Chapter Ten
Aiden walked across the gravel drive toward the house. It was only midmorning and already the oppressive humidity was replacing the sweat dripping down his chest just as fast as he wiped it away with the T-shirt balled in his hand.
“Hey, Ally-girl,” he said to the gator sunning herself. “Must be nice to be cold-blooded, huh? Not even noon and it’s already wicked muggy out here.” She hissed in response, which he took to mean, Like I give a shit, asshole. “All right, I’m going. Don’t need to bite my head off.”
If anyone should be cranky, it was him. After a night of practically no sleep, he’d gotten up around five in the morning and gone for a long run. Then he’d punished himself for another couple of hours in their makeshift gym, flipping tractor tires, swinging a sledgehammer, and doing other manual labor–based exercises. Rich boys could play with their weight machines all day long, but nothing beat the kind of muscle built with good old-fashioned hard work.
But now he wanted to die. Hell, he’d already puked twice. Transitioning from maintenance workouts to training and fight prep always sucked. He’d rest for a few hours and go back out for another round in the afternoon and maybe another in the evening. If he wanted a shot at winning this tournament, he didn’t have time to dick around.
Which also meant changing his diet, he realized as he climbed the porch steps and the rich scent of pancakes made his stomach growl. He figured Xander must be cooking breakfast—the man had culinary talents to rival an Iron Chef—but the scene he walked in on took him by surprise.
Standing at the counter mixing a bowl of eggs, Xander was animatedly telling an elaborate story as Kat tried to flip pancakes while doubling over in laughter.
Aiden dropped his sweaty shirt by the door and crossed to the fridge. He grabbed two bottles of water and killed the first one before even reaching the kitchen table.
“Oi,” his roommate called. “Get your stinky shite out of the room, will you? How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your sweaty clothes lying about the house?”
“The same amount of times I have to tell you you’re not my mother.”
“Keep that attitude up, mate, and you won’t be getting any of me famous pancakes.”
Aiden pulled out a chair and sat at the table as he studied Kat. Her laughter had died as soon as she’d noticed him. Now she flipped the pancakes with way more focus than the menial task required. Her shoulders were tight and when she turned to get more batter, she avoided meeting his eyes.
Pretending he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, he continued bantering with Xander. “That’s all right. I’m not planning on having pancakes anyway, so I’ll just leave my stuff where it is.”
“What? Of course you are; don’t be daft. You love me fucking pancakes. I suppose next you’re going to tell me you don’t want any bacon, either.”
For fuck’s sake, did the man wake up without his brain this morning? He cleared his throat and gave his friend a pointed look. Think, dumbass.
“Ohhhhhh,” he dragged out. “That’s right, I almost forgot about your new diet. Good job, mate, I’m proud of you for stickin’ to the plan.”
Kat looked between the men with a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about? Neither of you needs to be on a diet.”
Xander was all too happy to explain. “Well, you see, lass, Irish here has gone a bit soft in the middle. See how he’s got a bit of a roll there?”
Aiden and Kat both glanced down to see the line of skin folded across his midsection because he was hunched over at the table. He quickly sat up straight, eliminating the supposed “roll,” but Kat had already looked back to Xander.
What-the-hell-ever. What did he care, anyway? This wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t in competition for the head cheerleader, for chrissake.
“Yeah, he said he wants to trim up like yours truly,” the Brit continued as he pulled up the front of his tank and displayed his abs. “I don’t mean to sound cheeky, but come on, can you blame the lad?”
Aiden worked out regularly and had kept most of his tone from years ago, but even on his best day he’d never been as cut as Xander in the stomach. The man’s torso looked like something out of RoboCop. Skin draped over an eight-pack of steel. And his obliques were insane; the V-shape was noticeable even under his T-shirts.
“That’s not fat, asshole. I’m retaining some water, that’s all.”
“Oh, is it that time of the month already, mate? Seems like you just got off your period.”
“Whatever,” Aiden said, flipping him the bird. “You’re fucking soft in the head.”
“If Irish’s middle is considered soft,” she said, pointing to him with a spatula, “I’d hate to hear how mine is classified.”
“Ah, but a woman is supposed to be soft, lass, with supple curves that mold to a man’s much harder body. And since I’ve seen you at work in that skimpy thing they call a uniform, believe me when I tell you, you’re perfect just the way you are,” he said with a wink.
