Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance)

by Loren, Celia

  "Yeah, but they think we're just hanging out as friends."

  "Do you like him?"

  "Yes," I admit, feeling myself flush. "When we kissed the other day…wow. And it's not just that he's hot, either… he's charming, laid-back, but it also just feels like everything's taken care of when he's around, you know? Like he always knows exactly what to do, so I can just relax." I bite my lip, feeling myself gushing. Hearing myself out loud, it's clear that I've got it bad.

  "I think you should marry Austen, and I should marry Logan, and then we'll finally be sisters."

  I laugh. "I'm not sure Logan is your type. He's really intense."

  "I like intense."

  "He did give me this really good book to read."

  "Oh, really?" Maya says suggestively.

  "Not like that. Just a friendship thing."

  "Just like you and Austen, right?" she teases me.

  "Well, you've got me there," I admit. "OK, I'll text you after." I smear a touch of berry-colored gloss on my lips and add another swipe of black mascara to my lashes. Not too much, or my mom will know something's up.

  Fixing a slightly bored expression on my face to mask my butterflies, I head out of my bedroom and down the stairs. My mom and Duke are in the living room watching TV, and look up as I reach the foyer. Austen emerges from the basement steps before they can say anything, dressed equally casually in a grey t-shirt and jeans.

  "Who's fighting tonight?" Duke asks.

  "Yeardley and Ruiz," Austen says. "Not sure who else. But at least that should be a good matchup. And you'll have a good example to learn from," he adds, nodding to me. I smile and wave to our parents.

  "See you later!" I say as Austen and I head toward the kitchen and then into the garage. I find myself feeling relieved that we didn't run into Logan on our way out, though I'm not sure why. Austen slides behind the driver's seat as I buckle myself in. He immediately asks me about how my new job is going, and the conversation doesn't slow down for the next twenty minutes until we reach the fight location downtown.

  Austen parks on the street and I'm surprised to feel him take my hand as he meets me on the sidewalk. He leads me toward a line of a couple dozen people snaking down the street, and I see some of the people in it looking at him and nodding, then whispering to each other. A man with a list at the front of the line greets Austen with a fist bump, and Austen leads me inside.

  "You do realize people are staring at you, right?" I murmur to him as we walk inside the dimly lit space.

  "They know me from the circuit," he tells me with a modest shrug. I raise my eyebrows. I didn't realize he was that well known. "This is an old bar that bought the building behind it so they could hold fights. The owner's a big fan of the sport. This is him now," he says nodding toward a round, older man heading toward us.

  "Austen Riggins! How can I get you to fight here again?" he asks, shaking Austen's hand heartily.

  "When you find me a challenge, Oliver," Austen replies with a sly smile.

  "And who's this lovely lady?" Oliver says, turning to me.

  "Friend of mine," Austen answers, dropping my hand.

  "Caitlyn," I say as I shake Oliver's hand.

  "Caitlyn," he repeats. "You two enjoy the fights tonight. Ruiz looks good, I'm telling you," he adds.

  "We'll see," Austen says, then leads me to the bar as Oliver starts greeting someone else. "Sorry about that," he murmurs to me, placing his hand on the small of my back. "He knows my dad, so I didn't want him to—"

  "I get it," I assure him. "Think they're going to card me?" I ask nodding to the bartender.

  "Well, well," he says, grinning at me, and I blush.

  "I mean, I was just going to have one beer."

  "I'll get it," he offers. He catches the bartender's eye, and a second later he's sliding a beer across the bar to him.

  "No charge," the bartender says, but Austen slides a few bucks over for a tip anyway.

  "Come on," Austen says, nodding toward a door in the corner of the bar. I follow him, noticing he's still getting looks from the people around us. Especially the women, who let their eyes trail across his broad shoulders and muscular arms before looking away. I take a sip of my beer, feeling a bit invisible.

  We emerge from the dimly lit bar into a bright, high-ceilinged space. At the center is a cage like the one at Big Rig's, and there are tiers of wooden platform set up around it in a square with rows of benches on each one. People are milling around and many of the seats are already taken, but Austen finds us a couple free ones just a few rows back from the cage.

