by Lynn Rider
“Don’t apologize Mia. It’s not your cross to bear,” he says, pushing back enough to look down, locking his gaze on mine. He leans in, I close my eyes and his lips softly press against my forehead. He steps back, releasing his hold and I silently whimper at the loss of the kiss I had desperately wanted. I don’t know what Chance’s interest in me is. I’ve spent the last couple years of my life scrutinizing every decision and for once, I just don’t have the energy or desire to pick this apart. He clears his throat. “I don’t have much food here. I need to go to the gym first thing, but we can go to the store when I get back home.”
Another pang of disappointment hits me in the chest. He opens the refrigerator and hangs on the door, pulling out the drawers and closing them quickly. “I can make us a kick ass grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he turns smiling, holding a block of cheese.
“You can make kick ass grilled cheese and tomato soup?” I tease, knowing what he’s doing. Twice in the matter of the last two hours, Chance has let his guard down. It’s obvious it’s not a comfortable place for him to go, but he does and then this side of him comes out. I like the adorable Chance, but if I’m being honest, I want to know everything there is about this man and the little snapshots of his painful past are as much a part of him as the one standing in front of me with a smile. I’ll take it all…even if it is just for one night.
“No, I said kick ass grilled cheese, there’s nothing kick ass about my can tomato soup,” He chuckles, tossing the cheese on the counter and disappearing through a door. “Just don’t tell Vic I’m eating this shit.”
“Who’s Vic?”
“He’s my trainer, my manager, kind of like the father I never had,” his muffled voice comes out from the doorway, this time holding bread and two small cans of soup.
“Tell me about him.” I slide up on the counter.
“He’s mean as shit.” Chance laughs and regardless of his words, it’s obvious there’s nothing but love for the man. “He’s old school in every sense of the word. You should see his office. He’s got this old office chair they probably made sixty years ago and his phone…” he pauses with a chuckle. “It’s the kind with the rotary dial. They probably quit making those before I was born! It’s amazing that thing still works. Guy won’t buy a cell phone and don’t get me started on his truck.” He laughs again.
Chance goes on and on about Vic while we eat, telling me how the old man saved him, from what he believes would have been eventual death to their training today. His excitement is contagious, engaging, and before I realize, I have a genuinely happy smile on my face as I’ve forgotten all about my own disastrous life while envisioning this old grumpy grey-haired guy with bushy eyebrows and a cigar hanging from his mouth, wearing a track suit.
“So, what you’re saying is, he doesn’t give up on anything,” I say questionably in conclusion of hearing the stories about Vic. Chance’s eyes watch me in that way that has already become familiar and then smiles.
“That’s exactly the kind of guy he is. Fuck knows where I’d be if he gave up on me.”
I glance around the house. “Something tells me you’d be okay.”
“No, I wouldn’t be. It was Vic that let me believe I could do this. I may know it now, but I didn’t back then.”
“He sounds like a great guy.” I smile, a small part of me wishing I could meet him.
“He’s the best. They don’t make men like him anymore.”
My cell phone rings from my purse and I look at the time. It’s late. “It’s probably my sister.”
“Do you want to get it?”
“I’ll call her back in a little while. I should get to bed. Can you show me where I’m sleeping?” That’s probably one of the most awkward sentences ever muttered from my mouth. I’ve just had the most amazing night with Chance McKnight, I’m staying in his house and I ask…where am I sleeping?
“Sure, let me get your bag,” he says and if I don’t know better, a look of disappointment briefly flashed across his face.
Chance leads me into an upstairs guest room after pointing out which room is his. He doesn’t walk more than a few feet inside and I think that’s probably for the best, but part of me wishes he’d make the first move. It somehow seems less sleazy—at least in my mind. He sets the bag just inside the doorway and steps back into the hall. “You have your own bathroom; there are towels and stuff in the cabinets. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” He leans in, kissing my cheek and walks away.
“Mia?” he calls out.
“Yeah?” I step back out in the hall.
“I had a good time tonight.” He winks and drops down the stairs, not waiting for my reply.
“Me too,” I whisper to the empty hall before returning to the bedroom. I step inside, close the door, and lean against its surface, torn on what to do. My phone rings again and I sigh. Audrey will know what to do. If there’s one thing she is an expert on, it’s one-night stands.
“Hey,” I say on the last ring, hoping I’ve caught her in time. I land on the soft bed and lean back against the pillows.
“What did you decide to do?” Her question brings the reality of my situation front and center. And there are no Chance McKnight’s in my reality. And certainly no carefree one-night stands. There’s packing that needs to be done and miles that need to be put between St. Louis and me. It’s the only way to save my life.
“I’m going to leave in the morning, but I ran into a problem today.”
“What?” she asks anxiously.
“I had my power shut off, so my place is dark and cold.” I decide to bypass my run-in with Paul. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m safe under Chance’s roof for the night and when I get home tomorrow, I’ll be on the road, heading south and away from Paul before nightfall.
“Shit, are you freezing your tits off right now? I just saw on the news where that storm is moving in faster than they predicted—”
“What?” I sit up from the bed.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to get out of there by lunch time at the latest. You don’t want to be on the roads after that.”
