by Leigh, Ember
“I think I’m good on that one.”
“Great. You feel like you got a good workout?”
She stared at the ceiling, confusion knotting her belly. “Yeah, I think so. Have to say it’s a little less effective without you here.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t need me here all the time.”
She wished he’d look at her. Just give me that jolt one more time. “Sure, I don’t need you here…but it’s better if you’re here.”
He glanced down at her, looking perplexed. “Did you come yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and sniffed, looking across the room. He hopped up unexpectedly and tended to something a weight lifter needed. She propped herself up on her elbows, enjoying the break, desperate to get him near her again.
When he wandered back over, he seemed hesitant but fiery. His eyes were clouded with something unknown. “You mad I wasn’t here?”
“I dunno.” She yanked her eyes off him, toward anything else. “Why’d you come in tonight?”
“I forgot something for a meeting I have tomorrow.”
Business…of course. So his plan had been to avoid her entirely for a second night. Probably he was weaning them, letting the attraction fizzle and wither until it became unnoticeable, an unsavory blip in their mutual history.
“Will you help me do the leg pushes?” She lifted her brows, pleased by the sudden idea. If he wanted to ignore her, fine. She would go out with a bang, then.
He nodded, surveying the room as she hopped up and lay on a nearby wide bench. Lifting her legs in the air to make a T-angle, she waited for him to stand in front of her in just the right spot. Then she began the up and down leg lifts, helped by him propelling her feet back toward her as her legs neared the floor. Killer for the core and lower body.
“Okay, so can you tell me something”—she groaned through a rep—“from trainer to trainee?”
“What is it?” His face was unreadable—somewhere between perplexed and neutral.
“What are my”—she grunted as it grew harder to lift her legs—“my problem areas.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. What I should focus on. Weight loss, abs, thighs, I dunno.” The words were rolling off her tongue now. “Where I fall short.”
His face grew stern. “Amara, you’re fine. Just keep up your routine.”
“Oh, come on, Travis.” She did one more rep, then let her legs fall to the sides of the bench. Chest heaving, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You own a gym. You work with people in all stages of personal betterment every day. Tell me. What areas do I need to work on?”
He shot her a long glance that looked almost like a glare. “I told you already.”
“No, you didn’t. Don’t I need a flatter belly or a tighter ass?” She jiggled her thigh exaggeratedly. “Look at this. Doesn’t this need to tone up?”
He looked across the gym, then back down at her. “No.”
She pursed her lips, loving the spike in tension. She was totally happy with her body, but couldn’t he admit that too?
“Or my hips?” She rolled onto her side, showing the curve of her hip like a pinup model. “Don’t these need some work?”
His jaw flexed; he stared down at her with hooded eyes. “Amara.”
“Feel this.” She grabbed his hand and placed it over the swell of her hip. The touch of his skin warmed her. “I mean, honestly.”
This level of provocation was almost a drug. If only she could make him crack. If only he’d kiss her again.
His gaze swept across the gym to the remaining few patrons, and then he reached down to her other hip, grabbing both sides in a healthy squeeze, pulling her toward him with a quick jerk. She gasped, exhilaration trembling through her, panties moistening instantly.
“You’re a perfect ten.” His voice came out a growl. “You’re sexier than fuck, and you don’t need to change a thing.”
Her chest heaved as she lay on the bench, looking up at him. The warmth of his palms on her exposed hips made her mind cloudy, like foggy glass after a shower.
“Well, thanks.”
“Quit rubbing it in.” He squeezed her hips again, more gently this time, and then stood and stormed away. She watched him go, hand falling to the floor with exhaustion. His touch had been fire, and she only wanted more of it. As soon as possible, as often as possible.
She lay there staring at the ceiling for too long. When she finally peeled herself off the bench, the gym had emptied out; it was almost closing time. She gathered her things sluggishly, feeling both heavy and in the stratosphere. His hands on her hips would be burned into her memory; it might take her a year to get over that. Damn you, Travis.
