by Abby Niles
“Just a little.” He caressed her cheek. “I loved your ‘Don’t let the mind stop you’ comment, by the way.”
Pleasure rippled in her chest. He hadn’t just watched, he’d listened. And he’d picked up on the one line she tried to adhere to daily—unless Dante was involved. Her mind was her worst enemy there, but she’d beaten the can’t-do-it thought process before, and she would again.
“I had an instructor say that in one of my classes about three months after I joined the Y. I was so close to quitting again and his words inspired me.” She started toward the exit. Dante fell into step beside her. “It’s amazing how much your mind can work against you. But those words reached deep inside and made me determined to succeed. I stopped worrying about what everyone else thought when they saw me work out. Instead, I concentrated on me and my workout. My intensity level went up after that, and I started to love working out.”
“So you decided to start a fitness program to help other people who are trying to lose weight?” He kept his attention on her while they walked through the Y and outside.
“It wasn’t just to help them lose weight. I wanted to give them a place to go so they don’t feel dissected by everyone around them. Everyone in the class is facing the same struggle, so I’m hoping my program will give them an environment to succeed from the get-go instead of having to wake up everyday and talk themselves into going to the gym.”
He grasped her hand and tugged her to sit beside him on a bench by the entrance. She stared at his thumb rubbing up and down on hers, feeling the warmth of the movement heat her skin.
“Did you want such a place?”
Inhaling, she dragged her gaze from their entwined fingers up to his eyes. “I did. I even tried working out at home, but I needed guidance, so I forced myself to the gym every day and never felt comfortable.”
“Why?”
“It felt like everyone who looked at me was thinking I didn’t belong here. It took me a long time to accept that it wasn’t them thinking that, it was me.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
“No, not anymore. Occasionally, an incident will knock my confidence, even as far as I’ve come, but it’s much easier to let it go now than it was before.”
“Like what?”
Was she really telling him all this? Why was it suddenly so easy to open up to him and let him in?
“A few months ago, I took a class given by a new instructor. It was only her second day, so we hadn’t crossed paths yet. After the class, she came up to me, patted me on the shoulder, and congratulated me on how well I’d kept up. She then proceeded to tell me if I kept up the good work, I’d be thin in no time.”
Dante reared back, scowling. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s the honest to God truth. She didn’t say it out of malice. I knew she was trying to be encouraging, but I was stunned, so all I could do was smile and thank her. A couple of days later, after she realized who I was, she apologized.” Cait shook her head. “I’m not sure which was worse, what she said or her apologizing for what she thought.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand.
“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. In the end, the encounter gave me even more validation that I was doing the right thing by starting this program.”
“How’s the program set up?”
“Right now, I have two beginner classes five days a week. One in the morning and one in the evening. In twelve weeks, I’ll add a more advanced class.”
“What about diet plans?”
She shook her head. “I decided against that. We’ll have biweekly meetings with a Q&A session afterward. I’ll give them the basics, and for those who want to be in a program, I’ll offer some options, but which program they choose is up to them.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier having them all on the same plan?”
“Does every fighter follow the same training workout?”
“Well, no. Every fighter has a different area he has to focus on more.”
“And that is why I decided against a structured diet plan. What worked for me might not work for them. They need to find the diet that fits their lifestyle. If I give them the plan I followed and they hate it, I’m setting them up for failure. God knows how many I tried before I found one I wasn’t miserable on. They have to do the same.”
“How many had you tried?”
“Dante, I’ve always been overweight.” Sighing, she gestured at her body. “This is the smallest I’ve ever been. How many do you think I’ve tried?”
“It’s a big change for you, isn’t it?”
Cait laughed. “That’s an understatement. I’m starting over, especially with—” she paused, then sighed—“men. I haven’t dated much.”
There. She’d said it. It was out.
He remained silent, studying her intently. What was he thinking? Was he realizing just how green she was? Did he regret asking her out now?
His grip on her hand tightened, his face serious. “Thanks for letting me in, Caitlyn.”
He leaned closer to her, and just like that the ease she felt talking to him combusted to an all-out awareness. The side of his thigh and hip pressed into hers. Their shoulders brushed. When he tugged her hand to turn her upper body toward him, her breath caught.
“It means a lot to me that you shared this with me.”
He brushed his lips against hers before leaning his forehead against hers. “I have a sparring session with Mike in twenty minutes. I have to go, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you.”
Her breath seized tight in her chest. Oh, man. “It’s okay. I understand. You have to train.”
He squeezed her hand before capturing another brief kiss. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
As he walked away, she rubbed her bottom lip. She could get very used to kissing Dante. She only hoped kissing was all he had in mind tonight.
Chapter Nine
“What do you think?” Cait turned uncertainly, viewing every angle in the mirror. The light jeans skirt hit her mid-thigh while the black halter-top showed way too much of her upper body. She felt virtually naked, and she didn’t like it at all.
She threw up her hands. “I’m not ready to wear something like this!”
