Fight With Me

by Kristen Proby

I look up at the bar. It’s probably about seven feet off the ground. “I think I got it,” I respond.

  “Ladies first.” He motions for me to go first. I rub my hands down my pants, then hop up, gripping the bar. I find the space between my hands that I like and begin to pull myself up, using a style Will taught me that he uses in Crossfit. As I come down, I push in an arc away from the bar, then swing back up, pulling the bar under my chin.

  God, this feels fantastic! I manage twenty pull-ups, then drop to the mat, shaking my arms and panting.

  “Your turn,” I plant my hands on my hips and look up at Nate, who is gazing at me with a huge smile plastered on his handsome face.

  “What?” I ask, but I know I just shocked the shit out of him. I glance around to find all the men in the gym are watching me, their mouths dropped.

  “Who trained you?” he asks.

  “My brother.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “Your turn, ace.”

  “Okay,” he’s still smiling as he leaps up and easily begins raising and lowering that sexy body up and down on the bar. His arms – holy Moses, those arms – flex and bunch with each repetition. I wish he’d take his shirt off so I can watch his chest. He effortlessly executes forty pull-ups and then drops to the matt.

  “Not bad,” I smirk and jump back up, gripping the bar. I begin the push and pull again, loving the burn that’s moving through my arms, shoulders and back. After twenty I drop back down to the matt.

  Without speaking, Nate hops up and completes forty pull-ups.

  “Warmed up?” he asks, panting and sweating and I just want to lick him.

  “Yes.”

  “I want you in the ring.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “There’s quite an audience here right now, Nate.”

  He laughs and grips my hand in his, pulling me toward the ring. “That too, but for now, I want to spar with you.”

  Rich meets us at ringside and hands me headgear, helping me fasten it in place as Nate takes care of his own.

  “You’ve got some upper body strength going on there, girl.” Rich grins down at me and I can see the unspoken questions running through his handsome head.

  “My brother plays for the Seahawks. He used to make me train with him.” I smile at him as he wraps my hands in white tape.

  “Wait,” Nate interrupts. “Your brother is Will Montgomery, the football player?”

  “Yeah,” I grin, so unbelievably proud of my big brother. “He’s a good workout partner, but he’s brutal.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Nate has stopped taping his hand and is gaping at me.

  “You don’t know everything, ace. Are you going to stand there with your mouth hanging open all day, or are you gonna man-up and take an ass beating?”

  The whole gym erupts in laughter, including Nate, and he grips my shoulders and pulls me in for a rough kiss, then pushes me away and finishes taping up.

  “Good luck, son. Make me proud.” Rich laughs and steps over to the side of the ring, leaning on the platform, ready to watch the show.

  Thank you, brothers of mine, for making me take martial arts and self-defense classes, and for kicking my ass every time mom wasn’t in the room. The training is about to pay off.

  Nate and I circle each other, his eyes full of humor. He thinks he’ll take me down easy. Of course, he’s bigger, stronger, and well-trained, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve and I’ll get a few good shots in there before he takes me down.

  I let him advance first, knowing he’s not really going to hit me. As he reaches for me, I grab his arm, pivot, and stomp on his foot, jab my elbow into his stomach and roll us both onto the ground, me landing on top, then quickly roll off of him and back onto my feet. The guys who have gathered around the ring cheer, and Nate rises gracefully off the ground, grinning.

  “Good one.”

  “Thanks.” I grin back at him.

  The next few minutes are the same, me using all the tricks my brothers and teachers taught me to defend myself against him. We’re not throwing punches, we’re grappling, and it’s so sexy and fun! Finally after a few minutes, Nate lifts me and pushes me up against the corner of the ring. His gray eyes are shining, staring into mine with lust and excitement and, if I’m not mistaken, admiration.

  “You are so hot,” he whispers, panting harshly, so only I can hear.

  “Come on, McKenna!” A muscular, bald black man yells from ringside. “Stop dry-humping her against the corner and let her kick your ugly ass!”

