand in mid-air and forced him to be still so I could look him over. “It’s no big deal,” he sighed.
“I thought you weren’t going to fight until our work together was over,” I scolded.
“This wasn’t, uh, a scheduled fight,” he answered pointedly. I went pale, feeling both concern and anger piling up in my gut. I wanted to slap him and tell him he was a fool for fighting outside of the ring, especially since he was still in rehabilitation for his last major injury.
Game On (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) Page 25