Groaning, Paul shook his head and shifted on her bed. “Sure you are. You’re gorgeous.”
“I shouldn’t have allowed you to pick my outfit.”
“Why? Scared you’ll get laid tonight?”
Cait whirled. “I most certainly will not get laid tonight.”
She refused to consider the possibility. So many different emotions tore at her at the mere idea of sleeping with Dante. Fear. Horror. Excitement. Want. She couldn’t even think about the last two until she eliminated the first two. Hopefully, tonight would help.
“Whatever you say, Cait. My guess is Muscle Man will be itching to get into your pants the minute he sees you.” He waved toward her. “Therefore, the skirt. It’ll help him reach his goal more easily.”
“Is that seriously why you have me in a skirt?”
“What can I say, it’s been a long time and a good fu—”
“Don’t you even say it!”
She didn’t want to think about the word, let alone the actual physical act.
But it was too late. Images she had no business picturing slammed at her mind. Dante behind her. Dante between her legs. Dante inside her. Lust pooled low in her stomach and sent tingles racing into her lower anatomy. Oh, she was doomed.
“You’re thinking about it!”
Paul’s accusation snapped her out of her fantasies. “Shut up.” She undid the button on her skirt. “I’m not wearing this.”
“Oh, yes you are.”
“You can’t make me.”
“You wanna bet? Don’t wear it, and I’m parking my ass on your couch until lover boy gets here. Then I’ll let him make the decision.”
“Come on, Paul. Let me wear jeans.”
“I thought you were trying
to change.”
“I am! But that doesn’t mean I have to flaunt my butt in ‘A come and get it’ skirt. I’m not ready to encourage that. Just the other night I wore baggy sweats and shirt to discourage him. Now I’m wearing this. Talk about sending mixed signals.”
“Trust me. He’s going to like this signal. A lot.”
A lot. Dante had said the same thing. She glanced at the mirror and recalled the desire she’d glimpsed in his eyes as he took in her night attire. More skin was visible then than what she showed now. So Paul was probably right. He’d like this, too.
“Hey, Cait—” Amy rushed into Cait’s room and stopped dead. “Oh my God, you’re gorgeous.”
Well, that clinched it. Cait faced her friend. “You think?”
“Jeez, Dante won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
“Told you,” Paul said with a smirk.
Cait bit her lip. Her attraction to Dante was fierce, but what if her insecurities won out when things got heated tonight? And she didn’t doubt things would get heated. Was it fair to him to wear a tempting outfit, then beg off when the passion got too hot? Would he think her nothing but a tease?
The fates decided for her. The doorbell rang. Her gaze flew to the radio clock on her nightstand.
6:58.
Oh, God. Dante. She fumbled with the button on her skirt.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Paul jumped to his feet at the same time Amy rushed to her. The two grabbed her arms and dragged her from her room. Paul slammed the door behind them and braced his body against it.
“Come on. Please.”
“Not on your life. You’re wearing the damned skirt.”
The doorbell rang again. A heavy sensation squeezed her chest and made it difficult to draw a breath.
Paul rolled his eyes. “For God sakes, Cait, it’s just a skirt, not the end of the world.”
The doorbell rang with more persistence, as if Dante were holding down the buzzer.
“He’s going to leave, thinking you ditched him,” Amy said, crossing her arms. “You want that? ’Cause I don’t think you do.”
No, damn it, she didn’t.
“Fine.” Cait pushed past her friends and walked to the door. She would pretend their date was no big deal. That she was cool as a freaking cucumber and nothing fazed her. As she reached for the doorknob, she closed her eyes and inhaled. The piercing sound of the bell jerked her into action, and she opened the blasted door.
”Hey—” All thoughts of feigning nonchalance died on her lips. A bouquet of beautiful daisies greeted her.
Don’t you cry.
Dante stepped over the threshold. Confidence oozed from his relaxed posture. Damn him.
“My gut told me you would prefer these over roses.” He held out the flowers.
His gut was right. She hated roses. They were fancy and frivolous, but daisies, flowers that could be picked in a field of wildflowers, were something different. Something special. His ability to pick up such a detail about her, after only a short acquaintance, unnerved her.
She took the flowers. “Thank you. I’ll get a vase.”
Cait turned and spied her friends standing in the hallway, their arms crossed, happy smiles on their faces. Amy mouthed, “Have fun.” Then she and Paul disappeared into Amy’s room.
Dante followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame. “You’re breathtaking, Caitlyn.”
Desire flared in his eyes. He meant it. This wasn’t a comment to calm her frazzled nerves, but an earnest statement of truth. She fought a smile. “Thank you.”
He pushed off the door frame and came to stand in front of her. The combed cotton fabric of his black shirt molded to his chest, clearly defining his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His biceps bulged beneath the straining fabric of his short sleeves. So big. So overwhelming. Cait swallowed.
Dante caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Heat fired her skin, and she couldn’t help but rub against his hand. “God, Caitlyn. You’re making it very hard for me to be gentlemanly.”
