Fighting the Fall

by Jennifer Snow

  He nodded.

  “I mean, I know why she went to you,” he said with a cocky grin. “To try to make me jealous.”

  Tyson’s eyes flew to the man. What? He frowned. “How would that have made you jealous?”

  “When we were a couple, she knew how much I admired and respected you and your family. I don’t doubt for a second this whole MMA movie idea was just some ploy to get us working together again. She had to know I’d buy the rights to any movie just to get to meet one of my own favorite fighters, and the timing of her press release . . . A little too coincidental, you know what I mean?”

  His jaw clenched. Had that been Parker’s motivation? She had been intent on him training her and she’d eventually gotten her way.

  Her gaze finally landed on him and she smiled and waved.

  He held a hand up in greeting, unable to shake off the other man’s words.

  “I’ll get you that drink now, champ,” Brantley said, tapping him on the shoulder as he walked away.

  * * *

  “I met your friend,” Brantley’s voice behind her made her freeze.

  “I noticed. Where did he go?” She’d come inside looking for Tyson moments before, but he seemed to have disappeared.

  “I think he’s probably feeling a little out of place.”

  No shit. “Well, I hope you made him feel comfortable.” Instead of acting like the arrogant asshole you are, she was tempted to add. She took a deep breath. Like it or not, Brantley now held the cards. He was the one with the power to make or break this opportunity for her career. She still hadn’t had time to sit and talk to him about the script. She hoped they were sincere about leaving it alone and working with the limited sets the original writer had planned.

  “Of course. I always make people feel comfortable,” he said, draping an arm around her.

  She shrugged it off.

  “He seems to have quite the hard-on for you.”

  His words made her turn and glare. “That’s none of your business.”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care. So if that’s what all of this was about . . .” He moved toward her and cupped the side of her face with his right hand, his left arm going around her waist. “You didn’t need to go through so much trouble.”

  So much trouble for what? She slapped his hand away from her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.” She moved away from him. “If you’ll excuse me . . .”

  He grabbed her arm. “I meant, if you wanted to get my attention, you got it.”

  Her mouth gaped. Of course he’d assume all of this was about him. Getting his attention and possibly getting back together. It couldn’t possibly be because she was struggling to rebuild her career after the three failed movies he’d made featuring her and the fact that now an indie film was the only role she’d read in a long time that inspired her.

  His thick skull wouldn’t understand any of that . . . if he was even listening. So, instead she said, “I’m glad that this movie will get a chance to be seen by more than five hundred people at a movie festival, but don’t misunderstand my intentions—you and I are never going to happen again.”

  He grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Believe what you want, Parker, but the only people for those in the business are other people in the business. We get each other, while the rest of the world looks on in awe, wishing they were us. Tattoos and big muscles may be doing it for you now, but you’ll wake up and leave him behind soon enough.”

  She took a step toward him and, lowering her voice so her other guests wouldn’t hear, she leaned closer. “Tattoos and big muscles always did it for me . . . it was what I thought of whenever I was with you. Enjoy the party,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away, now more desperate than ever to find Tyson.

  * * *

  “You made it,” Parker said behind him, just as he was contemplating an escape. Watching her across the room talking to Brantley moments before had him more than a little on edge.

  “Yes,” he said, turning to see the woman he barely recognized. Her hair curled and pinned back from her face and the tight-fitting gown, she had Hollywood written all over her. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t see you come in or I wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself,” she said, taking his hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”

  Fantastic. Meeting more of these industry people sounded about as appealing as a root canal. And he felt awkward on Parker’s arm—the curious, judging eyes on them as she made the rounds introducing him to people whose names he didn’t even try to remember. This was her world and he didn’t belong in it. That much was obvious.

  But if it was obvious to everyone else, it didn’t seem to faze Parker. She looked happy to have him there, eager to introduce him to her fellow cast members and executives. How did she not notice the looks they exchanged? Or feel the tension in the air? Had she spent so much time in these situations that she’d become immune to it all?

  As she introduced him to the movie’s screenwriter, a man who looked just as uncomfortable as he did, Brantley waved to her from the pool deck, motioning toward another new arrival.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” she told him, squeezing his arm. “Don’t leave.”

  “No promises,” he mumbled as she walked toward the two men.

  The new guy smiled at her and gave her an appreciative once-over, and Tyson’s fists tightened at his sides. What the hell was wrong with him? He had to get his jealousy under control. He had no right to feel possessive over Parker. Wasn’t he the one who didn’t do relationships? Who wasn’t interested in anything other than his fight career? So why did he feel as though he’d been kicked in the gut when the guy leaned forward and kissed her cheek?

  “That’s Darren Cable, the lead actor in the movie,” Dave, the screenwriter told him.

  So that was the guy Parker would be kissing on set in just a few weeks.

  He watched as the man moved closer to her and placed a hand casually on her back—so natural, as if it belonged there.

  His temper rose within him. He needed to pull it together. This was her job. She had to entertain Hollywood’s finest . . .

