by Nicola Marsh
I was over the top with the flirting, but seeing Kye watching me with disapproval pushed all my buttons.
I wanted to rile him, to make him do something.
What I didn't want was him walking out.
But that's exactly what he did.
Chapter 18
KYE
When the blackness descended, I had to escape.
In the past, when I'd felt it creep up on me, I'd do whatever it took to work it off. Which usually meant holding it in until I reached the courts. That was the great thing about smacking around a tennis ball. It couldn't smack you back.
I'd learned that lesson in fourth grade. And fifth. And sixth. Black eyes and cracked cheekbones and broken noses weren't so good when I was on the receiving end. So I'd wised up. Picked up a tennis racket. And never looked back.
But how I was feeling right now, I couldn't risk heading to the courts in case someone saw me or worse, approached me. I needed to be alone. Some place I could work it off without letting loose on anyone.
The pool.
Tucked away in the back corner of the property, it would be the perfect place to blow off steam in seclusion. It took me five minutes to reach it, another minute to pick the lock and let myself in, and thirty seconds to strip down to my boxers and dive in.
The second I submerged I felt some of the tension ease. Yeah, this would help dissipate the blackness that threatened to consume me when I saw Mia pressing against Pete.
I hadn't expected to feel anything, let alone the all-consuming jealousy that made me want to drag Pete away from the bar and beat him to a pulp.
It should've been okay, seeing Mia flirt with him. It's what I wanted, for her to leave me alone. But seeing her smile at that dufus, and giggle, and talk about going wild … Fuck, I sluiced through the water like a madman was on my tail at the thought of her doing anything with Pete, let alone going wild.
I lost count of how many laps I swam. I didn't care, as long as the blackness receded, worked out of my system by repetitive exercise before I did something monumentally stupid: like head back to the bar and ensure Pete couldn't leave with Mia if both his legs were broken.
When my muscles screamed with fatigue, I stopped and rolled onto my back, floating in what was finally a sea of calm.
Until I heard a splash and opened my eyes to see Mia less than two feet away. In her underwear.
* * *
MIA
I know what prompted me to strip down to my underwear and hop into the pool with Kye.
The sheer, unadulterated urge to drown him.
I wanted to duck his head under the water and hold it there until he saw sense. Instead, all I succeeded in doing was startling him enough to have him go under for a few seconds before he bobbed up, coughing and spluttering and looking mad as hell.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Same thing as you." I smirked, knowing it'd annoy him. "Taking a midnight dip."
"Go away." He shook his head, water droplets spraying. "You can't be here right now."
"I can be anywhere I goddamn like." I folded my arms, belatedly realizing the affect it would have when his gaze riveted to my chest. And secretly pleased when I glimpsed the instant flare of heat in his eyes. "And for the record? You're done telling me what I can and can't do."
I half expected him to haul himself out of the water and leave without looking back. Instead, he took a step closer, causing ripples to lap at my waist.
"While I've given you no reason to trust me, I need you to listen when I say I really need to be alone right now."
His grim tone scattered goosebumps across my skin and for the first time since I'd dived in, I questioned the logic of my impulsive action in following him here.
"Why? What are you going to do? Dunk me—"
His mouth slammed on mine, stealing my breath, stealing my sanity, stealing my heart.
I couldn't breathe as he devoured my mouth and I let him, making embarrassing moaning sounds that echoed down to my soul.
He didn't let up the pressure as he backed me against the side of the pool, his pelvis grinding against mine, making me wish our underwear would disappear.
I knew Kye wasn't a guy to be pushed. Hell, his whole demeanor at times scared me. He was too intense, too closed off. But I'd fallen for him faster than was good for either one of us and I wanted him, for however long I could have him.
He palmed my breasts, sending slivers of heat shooting lower where I yearned for him to touch me. I grabbed his ass, pulled him tighter against me if that were possible. And all the while his tongue worked magic on mine, his long, hot, open-mouthed kisses making me melt. I was weightless, floating, and it had nothing to do with the buoyancy of the water.
I knew he was kissing me to prove a point, out of retribution for defying him. I didn't care. Because this crazy, unstoppable passion between us? I would never get enough.
All too soon he wrenched his mouth from mine. "You shouldn't be here," he said, sounding tortured.
"So you keep saying." I looped my arms around his neck. "But I'm not going anywhere."
He stared at me, admiration warring with anger in his expressive blue eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
A simple enough question, one I had no hope of answering. At least, not with the truth.
So I settled for a response as close to total honesty as I could get. "Because when we're together, you make me feel good. Happy. In a way I've never been."
He blinked. Once. Twice. But not before I'd glimpsed a tenderness that made my throat clog with unshed tears.
"You're not going to give up, are you?"
I shook my head, relieved his tone had lost the underlying chill and he sounded more resigned than anything else.
"I'm not worth it," he said so softly I barely heard him. "Please, just leave me alone."
His words may have been harsh but his body didn't lie, and for a guy who was doing his best to push me away, his hands spanned my waist and held on tight, like he never wanted to let me go.
