For some reason, letting her know I was stuck on her was important. She was important. I had no idea why—I’d only held her hand, for Christ’s sake, but maybe that was reason in itself. Besides the MMA championships, she was one of the only things in my life I had to work for.
No, that wasn’t right. I’d had to fight my way out of my father’s house, fists up, deflecting his physical blows until I was around sixteen and grew bigger than him, then built up my defenses against his verbal assaults until graduation when I shipped out for Basic Training. But that had been surviving, and that was different. If my middle school gym teacher, Mr. Johns, hadn’t picked up on what was happening and shifted my anger from lunchroom brawls to the ring, I’d probably be in lockup right now.
Being a Marine had been easy. Running a business was easy. Working hard for something, putting blood and sweat into it, made it important. Made it special, and Emory was special. She wasn’t throwing herself at me. The opposite, in fact. If I hadn’t invited her to the flag football game, I wouldn’t even be a fucking blip on her radar.
Sure, she was a challenge, and I never backed down from challenge. But this wasn’t a fight, conquer and win situation. And that was the kicker. I had no fucking idea what I was doing. I actually texted a girl. Fuck, a woman. Emory was all woman.
She wanted me. I’d seen it in her eyes when she’d been beneath me in the ring. I’d seen it again when I walked her to her door after our not-date yesterday. I knew the signs, and I’d desperately wanted to act on them. But I’d only have conquered her body, and that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to get to know her, and I wanted her to give herself to me, even a little bit at a time. Then completely. I didn’t want to take.
She’d written me back, and I wasn't going to deny I liked the little rush that gave me.
Trying to finally touch your toes?
I couldn’t help the shit eating grin on my face. She hadn’t sent anything else, not that I expected it since she was working. I could only imagine the stuff she dealt with, the horrors she saw with her job in the ER. I'd taken some people to get stitched up a time or two, been there on occasion as a patient myself, but nothing worse than stupid shit. Getting the crap kicked out of you in the ring was nothing in comparison to the harsh reality of the streets. As long as she was safe in the ER when she dealt with the bad stuff, I was fine. I only wanted to show Emory my controlled side, but if someone fucked with her, she’d see the real me, the hard, dark parts that lurked beneath the surface.
Thor dropped down beside me, squirted water into his mouth, swallowed, then wiped the sweat from his face with his towel. A guy his size would sweat another half hour before he cooled down enough to grab a shower, so we sat at one of the long metal benches beneath the big calendar of monthly classes and events.
“The date went great. We got ice cream from the drive-up place by the highway and just sat there,” he told me, propping his head back against the wall. “Held hands and watched the cars go by. For an hour. Then our date continued when we went to Target for shampoo and a new toilet bowl brush. Without the kids. No toy aisle. Plus, there was air conditioning.” He took another swig of water. “I know you’re going to think we’re crazy, but it was heaven being in a store without a kid holding onto my leg or hiding in the clothing displays.”
I shook my head in male disgust. This big giant of a man, the friend I’d known for years, put toilet bowl brush and date in the same sentence.
“When we got home, the kids were out cold. The babysitter’s a miracle worker. So the date continued.” He wore the grin of a well-satisfied male.
Emory had been right. Thor did what Laura needed, and she gave him—from the shit-eating smile on his face—amazing sex. Emory had no clue about dating but could clearly see relationship dynamics for others. I never, ever wanted to be the guy who was thrilled picking out a toilet bowl brush, but I’d never tell that to Thor. I wasn’t that stupid. I leaned forward, so my elbows rested on my knees, watched the activity in the gym. Two guys jumped rope in the corner. The beginner Jiu Jitsu class was stretching out. Several guys worked the bags with punches and kicks. The two I'd been training were on the treadmill.
“How’s Emory?” Thor asked, wiping his face again.
“Good. We went to the Roadhouse and got wings.” We’d spent two hours eating and talking, and I’d enjoyed watching her get messy. She’d forgotten how nervous she was and lost her skittishness as she worked her way through a bunch of hot wings. I’d been able to see her, and I really liked what I saw, even with spicy sauce on her fingers and mouth. She might not like Rocky Mountain Oysters, thank fuck, but the wings had been a hit.
“She seems… different,” he added.
I thought about that. There was no comparison between her and the women who threw themselves at me, or I'd taken to bed in the past. I’d always just been looking for an easy lay, a reprieve from my life. I didn't date. I didn't have long term relationships. Hell, Emory had been the first woman in my apartment besides the house cleaners.
She hadn't pushed her way in either. I'd brought her. I hadn't thought about it, considered what I was doing. I'd just let her in, and it had been… easy. With Emory, I wanted more. I wanted her, fuck, I wanted her more than any woman. Ever. I wanted to learn her body, to watch her as I explored her curves, to see what made her hot, to see what made her eyes go dark with passion. To have her beneath me again, and not on the hard surface of the ring with a bunch of guys wondering about the woman who'd snagged my interest. I wanted her in a soft bed… and naked. To know what she looked like when she came all over my cock. I shifted on the bench. “She didn’t know who I was.”
He was wiping his face with the end of his towel but lowered it to look at me with wide eyes. “No shit?”
“I told her, but she didn’t seem all that impressed. She wanted to see inside the gym and seemed impressed for what I accomplished, definitely, but not overly interested that I was famous for it.”
“Her friend knew who you were,” he replied.
I grinned. “Yeah, and she thought I was gay because of it.”
Thor laughed, and the guys jumping rope turned their heads to look at us.
“Are you going to tell her about the shit with your dad?” he asked, the smile dropping as he wiped more sweat away. He shifted his gaze to the two guys just starting a round of sparring in the ring, knowing it was easier to talk this way, without looking at each other like a bunch of girls at a sleepover.
I dropped my head, looked at the concrete floor between my bare feet. “Fuck if I know, but I’m sure she learned a fair amount with a computer search by now.” The shit with my dad was out there on the Internet but not the full story. Enough, though, to drive her away. “I held her hand. That’s it.”
This had Thor glancing at me. “No shit?” he repeated.
“No shit,” I replied on a sigh. “I want to do this right. I… I like her. It’s not a matter of me telling her about my past because a quick search on her phone will tell her enough, but if she makes it to my bed—no, when she makes it to my bed—there will be nothing between us.”
“I thought you had a no-sleepover rule.”