Kat scoffed and turned back to the stove, but not before Aiden noticed her cheeks flush a bright pink. Still whipping a fork through the bowl of eggs, Xander winked in Aiden’s direction before focusing his attention elsewhere.
What the hell was going on? Was Xan interested in Kat? The muscles in Aiden’s jaw flexed and his hands curled into fists. He’d never mentioned anything before, but maybe that was because he’d known Aiden was there to look after her and didn’t want to complicate things by bringing her home. But now that she was already here…
“Fucking great,” he muttered.
“What was that, mate?”
Aiden got up from the table. “Nothing,” he said, walking toward the door. “I’m heading back out. I’ll eat later.”
He couldn’t even be pissed at Xander. It’s not like Aiden had ever staked a claim on Kat, or ever would. And, assuming she didn’t leave town, she wouldn’t find anyone better than his friend. Whether he was with a woman long-term or just for a night of fun, Xan always treated the girl he was with like royalty.
Plus, Xander didn’t have a history of hurting the ones he loved. So, there was that.
Once inside the barn again, Aiden quickly wrapped his hands and headed over to the heavy bag hanging from the rafters. Though his muscles were still burning, he began putting himself through one of his bag routines, working on his striking and kicking combinations.
“Wow, did you guys do all this yourself?”
Aiden stopped to look over at Kat standing at the entrance to the barn door. He must’ve really been in the zone; he hadn’t even heard her slide the barn door open and closed again.
“Yeah.” Using the back of his forearm, he wiped the sweat from his face as best he could. He knew he should say more, but he couldn’t think. She’d stepped farther in where the sunlight streamed in through the dingy window above. The rays lit her from behind like an angel and the dust motes looked like tiny fairies dancing around their queen. “Queen of the Angel Fairies…” and holy shit, did I just say that out loud?
“What did you say?”
Yep, he did. Christ, she must think he was a wicked idiot or something. “I said Xan is the king of the underground fighting around here. He likes to fight in the underground MMA tournaments out near Sullivan. So when we moved here, we put some things together that keep him in shape for that.”
She crossed to a metal folding chair a few feet away from him and got comfortable. “What’s MMA?”
“Mixed Martial Arts. It’s when you fight using multiple disciplines of fighting, not just one. You ever see the fights on TV when they’re in an octagonal cage?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess I have. Those fights are brutal, aren’t they?”
“Can be. But it’s not like both guys aren’t in there for the same reason. If one of them wasn’t trained for it or didn’t want to be in the fight, then that would be one thing. But every fighter who steps in that cage loves the feel of getting hit just as much as he loves doing the hitting. You gotta respect that kind of passion.”
“Is that why you guys moved here, for the underground fights?”
“That’s what Xander’s doing here.”
“And you?” she asked.
He choked back the acid in his throat at the thought of continuing to lie to her. Turning back to the bag, he rolled his shoulders a few times before throwing a combination as hard as he could, then answered her with a half truth. “I wasn’t doing much in Boston, so I figured I’d check things out down here.”
Aiden continued to punch and kick, hoping it would deter further questions. He hated this entire fucking situation. Hated that she was in danger. Hated that he was lying to her. Hated that he wanted her a hell of a lot more than he could afford. And he sure as fuck hated that his best friend might want to fuck her, too. Nothin’ like a little salt to add to the wounds.
With every strike and every kick, he imagined the hard bag of sand as everything that stood in the way of Kat’s happiness and safety. She deserved a better life than the one she was leading, and he wanted to do whatever he could to give that to her.
That meant winning the Four by Four and getting Sicoli and his hired goons off her back. That meant giving her the remaining ten grand of the winnings that he didn’t tell those assholes about so she could start over. That even meant possibly watching her get together with his best friend when all he wanted to do was keep her for himself.
“Irish!”
Stopping, he faced her with his hands on his hips, his breath sawing in and out from the exertion. “What?”
“I said, did you ever fight?”
