Unattainable (No Rival Book 5)

by Charity Parkerson

  “That’s a good thing. It shows strength of character.”

  “Yeah. Well,” Brian said noncommittally. “I hope I didn’t make too big of an ass of myself.” Another rumble of laughter caressed his eardrum.

  “You did make me swear I wouldn’t tell a soul you’d been a fat kid with braces.”

  Brian covered his eyes with his free hand while doing his best to keep the embarrassment from showing in his voice. “Hey. That’s top secret stuff. You could ruin me with information like that.”

  “Sweet. Blackmail-worthy goods. I have you right where I want you now. Well…not right where I want you.” The statement hung between them for a moment. Brian held his breath. “I’ll have that when you show up here Monday for your first real training session.”

  Even though Brian had known he’d been reading too much into Terry’s statement, it seemed hope did indeed spring eternal. He was still hanging on the man’s every word while fantasizing he’d meant to have him a different way.

  “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  Chapter Three

  So, it began. There was no other way Brian could think to describe the torment named Terry. His life was completely intertwined with the sexy ex-champ. Friday nights were reserved for watching the fights. Saturday mornings they visited with Betty and ordered McKenna’s flowers for the week. Mondays and Wednesdays they sparred with the veterans. Tuesdays and Thursdays were two of his biggest ordeals. Those were spent training—in private—at Terry’s house. Brian left each session with every muscle in his body on fire, especially his cock. When it came to the actual training, there were times Brian almost felt as if he was cheating on his regular trainer, Rhys. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stay away from Terry. On the plus side, Brian also couldn’t deny the strength in his arm was returning thanks to Terry. Unfortunately, Brian wasn’t sure if it was due to their usual sparring sessions or being forced to jack off daily if he didn’t want to go insane.

  Today was one of the torturous days they spent alone in the man’s home gym. It was really more of a basement with foam flooring and a few exercise machines. Terry had managed to dig up some extra padding for the center of the room to keep them from killing one another. The lack of audience always seemed to make Brian’s lust ten times its usual potency. The epic burst of testosterone had him working twice as hard. Only after an inch of sweat covered Brian did Terry call for a break. Leaning against the wall, he accepted a cold bottle of water, grateful for the solid surface at this back keeping him upright.

  “Why didn’t you challenge Rhys?” Brian asked as soon as he caught his breath. Turning up his water bottle, he gulped down half the contents before clarifying. “I mean a second time. You’re awful young for retirement and from what I can tell from our sessions, you have a much better shot at taking the title back than I have at ever winning it.”

  “I want things.”

  Terry’s vague answer didn’t make any sense as far as Brian was concerned. He winked. “I’d really like a million dollars.”

  He snorted at Brian’s remark. Puffing out his cheeks, Terry set his fists on his hips and slowly released his breath. “I needed to mourn my brother without a picture of it landing on the six o’clock news.” He swiped his hand across his eyes as if the subject exhausted him. When he dropped it back to his side, Terry seemed even more somber than usual. “MMA isn’t the same as any other sport. If you’re not on top, then nobody gives a shit about you or knows your name. As much as I loved competing, I missed having a political opinion, bitching openly about my stance on gun laws,” he paused, meeting Brian’s gaze with a smirk. “I really yearned to fuck someone without it being a matter of public debate.” He spread his arms wide. “I thought I wanted fame. Turns out, I don’t. It doesn’t mean shit. When the world lost Gray, it lost one of the greatest men ever born and no one knew his name. I want to be that person.”

  It made sense. Brian didn’t necessarily care for the fame aspect either. For him, it was more of a personal journey. Sometimes people didn’t know what they really needed until they had everything they thought they wanted. From what Brian knew about Gray from McKenna, Terry did aspire to greatness. Since Gray had died right before Terry lost the title and decided to retire, it fit that he would be ready for some peace.

  “Am I a part of your plan to achieve sainthood?” Brian wanted to bite off his tongue the moment the question left his lips and the same thought he always had while in Terry’s presence ran across his mind once more. No good could come of this.