I shook my head. "I can't."
Cupping his face between my hands, I looked him straight in the eye. "You are so worth it. Please come back to my villa. Stay with me tonight."
I knew I shouldn't have asked him. He could lose everything.
But I'd never let that happen. I'd threaten to disown my dad if he ever booted Kye out for being with me. And if there's one thing I was sure of, it was my dad's love.
He'd do anything for me. And if it came down to a choice between punishing Kye and pleasing me, I was pretty sure he'd choose the latter.
It made me feel like a heartless bitch, toying with Kye's future like this. I had nothing to lose in our relationship; he had everything. But I'd fight for him, would defend him, if it ever came to a showdown between the two men in my life.
"Please don't say no." I guided his head lower and kissed him, a soft glide of my lips against his that made me yearn for so much more. "I need you."
He resisted for a few seconds, before leaning his forehead against mine and I knew I had him.
"Okay."
One, simple word, laden with so much promise.
Chapter 19
MIA
With some people, no words were needed. I had a study partner at college like that, Maggie, a girl I could sit with for hours and we only talked if we needed to. I liked that about her, her economy with words.
It was like that with Kye. When we got back to my villa, we didn't speak. Didn't need to. We peeled off our clothes, stepped into the shower and washed each other.
I soaped his back, his front, lower. He returned the favor until I was mindless and boneless and desperate to have him inside me.
He toweled us off, carried me to the bed, and lay me down on top of the covers, his gaze scorching every inch of my bare skin as he studied me from top to bottom.
I opened my arms to him and he made fast work of a condom before lowering himself on top of me. Raining kisses on my collarbone. My neck.
My breasts.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth as he entered me, inch by exquisite inch, taking his sweet time, knowing it drove me crazy.
I arched upward when he reached the hilt, the fullness of him inside me almost too perfect, and it actually brought tears to my eyes. He kissed them away, not freaked like I expected him to be. Instead, his gaze locked on mine, steady and soft, as he slid in and out, setting a delicious rhythm that made me wish we could do this forever.
I had no idea how long we made love. Five minutes. Fifty. But all too soon the pleasure escalated and peaked, catapulting us to a place where lovers like us actually had a chance at forever.
When Kye pulled the covers over us, and I lay snuggled against his side, only then did he speak.
"You need to know about the blackness."
Not quite the opening line I'd expected after the incredible union we'd just shared, but this was momentous. Kye wanting to share anything with me was a bonus.
I rolled onto my side and rested my hand on his chest, directly over his heart. "Tell me."
He didn't glance at me, his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling. "It started when I was in my early teens and the boys at school ramped up their teasing. They said horrible things about Mum. About me. About the girls who worked at the club."
I felt him tense beneath my palm.
"Most of the women who stripped were single mothers supporting their kids, or girls trying to pay their way through uni. They didn't want that lifestyle but did whatever it took to make ends meet."
I remained silent, waited for him to continue.
"Those jerks at my school were so judgmental and I mostly handled their crap. But then the blackness would creep over me at times."
Did he mean depression? Or anger?
"I hated it. Made me feel helpless. I didn't want to be a victim to my rage and I sure as hell didn't want to hurt anyone, so I walked away time and time again. Wagged school when it got bad. Eventually picked up a tennis racket and figured hitting a ball hard was better than taking my frustrations out on some dickhead's nose."
"Is that how you started playing tennis?"
He nodded. "Yeah, at thirteen. Coaches couldn't believe I was a late starter. They marveled at my forehand." He snorted. "They didn't know I was imagining every prick's face who'd ever insulted Mum on those balls as I hammered them down the line."
"Sounds like good motivation."
"Tennis became my lifeline. Kept me sane even in the darkest times, like when Mum died."
My heart swelled with pity. How hard it must've been for this incredible guy to face insults and worse, the death of a parent alone.
While I'd always wished for a mom, especially those picture-perfect ones some of the girls had—the cookie-baker-lemonade-makers—and I'd loved hanging around Dani's outrageously flamboyant mom, I couldn't miss what I'd never had.
Mom had died when I was a toddler and I couldn't remember a thing about her. Sure, Dad showed me pics but it wasn't the same as having flesh and blood memories. Like what Kye had obviously treasured and lost.
"It must've been awful, losing your only parent." My arm slid across his chest and squeezed him tight.
"Mum was the best."
In those four, whispered words, I heard a wealth of subdued pain and sorrow.
"She inherited the club from some older guy she'd dated. He owned a bunch of businesses all over Sydney and thought Mum was the only woman he knew with big enough balls to run a strip club in the Cross and not care about the inevitable crap that would fly her way."
He sounded a million miles away, lost in his memories. Memories he now trusted me with. It was a huge step in our relationship.
"Apparently Dad came into the club one night on a buck's night. Love at first sight. They hooked up for a few months, then Dad was offered a role in a B grade flick in LA." His voice tightened with emotion. "Mum knew she was pregnant by then but didn't tell him because acting was his dream and she didn't want to wreck that for him."