He stared at her for a few long moments, unsure how much to tell her. As much as he hated talking about his past, he felt he owed her a certain amount of reciprocation for her honesty with him last night. But he was afraid if she knew the whole truth, she’d leave, and he couldn’t risk her doing that until he made sure she was in the clear with Sicoli. The Internet made it way too easy to enter a name and have all your secrets spill out in the form of clickable blue links. But Kat didn’t seem the Googling type. Hell, she didn’t even have a cell phone that he knew of. So he’d give her as much as he could for now. That would have to be good enough.
Crossing to the mini-fridge, he grabbed two waters, cracked them open, and offered her one before flipping around the other metal chair and straddling it. “I used to, a long time ago.”
She took a long pull from the bottle and his mouth went dry watching her throat move. When she’d gotten her fill, she leveled him with those baby blues and asked the million dollar question…
“So why’d you quit?”
…that he couldn’t answer.
Not truthfully, anyway. He shrugged and hoped to God she wasn’t a human bullshit detector. “The sport isn’t made for a long career. It’s hard on the body. So instead of risking a major injury, I quit and became a motorcycle mechanic.”
“And doing that makes you happy?”
Fuck no. “I like bikes, I can turn a wrench, and it pays the bills. What more do I need?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with extra sarcasm, “maybe some of that fire I saw in your eyes when you were talking about the sport you so obviously love?”
“All right, smarty-pants. What would you be if you could do anything?”
“That’s easy. I’d be a superhero.”
“Come again?”
“You know, someone with superpowers like the ability to fly or read minds or—”
“Kat, I know what a superhero is. But you don’t exactly strike me as the sort of girl to dress up and attend ComiCons.”
“You’re right, I’m not. But you said if I could do anything, right?”
His mouth quirked up on one side. “I did indeed. Okay, kitten, enlighten me. What kind of superhero would you be?”
“Well,” she started thoughtfully, “as cool as it would be to have any kind of superpower, I would want super strength.”
“A little unoriginal, but not entirely a bad choice. Why that one?”
Kat began playing with the label on her bottle. She picked at the corner until she could pull it off in little strips. She’d withdrawn a little, like a turtle not completely hiding but not willing to keep its neck all the way out where it was vulnerable.
“Kat?”
“Because then no one could hurt me,” she answered softly. “If I didn’t want someone to touch me, I could make him stop.” Finally she lifted her head, and the rage and pain he saw in her eyes made the animal in him howl. “And then I’d make him pay.”
The steely resolve in her voice revealed a little girl who’d been mistreated in ways no one ever deserved. She’d had no way to fight back, no way to protect herself. It was no wonder she longed for superpowers. Unfortunately, even if superheroes existed, she clearly wasn’t one of them. So he’d have to make her the next best thing.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet.
“Why, what are we doing?”
“Giving you superpowers.”
“Oh, good,” she said wryly. “And to think, all this time all I had to do was ask.”
Aiden walked to a stack of thick blue mats and pulled them out one by one until he’d made a decent area for them to work in. Standing in the middle of the mats, he asked, “Ready?”
“For what?”
“Your first self-defense lesson.”
She hesitated. “Really? You could teach me that?”
“Yeah. You said you wanted superpowers, and being able to defend yourself against someone no matter what his size is as close to that as you can get. So, you ready?”
Wringing her hands together in front of her, she nodded.
“Then let’s get started.”
For the next two hours, Aiden worked with Kat on different techniques she could use for different situations. He’d only planned on teaching her one or two, but with every move she mastered, her inner strength and confidence grew right before his eyes. Her appetite for the knowledge of how to protect herself was voracious.
By the end, she knew all the weak points to strike on a person and how to throw him off-balance almost any way he grabbed her. Except for one way in particular he’d steered clear from, unsure how she’d react to being put in that position again so soon.
“This is great, Irish, thank you,” she said. “Anything else?”
He hesitated, weighing the options of making the suggestion or not. “You wanna know what to do if someone pins you from behind?”
Aiden swore he saw the moment her heart skipped, but she bounced back just as quickly, blinking hard a few times as though trying to clear the image of that night in her mind’s eye.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Yes, I do.”
“Are you sure? There’s no pressure. We can do it some other time if you want.”
She shook her head. “No, I’d like to try it now.”
“All right. Come over here, then.”
Aiden crossed to the sidewall and waited for her to gather herself and do the same. Placing his hands on her upper arms, he gently moved her in front of him. Her body tensed and her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.