  "It's exciting to be with you while you watch your first fight," he whispers into my ear, and I shiver as I feel his warm breath on me.

  "Well, I did see you fight last week," I remind him.

  "Thank god I won."

  "From what I hear, there wasn't much of a chance that you'd lose. Harold told me you have a shot at getting into the AFF."

  He nods. "Just waiting for the right opportunity." As he finishes his sentence, the lights suddenly dim and the music kicks up. "There'll be a couple of fights before the main one," he says, raising his voice so I can hear him.

  A speaker crackles and an announcer's voice comes on. "Ladies and gentlemen," he intones, "welcome to Cage Warrior's Fight Night! We've got three great matchups for you tonight!" The lights focus on one corner of the room while the announcement continues, "For our first fight of the night, in our lightweight division, weighing in at one hundred and fifty-three pounds, put your hands together for Viktor Delov!"

  A shirtless man in tight shorts enters followed by two other men who pound on his back. He shadowboxes as he makes his way to a door in the cage and enters, jogging around as the crowd cheers.

  "That's a lightweight?" I ask Austen, surprised by the man's impressive musculature.

  "Yeah, he's not really one fifty-three, though. He's probably at least one sixty-five right now, but just cut for weigh-in," he explains, and I nod, thinking of how Harold told me that Duke doesn't have his fighters cut weight.

  "And weighing in at one hundred and fifty-four pounds, get loud for Bruno Almas!" Another man enters in the same fashion, raising his arms as he reaches the cage to greet the crowd. A referee in a black and white-striped shirt enters the cage and closes it behind him as the fighters retreat to their corners and exchange a few last words with their coaches.

  Two girls in hot pants and gold bikini tops walk around the floor next to the raised cage, holding posters over their heads that read "1". Seems a little silly, since I doubt anyone's in danger of not realizing that it's the first round. I could swear I see one of them glance at Austen and me a second too long, but the lights are darting everywhere now and it's hard to tell. As the lights refocus on the stage, I watch the two girls meet toward one of the far corners of the cage.

  "It'll be three rounds, five minutes each. Not five rounds, like the AFF," Austen whispers in my ear as the music cuts out and the audience leans forward expectantly. I'm certainly feeling the tension in the air, but it's more due to the fact that the girls are now whispering to each other and nodding in our direction. "Almas has a longer reach, but I hear Delov's been working hard on his jits," he continues, eyeing the fighters.

  "Uh-huh," I reply distractedly. The bell dings loudly and my attention snaps back to the stage. As the fight gets underway, I find myself watching without absorbing anything, despite Austen supplying me with a constant stream of information about what's going on. Maybe the girls are just big fans of his? Ugh, even I can tell I'm reaching.

  As soon as the first round is done, I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. I need to be by myself for a minute to get a handle on how I feel. I follow a sign to the ladies' room, which is just back inside the bar area. There are a handful of women already standing in line, so I lean on the wall behind the last one.

  Of course a guy like Austen would have a lot of female admirers, and plenty of ex-girlfriends, too. I can't expect him to have never dated before I c
ame along. I catch myself chewing the inside of my lip and shake my head. I take a deep breath once I'm inside the stall and resolve to not worry about anything yet. It's too early on in the relationship to freak out.

  I walk back toward the fight shaking my hands dry and promising myself that I'll enjoy the rest of the evening.

  "Excuse me? Hey!" I glance around, realizing someone's trying to get my attention. "Over here!" My gaze falls on the two scantily clad ring girls. They're leaning with their round 2 posters by the edge of the nearest bleacher, and they're beckoning me over. Shit. Something tells me they're not about to give me their blessing.

  I reluctantly walk over, not knowing what else to do. They glance at each other and the taller one, a pretty, if overly made-up, blonde steps forward.

  "You're here with Austen Riggins, right?" she asks me.

  "Yeah," I admit, trying not to sound defensive right off the bat.

  "Look, I know how this is going to sound, but we just wanted to warn you about him."