  I laugh and wrap my arms and legs around Nate. “Yeah, McKenna,” I whisper.

  He spins quickly, and suddenly we’re wrestling around on the ground. I manage to squirm out from under him briefly, but then he pins me again, lifting my hips and legs off the ground, and I know I’ve lost.

  “Shit,” I mutter as someone slaps the ring and calls the match. Nate rolls off me and helps me up, then pulls me into his arms and kisses me fiercely.

  I climb out of the ring and Rich meets me once again to help me out of the head gear and to cut the tape off my hands. “Not bad, baby doll.”

  “I have four older brothers. I had to learn to defend myself against them. Mom couldn’t always be there to referee.” I grin at Rich. I like him already.

  The crowd thins again, all the guys go back to their own workouts and Nate joins us. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure.”

  “You come back anytime, girl.” Rich hugs me – hugs me! – and smiles at Nate. “You can come too, if you must.”

  “Gee, thanks, dad.”

  ***

  The ride back to the apartment is no less exhilarating than the ride to the gym was. My body is still sensitive from our rigorous workout, and the humming of the bike between my thighs is doing delicious things to my core. I wrap myself around Nate, my nipples pucker against his back, and I squeeze his thighs with mine.

  He inhales sharply and curses and I smile. “Thank God this is a short trip.”

  He pulls into the garage and into his parking space. It’s fairly dark down here, the only light coming from fluorescent over-head bulbs. It’s deserted.

  I climb off and we take our helmets off, then before he can lower the kick-stand, I climb back on, straddling his lap.

  “Hey,” his eyes widen and he grabs my ass to steady me.

  “Hey yourself.” I lean in and kiss him, my hands on either side of his face and he pulls me more snuggly against him, rubbing me against his erection still hidden in his workout pants.

  “I want you,” I murmur against his lips.

  “Here?” he asks.

  “Fuck, yes.”

  “Jesus, you never fail to surprise me, baby.” He’s supporting the heavy bike, and us, with his strong legs braced on either side. He reaches between us and rips my yoga pants at the seam of my crotch. Holy fucking shit! My panties are next, and before I know it, he’s lowered the waist of his pants and is filling me.

  “Oh, God, yes.” I lean back and brace my hands on the handlebars of the sexy motorcycle, wrap my legs around his waist, and he guides me up and down his beautiful cock with his hands cupping my ass.

  “Fuck, baby,” his teeth are clenched. He pulls one hand around and presses on my clit with his thumb, and I explode around him, pushing down on him, and he finds his own release, shouting my name. I hear it echoing in the parking garage, and I smile smugly, looking up into his hot gray eyes.

  “I’ve never had motorcycle sex before.” I lean up, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. He’s still inside me, but anyone watching would just assume we’re making out on his bike.

  “Me neither,” he chuckles against my lips, lifts me off of him and pulls his pants up. I stand next to the motorcycle and wrap my jacket around my hips, knotting it at my waist. That should get me upstairs.

  “I’m going to have to go shopping this week. You’re tearing up all of my clothes.” I laugh as we walk onto the elevator and Nate pulls me into his arms, hugging me close.

  “I’ll r
eplace them.” He kisses my forehead and I smirk.

  “No need. I don’t mind.”

  “Did you bring a dress?” he asks.

  “Yes, why?”

  “I’d like to take you out tonight.” He runs his hand up and down my back and I feel like purring.

  “Okay.”

  “Good, let’s go shower.”

  Chapter Seven

  I study myself in the mirror and grin. I’ve pulled my blonde hair into a loose bun behind my left ear. My eye makeup is smoky and sexy, setting off my blue eyes, and pink lip gloss is smoothed over my lips.

  It will probably be kissed off before we leave the apartment.

  My dress is light gray and strapless, with a sweetheart neckline. It’s gathered between my breasts and has soft ruffles that fall down the length, just above my knees. I have pink diamonds in my ears, a birthday gift last year from Natalie, a pink bracelet on my right wrist and pink Louboutin heels.