  But when the guy’s hand dipped lower to the base of her spine, he couldn’t stop himself. Crossing the room, he interrupted the conversation. “Parker, can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked, taking her wrist in his hand.

  The look on the leading man’s face was pretty clear, but he didn’t give a shit.

  Parker looked surprised at his sudden interruption. “Um . . . sure . . . Excuse me,” she told the men as he led her away.

  He dragged her back inside the house and headed upstairs, not stopping until they’d reached her bedroom. Slamming the door behind him, he whipped her around and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “What are you doing? I have guests,” she said as his head lowered to her neck.

  “I don’t give a shit about your guests. You’re driving me crazy in this dress,” he murmured against the side of her ear. “Take it off,” he whispered.

  “But I . . .”

  “As your trainer, I’m telling you to let that dress fall to the floor at your feet before I rip it off,” he said, biting her flesh at her collarbone.

  She whimpered, and her hand shook slightly as she reached for the straps of the paper thin dress. Bringing them down over her shoulders, the weight of the fabric fell to the floor at her feet.

  Standing in only her red, lacy thong and her silver strappy sandals, she turned slowly to face him. “What now, Coach?”

  In an instant, his mouth was on hers, his hands all over her bare skin. They dipped below the string of the thongs on both sides of her hips as he pushed them downward, sliding his hand along the front of her flat stomach until he cupped her swollen mound of flesh between her legs.

  She bit his bottom lip as his finger plunged inside and he moaned. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered against
his mouth, her gaze locked with his, telling him she would do anything he asked.

  “Bend over,” he said, turning her around, pushing her gently forward until she was resting on her forearms on the bed. Her hair came loose from the clasp and fell to the side as she looked over her shoulder, to watch as he unzipped his pants and freed his already throbbing cock. He stroked himself and groaned as he moved forward, toward her. “Open wider,” he said, easing her thighs as far apart as her thong around her ankles would allow.

  He needed to have her now. He didn’t care that there was a house full of people or that her ex-boyfriend was making a play for her. He needed to be with her, be as close to her as possible, cling to her to try to erase these feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness taking over his emotions.

  Kneeling on the bed behind her, he slid his fingers along her wetness. Then stroked her back, and hips and thighs. Her knees shook slightly on the bed and she gripped the bed sheets in front of her.

  His hands left her and she heard the sound of the condom wrapper, then she felt his cock between her legs, the tip easing in gently at first . . . then plunging deeper, harder. One hand held her lower abdomen close to his body, while the other flicked her clit and explored the folds of her pussy.

  “Harder,” she said, and he pushed deeper inside her, a moan escaping him as she tightened around him.

  He leaned forward, resting his weight against her as his hands traveled upward to cup her breasts. He grabbed her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard. She let out a gasp and he kissed her neck.

  A second later he pulled out, then sitting on the bed next to her, he picked her up and sat her on his lap, her body facing him, as he lowered her down over his cock once more. She rode him up and down, faster, harder, until she was panting and desperate for release.

  His hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head backward as he kissed the base of her neck, burrowing his head into her breasts, as he came undone. A final thrust and he lost control, his fingers digging deep into the flesh at her back as he held her firmly in place as he pulsated inside her.

  Knowing he was coming was enough and she rocked her hips forward as her body rippled in pleasure, before falling limp against him.

  He kissed her shoulder, and smoothed her hair away from her neck. “See, wasn’t that better than the party?”

  She nodded, kissing him. “You can crash any party of mine anytime.”

  Chapter 11

  From his office the next morning, Tyson saw Dane waiting outside the front door. He waved and Tyson went to unlock it. “What happened to your key?” he asked, unlocking the outside of the door and flicking on the open sign in the window.

  Dane looked frazzled as he said, “I forgot it.”

  “Well, don’t lose it. They cost like fifty bucks to replace,” he said, heading back inside.

  “I won’t,” he said, as he followed him to his office. “I need more fights, Tyson.”

  How had he known that was coming? Dane hadn’t fought in months and while he paid him as an assistant coach at the gym, it wasn’t the payday he received from the fights. “Okay. I’ll talk to Erik—see if I can get you on a card early next year.”

  “Nah, man, that’s months away. I haven’t fought in almost a year. My sponsors are threatening to walk if I don’t fight again soon.”

  Tyson studied the middleweight fighter. The truth was, the guy wasn’t the most disciplined fighter he had at his camp, which meant convincing the MFL’s matchmaker to put him on a card was a challenge. When Dane wanted to train, wanted to win, he was one of the best at 185, but most of the time, he neglected the strict diet and training schedules needed to become a champion. Sometimes he won, sometimes he didn’t, and either way he was happy. The guy loved to fight—for him it wasn’t about being the best. Unfortunately, while that made him a fan favorite and a respectable opponent, it didn’t make securing fights an easy task. “I’ll see what I can do, okay?” he said, seeing Parker come in.

