Chapter 17
Kyce and I decided to stay an extra day in Texas to celebrate my win against Fischer. He brought a good game, but not good enough to diminish the force of my goals. The best part of the fight, he lost at his own game. He enjoys the mat. I loathe it. But in the second round, he put my ass on the ground. Dumbass gave me a perfect opening and about forty-five seconds later, he was tapping out.
After winning, Kyce’s goal was to get me shitfaced and he sincerely fucking succeeded. I only remember bits and pieces of the night—lights, drinks, and women. Don’t worry, I know I didn’t sleep with any of them. Apparently, I didn’t want to have anyone touching me, so says Kyce. I vaguely remember kicking some blonde out of the hotel because she wouldn’t keep her hands off me.
What I do recall is wanting so badly to call Whitney, but Kyce had my phone. He took it earlier in the night for that very reason. Dickhead.
The hangover was intense, causing the flight home to be excruciating. The fucking headache was agonizing as it pounded many reasons why not to drink again in my head. The light…fuck the lights shined so brightly, I swear I’d rather have lived life in the dark for years to come.
Since I have another fight coming, I’m not going to take a break. I’m going to bury myself back into training and readying for war, setting my sights on my aspirations. Today, I feel more human, less like death, and decided to come to the gym to let out some of my frustrations. I’ve been an ornery bastard. I see it. I feel it. My chest hurts and even though, I won against Fischer, my ego is still busted up.
Fucked up, right?
It’s late and I’m slamming my knuckles into the leather. Pound for pound taking the wrath of my vexations and bruised ego out on it. Power punch after power punch, putting every ounce of strength and energy I have into them.
“Any reason why you’re in the gym and not celebrating your win with Gracie?” Jackson’s voice echoes off the cement walls. “You’re breaking traditions.”
I rotate toward him “School night. Figured it wouldn’t be a good time,” I lie.
Jackson tightens his lips and nods, knowing it wasn’t the truth. “Good fight. We had it on at the casino. You meant some ugly business.”
“I refuse to lose again.”
“You know what losing feels like now. Helps for you to barrel through it.”
He shrugs out of his blazer, rolls his sleeves up, and grabs some hand pads. His broad frame stands before me, pads up, ready to have a good spar.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to even though it’s been years since we’ve played around. My knuckles make impact into the pads and he moves, countering with swift jabs as he dodges mine. I duck and strike again.
I always loved working with him. He keeps me on my toes, advances forward making me utilize my feet as he polishes up on his blended combinations he’s since forgotten about. We silence, working each other, trading quick movements and light strikes.
Sweat begins to run from his forehead and his expressions becomes more desperate before motioning he’s done.
I laugh. “Already out of gas?”
“You make me feel old,” he chuckles, dragging his forearm across his forehead.
“Because you are,” I tease.
He narrows his eyes. “I’d kick your ass all over this gym.”
A loud boisterous laugh rumbles out of me and fills the room. “You realize what I do for a living?”
“Have you forgotten I started you in all this? I’m the one who beat the shit out of you and made you stronger than the rest.”
I smirk. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you created me?”
He tips his head to me. “Even though you enjoyed the taste of your blood, you got tired of filling up on it. You had to protect yourself, so you ran off to the gym with Jimmy and starting taking martial arts.”
I stifle a laugh. “I don’t hit girls.”
“You don’t fight for them either,” he reproaches, crossing his arms triumphantly.
And just like that, our brotherly banter turns icy cold.
I tense. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“She walks out and you let her?” He leans his hip against the corner of the ring.
I almost want to roll my eyes. “You’ve been talking to Kyce.”
“Why would you let her walk out? She made you more likeable.” He chuckles.
“Yeah? Well, apparently she didn’t like me so much,” I grumble.
“You sound defeated.” His tone is nonchalant.
I throw my arms out to the side. “Because I am. I’m on the fucking uphill with my fights and downhill with the girl…” I stop, shaking my head and take a few stabs at the leather.
“Were you in love with her?” he asks over the thudding of my gloves.
I don’t answer, focusing back on the seam of the leather. One day I’ll wear the fucker down and make it spill its guts onto the floor. He steps to my side and braces his hands on his hips like he’s fucking Superman. “You’re not getting out of this.”
I glare at him. “Why does any of this matter to you?”
“Regardless of how much of a shit you are. You’re still my shithead little brother.”
I puff a breath.
“Were you in love with her?” he repeats.
I square him up, standing with my fist to my side. He’s solid, not an ounce of worry that the storm clouds he’s causing me will have me knock his head off his shoulders. He keeps his view on me, silently scrutinizing me.
“It was reckless on my part. I should’ve kept my head in the game and concentrated on fighting. I got wrapped up.”
His pale blue eyes, the same ones all of us have, thin into slits and focus on me. “When you’re honest with yourself, when you’re man enough to admit you were in love with her, only then you go fight for her.”