  "Warn me?" I ask incredulously.

  "We've just never seen you around here before, so you might not know his reputation," she goes on, and I shrug as though it doesn't matter to me, but inside I'm hanging on her every word. "He's a player. A big one. He's slept with everyone."

  "You?" I challenge her, wondering if this is just jealousy talking.

  "Yeah," she confirms.

  "And me," the other one pipes up from behind her. Oh, boy. "I mean, at the time I didn't think we were just sleeping together. I thought we were dating."

  "That's the thing," the blonde chimes in, "he's so charming, he makes you feel like you're the only one. And maybe we were all hoping it's true, you know? Ignoring what was going on because—"

  "—he's so fucking hot," the other one completes her thought. I wince, hearing almost my exact words to Maya earlier in the night repeated back to me like this. "The two of us finally decided we'd had enough. And when we saw you with him tonight… we just thought we should tell you. Before you get attached."

  I can tell by the disappointment pooling in my stomach that it's already too late for that. I nod and try to force a small smile.

  "Thanks for letting me know," I say and begin to walk away.

  "You alright?" the blonde asks worriedly.

  "Oh yeah, I'm fine," I assure her. "It's only our first date anyway."

  Chapter Eight

  I see Austen glance over from the driver's seat as we head back from the fight. I'm trying my best to be casual and can feel myself failing miserably. Unlike our drive that began the night, our conversation has felt stilted and strained.

  "You're being quiet," he finally remarks.

  "Am I?" I ask innocently. Too soon to bring up what the ring girls said, my brain commands my twitching mouth. It's only your first date.

  Suddenly he pulls over to the side of the road and turns off the engine. "OK, what's up?" he demands, turning to face me. I reluctantly pull my gaze from the dashboard at look him in the eyes. I sigh inwardly. He's so handsome…

  "Do you know those ring girls at the fight tonight?" I ask.

  "Yes. I went out with both of them," he answers matter-of-factly.

  "Oh. I didn't expect you to be so honest about it," I reply, feeling thrown.

  "Look, I know I've got something of a reputation in certain circles. All I can tell you is, around when I turned eighteen or so, I got a little girl crazy, and now I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. I would never have asked you out if I weren't."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you're different than the girls I usually sleep – go out with," he corrects himself. "Smarter, for one thing. And if I were intending on playing a girl right now, I wouldn't choose one I lived in the same house with," he points out. "I mean, just imagine the logistical problems."

  "Uh-huh," I murmur, not entirely convinced.

  "I know how I come off," he says more quietly. "Charming, earnest, the good guy. And I used that to my advantage for a while. But it was all on the surface. You have that goodness through and through. It's like it leaks from your pores. Maybe I'm hoping I'll absorb a little. I want to actually be who people think I am."

  I watch him frown down at the steering wheel, picking at a fraying piece of leather at the bottom of it. I've never heard him talk to anyone like this before, and he sounds like he's being honest.

  "Alright," I say.

  "Alright?" he repeats, turning toward me.

  "Alright, you can take me on a second date," I tell him with a little smile. He grins boyishly and leans forward.

  "Come here," he breathes, taking the bottom hem of my t-shirt in his hand and slowly pulling me toward him. I feel my body light up in anticipation before our lips even touch. He runs his bottom lip across mine teasingly, before moving his hand around the back of my head and really pressing his mouth against mine. I quiver as his tongue moves deep into my mouth and I reciprocate, our tongue probing against each other's.

  I feel his other hand move around my waist, trailing a finger against my skin just over the top of my jeans. His mouth breaks away from mine and moves to my ear, sucking on my lobe before swirling his tongue around the inside. I moan as he moves his hand from my head down my chest, firmly cupping my breast and massaging it with his strong fingers. His head moves back and he leans forward to make contact with my mouth again, but his seatbelt clicks, holding him back.

  My eyes fly open and I can't help but suppress a giggle, turned on as I am. He grins back at me and blows out a steadying stream of air from his mouth.