“We’re going to take this nice and slow, kitten. You won’t retain anything I teach you until you learn to trust me and shake the panic reaction. To start, I’m going to put my hands right here.” He pressed them to the wall in front of her face. “Right where you can see them, okay?” She nodded. At least she wasn’t so far into her own fears that she couldn’t still hear him. “Good. Now, when you’re ready for me to do more, let me know.”
…
Kat focused on his strong hands wrapped in yards of black fabric and his long fingers marked black from grease stains and tattoo ink. Irish directed her to take slow, even breaths—in through her nose, out through her mouth. After a couple of minutes, she finally managed to regulate them, though she didn’t think it had anything to do with the deep breathing. It was—
“Atta girl, you’re doing fine. Nice and easy.”
—that. His voice. Low and raspy and right next to her ear. She’d bet he could melt butter using only the sound of his voice. The vibrations soaked into her skin and traveled in her blood stream to circulate through her body. A warm tingling bloomed deep in her center. She’d never felt anything like it before, but it felt so good and she wanted more. She wanted more of him.
“Okay,” she said with a slight quiver. “You can do more.” Please do more.
“It’s important you realize the limited motion you’d have if this were real, so I’m gonna step into you close. But I’m leaving my hands where they are for now.”
She nodded for fear her voice wouldn’t come out right, if at all. He stepped closer, planting his feet just behind and outside of hers. Little by little their bodies connected. First his chest to her shoulder blades, then the hard planes of his abs molded against her back. Finally he pressed his hips forward, joining them in a most intimate way that should have unnerved her but only made the tingling stronger and spread lower.
As she stood pinned between the wall and Irish’s body, the fear that had gripped her in the beginning changed to something else entirely: the excited fluttering feelings she had no idea how to describe or what to do about them. Her knowledge of this was exactly zilch. Though she was the furthest thing from a virgin, she had no past experiences—except from the night before—of this to go on.
Wanting a man’s touch was new to her. The tingling, the butterflies, and the wetness between her thighs, all new.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
Deciding it couldn’t hurt to listen to her body’s instincts, she shut the door to her brain, and all the dark memories she wished she could purge, and let herself simply…feel.
Closing her eyes, Kat leaned her head back until it settled into the space between his shoulder and neck. His cheek met her temple, then slid lower to brace against her jawline. The warmth of his breath moistened the skin on her neck, and she felt her nipples draw tight.
He groaned low in his chest. “How okay?”
“Unbelievably okay,” she answered on an exhale.
Her back arched, clearly needing something, though she didn’t know what. But then Irish leaned them back just enough to make space for his hands, which molded to her breasts, showing her that he knew exactly what she needed. She sucked in a breath at the glorious friction his palms created as they caressed and kneaded the sensitive mounds. Every touch and every pinch zinged straight to her center, building the heat until she literally pulsed with it. A keening moan filled the air, and it took several moments for Kat to realize it had come from her.
She reached back and pulled on the backs of his thighs to bring him even closer. His mouth moved to her ear to lick the shell, nibble her lobe, then suck the sting away.
“How about now? Still okay?” His voice was barely more than a growl against her neck before his lips trailed openmouthed kisses along its length.
He was worried she’d freak out again, that he’d do something to trip her defenses. “Irish, I’m good. As long as we keep things slow, I’ll be fine.”
“Believe me, I don’t ever plan on rushing anything with you again, sweetheart.”
The way he rasped sweethaht pretty much fried all her brain functions. The butterflies kicked things up a notch as his mouth began the long trip back up the side of her throat and his hands slid down her stomach. As his moved lower, hers went up to reach behind and dig her nails into the back of his neck and shoulder. Blissed-out didn’t even begin to describe Kat at that moment…
Until his hands gripped her hips to pull her against him.
Pain pressed in and blazed a trail right through her center, incinerating the butterflies and tingles and replacing them with a split-second montage of her dark memories. Memories of when there was no pleasure. Only pain.
Kat jerked, hissed in a breath through her teeth, and released Irish to close in on herself as much as possible between him and the wall. As usual, there was no easy escape.
Except that almost just as fast as she’d regressed, Irish had stepped to her side, giving her the opportunity to do just that. But she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t even mean to freak out and wished she could rewind time and brace herself to avoid the reaction. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t figured out how to time travel to prevent things she didn’t want. She’d been wishing for that her entire life.