“Look, she walked in on a photoshoot with Melissa, Erin, and some new chick, Ashlee. I don’t know what she saw, but it wasn’t good. Erin was up to her normal sluttastic ways and Ashlee followed suit. I didn’t stop it. Wasn’t enjoying it, but I didn’t stop it.”
“So you feel like you fucked up, yet again?”
“To an extent, yes. It doesn’t matter, man. Whitney isn’t fond of what I do anyway. And says she can’t compete.”
Satisfaction crawls its evil self across his lips. “Your lifestyle can be large at times. Big egos. Big fighters. Endless lines of beautiful women. Have you showed her you? Your loyalty?”
“We don’t do this sensitive shit,” I bite, walking away.
“Do you think Sarah was excited about Mirages?” he calls out behind me. It pauses me, but I don’t turn around, keeping my back toward him. “Fuck man. She was so against it at first. She despised the idea. But I went against her with a dream in my eye, which only made her loathe it worse. I had a mistress—the casino. I had slowly replaced my wife and daughter with the love of my job. I was so driven and dedicated to prove to myself I was able to fix that shithole up and make something of it, I excluded my wife.”
I start off again.
“Sarah told me she was leaving me.”
This makes me face him. My brows pull together. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He rocks his head from shoulder to shoulder. “You really think I was going to admit it? Confess I single handedly ruined my marriage? That’s a spikey pill I refused to swallow and I sure as fuck wasn’t about to let the best thing that ever happened to me walk out on me.”
I watch him twist his wedding band around his finger.
“I devised a plan. I came to Sarah with every business idea I had. Profits, gains, losses…you name it and I placed it in front of her. At first, it irritated the fuck out of her. She was fed up. But eventually and after days of coaxing, she caved in. All it took was her to ramble something off, and I put it into play. It was her idea to put virgin drinks on the menu. I found it ridiculous, but you know how well it worked. Sarah saw it, too. That’s when my life settled. When I made the most important piece fit into my puzzle. I made my dream apart of my dreams.”
He did a damn good job keeping all that shit to himself because I never knew Sarah was against it. Every time they talked about it, even in its earliest stages, she seemed sincerely supportive.
He takes a step forward, knocking me out of my trance. “I’m not telling you all this for some fucked up version of sympathy. I’m telling you so you’ll see it’s not always as it seems.”
I blink. “I’m trained to read people, body language and to pay attention every twitch of the body, every flicker of the eye, but her…”
“She’s a different game to play, Ryker. You’ve not been seriously interested in anyone since Vicky. When she up and left you, you realized how vulnerable you were. You hated that feeling of emptiness. But instead of dealing with it, you went the wrong direction to fill the void. I tried helping. I tried stepping in and being the big brother, but you were stubborn and since you thought I’d never had a heart break in my life, you refused to hear me out. Admit it, Ryker, you’re letting her walk away because it’s easy. You’re scared.”
I don’t admit shit and narrow my eyes at him, feeling the anger braided with foolishness begin coursing my body.
“It’ll be the best free fall you’ve ever experienced. Don’t give up because of a struggle. You wouldn’t do it for a bout. Why do it with your heart? If she’s scared, comfort her. Prove to her. You’re a fucking Hayes. Man up.”
Ever have the moment of stupidity slap you in the face? Last night, I tossed and turned thinking of the shit Jackson said, and it all tumbled down on me. Instead of reassuring her of a world she knows nothing about, I pussied out. Instead of manning up with my feelings, I let her walk out. I cussed the ceiling. I cussed myself.
I lost sight. I’m back. Pulled my head out of my ass.
I’ve been anxious all day, fiddling with everything, waiting for the time to come. My pulse is jack hammering in my chest when I knock on the door. I don’t know what to expect, but when she pulls the door open, the swelling in my chest is more than I envisioned.
Her face crumbles. “What are you doing here?”
“You know what pisses me the fuck off? That I had no say. You took the right away from me and made a decision about us without including me.” I’m angrier now that I’ve soaked in what I’ve missed for days.
“I—”
“You had the chance to talk the other day when you walked away from me,” I interrupt scornfully. “It’s my turn. I’ve always been sure of myself. Quite fucking confident. I’ve worked hard for my place in life, for my spot in my sport, and then in struts this five-foot-eight bombshell who causes me to lose my footing. You rocked me.”
She stands there with her hair in a loose ponytail with her unhappy, shocked, and bemused gaze wide and on me.
“You’re right. Women see me. I’m used to having an endless pick, a fucking buffet at my disposal, and I hate it. But you see me. I’m not just a star-studded fuck to you. I’m not easy money or someone fancy to hold your hand. You see me. That’s a fucking luxury. You are entirely correct about our lifestyles. They are contrasting as hell, but you fail to see just how well they complement each other. You, this innocent, sweet, compassionate, career-driven, and confident woman holding her own. And me. I’m hard, complicated, also career-driven, but I love to inflict pain for the thrill of fighting. You’re paid to make people happy. I’m paid to destroy them. We balance. You bring out a side of me I’d forgotten about and I fucking crave to put a smile on your lips.”