When she pushed into the cool air of the parking lot, she noticed Travis’s truck parked nearby. Mr. Boss Man was in the building. She clucked her tongue, hanging around the front doors for a bit. Some of the other gym-goers filed out, nodding at her. After a bit, the receptionist breezed past. Amara strolled in a circle in front of the doors, humming under her breath, trying hard not to feel crazy the longer she waited.
After about ten minutes, she decided this was enough creepiness. As she turned to leave, Travis headed toward the main doors, head down, bag slung across his chest.
She froze. What now?
He pushed through the doors, slowing when he spotted her. “What are you still doing here?” He looked at her suspiciously, as if she might have a knife hidden somewhere.
“Waiting for you.” She didn’t know what else to say.
He shook his head. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Don’t be like that.” She reached for his arm, though he didn’t look at her. “Did I piss you off earlier? I’m sorry.”
He stared into the parking lot, jaw flexing. “It’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”
But there was so much more to it than that; she could taste it like blood. “Do you wanna go grab something to eat with me? I’m pretty hungry. And I’d like to talk about it.”
He stilled, turning to her. “I can’t.”
“Don’t you eat anymore? Or you don’t want to with me?”
He watched her for a moment, then said, “If Eddie finds out I took you to dinner again, he’ll kill me.”
“Oh, you won’t be taking me out. I’ll pay my own way, thank you.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what is it?”
He ran his thumb over the strap of his gym bag. “I can’t, and you know it.”
“You’re that afraid of my big brother?”
“I’m not afraid of him.” His gaze darkened. “I respect him.”
Frustration bubbled up. This was a lost cause; they’d always come back to this same catch-22. “Fine. Can’t respect a guy by having dinner with his sister? This is a fucked-up world we live in, then. Let me remind you that you kissed me the other night.”
He was silent as he eyed her. “It’s more than that. Trust me—I’d take you out if you were anybody else.”
“Oh, that’s a huge relief.” Her brother was a brick wall between anything that might exist. A wall too tall to climb. “Sounds like a convenient excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s the way it is. If I go near you, Eddie will kill me. He’s like my brother.”
“But don’t you want to go near me?” She stuck out her chin, looking up at him teasingly again. She couldn’t resist. Just put your hands all over me again. “You already did once. He might be your brother, but I’m not your sister.”
His jaw flexed, and he squeezed the strap of his bag as he watched her. “Don’t.”
Something flashed in his eyes—a warning.
She huffed, exasperated. “Fine. I can take a hint.” She turned on her heels and strutted away, anger roiling inside her. Over her shoulder, she added, “I only have time for men who can say yes to me!”
It wasn’t fair. She wanted Travis, and he wanted her, so why couldn’t they move forward
? It was clear how into her he was; his sudden coldness recently was more than obviously due to Eddie.
But what could she do if he wouldn’t break?
It was fun and games for a minute, but after a while, it would be desperate and illogical.
Go where you’re wanted. She got into her car and slammed the door shut. If only Travis wasn’t the sexiest man to walk the planet, she might have an easier time going elsewhere.
But it had to be this way.
She was officially done chasing a man who wouldn’t say yes to her.
Chapter 9
Travis awoke Sunday morning in a sweat. And with a hard-on. He groaned, rolling over to his belly, pressing his cock into the mattress as he began piecing together the dream he’d been in. Amara had been there, of course. And maybe those fucking amazing pussy presses had shown up too—his pet name for the leg pushes she’d requested Friday night at the gym. She must have known it was his weak spot. Just like everything else she did around him, constantly pushing him to the edge.
Burying his face in his pillow, he let the quiet sounds of morning settle into him, cock throbbing against the bed. The shower sprang to life in the distance; Lex must be up and moving already. He lifted his head to peer at the clock. Nine a.m. Early, considering their late night with Eddie and Jake.