  “I don’t know about sainthood but you’re definitely part of my plan.” There was something in his tone. Brian wished he could force Terry to say more. Silence grew between them as Terry watched him from across the room. It was as if he expected Brian to say something profound. He’d gone completely still, making Brian wonder if he was holding his breath. It was odd. Brian craved even Terry’s silence. It was ridiculous for anyone to long for anything as much as Brian did Terry. The man was unattainable. There had never been a single whisper of Terry being in a relationship with anyone. “Your head’s not with me today,” Terry said, finally seeming to accept Brian wouldn’t speak up.

  Pushing away from the wall, Brian tossed his water bottle in the trash. “My head is always with you,” he said under his breath. Clearing his throat, he spoke a little louder. “Let’s get back to work.”

  Shoving his mouthpiece in, they squared off. Terry’s expression went blank, distracting Brian. Never one to miss taking advantage, Terry sprang forward, attempting a push kick. Brian blocked it at the last moment, sparing his ribs from the blow. With his mind back in the game, Brian used Terry’s forward momentum against him. Snagging his upper body, he snaked his knee through Terry’s legs, hooking his ankle, intent on taking him to the mat. Unfortunately, Terry was still one step ahead of him. Rocking back on his heels, Terry spun in Brian’s arms, pressing his back against Brian’s chest. Even though he should’ve seen the man’s next move coming, Brian couldn’t think past the sensation of Terry’s ass grinding against his cock. It would be so easy to touch his lips to the side of Terry’s neck or use a bodylock for takedown. The world tilted. The floor raced upward, smacking him between the shoulder blades. The air whooshed from his lungs. Brian blinked at the ceiling in confusion for a moment before Terry’s face blocked out the sight. He wasn’t even short of breath as he hovered over him. There wasn’t a hint of triumph or disappointment in his expression. He was unreadable as he eyed Brian.

  “Don’t let me undermine you, because I will.”

  For some reason Brian couldn’t explain, it seemed to him Terry wasn’t talking about their match. Spitting out his mouth guard, Brian chuckled. “I’m waiting until you’re overly confident.”

  A low rumble sounded from deep inside Terry’s chest as he pulled Brian to his feet. “I’m always overconfident.”

  Brian clung to Terry’s hand long after he should’ve released him. He held his stare. “One day soon, you won’t know what hit you.”

  Terry smirked but he didn’t let go or look away. “That’s also already true.”

  Brian moved an inch closer. “Just so you know, even though I wasn’t really joking about the million dollars, there’s things I want too.”

  *

  Terry’s cock was screaming for attention. The expression Brian wore was devastating to Terry’s heart. He didn’t think the man was truly aware of how he was looking at him, but damn. His half-lidded eyes and tiny knowing grin called to Terry. To keep from doing something he couldn’t take back, he hooked Brian’s ankle with his foot and took the man down. He made sure to keep his strength in check. Following him to the floor, he pinned him to the mat. If it had been a real match, it would’ve counted as a win. He carefully kept his arousal hidden. Brian didn’t appear surprised in the least to find himself flat on his back. He held Terry’s gaze steadily as if awaiting his next move.

  “We all have certain objects we wish to possess,” Terry said, lower
ing his lids. He glanced at Brian’s mouth, wishing he could taste him, if only one more time. “Things we can’t have,” he added. Pressing his palms flat against the floor on either side of Brian’s head, he leaned an inch closer. Breathing in the man’s scent, he finally pushed away from him, coming to his feet. All Brian needed to do was drop his gaze and he’d be staring at the line of Terry’s erection. It wasn’t as if he could hide his reaction to the man. He didn’t look.