"Wow, your mom sounds amazing."
He nodded. "She was. So they broke up and Dad left for LA. But his big break fell through. He stayed in LA for a year, trying to break into the Hollywood scene with little success. Headed back to Australia, got offered a talk show hosting gig and never looked back."
I wondered if asking a question would stop the flow of his revelations, but curiosity egged me on. "And your mom didn't tell him you'd been born once he returned, even though his career in LA never took off?"
"She didn't want to drag him down and damage his reputation as his career took off." He sounded pissed. "She was so damn self-sacrificing."
I didn't blame him for being angry. If his mom had told the truth, Kye would've had a father all those years he'd missed out.
"So how did he show up after your mom died?"
Some of the tension bunching his muscles beneath my palm eased. "Mum organized everything with a lawyer in case she died. Included a letter with a copy of the birth certificate, where she'd named him as the father. And a sample of my hair if he wanted to run a paternity test. He did. Turned up on our doorstep the day after she died."
I squeezed him tight again. "I'm so sorry."
He continued as if he hadn't heard me. "Dad was pretty amazing. Didn't try to muscle in but helped me with whatever I wanted done. Stood by me through the funeral. Organized the sale of the club. Invested the money for me." He swallowed. "And he's been looking out for me ever since."
Tears burned the back of my eyes. "Not wanting to disappoint him is a powerful motivator for keeping away from me."
"Yeah, that's what I was trying to make you understand." He scooted a little away, only to roll onto his side to face me, his earnestness scaring me. "But tonight, when the blackness rolled over me as I watched you with that dickhead, I realized something."
"What?" I held my breath, hoping this would be the major turning point in our relationship.
He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing my lower lip in a slow sweep that almost had me blubbering. "I figured I've spent my whole life worried about what other people think of me and reacting to their opinions. The anger that scares the crap out of me is a byproduct of that." A wry smile twisted his mouth. "At least, that's what the shrink I saw a few times after Mum died told me."
His hand drifted from my face to rest on my shoulder, strong, reassuring. "I don't want to disappoint my dad, nothing's changed there. But you're the best thing that’s happened to me in years and I'd be a fool not to want to fight for you."
My heart soared as he huffed out a breath. "Your dad warned me off you. And the last thing I want to do is piss him off. And I sure as hell don't want to treat you like a dirty, little secret but if you want this?" He tapped his chest. "If you want us to work while you're on vacation? I'm willing to give it a go on the condition you don't tell anyone."
I opened my mouth to respond and he mock zipped his lips. "That means anyone, even your bestie Dani, okay?"
I'd offloaded my secrets on Dani for years when we'd been growing up, but if it meant losing what I'd just gained with Kye? No way in hell I'd tell her a thing.
"Deal." I held out my hand to shake on it and he laughed, a purely joyous sound that had me joining in, before he rolled me onto my back, grabbed my wrists and held them overhead, and pinned me with his body.
"I can think of better ways to celebrate our new arrangement," he murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle my neck, sending heat spiraling through my body. "Much better ways."
I couldn't agree more.
Chapter 20
KYE
I was on fire.
Returning serves like a man possessed. Slamming consistent down-the-line winners. Serving ace after ace. Delivering backhand returns that had the small crowd watching the first inter-tournament oohing.
And I had no idea what the fuck was going on.
When I played tennis, especially big matches, I channeled my anger. Focused it. Used it. It had become a familiar friend ov
er the years, one that never let me down.
Not today. Today I was a guy floating across the court playing like an automaton after an incredible night in Mia's arms.
Who knew I didn't have to be angry to play well?
And that was another thing. Telling Mia the truth, unburdening myself about my past, made me feel lighter than I had in years. I'd never told another living soul all that stuff, not the shrink I’d briefly seen after Mum died, not even the sports psychologist at the academy. Hell, I didn't trust anyone—apart from Dad, and even with him I was still wary—enough to reveal my feelings like that.
But having Mia come after me, having her fight for something she wanted when I was too chicken-shit to do it, made me realize I could spend a lifetime pushing away the good and embracing the bad. I could continue to be resentful of everything and everyone, or I could have a real crack at living.
Living outside of tennis, which I was fast recognizing as my emotional crutch.
When things pissed me off, I headed for the court.
When I was swamped by the anger, I headed for the court.
When I couldn't deal, I headed for the court.
I could become a bigger, better version of myself when I was on the court.
And as I bounced on the balls of my feet on the baseline, waiting for my opponent to serve in what I hoped would be the final game, I hoped today was a turning point. That when I won this match, it would prove—to me—that I could channel positivity rather than anger to drive me to be the best.
As my opponent tucked a spare ball into his short's pocket, I risked a quick glance at the bleachers, where Mia sat next to Dani. Even at this distance, she glowed. Luminous. Making me want to wrap this up ASAP and find a place we could celebrate in private.
But with her dad on the sidelines, ready to give every academy player an evaluation at the conclusion of this tournament, I knew that would be out of the question until tonight.
