* * *
Two hours later, they’d each completed all of the walls at the rock climbing center. Her muscles ached, but she was pleased with herself for keeping up with Tyson’s time on every wall. Obviously, he hadn’t seen her movie No Limits, where she’d been a rock climbing instructor. And though it had been several years since she’d climbed, her recent weeks of muscle building had enabled her to show off a little the skills she’d acquired for the role. Sitting on a bench, removing their knee pads, he handed her a bottle of water. “You’re not bad.”
“You’re okay,” she said, taking a gulp, then handing it back.
He drained the bottle. “Just okay?”
His manly ego was really suffering that afternoon. Maybe she should ease up a little.
Nah. “Just okay . . .” She glanced at the wall behind her. “I mean, I wouldn’t expect you to enter this Ultimate Challenge Bouldering Competition or anything.” According to the poster, the Red Point Bouldering Competition was starting at the center in less than twenty minutes. Entry fees could be paid at the door and preregistration wasn’t required, but there was no way Tyson would accept that challenge, she thought smugly.
However, he stood and read the poster quickly. “I’m up for the challenge if you are,” he said, surprising her.
Shit. “You just saw my fantastic climbing ability and you want to take me on?” Maybe the thought of possibly losing to her might make him reconsider.
“You bet.”
Damn. No backing down now when she’d issued the challenge. “Okay. You’re on.”
* * *
In hindsight, the impulsive challenge probably wasn’t the best idea.
Especially when she was some sort of climbing expert. Who the fuck knew? “This is your fault,” he told her now, sitting in a ProCare Medical Clinic’s examination room.
“That’s a sore loser comment if I ever heard one,” she said, admiring her tiny third-place trophy, a little gold-plated rock climber scaling a rock wall.
“You didn’t beat me. I had to stop competing when my shoulder popped out of place,” he mumbled, clutching his arm. He closed his eyes, rocked by another wave of pain and nausea.
“Rematch anytime,” she said as the doctor entered.
“Hello, hello . . . I’m Doctor Hanly.” He scanned the file. “So—possible shoulder dislocation?” he asked Tyson.
“Yes. It feels that way.” He’d dislocated his shoulder only once before, in the middle of a fight, but at the time, he’d managed to pop the shoulder back in and continue fighting. He didn’t remember the pain being so intense. Adrenaline was an amazing analgesic.
Dr. Hanly examined the shoulder. “How did this happen?”
“Rock climbing competition,” he muttered.
“I won,” Parker said, holding up the stupid trophy as though it were an Academy Award.
“You came in third,” Tyson grumbled.
The doctor laughed. “Ah . . . now I get it. Yes, I’m afraid it is out of joint, so I’m going to have to set it back in place.”
Parker paled, standing and rushing for the door.
“Where are you going?” Tyson asked.
“I’m not watching that.”
“So, you’re just going to leave me in pain alone?”
“Don’t be a pussy. I’ll wait outside,” she said, disappearing out into the hall as the doctor held Tyson’s arm.
Don’t be a pussy. He smiled, then a second later, his shoulder was snapped into place and he swore.
“Done,” Dr. Hanly said.
“A heads up would have been nice,” he said, rubbing the shoulder. It felt a million times better, after the initial crucifying impact of the readjustment.
“It’s worse when you know it’s about to happen.” He picked up the patient file and made several notes.
“I can’t see how that’s possible, but okay,” Tyson said as he climbed off the table and reached for his leather jacket. “Thanks.”
“You still might want to ice the shoulder tonight and consider a sling if movement is stiff and painful for a few days. It’s going to take a few weeks to heal properly. Try not to work it too hard. No more rock climbing for a bit.”
A few weeks? No. “I have a fight in less than two weeks.”
“MMA fighter?”
He nodded.
“I wouldn’t recommend fighting with this injury . . . not for at least a couple of months. Once the shoulder dislocates the first time, it’s easy to reinjure it. You need to give it time to heal, otherwise if it keeps dislocating, you may need surgery.”
He shook his head. Surgery? No way. Rest? Impossible. He was defending his title in twelve days. Damn it! Why had he let his ego take over that afternoon? His competitive side had overshadowed his common sense and he’d pushed himself too hard, too fast in his attempt to beat Parker on that wall. And now he could be screwed for the challenge that really mattered.
“Do you want me to give you something for the fight officials? Let them know you can’t fight for a while?” He sat at the computer, but Tyson shook his head.
“No, that’s fine.” He had no intentions of following these doctor’s orders. By fight day, his shoulder would be fine. It had to be. “Thanks, Doc,” he said, going out into the hall.
“What did he say?” Parker said, looking worried as he approached.
“He said I’m good to go.”
* * *
Parker turned her car onto Carey Avenue later that evening. “I promise it’s nothing strenuous,” she said.
“I thought being in the cage was dangerous, turns out hanging out with you causes me more pain,” Tyson said in the passenger seat next to her, his arm wrapped in a sling he’d fabricated himself at the gym.
She smiled. “Relax . . . this will be fun.”
The entrance for the West Wind Drive-In came into view and he said, “A drive-in movie?”