  Grabbing my gray clutch bag, I toss in my phone, lip gloss, money, debit card and driver’s license.

  Time to knock Nate’s socks off.

  Coldplay’s The Scientist is playing. Nate is not in the great room or the kitchen, and I know he’s not in his bedroom or master bathroom because that’s where I just came from.

  Huh. Where is he?

  I wander back down the hall and see the light on in his office. Leaning against the door frame, I watch him work. I love his work face. His eyes are narrowed, watching the computer screen, and he’s quickly tapping on the keys, most likely sending an email.

  He looks absolutely mouth-watering in black jeans and a snug-fitting royal-blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. I love seeing the tattoo on his right arm. His hair is loose, because I asked him to leave it down while we were scrubbing each other in the shower. A shower that took about four times longer than it should have because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

  It’s like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one when he’s naked, and he seems to feel the same way about me.

  “Am I keeping you from work this weekend?” I ask, smiling at him. His head jerks up and those gray eyes go wide as he looks me over from head to toe.

  “No, nothing important.” He pushes back from his desk and saunters over to me, his warm gray eyes holding mine. “You are stunning.”

  “Thank you. You look incredible yourself.” I run my fingers through his hair and I don’t care that I have a goofy grin on my face. “I like your hair down.”

  “Do you?” He bends down and softly kisses my neck, just below my ear. “You take my breath away, Julianne.”

  “I’m glad.” I kiss his chin and adjust one of the buttons on his shirt. “Where are we going tonight?”

  “There’s a great seafood place down on the waterfront.”

  “Sounds good.” He kisses me, sweeping his lips across mine, and then lays his forehead on mine.

  “Let’s go.”

  ***

  Dinner has been enlightening and delicious. We have talked like old friends, and I’ve learned even more about Nate’s childhood, growing up as an only child with just his father. We’ve avoided talking about work, so I decide to broach the subject.

  “So, what’s going to happen Monday?” I ask and take a sip of wine as we wait for dessert.

  “I’m assuming we’ll be at work,” he comments, and eyes me apprehensively.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Well, let me ask you this,” he takes my hand and examines my French-tipped fingers. “Is this a one-weekend thing for you? Do you want to go back to having a purely professional relationship at the stroke of midnight tomorrow?”

  No! Is that what he wants? The thought makes me sick. I’ve learned so much about him in the short twenty-four hours we’ve been together; seen such an amazing new side to him. I enjoy his no-nonsense conservative side at work, and I can’t get enough of the bad-boy I’ve met today.

  “No,” I whisper. “That’s not what I want.”

  He exhales deeply and kisses my fingers, relief evident on his gorgeous face. “Me neither.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “We continue having an amicable, professional relationship at work, and whatever happens outside of the office is our business.” He shrugs like it makes perfect sense. Like it’s so easy.

  “I’m not a good actress.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, you’ve done well enough for the past eight months.” He sits back and takes a sip of wine, not letting go of my hand, his eyes hooded.

  There is no choice. If we give any clue at work that we’re intimate we’ll both be fired. If we decide to never see each other again, I’ll be devastated and broken-hearted. Neither option is appetizing.

  “Okay. Business as usual.”

  “Excuse me,” our waiter approaches the table and I smile up at him. “Aren’t you Jules M from Playboy?”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. I’m never recognized, ever. It’s been five years since I last posed in that magazine, and it has to be now, when I’m with Nate, that some kid remembers seeing me in a magazine his dad probably had hidden under his bed.

  I throw on my fake smile and wink at him. “I am.”

  Nate releases my hand and I cringe on the inside.

  “Wow,” the waiter blushes and smiles back at me. “I thought I recognized you. I don’t want to bug you, I was just curious. Your dessert should be ready in a second.”