He tensed against the bed, imagining Amara beneath him, what her soft kisses might taste like in the morning. He licked his lips, pleasant fantasies mingling with the memory of her scent, which he could practically smell. Maybe that’s how bad he wanted her—bad enough that he could conjure her.
Not a good way to start the day. He flopped onto his back, gritting his teeth as he absentmindedly stroked his dick, tensing as he ran through their last encounter for the millionth time. It was simultaneously the biggest success and the most miserable failure. He’d both fallen prey to her and pushed her so far away that she might never come back.
But she shouldn’t come back. He balled up his fist. Beating off to her memory was not a way to reinforce this decision.
Reaching for the phone, he checked for new messages, disappointed when nothing showed up from Amara. Be glad, he counseled himself. This way it would become true. Be thankful she’s giving up. It was the second day in a row he hadn’t heard a peep from her, not since he’d blown her off at the gym on Friday.
No matter how hard he tried to be thankful, all he could be was sorry. He’d fucked up, big time. Sure, his actions seemed like the right thing to do on paper, but deep inside there were warning bells going off. Red alerts screaming wrong way.
Everything in his being pushed him toward her. Even the threat of Eddie couldn’t dissolve the attraction. It was there—thriving. Fuck.
And there, in the vulnerable clarity of morning, it became so obvious. He had to go after her. He had to try. Consequences be damned.
In the pit of his stomach, he knew this had been coming. He gathered his pillows to his face, groaning into them, his breath making his cheeks hot. Why her? Why Eddie? Why this most sacred relationship with his bro?
He rolled out of bed, stretching as he wandered toward the kitchen for a glass of water. His calves were tight from yesterday’s intense training, and one of his opponents had socked him in the eye. His cheek felt tender—maybe there was a black eye waiting for him. The hum of the shower was a steady rhythm, one that calmed him as his thoughts ramped up to a rolling boil.
He’d call her. Tonight, maybe. But definitely tomorrow. Feel out the situation. Tell her whatever the fuck happening inside him wouldn’t leave him alone, despite his best efforts. Despite his best intentions. There was no talking a heart out of feelings, so why bother? Lesson learned.
The water shut off. A few moments later, Lex strolled out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist.
“Morning, boss.” He nodded his way. “Nice shiner.”
The black eye must be in full bloom. “You look too damn perky for all those shots of Jameson you had last night.”
Lex shrugged. “I’m a pro. What can I say?”
Travis slammed a glass of water and then filled another. “Why are you up and around so early?”
“I’ve got some plans.” Lex pulled off his towel and stepped into boxer briefs. “Gonna go grab lunch with my sister and then meet up with this girl from Tinder for dinner.”
Travis grinned. “Can’t wait to hear this story when you come back.”
“What about you?”
“I’m gonna go to my mom’s house.” He ran a hand through his hair, wishing for some way to run into Amara sooner. Like now.
“Like the good boy you are.” Lex pulled on a long-sleeve shirt, then dark jeans. “Make sure you bring her a cherry pie and a bouquet of flowers.”
“Yuck. Cherry pie?” Travis pulled open the fridge to stare at the contents. Nothing spoke to him. “She’d rather I brought a pack of cigarettes.”
Lex snorted. “My mom is the same. No surprise we both turned out nonsmokers.”
Travis wandered to the expansive black couch and sprawled out, staring at the ceiling as he contemplated what he’d do with his one, sacred day off. Though he usually ended up working a bit, he fought hard to draw the line between business and personal life on this day at least…and to give his body one sanctioned day to eat whatever he wanted and do absolutely nothing. Even though he was already itching to do some push-ups.
“You wanna Netflix and chill until you go to lunch?” Travis raised his brows suggestively, cackling as Lex gave him a dirty look.
“Please. I won’t stain my purity before this Tinder date.”
Travis sighed, rolling onto his side and reaching for the remote control. “Yeah, well, I will. Get out of here so I can jack off in peace.”