“Yes. Have you ever been here?”
“No.”
“My parents and I would come here to see Grandma’s movies. It was the only place my mom could go where people wouldn’t recognize her as Abigail Hamilton’s daughter. My grandmother loved the spotlight and wasn’t concerned about keeping my mom out of it, so she was in the media quite a bit growing up.” She paused. “I guess after being scrutinized so much, it made sense for my parents to want to keep me out of the spotlight. I often wonder if they’d be disappointed by the path I’ve chosen to take, when it was something they worked hard to shield me from.”
“I don’t think so. I think they would be proud of you for following your own path.”
But had she? Or had she just walked along her grandmother’s well-beaten, familiar trail?
“What happened, anyway? With the fire?” he asked.
“It was an electrical fire. We went to bed one night, and the next thing I remember the smoke detector outside my room was going off and I heard my mom yelling to me from down the hall to get outside.” She paused, the night so vivid in her mind. “So, I grabbed my Cabbage Patch Doll and a little box of special items I kept under my bed, and I ran until I was outside. My parents weren’t coming out and I was terrified. The neighbors were there with me . . . I don’t remember them well, but they were very kind and they took care of me until the next morning, when my grandmother arrived from LA.” She shrugged. “The firemen said a beam collapsed in front of their bedroom door, blocking their escape. They’d been unable to get to them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago, but I remember that night better than any other memory.” She paused as it washed over her now. That night had changed the course of her entire life. And while she’d been young and couldn’t remember them as well as she’d like to, she missed her parents every day. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she glanced at him. “You talk about your dad all the time, but what about your mom? Where is she?” she asked, feeling as though now was the only chance she might have to ask him anything as personal. After all, she�
�d just shared her tragic story.
“She died of a brain aneurysm,” he said simply.
“I’m sorry . . . How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
He was staring off into the distance and she sensed that was as much as he wanted to say about it, so she didn’t press further. She’d learned to take the little bits of himself he offered and try to piece the rest together like a puzzle as they went along. Toward what exactly, she wasn’t sure, but at that moment, it didn’t matter.
As they pulled up to the booth, Tyson scanned the field. “There’s like five screens in there.”
“I know. We just decide which two movies we want to see and then they will direct us to the right screen and which radio channel to tune in to,” she said, excitedly. She hadn’t been to the drive-in in years.
He stared at her. “You really love movies, huh?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Even though you’ve worked on sets and know how they’re made, you can still find the magic in them?”
She nodded. “When you’re filming individual scenes out of order most of the time, it’s fascinating to later watch how it all fits together onscreen. I’ll never get tired of it.”
They selected their movie and parked in front of the screen, and her mind wandered. Was it really up to her, though? Or would Hollywood decide when her career was over? She was taking a huge gamble on this MMA movie, hoping it was the right move to save her failing career.
“Hey—you okay?” Tyson asked when she was quiet.
“Yeah . . . I’m fine . . .” She hesitated before being honest. “I’m worried I only got this role because the director was hoping for additional funding by having a big name attached to the film.”
He turned in the seat to face her. “Why would you think that?”
She sighed. “Just overheard something to that effect on the plane coming back from the audition.” She bit her lip, staring out into the dark.
He reached for her hand. “I’m sure that’s not the reason.”
She shot him a look. “How can you say that? You’ve admitted you’ve never even seen any of my movies, so how would you know if I can act or not?”
He brought her palm to his lips. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the most qualified to make that statement, but I’ve read lines with you and that was good.”
“It’s just my entire career, I’ve always had a crutch—first my grandmother’s success helped pave the way for me and then being with a director helped to secure roles . . .” Maybe that had been part of the appeal of her and Brantley together. She’d never felt confident enough in her own abilities, so having his influence had made her feel safe. She didn’t want to feel safe anymore;, she wanted to take a risk and prove to herself that she could make it on her own. “I just need to succeed on my own.”
“You will. Parker, you’re amazing,” Tyson said, touching her cheek.
He was trying to make her feel better and whether he actually believed what he was saying or not was irrelevant. She felt better just because he’d tried. His lips moved up her arm as the first movie started.
“Hey, stop that . . . the movie’s on.” She giggled as his lips tickled her shoulder.
“I thought this was the point of a drive-in movie,” he said, sliding the hand on his good arm up her thigh.
He made a good point. She closed her eyes as his lips brushed hers. “Are you sure your arm can handle this?”
Removing the sling, he’d found at the gym, he tossed it into the back, and effortlessly picked her up and placed her on his lap on the passenger seat. “My arm won’t be doing the work,” he said with a grin before claiming her mouth.
* * *
“What are you doing in there?” Tyson fought to keep his eyes open, lying on her bed an hour later. Sex in a car turned out to be tougher than he’d anticipated with his busted shoulder, so they’d skipped out halfway through the first movie. Parker hadn’t seemed to mind ending their date early, driving at a ticket-inviting speed back to her place.
“I’ll be out in just a sec,” she called from inside her bathroom, where she’d been for more than fifteen minutes.