  The moment Terry closed the door behind Brian, he headed for his bedroom and fell across his bed. He didn’t kid himself. If he didn’t find relief, he’d go insane. Tugging at the drawstring on his shorts, Terry set his erection free. It wouldn’t take long. Brian had kept him poised on the edge of madness for too long. He palmed his cock and his hips left the mattress to meet his stroke. His fist pumped in quick, precise movements, moving toward a fast release. An image of Brian filled his mind. The motion slowed. When it came to him, Terry didn’t want to rush. The way Brian watched him from beneath his lashes, hunger etched in his every feature. That was the picture Terry held onto as he stroked his shaft. Tiny bursts of electricity tingled across his skin as the pleasure began at his toes, working its way higher. Pressure built along with the phantom sensation of Brian pressed against him. His speed increased once more as his skin tightened. As a hot streak of semen hit him in the chest, Brian’s name left his lips.

  * * * * *

  “No practice today.”

  Something about the short text nagged at the back of Brian’s mind for the two hours he had left before his shift at No Rival ended. It wasn’t until he found himself driving in the opposite direction of his apartment that he decided he had to seek Terry out. Terry was always demanding, expecting to get his way. This was different. Something was wrong. Brian didn’t know how he knew. He didn’t have any solid evidence to base his feelings on, but he had to check. The closer he got to Terry’s house, the worse his sense of foreboding became.

  He could hear music blaring inside the house from the driveway. Thankfully, he found the back door unlocked since there wasn’t a chance in hell anyone would be able to hear him knocking over the sound. By the time he made his way down the stairs into the gym, Brian was cringing against the assault on his senses. It was lucky Terry had owned one of the rare houses with a basement in Vegas. When he spotted Terry, his sense of dread became a full-blown panic. If the man noticed his presence, he didn’t acknowledge it. Sweat poured down his bare back, adding to his already soaking-wet workout shorts. Bouncing on his toes, he landed blows to the punching bag with enough force Brian could hear Terry’s fist connecting with the leather over the deafening music.

  He’d been at it awhile. There was no way his shorts had become melded to his skin with sweat unless he’d been nonstop for a long time. Terry paused long enough to lift a bottle of Jack to his lips. There were only a couple inches of the amber liquid left. He would kill himself hydrating in such a way. Choosing a spot near the stairs, Brian sat on the floor with his back against the wall.

  Rage hung in the air. Brian half expected a black cloud of smoke to roll off Terry’s skin at any moment and choke them both. Instead, he continued his relentless attack on the defenseless bag. In an attempt to stay calm, Brian tried to calculate the exact force of Terry’s kicks and punches. He should have one of those sensors installed. It would be interesting to see the readings. For instance, Brian would love to know how they compared to the blow of a sledgehammer.

  His musings managed to keep him distracted until Terry finished off the last of his whiskey. He stared at the bottle in his hand as if wondering where its contents had gone before hurling it against the wall with enough force that it shattered. Brian was a bit impressed. It was damn hard to smash a liquor bottle. They were built to withstand drunkards. Thankfully, the concrete walls of the basement were too.

  Chest heaving, Terry turned. Their gazes collided. Brian held his breath. The look in Terry’s eyes scared the hell out of Brian. Terry was half-crazed.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Terry barked, as he stormed across the room to tower over Brian. Considering his mood, Brian let him keep his height advantage.

  “I was worried about you.” He was forced to yell over the music to be heard. Terry narrowed his eyes before turning away long enough to slam his hand down on the sound system’s power button. In a matter of seconds he was back to focusing his fury on Brian. In the wake of the sudden silence, Brian’s ears rang as if he’d just left a concert.

  “I told you not to come here.”

  Brian tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. “Technically, you didn’t. You only said no practice.”

  Terry snapped. His fist struck the wall above Brian’s head. “Don’t give me that shit!”

  Brian came to his feet. Somehow, he managed to hang onto his temper, but it was a near thing. Damn. Even wearing grappling gloves, Brian knew that shit had to have torn his knuckles to hell, but Terry didn’t flinch. There was something else in his expression. The man was hurting. Brian hated it. “You can talk to me.” Hearing the desperation in his voice, Brian paused reeling it back in before saying anything more. “Whatever it is, Terry. I’m here for you.”

  Closing his eyes, Terry tilted his head back. Regret etched his every line. When he met Brian’s gaze again, his eyes were almost pleading. “I can’t.” He shook his head. “I just can’t.”