Lex snorted and shoved the rest of his clothes in his bag. “I might stay at my sister’s tonight. I’ll ask her when I see her.”
“All right, buddy. You know you can crash here too.”
He shrugged, face clouding over. “I know. I appreciate it, man. But I gotta look for my own place. I don’t think Jerrica and I are getting back together.”
Travis gnawed on his lip, wondering what might be the best response. He’d never been a fan of Lex’s girlfriend, so their sudden breakup was sort of a victory. She brought out the worst in Lex, he thought. “You’ll be good. It’s for the best.”
“Thanks.” Lex offered his fist, and Travis bumped it with his own. Lex swung his backpack over his shoulder and jerked his head toward the door. “I’m out. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“All right. Peace.”
When the door shut behind Lex, Travis sank deep into the silence. Skitters of movement could be heard distantly through the walls; probably neighbors around him, normal noises he might never notice in his regular routine. He reached for his phone, sending a text to his mom to ask when he should come over.
B there after 12. I got an auction till then.
It wasn’t even ten a.m. He had some time to kill. Phone still in hand, he pulled up Amara’s string of text messages. At least five unanswered texts, all sweet and alluring, and he’d ignored every one of them. He reread each one for what felt like the billionth time, then opened a reply message.
Fingers hovering over the keyboard, he wondered what he might say. Couldn’t think of a damn thing that didn’t sound desperate or awkward. He tossed the phone onto the coffee table, ready to settle into a mini veg fest. If he couldn’t be productive, he’d be distracted.
* * *
After a few hours of catching up on shows and dozing off, Travis awoke with a start, hunger gnawing at his belly. He grappled for his phone. One p.m. Shit. He leaped to his feet to change clothes. He usually got there around noon so they could order takeout together.
He pulled on black sweats and slipped a light jacket over his T-shirt. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he hurried toward the subterranean parking garage, texting his mom he was on his way.
No response came. Odd. She was usually quick as a whip w
ith her phone and liked to know exactly what was going on each time they planned a visit. In the dimly lit parking garage, the scent of fall was dry and sweet. His shiny black truck rumbled to life, and he peeled out, heading for his mom’s apartment a couple of miles away.
The day was gray and chilly, unseasonably cool for LA. He flipped on the heater and cranked some rock music as he drove, trying to zone out and not think about Amara and what he might say to her later when he got the courage to text her.
His mom lived in a newer condo complex, an upgrade she’d opted for a couple of years ago once Travis had offered to buy it for her. His UFC career had grossed a lot of cash, most of which he’d invested. But helping his mom get out of her old dingy box apartment, the place he’d been raised, was priority one when he hit financial stability.
He parked the car and hurried up to the third-floor condo, choosing the stairs instead of the elevator, one of his many sneaks during his day off. He turned the knob. Locked. He fished her house key from the mess on his key ring and unlocked it.
“Ma!” He pocketed his keys, shutting the door behind him. “It’s me.”
He waited for her telltale greeting: I’m in the kitchen, smoking, but don’t expect a ham. She was always in the kitchen because she always smoked, and it was the closest seat to a window.
No greeting. He furrowed his brow, heading into the depths of the condo toward the kitchen. Her purse and coat were tossed onto the couch, alongside a foreign coat. He knit his brow, pausing. Had she brought back someone? Did she have a new boyfriend?
Some laughter, the undertones of a voice. Or maybe two voices. He pushed through the swinging half-door into the kitchen.
His mom smiled up at him, eyes bright, her wispy blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. At her side, Amara smiled nervously his way. Relief bloomed in his chest.
“Oh.” Travis eased into the kitchen slowly, unsure how to respond. “Hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He had encouraged Amara to visit his mom; he just hadn’t thought it would be on the same day he chose to visit her. Nervousness coated his insides. This was a strange blessing in disguise, if only he could look past the shock.