He was starting to lose his hard-on and fighting sleep was becoming a challenge. “If you take too much longer, these pain meds are going to have me out co . . .” He stopped as the bathroom door opened and she stepped out wearing a man’s dress shirt and a pair of heels. “Maybe I’m already dreaming,” he mumbled, as she hit the button on a remote, controlling the central sound system and a slow, hip hop tempo’d song started to play. She started toward him, crossing one foot slowly over the other, as her hips swayed to the opening beats of the music. “In fear that you’ll stop, I just have to ask . . . what’s going on here?”
“You were wondering where I got such strong lat muscles . . . well, I played a dancer in my most recent failed movie and I learned a lot for that part too.” She placed her foot on the bed in front of him, and starting at her ankle, she traced her fingers upward, slowly, over her smooth, tanned leg. At the top of her thigh, she stopped, and stepping her foot down, she turned slowly, her hips moving in a tantalizing slow figure eight.
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as she placed her hands on her knees and rotated her hips, as she dropped lower toward the floor. The edge of the shirt rose to reveal the bottom of her butt cheeks and he wanted to reach out and grab her and pull her down onto his lap, bad shoulder and all. But he resisted. The show in front of him was too fantastic to interrupt.
When she glanced back over one shoulder and softly spanked her ass, he smiled.
This woman was unlike any he’d ever dated . . . she was fun, flirty, so confident in her sexuality, but she made it a challenge for him. A challenge to keep his hands off of her, a challenge to be satisfied with just one kiss, one touch.
When she turned back to face him, and started to slowly unbutton the shirt, his dick hardened. Letting it fall off of her shoulders, revealing a white lace bra and panty set that did little to cover her beautiful breasts, she bent at his feet and slid her hands along his thighs, letting her breasts graze his lap, up his bare stomach and chest, to his face.
He reached out to grip her ribcage as he breathed in the soft smell of vanilla coming from her skin, but she shoved his hands away. She turned once more to rest her head in the crook of his good shoulder while she lowered and raised her hips over him to the steady beat of the music, her hands slowly, tantalizingly caressing her stomach, her breasts, and tangling in her hair.
“You’re killing the patient,” he murmured against her neck. All awareness of pain had left him as all of the blood in his body was needed in a different area.
She laughed as she reached behind her, unclasped the bra, and tossed it onto the floor. Pressing her ass into his lap, she continued the rotation of her hips while sliding her hands up and down his thighs.
When her right hand reached behind to touch his cock, straining against the confines of his boxer briefs, he groaned and closed his eyes. “Parker . . .”
She stood and turned, providing a breathtaking view of her new body. He let out a low whistle as she returned instantly to straddle him, stroking her body up and down against him. She reached for the waistband of his underwear and he lifted his hips as she removed them. But when her head lowered to his thigh, leaving a trail of kisses, he stopped her.
It had be to the first time he’d ever stopped a blow job from happening, but he didn’t want her mouth around him . . . he wanted her. He wanted her body pressed close to him, he wanted to feel every inch of her as he came, he wanted to see her and let that mesmerizing look in her eyes take him to a whole new level of seduction. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her back to him, securing her in place, as he ripped the thong away from her body.
She gasped. “Hey, those were thirty-dollar panties.”
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he whispered, devouring her neck. “In every color . . .” His mouth crushed hers as his hands c
ame across her stomach and cupped her breasts.
She moaned and he could feel the wetness between her thighs.
Reaching for the drawer, she opened a condom and quickly slid it over him before following it with her body. She gripped his shoulders and he winced in pain. Her eyes flew open and she pulled her hands away quickly, stopping the rocking of her hips. “I’m sorry. I forgot,” she said, breathless.
He grabbed her tighter, staring into her eyes, as he said, “I can handle the pain. I can’t handle not having you a second longer.” He flipped her onto her back and lifted her legs behind the knees as he slid in and out of her body. His breathing was labored and the pain in his shoulder was almost unbearable, but he needed her, wanted her more than he cared about the pain.
“Tyson . . . are you okay?” she asked, looking concerned, but her eyes pleaded with him not to stop.
“More than okay,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.
But as he climaxed inside of her, he wasn’t sure that was true. If he was being honest, he wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay since the first kick-in-the-gut reaction he’d experienced the day she’d walked into his gym, into his life . . . since the first earth-shattering moment of awareness when he knew he had to have her and then the unfamiliar feeling of never having enough. He was starting to fall for her and that wasn’t okay at all. All he could do was hope when she eventually left, when she eventually didn’t need him anymore and went on with her life, that he could put the pieces back together again.
* * *
Sometime later in the night, she heard him climb out of bed and get dressed. She listened to the sound of his watch snapping into place, the zipper of his jeans, then the sound of his shoes on the hardwood floor. She kept her eyes closed. She wouldn’t stop him from leaving. That’s who he was. He’d never once lied to her or given her any false ideas or hope about where this was going or what was happening between them.
He was the love-them-and-leave-them kind of guy she shouldn’t involve herself with, the one she always avoided until now, the one who could no doubt break her. Yet, she wasn’t walking away . . . and she wasn’t pushing him away.
Fighting the Fall Page 14