“Kat, I’m sorry, I did it again—”
“No, you didn’t.” The muscles in his jaw ticked and he looked away as though disgusted with himself. Placing a hand on his stubbled cheek, she brought his eyes back to hers. The last thing she wanted was for him to take blame for something others had caused. “Irish, you didn’t, I promise. I’m just a little tender on my hips right now from Mullineaux the other night, that’s all.”
Within seconds he grew in mass and size. His muscles grew bigger, his frame inches taller, and as he looked down at her, shadows fell over his face, making the angles sharper. Kat’s stomach dropped and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
His words scratched the silence like diamonds on glass. “Did that bastard leave marks on you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said with what she hoped was a convincing smile.
“Like hell you are.” Kneeling in front of her, he tucked his fingers into the waist of her yoga pants. She instinctively grabbed his wrists, but she couldn’t form the words to protest when he gazed up at her with those sapphire eyes brimming with concern…for her. “Let me see, kitten. Please.”
It was the please that did it. That simple word said in his butter-melting voice undid her. If he ever figured out the sort of power he could wield with that one word, she’d be in trouble.
She released him and forced her hands to her sides as he gently pulled the waistband down just enough to expose the finger marks in front of her hip bones. His breath hissed out from a clenched jaw, then he laid his forehead on her belly. It was too quiet to tell, but she thought she could hear him counting to himself. At a loss of what to do, Kat wove her fingers into the back of his hair, cradling him to her and pretending she had the right to want him for her own.
After several minutes, he got up without saying a word and crossed the gym to rifle around in a metal cabinet. He returned with a small jar and once again knelt in front of her.
“This will help with the bruising. I’ll be as careful as I can, but it might hurt a little as I put it on.”
She nodded her assent and held still while he spread the balm where the purple marred her pale skin. When he finished, he slowly lifted her stretchy pants out and over the bruised areas before letting them shrink back to her waist.
Rising, he said, “Why don’t you go back in the house? I’ll be up in a little bit.”
“Okay. You want me to heat up those eggs Xander made you?”
He gave her a strained smile. “That’d be great. I’m starved.”
He might be talking food, but the look in his eyes revealed his thoughts were much darker. And it worried her. “Irish?”
He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “Go on up to the house, sweetheart.” Damn him, using that accented endearment against her. “Please.”
Double damn. There was no use fighting him. Either he’d already discovered the secrets to manipulating her, or the affection and respect came naturally to him. Either way she was screwed for as long as he kept it up. Until then, she’d be waiting for the other shoe to drop, because no way in hell he’d stay like that for long. Eventually he’d lose the polite affection and start barking out orders instead of bothering to ask, much less use the word “please.”
Just like every other man she’d known. And that might just kill a part of her she didn’t think she could afford to lose.
“Hey, no frowns,” he said, tilting her head up. “No being sad or scared. Not here.”
She drew up the corners of her mouth. “I’m not.”
His exaggerated exhale clearly said, What am I going to do with you? Nessie had done the same thing with her countless times when they were young. “And I want you to stop lying. There’s no reason to lie to me. I’m never gonna judge, blame, or think less of you as long as you’re honest with me. Deal?”
“Honesty for honesty?”
He hesitated for half a second, but then answered. “Honesty for honesty. Now go on. I’ll be up soon.”
Though his tone sounded relaxed, the tightness in his jaw claimed otherwise. Kat opened her mouth to question him, but the darkness had returned to his eyes and the words got stuck in her throat. She swallowed them back and turned to leave. When she reached the door, she peered over her shoulder one last time. He stood tall with his legs braced apart, his upper body marked with tattoos and sweat, his wrapped hands fisted at his sides. A modern-day warrior if she’d ever seen one. He took her breath away, but somehow she managed one more request.
“Hurry in, okay?”
Irish offered a stiff nod, and she let herself out of the makeshift gym, sliding the door closed behind her. She quickly made her way up to the house, but then stopped on the steps when she heard muted thumping and growling filtering through the wooden slats of the barn. The noises brought up the images of Irish beating on that hanging bag again, and from the sound of things, there wouldn’t be much left of it when he was through.