“Fuck!” I whisper yell wondering how I can get home and start packing now. I step to the window and the start of snow is falling, dusting the ground in a white powder.
“Can you leave now and at least get a few hours south?”
“No, I’m not packed and I’m not home.”
“Where are you?”
“Chance’s.” I cringe when she squeals.
“Holy fuck, Mia! You don’t mess around, bypassing the bodyguard and moving right onto the rich dude. That’s genius! He can buy your way out of your debt—”
“My debt?”
“You know what I mean,” she scoffs before continuing. “This couldn’t have worked out better if you’d tried. Wait…did you try? Did you find him? If you did, you are one resourceful bitch. I’ve never given you enough credit.” She laughs.
My mind flits to Chance and can affirmatively say I did not find him. He found me, barreling into my life like a dark knight and has wedged himself there ever since. I didn’t want to come upstairs tonight. I would have stayed down there and listened to anything he had to say, but I found myself drifting into a fantasy of having him in my life, so it’s best for my heart that I did.
“Mia…” Audrey sings. “Are you there or are you distracted by that sexy fucking boxer? God Mia, what are the fucking odds that you land Chance McKnight?” Audrey sounds pleased with this turn of events, but I’m not so sure because as much as I feel safe here, I’m not willing to involve him in my shit and certainly not Audrey’s.
“I’m not distracted by him and I didn’t land him. I’m in my own guest room—”
“Are you fucking crazy? Some of the girls at the club have been trying to get with him for months…maybe even years, Mia! Gigi came close, according to her…is that even true? I felt like she was always full of shit. Anyway, you’re in a guest room when you could be in his bed?” A jealous st
reak spears through me at the thought of Gigi touching Chance.
“He just happened to be at my house today when the power company turned off my power and he felt bad for me.”
“Chance McKnight doesn’t feel bad for people, Mia. He hardly speaks to anyone except that big guy and his friend Eric, Jimmy’s nephew. They’re like his only two friends in the world.”
“How do you know so much?”
“I notice things, I’m a noticer.” She giggles and I smile, loving the sound of it. It reminds me of the teenage Audrey. Before we lost her. “And why was he at your house?”
“I don’t even know. We didn’t really talk. The power got shut off and he said I could stay with him,” I lie. I’m getting good at that these days.
“Did you tell him you’re leaving?”
“No.”
“Why’s that Mia?”
“It never came up, okay?”
“Uh-huh. You need to go bed that sexy fucking beast.” She giggles and hangs up.
I look toward the door, no less torn now than I was before her call.
19
Chance
I swear my dick knows Mia’s in the house, because as hard as I try to get it to soften, it won’t. I’ve tossed and turned for the last two hours, knowing she’s within my grasp, but realizing she’s not at the same time. I roll over and sit up, punching my pillow into a ball before lying back, wedging it under my neck. I’m not a person who sleeps a lot anyway, but tonight I think sleep may completely elude me.
I wasn’t lying to Mia when I said another woman has never been here. Truth is, other than Smith, the boys, and my housekeeper, there are never any visitors. Even Vic’s only ever been here a handful of times…and my buddy Eric? Never. Maybe it’s because of the revolving door I had on my house growing up. I’ve never taken the time to try and analyze it, but when she asked, I was painfully aware how little I interact with others. I wished in that moment I could’ve at least been the guy that claimed their mother was the only woman in their life—chicks love that shit—but I couldn’t lie to her so I gave her another piece of the real Chance McKnight.
I’m sure it made me sound like a pathetic pussy with mommy issues, but there’s something about Mia that has me wanting to open up. Maybe it’s the way she looked at me without judgment or pity when I told her about my first fight or maybe it was the way she surprised the hell out of me with her attempt to comfort me, standing in my own kitchen. There’s something so soft and genuine about her that has me wanting to tell her everything. Maybe she’s the one who can make me forget.
Tossing the covers aside, I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Not waiting for the water to heat fully, I step under the spray and immediately grab my cock, stroking to find my release. It doesn’t take long. One memory of Mia’s beautiful tits, swinging around that pole…my load shoots and I groan from deep within my chest. I quickly wash, knowing this wasn’t a shower because I was dirty, but a means to an end. I had a problem. Now I don’t.
I dry off, throw on a pair of flannel pajama pants, and head downstairs to watch the video footage Vic gave me three days ago.
With nothing but the television on, I slide the DVD in the player and sit back on the couch. The fight starts and I turn down the sound, not wanting to wake up Mia.
By the second round, I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, studying everything Perez does. He’s like lightening on his feet, quick with his strikes, his recovery just as fast. He’s going to be a son of a bitch to beat.
Movement catches my attention and I hit pause.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Mia says standing in the edge of darkness. She’s wearing a long-sleeved nightgown that stops just above her knees. Not the kind anyone would consider sexy, but just seeing her bare legs and exposed pink painted toes has my dick swelling under my flannel.
“You’re not. Did I wake you?”
She shakes her head. “I couldn’t sleep.” She crosses her arms over her waist.