  “Thank you, Derrick,” I reply smoothly, reading his name tag. He nods awkwardly and walks away and I take a deep breath and meet Nate’s eyes across the table.

  “I guess I should mention that I posed in Playboy a long time ago,” I murmur.

  “I guess you should,” he responds. His voice has gone colder and I cringe, on the outside this time.

  “It’s not something I’m ashamed of, but it doesn’t come up often any more. It was a long time ago.” I shrug and watch his expression, which doesn’t change.

  “Why did you do it?” he asks.

  “Well, Natalie used to take a lot of photos of me. She still does. The biggest part of her business is boudoir and couples photography. She got into it in college, and I was the one she practiced on.”

  “Go on,” he says after Derrick places our desserts on the table.

  “So, there was a talent scout in Seattle one weekend, and I grabbed a few of the photos she took and went there to see what they thought. One month later I was in L.A. at a studio posing for the magazine.” I shrug again and fidget with my silverware. “It didn’t pay very well, but I didn’t need the money anyway. I guess it made me feel sexy, and girly, which was important to me because I’d always been around so many boys, and it was fun. The photographer was very professional, as was everyone else on the set. I got to stay at the Playboy Mansion a few times and hang out with the other girls and Heff, and there were celebrities around. For a twenty-one year-old, it was glamorous and exciting.”

  “But?” he asks, prompting me to continue.

  “But, I didn’t like the crude guys that would approach me when I was out with Nat. One guy cornered me in a bathroom hallway in a bar one night, and well, let’s just say he had a hard time taking no for an answer.” I swallow and look down at my clenched hands. “ I beat him to a bloody pulp.” Nate’s hand flexes into a fist on the table and I raise my eyes to his. “I literally put him in the hospital.”

  “Good,” is his only response.

  “I decided that posing those few times was enough. It’s something I’ll always have, but not something I need. I’m shocked that kid recognized me.” I shake my head and close my eyes, wishing Nate would give me a clue to what he’s thinking.

  “Please say something,” I whisper when it feels like minutes tick by without a peep from him.

  “I don’t like it.” His voice is quiet and cold, and my stomach clenches in fear.

  “That’s understandable,” I mutter, my head down. I focus on th
e table cloth, running my fingers over it, steadying myself for him to say he’s done. This is a deal breaker for him. He thinks I’m a whore.

  I’ve heard all those things before.

  “I think you’re incredible.”

  What? I whip my head up, my eyes searching his. My mouth is open in shock.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You don’t think I’m a whore?” Seriously?

  His eyes go arctic. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again.”

  “I’m sorry, I just…”

  “Just what?” he snaps.

  “I’ve heard it before,” I whisper and look down again.

  “Look at me.” His voice is softer, calmer, and I raise my eyes to his again. “You are a brilliant, lovely woman, Julianne. You had a wild streak in college. That’s something I can identify with.” He raises an eyebrow and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

  “The problem I have,” he continues, “is that other men have seen your beautiful body.”

  “I wasn’t a virgin when I met you,” I remind him.

  “No, you weren’t, and I can deal with that, although I admit it makes me a little crazy. But knowing other men have seen you, and fantasized about you, makes me want to put each and every one of them into the hospital, starting with our young waiter.”

  Oh. I don’t know why that touches me, and I’m mortified to feel tears prick the backs of my eyes. I blink rapidly and try to find my equilibrium. He never fails to surprise me.

  “So,” I swallow and grip his hand in mine. “So, you still want to see me?”

  “Of course.” He frowns like it’s an absurd question.

  I nod and look down at my chocolate cake. “Can we get these to go?”

  “Great idea.” He signals for the waiter and requests boxes for our delicious-looking desserts.

  He’s quiet on the ride back to his apartment, but he keeps a hand on my thigh, as though he just can’t stop touching me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  He still wants me!

  I glance at his sexy motorcycle when I climb out of his car and I smirk, remembering this afternoon. He smiles down at me and kisses my hand. “I’m looking forward to doing that again,” he murmurs.