  "Probably just as well," he murmurs regretfully. "I wouldn't have been able to hold myself back much longer, and the first time we have sex is definitely not going to be on the side of the road."

  I'm struck speechless for a moment. He's being presumptuous, but then again I can't deny how much I want him, too. I clear my throat as I attempt to recover. "I'd sort of forgotten where we were," I admit as he adjusts his jeans and I catch a glimpse of a sizable bulge in his pants. His hand moves to the key and he restarts the car.

  "Me, too," he agrees, and pulls back out onto the road. When we get back to the house, he pulls into the garage and reaches his hand toward my cheek. "You've got a little lip gloss…" he explains with a smile as he rubs it from the outside of my lip.

  We get out of the car, each smoothing our clothes and looking at our reflections in the car windows to check for any other signs of our side-of-the-road exploits, and then head inside. As we walk through the kitchen, it's clear from the turned off lights on the first floor that our parents have gone to bed. We walk toward the foyer and he stops in front of the door to the basement.

  "Goodnight," he whispers, planting a soft kiss on my lips. He lingers there for a moment, and I wonder if he's going to ask me to come downstairs with him, but he pulls away.

  "Goodnight," I reply, and hear him shut the door behind him as I turn the corner to head upstairs. About midway up, I hear the sound of water running and begin to tiptoe. I don't know why exactly, but I suppose I feel deep down that I'm breaking the rules.

  I stop just before the last step as I see the bathroom door ajar. Logan's standing shirtless in front of the mirror, a pair of athletic shorts hanging low on his hips. I let my eyes trail over the tattoo that spreads across his right pec and then winds around his shoulder. He bends over, spitting out the toothpaste in his mouth, and as he stands up, my eyes wander down across his sculpted ab muscles to the happy trail under his belly button, surrounded by the sharp “V” of his hips. I'm so transfixed that I don't realize that he's staring at me in the mirror's reflection.

  "Like what you see?" he asks drily.

  "I…I…" I stutter, walking up the final step to the hallway outside of the bathroom door. "I was just waiting to brush my teeth," I lie.

  "I'm all done," he says, wiping his hands on the towel hanging next to the sink.

  "Oh, I have your book, by the way," I say, trying to recover the situation. I walk quickly into my ro
om and grab it from off the bed. When I turn around, he's leaning on my doorjamb, arms crossed over his bare torso.

  "Not your cup of tea?" he asks as I hand it to him. I catch a slightly smug smile cross his lips and frown.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I just thought, you know…" he searches my face for a second as though to see if I've caught on yet.

  "I read the whole thing," I continue defensively.

  "Great," he says with a shrug, then turns to go.

  "Hey, no," I sputter. "Why did you assume I wouldn't like it?"

  He stops and stares at me for a moment. "Because this book is about people doggedly pursuing their passion. Doing whatever it takes to be successful. I don't really think that describes you."

  His words hit me like a ton of bricks. "I'm going to cosmetology school in the fall. I'm going to be successful at that," I point out.

  "Right. Cosmetology school," he says with a barely perceptible snort.

  "What's wrong with being a hairdresser?" I demand, my anger flaring.

  "Nothing," he replies calmly. "If that’s your passion. But it's not yours."

  "You…how would you know?" I gasp at his presumptuousness.

  "I guess I thought it was pretty clear you're only doing it because your mom wants you to. And you do most things just to make her happy."

  "That's not true," I argue, even as I feel a ring of truth in his words.

  His hazel eyes pierce right through mine. "You don't really want to be a hairdresser. You took the job at the gym and didn't even tell her you knew she'd set it up. I think you're so used to it that you don't even know if you're doing things because your mom wants you to, or because you want to."

  I grit my teeth to suppress the cry I feel forming in my throat. "It must be nice to walk around feeling like you're smarter than everyone else," I blurt out, wanting to sting him back. I see his eyes dilate momentarily, but then he just shrugs. "Goodnight. Thanks for the book."

  He watches me for a moment longer and then turns and walks out the door. I close it quickly behind him, remembering at the last second not to slam it because our parents are just down the hall.