“I won’t compe—”
“You don’t,” I cut her off again. “There isn’t a fucking competition, Whit. I don’t see other women. I only see you. I don’t give a damn about all the shameless women thrown in my direction. It’s such a fucking turn off. But you…I don’t think you see your self-worth. You deserve more than you give yourself credit. You’re being a selfish bitch denying that to yourself.”
She doesn’t move, standing there frozen.
“You make me feel things. I don’t mind love, Whitney. I’m not afraid of it. What bothers me is the ending when just the beginning has started. I refuse to let you go because you’re the one scared. You’re worried about getting in the way of my dreams but you’re neglecting the fact I want you in them. I want you in my corner. I want to finish what you started.”
My hands are shaking from the emotions. The anger forcing a course through my veins. I’m pissed I’m in this situation to begin with.
She flinches, placing her hand on her chest. “What I started?”
I grip her by the waist and pull her closer to me without allowing our bodies to touch.
“Your eyes, Whit. They tell me everything. I know you love me. I knew it in the same moment you did because I all but fell into them. You’re going to let me in and you’re going to quit running away from me.”
“I like—”
“Me,” I finish her sentence. “Let’s see where we go.” I tuck a finger under her chin and tip her face to mine. “Fighting is my game. Not yours. You’ll lose the battle because there’s more to me than you’re seeing. I don’t want to be a rumor, Whitney.”
She’s mush under my palms, but I give her the final decision.
“What’s it going to be? Are you letting me in? I know when to quit, so if you say you’re done, you won’t see me again.”
Her eyes flick between mine for what feels like an eternity and then she slowly drags her hands up my chest. I see it. It’s there. And I’m an impatient fucker, so I crush into her lips, plunging my tongue into her mouth. I’m not taking this kiss slow. No. There’s way too much sensitivity for slow. Too much emotions. I’m feeding off the passion and urgency.
She’s a frenzied mess, grasping my skin and pulling at my neck. I walk us into her house and kick the door shut behind us. I tug her out of her shirt and duck out of mine. I toss her bra over my shoulder, backing her down the hallway. When we hit the end of her bed, I push her backward, gripping her ankles.
I pull off her pants and then graze kisses up her calves, over her thighs, and stroke her clit. She shoves her heels into my shoulder, arching her sweet pussy in my face. I lap, flicking my tongue, and suck her sensitive nub. She rocks against my face and I tug her closer by her hips.
Her body reacts, urging for more when I drag a finger in and out of her slick heat. Her head is tilted back, her mouth parted and panting. She grips the sheets just as her legs begin to stiffen.
I stop because regardless of how badly I want to taste her as she loses it, I’d rather be buried inside of her for the moment.
I pluck a condom from my pocket and shimmy out of my pants, releasing my dick. Her eyes are heavy as she watches me roll it on and then lower myself onto her. She takes back to my mouth, kissing me madly.
I fill her cautiously because she’s so fucking tight and I’m desperately trying to restrain myself. Bright lights flash, and a euphoric eruption builds low in my stomach. She sucks a sharp breath and I pump into her, steadily picking up the pace, rocking harder.
I’m testing her limits.
Tampering with her sanity.
I’m on the edge of mine.
Her body jerks. Her skin flushes and a glistening bead of sweat forms over every inch of her bare skin. I push to my hands, and drive in strong strokes.
My restraint is cracking. I snake my hand up her back and grip her neck, rooting so fucking deep into her. I bite her nipple and she cries out from the pleasure. I answer with another forceful thrust.
That’s when the most beautiful thing happens—she loses every fucking morsel of sanity and comes hard. Her eyes roll before squeezing them shut and she mewls as she frantically twists the sheets, pulling them up high.
I’m all fervor at her orgasm, tightening my grip on her nape. I slam into her, vehemently giving her avid body every fucking thing it’s begging for. Using her neck as my leverage, I pull, shoving into her harder.
She wriggles and bucks. Her moans and whimpers are my undoing.
I growl, shattering into a divine brutality. I surge with earnest as her body takes everything from my pulsing cock. I drop on top of her, catching myself by my elbows so I don’t put all my weight on her, and rest my face in the crook of her neck while trying to control my breathing. Her pulse is beating chaotically. Mine matches hers. And when it finally slows, I pull out and head to the bathroom to clean up.
Sliding back into the bed, I face her, propping up on my elbow. We lie here for a few minutes on our sides, face to face, her eyes closed, a ghost smile resting on her lips.
She finally opens her eyes to me. “Don’t fucking hurt me, Ryker.”
I grin. “Hell of a way to say best fucking lay ever. Thanks.” I chuckle.
She glares at me trying to hide the smile ticking on her silky lips.
I push my arm under her, hoist her into my side, and kiss her forehead. “I don’t plan on it.”