“You cold?” I ask, fighting the urge to look at her nipples.
“Yeah.”
“Come here,” I say, holding up my arm. She surprises the hell out of me when she walks over, sidles up next to me in a ball and slides under the crook of my arm. I grab Brandon’s Superman blanket that he left hanging on the couch and cover her, reclining us both against the cushions. “Is this okay?” I ask and she nods, snuggling deeper against my side.
“Superman?” she asks and I chuckle.
“My brother, Brandon’s.”
“Oh, that makes sense. You’re more of a Batman in my book.” She laughs softly and I back away enough to look down and meet her eyes.
“Batman?”
“He’s darker, more mysterious than Superman, but still a good guy.” She drapes her arm over my bare abs and lays her head on my chest, as if she’s embarrassed of her confession. I squeeze her a little closer. I’ve never been one to cuddle; seen it in movies, but it’s never been my thing. I smile, liking the feel of this and wondering if this could be my thing after all. I press resume on the fight and begin watching. With Mia wrapped around me, the flowery scent of her hair, it’s hard to focus, but I pretend. It’s not like I won’t watch this fight and all his other’s dozens of times in the next couple months anyway.
“That’s not you,” she says after another round.
“I’m watching the guy in the black trunks. His name is Manuel Perez. He’s my next opponent.”
“Do you understand what we’re watching without the sound?” she asks and I laugh, squeezing her cute ass closer.
“I understand what I’m looking at without it, but if you’d rather hear it, I’ll turn it up.”
“Nope, as long as you’re okay, I’m okay,” she states. I wish she meant it in more ways than just the television volume.
“Tell me what’s happening. Why are you watching him?”
“Studying your opponent teaches you their moves. This guy is fast. See how he makes the guy in red follow him around the ring? His opponent ends up throwing twice as many strikes, but percentage wise, lands less. He tires them out by toying with them. I’ll need to, at minimum, match Perez’s stamina and make sure when I strike, they count. He’s quick to evade and his hits…they’re on target. Statistically, he’s connecting thirty-two percent of the time. I connect at a rate of thirty-eight, which isn’t much better.”
“You got all that from that?” She tips her chin toward the large screen.
I smile. “Not the connection statistics, but the rest. Learning their moves is part of my job. I’ll watch this fight and all his others in the next few weeks to learn his about his style, his nuances, anything that will help to better prepare me so that I’m ready when I step into that ring with him.”
“And here I thought you just stepped in that ring and tried to beat the shit out of your opponent,” she says.
I laugh. “There’s definitely a lot of that, but there’s much more that goes into it leading up to that point.”
“Have you ever been hurt?”
“Yes.” She looks up and our eyes meet in the flickering light of the television. She leans up, uncurling from the tight ball she was sitting in and I pull her around me, guiding her to straddle my lap. I feel the weight of her body against my cock as it grows under her. I brush the hair from her face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Mia. It physically hurts to not touch you.”
“Then touch me,” she whispers, putting my hand on the thin cotton covering her tits. I’ve seen her tits, imagined what they feel like, but nothing compares to actually holding them in my hands. I palm their softness, delicately pinching her hardened nipples through the fabric. “I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt, Chance.”
I lean in. “I like that you don’t like that idea, Mia,” I whisper, my lips softy grazing hers as I speak. I close my grip around her tits, feeling their full size in my hand. “Now that I’m touching you, I may never want to stop.” I look up, my hands still
full of her fabric-covered flesh.
“Then don’t,” she breathes just before she closes the distance, crashing her lips to mine. Her lips are soft and eager as they work with mine. Our tongues meet, exploring, tasting each other for the first time and it’s fucking amazing. I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman this bad. I usually find the act too personal so I skip it all together, but this…this is everything. I push deeper into her mouth, unable to get enough.
“Chance,” she cries in a breathless whimper as she begins rocking against my hard cock. I grab her ass, urging her to grind on its length.
“I want to hear you come. I need to see you fall apart above me,” I murmur, lifting her nightgown and flicking her nipple with my tongue before wrapping my lips around it.
“Chance,” she breathes again and my hunger takes over. I need to hear it, see it. I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit under the scrap of lace panties she’s wearing. When she rocks faster, I press harder on her swollen nub and then slide deeper between her folds. Her lips find mine again. This time her kiss is more urgent, greedy, like she’s chasing the orgasm and wants all parts of me on her. I’ll gladly oblige. “Chance, please,” she moans and slows her pace. She’s still close, I can feel it, her rock-like clit telling of her body’s secret. She wants to be in control and I’ll give her that. I lift my thumb from inside her panties and coat her lip with her juices. When she sucks it into her mouth, I almost come. “Please, fuck me Chance. Make me forget.” She slams her lips against mine. When I taste her in our kiss, paired with those words, I lose the control I just promised myself I’d give her.
I flip her over, landing her back against the couch and yank her panties from her body. I spread her legs and dive between them, landing directly in her slit. There’s no subtlety, no finesse within my touch, just a primal need to have more of her. I fuck her with my tongue, licking the length of her opening, circling her clit and diving back in, doing it all over again.