His words startled her. She stepped away from him, confused at her easy surrender to his touch. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not complaining. I just don’t want to push you for more than you’re ready to give.”
That comforted her. “Let’s see where the night takes us. No promises, no commitments. Just get to know each other.”
A slow grin spread over his lips. “I’d like that.”
“So where are you taking me?”
Once in a blue moon, Cait went on the traditional boring date that an average Joe took a girl on. Restaurant. Movie. Maybe a peck on the lips at the door.
Why she’d expected the same from Dante, she’d never know. Dante was anything but average or traditional.
Cait squealed as a man picked up his opponent and dropped him on the canvas with a booming thud. Squeezing her eyes closed, she blocked out the awful sight. She hated this.
“You okay?” Dante asked.
“No.”
He cupped the back of her neck and rubbed the muscles. The sudden touch made her tense even more. He paused in his motion, then pulled his hand away.
“No, don’t stop.” She sent him a shy smile. “I liked it.”
His pupils dilated as a crooked grin curved his lips. “Yeah? Well, I like touching you.”
Wow. A stuttered breath shot past her lips as her heart thumped. When he replaced his hand, she closed her eyes and relaxed into his palm, enjoying the feel of his fingers kneading her nape. Sighing in pleasure, she craned her neck to the side, allowing him better access.
She heard a harsh breath from Dante. “Jesus, woman.”
Her eyes popped open. His face was dark with a fierce expression she couldn’t decipher. “What?”
Dante shook his head. “You really have no clue, do you?”
“About what?”
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “How fucking hot you make me.”
Her nipples immediately puckered, and an ache pulsed to life between her legs. No one had ever said anything like that to her. And it was thrilling.
Dante straightened and returned his attention to the fight as he continued rubbing her neck.
“Remember, these guys love to fight,” he said.
How could he think about the fight after what he’d just said? Her attention was still focused on his whispered confession and the memory of his warm breath heating her ear. Girl, focus. She forced her gaze back to the cage. “But why? It has to be painful.”
As if to prove her point, the fighter in red shorts twisted the leg of the guy in black shorts into some kind of pretzel-looking move. At any moment, Cait was sure his leg would rip right off. Talk about a mood killer. She slapped her hands over her eyes, then peeked through spread fingers. “See!”
Dante chuckled and pulled her hands from her face. “These guys love every second of what they’re doing. Trust me. They want to be in that cage.”
Cage. So that was what they called the fence surrounding the octagon-shaped ring. Fitting.
“Watch them,” Dante insisted. “Tell me what you see.”
Both fighters were on their feet exchanging punches to any open body part. Disgusted, she winced. “Two men beating the bloody crap out of each other.”
A slight smile tilted his lips. “You know what I see?”
“What?”
“A fighter challenging himself against another highly trained opponent, just like any other sport.”
“Why not play baseball, then?” A sport that didn’t involve so much blood.
Dante laughed. “I can’t hit a ball to save my life, but I can throw a punch.”
“But it’s so violent.”
“To you it looks brutal and bloody. It’s not for the fighter. What you see as violent, I see as heart. The will to survive. The sport we play challenges a man in the most extreme way.”
Cait stared at the octagon. That made no sense. Maybe she wasn’t meant to understan
d. She was a woman. And, heaven help her, he was all man. Two very different mind frames.
The red-shorts fighter jabbed and caught the other on the chin. His head snapped back and he stumbled before catching his balance. Good God. She winced. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Well, yeah. Depending on the fight, I can be pretty beat up afterward.”
The black-shorts fighter retaliated by landing a kick to the other’s head, which knocked the red-shorts guy to the canvas. Cait’s stomach knotted at the brutality and the way the crowd cheered them on. “Why do people want to watch this?”
Dante quirked a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I can explain that. You’re at a football game and a fight breaks out in the stands.”
When he paused, Cait lifted her own brow. “Okay.”
His grin turned mischievous. “Which are you going to watch?”
All right, she got his point. “The fight.”
“Correct.”
Put that way, the huge fan base for MMA made sense. Not that she intended to join the ranks—she couldn’t even watch the men circle each other without flinching. Just the anticipation of witnessing a bone snap was too much to handle.
Cait pointed to the cage. “How do you feel when you’re in there?”
“Alive.”
And she sensed he did by the way he gazed longingly at the ring. Was he thinking about his upcoming fight?
“Are you ready for your match?”
His gaze swung to meet hers. “I still have some work to do with my ground game—”
“Ground game?”
“What they’re doing right now.” He jerked his head toward the spectacle in front of them.
Black shorts was sprawled across the upper chest of red shorts, who held his barely gloved hands up to protect his head from the blows his opponent was delivering to his temple.
“That’s called a half guard.”
Dante’s breath brushed her cheek. She brought her gaze back to his. He’d snaked his arm along the back of her stadium seat, leaning forward, their faces inches apart. Oh, man. Her breath caught. Dante crowding her definitely made her aware of him, especially when his eyes dropped to her mouth. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. A growl came from Dante.