  It hurt. Brian couldn’t lie. He would’ve preferred Terry hit him than hide things from him. The man didn’t trust him. He couldn’t fix that shit. “I see.” There was no way anyone could’ve been more surprised by how steady he sounded than Brian. Inside, he was seething, but somewhere between his brain and tongue, it disconnected. “I guess there’s nothing here for me then.”

  He moved to leave, determined to keep his shit together. He didn’t make it two steps. Showing amazing reflexes for a man who’d consumed an entire bottle of whiskey, Terry snagged hold of Brian and he found his back against the wall before he realized he was no longer moving in the opposite direction. With his palm braced against the wall next to Brian, Terry kept his other hand flattened against the center of Brian’s chest, holding him in place.

  “So, what? You’re just going to leave me?” Terry snarled. Brian didn’t say a word, but a ridiculous burst of relief settled over him. Bowing his head, Terry stared at the floor. “Life is so goddamn unfair.”

  To Brian, it seemed Terry’s words were meant more for himself. He dropped his hands and took a step back. Brian’s heart fell. His chin lifted and Brian realized his eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Terry visibly swallowed. Brian couldn’t fucking breathe. Terry was hurting and there was nothing he could do. Blinking rapidly, Terry finally focused on a spot over Brian’s shoulder. He cleared his throat. His hands lifted, palms up, before falling back to his sides as if to say he had nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice came out sounding hoarse.

  “Anna.”

  He stopped, obviously incapable of finishing. Brian was immediately grateful for the wall supporting him. It was no wonder Terry was such a mess. He wanted to help in any way he could.

  “What can we do for Betty?”

  At his question, Terry seemed to deflate. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, swaying on his feet. Brian rushed forward, but Terry waved him away and stumbled up the stairs. Staying close on his heels, Brian did his best to ensure Terry didn’t break his neck on the way up. As they passed through the kitchen, Brian caught a scent of lemons and disinfectant as if someone had recently cleaned. All the stainless steel appliances gleamed in the brightly lit room. The only thing marring the otherwise spotless room was the empty fifth of Crown sitting in the center of the island. Brian hadn’t noticed it on his way in, which wasn’t surprising since he was intent on finding Terry. Now, he wondered why Terry wasn’t dead after consuming so much alcohol.

  Terry didn’t protest as Brian followed him down the hall and into his bedroom. A large flat-screen TV covered the wal
l beside the bathroom. Terry switched it on, flipping through the channels until he found a hockey game. It was a rerun but Brian didn’t think Terry was truly aware of anything he was doing at this point. He was going through the motions. That was it. When he spoke, it surprised Brian how dead his voice had become.

  “I need a shower.” He passed Brian the remote. “Don’t go away, okay?”

  At Brian’s nod, Terry headed inside the bathroom, leaving the door slightly cracked behind him. Brian released a sigh of relief. If Terry crashed in the shower, he really didn’t want to have to kick the door in. He glanced around the room trying to decide what to do. None of the furniture in Terry’s bedroom appeared designed to be used for its intended purpose. It was all too nice. The dresser, chest of drawers, bureau and a bench at the foot of the bed were all oak, but the tops looked to be made out of marble. It sort of threw him. Even though he was somewhat certain the bench was meant to be used as such, he didn’t want to break anything. Giving up, he sat on the bed. His ass sank into the mattress.

  “What the hell?”

  He poked it. The indention slowly dissipated. Okay. That was cool. He did it again. This time, he realized it was also unnaturally cool to the touch. Before he could change his mind, Brian toed off his shoes and settled in. It was awesome. Turning on his side, he pillowed his head with his hands and stared at the TV. His chest hurt. Terry had been helping Betty for so long. It must seem as if he’d lost a member of the family or worse, as if he’d failed her in some way. Grief was funny like that. It didn’t care about the truth. Brian understood more than most. Life was nothing more than long spells of dealing with death and bullshit occasionally interrupted by short bursts of happiness. For someone such as Terry, someone genuinely good, it would be even worse. Empathy was a motherfucker. The heartless had it easy.