  An image of her in the stunning red dress—or rather, the dress falling to the floor—the evening before flashed in his mind and he grinned briefly before a sudden uneasiness formed in the pit of his stomach. The night had been both incredible and eye-opening. They were from two completely different worlds. The movie executives and the other actors were all so different from the people he surrounded himself with. He didn’t fit into that world and he wondered if she was starting to realize that too.

  “I’m sorry, Tyson, but if I can’t get a fight soon, I’m going to have to give up training for a while,” Dane was saying, cutting into his conflicting thoughts.

  “It won’t come to that. Trust me, okay?” he said, standing and heading out of the office. He felt unsure and uneasy as he approached her, and he ordered himself to man up.

  But the twisting in his gut continued as he drew nearer. Something was up with her as well. She looked nervous as she bit her lip and kept one eye on the front door. “What’s wrong?”

  “Brantley is coming to watch my training today.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “He said he wants to check in on his ‘star’s’ progress,” she said tightly.

  His star? The one he’d dropped the moment her third movie didn’t do so well at the box office? The feeling of jealous possessiveness that had plagued him since the night before was a foreign feeling to him. He’d never cared enough about a woman to feel anything close to the emotions tormenting him.

  “Are you cool with that?” she asked when he was silent.

  “I guess I have no choice,” he mumbled as the door opened and the executive came into the gym.

  She looked apologetic as she sighed.

  “I don’t see much training going on,” Brantley said with the arrogant air of a man on top of the world.

  “I just got here,” Parker told Brantley. “Should we get started?” she asked Tyson.

  Tyson cleared this throat. “Actually, I have to work with Dane for a while . . . why don’t you grab Billy.” He nodded toward the front door as the young fighter entered.

  “What?” Billy asked, removing his headphones as the three of them turned to look at him.

  “I need you to train with Parker for a bit today,” Tyson said, unable to look at the confused, disappointed expression on Parker’s face. It was time to start distancing himself. He’d let things get too far out of control with her. She would be gone soon . . . with Brantley. The night before had lifted the blinders and he’d seen clearly the differences in their worlds. Inside the gym, alone, together, it was easy to forget that she was a movie star. That she was a fantasy that men like him could only hope to hold in their arms. He’d been crazy to believe that things could work between them. And he’d been a fool to let his guard down.

  Damn.

  “Sure,” Billy said. “Want to start in the cage?” he asked Parker.

  “Okay,” Parker said, walking away from him, Brantley in tow.

  Tyson headed to the opposite end of the gym and motioned for Dane to join him on the heavy bags. “You want me to get you a fight? Let’s get to work,” he grumbled, grabbing a set of training gloves.

  Dane stared across the gym toward Parker. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to suffer for your fight with your chick?”

  Against his better judgment, he stole a glance at her and his chest tightened as the painful truth rolled off his tongue. “She’s not my chick, man.”

  * * *

  “So, we’re planning to start filming in two weeks,” Brantley said when she took a break a few hours later. He tucked into his pocket the cell phone that had been glued to his ear all morning.

  Parker swallowed a gulp of water. “What? I thought filming started in January after the holidays.” The original schedule had them filming from January fifteenth until April first.

  “We decided to move things up a bit. We’d like a Labor Day weekend release, so to make sure that happens, we need to start filming before the hol
idays.”

  “But I’m nowhere close to being ready yet.” Sure, she’d come a long way in six weeks, but there was still more to learn, more sculpting needed on her body . . . more time with Tyson. Her gaze fell across the gym where he trained with Dane. That’s if he wanted more time with her.

  His attitude that day confused her. What the hell had happened?

  A few days ago, things were going great between them. But last night had felt different. While he’d held her, kissed her, wanted her more than ever, if possible, she’d felt him drifting away. And she hadn’t known how to pull him back in.

  This morning’s brushoff, casually dismissing her to train with Dane, had hurt.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Now that we have a bigger budget, we can hire a real female fighter body double. We just need your pretty little face on screen.”

  Pretty little face? That’s all she’d ever been to him. All she’d been to Hollywood. If she’d learned anything that year, it was that as quickly as the industry could love you, they could forget about you. She wouldn’t forget that this time.

  And the idea of a body double annoyed her. She’d been so excited for this opportunity to prove she was more than just the pretty face. Now, it didn’t look like she’d get that chance. “I’d really like to continue training and stick to the original filming schedule,” she said, though she doubted what she wanted mattered. It never had before.

  He checked his watch. “Don’t stress over the details. Just get your sexy ass to LA on a flight next week, okay? I have to get back to the hotel now. We’re interviewing the real fighters today. Read-through tomorrow—don’t forget.”

  She fought the urge to show him her new right hook as she nodded.

  When he left, she scanned the gym for Tyson. He was no longer working with Dane and she was desperate to talk to him. She suspected he’d been uncomfortable and out of his element at her party. The movie industry people had a way of making everyone else feel inferior. She’d had a way of doing it too . . . before. Before she’d experienced something real with Tyson.