Harley
When Seth and several of the guys leave the gym to head to fights on Saturday, the only person I know who’s left after they’re gone is Devon. There are a couple of other men sparring and lifting weights, but I haven’t said more than “hi” to them since I moved here.
“Harley, want to spar?”
I spin to face Devon, who’s voiced the question. He’s wearing gloves and has a towel slung around his neck. He’s also not wearing a shirt, so his sexy chest is on display. My mouth waters, and I’m struck by the insane urge to lick the groove down the center of his six-pack.
Hello, crazy town. Paging Harley. Come back to earth.
“Uh, yeah, sounds good. But actually, I need to work on grappling rather than striking, so how about we roll?”
He flashes his signature mischievous grin, and heat pools low in my stomach. Why did I suggest that? What was I thinking? I shouldn’t be inviting him to rub that bare, muscled body all over me. But then, grappling is my weak spot and I do need to work on it. I wait for him to drop to the ground first, because I’m certainly not going to be the one to do it. He lowers himself to his knees and I rush to follow suit because otherwise I’ll start having fantasies about him leaning in and burying his face in my pussy, and that shit can’t happen.
“Eager to get on top of me, huh?” he quips, and a flush heats my cheeks because he’s hit closer to the truth than he probably realizes. “All right, show me what you’ve got.”
I go for the attack, hoping that the sooner my body falls into the familiar pattern of sparring, the faster all of my crazy hormones will calm down. I pin him, and throw some gentle punches at his face to pressure him to make a move.
“So, why are you here and not at the fight?” I ask.
“Seth didn’t want me psyching out the new kid, so I’ll be heading over to help out once they’ve got him in a good headspace.” He speaks from behind arms that are forming a shield.
“Do you do like psyching people out?”
“Maybe a little,” he admits. “It’s fun.”
Fast as a flash, he bucks his hips and rolls into action, dislodging me. Out of habit, I get to my feet, but he wraps his arms around me and brings me back to the floor. I test some of the maneuvers Jase taught me, but in the end, Devon gets me on my back, open and vulnerable. His lower body presses into mine, and a wave of heat crashes through me. Suddenly, I want nothing more than for him to close the distance between our mouths.
His nostrils flare, and his eyes darken impossibly, as though he can read my thoughts. He leans forward, resting his weight on his forearms, my head caged between them. Slowly, his lips descend toward me. Every part of me craves the kiss, from the tips of my curled toes, to my peaked nipples, to my tingling lips. His breath tickles my skin like a caress, and something inside me freaks the fuck out.
I can’t kiss Devon Green on the floor of my brother’s gym.
I can’t kiss him, full stop.
He’s the kind of guy who’ll break my heart, and I’ve been hurt enough for one year. With moves I never even knew I possessed, I flip us, smacking him into the ground. His eyes widen in shock, and he gasps as the sudden impact winds him.
Leaping to my feet, I back away, hand to my mouth. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
To my complete and utter astonishment, he bursts out laughing, and stares up at me, shaking his head in amusement. “That was hot as hell.” He raises a gloved hand, and I grab it and yank him to his feet. “You got me.” He bumps my fist with his. “Nice one, Isles.”
“It wasn’t intentional,” I mutter.
“Even better.” He winks. “If that’s what you can do by mistake, just imagine what you’ll do to those girls when you’re trying.”
The thought brightens my mood. I hope he’s right. I’m glad he’s being nice about this. A lot of men would feel emasculated or led on.
“So,” he continues, rubbing circles on his chest. “This is the part where I ask you out again, yeah?”
I sigh. “If it was, I’d have to turn you down.” Strangely, I find myself regretting that fact, and not just because my body is still wired with attraction to him. He actually seems like a nice guy, but officially off-limits, and not the right match for me anyway.
“Damn.” His lips quirk, but he doesn’t seem upset at all. “Have you decided whether you want me to back off and stop flirting with you?”
My breath quickens. Why does he have to keep asking that and putting the responsibility on me to reject him? Why can’t he be like any other douchey guy who’d ignore what I want and flirt anyway? Because while I can’t date him, I enjoy exchanging hot looks across the gym floor and I don’t want it to end.
“No, I haven’t,” I say, something fizzing in my chest. “I need more time to think about it.”
“Okay, then.” He grins crookedly. “Can I ask what’s holding you back?”
I drag a hand down my face and battle to pull myself together. Dare I be honest with him? I moisten my lips. “The thing is, I’ve recently gone through something that makes it hard for me to trust people, and I’m not denying that I’m attracted to you, but you seem like a good-time guy and that’s not what I’m looking for.”
He cocks his head, the humor fleeing his expression, and his eyes become uncharacteristically serious. “I could be more than a good-time guy for you, Harley.”
A lick of heat runs down my spine. His gaze is so intense. So honest. But from what I’ve seen of him, I’m not sure whether to believe him. The fact is, I hardly know Devon. I knew Thaklaew much better, and I still didn’t see his betrayal coming. Why should I think I’m any better at reading this guy?
“Think on it.” He touches his glove to mine. “Ready for round two?”
Devon
Before heading to the stadium to watch the fights, I drop by my parents’ place for a visit. Jamal and Rochelle Green live in a solidly middle class neighborhood, surrounded by houses that are nice but nothing fancy, and they’re likely to stay there until the day they die. Even if I make it big in MMA and start raking in the amount of money that Gabe and Jase do from sponsorships, I doubt they’ll want to move. They fit here, and that’s important to them. I, on the other hand, never fit. I used to try to squeeze myself into their templated idea of who I should be, but eventually I gave up, and so did they. Perhaps they decided to blame our differences on the fact I’m not biologically theirs, but who knows? All I can say is our relationship has improved a hell of a lot since we accepted that we’re not built of the same stuff.
I knock on the door and wait for Mom to open it. She’s a short lady with rich, dark skin, a pixie cut, and a no-nonsense tone.
“Well, hello. Fancy seeing you.” She steps aside. “Come in.” She eyes the t-shirt I’m wearing, which has the logo for the gym printed on the front. “Are you on your way somewhere?”
“One of our guys has his first professional fight tonight,” I tell her. “Gotta show my support and be there to ice his shins if they need it.”
She shakes her head. “When are you going to choose a safer, more stable career? You’ve been trying this MMA thing for a while now. Surely it’s time to move on.”
She starts up the hall, leading the way to the living area, and I follow. This is a common conversation for us. Try as they might, she and Dad just can’t understand my choices or my dreams. They seem to believe that MMA is a phase I’m going to grow out of, but I’m persistent as hell, and while I’m not a household name yet, all it will take is a couple of big opportunities to break through the barrier to fame.
“MMA is it for me. Sorry, Mom.”
She shakes her head, and gestures for me to take a seat at the dining table with my dad while she puts the kettle on. “Tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee, please.” I smile at Dad. “Hey, Pops. How you doing?”
He sets down his book—a biography, by the looks of it—and returns my smile. “Good to see you, son.” Like Mom, his gaze drops to my shirt. “Still repping the gym, I see.”
I wince at his use of the word “repping”. There are some things people over fifty just shouldn’t say. “That’s right. Life’s too short not to do something you love.”
Although neither of them can fathom that. Dad is a dentist, and Mom is a church secretary. She’s constantly praying for my eternal soul.
His lips press together. “I’ll never understand why you love being punched in the face and inflicting pain on others.”
Gritting my teeth, I try not to say anything I’ll regret. “Maybe if you came to one of my bouts and watched me, you’d get it.”
Mom pours two coffees and a tea and places them on a tray. “I don’t need to watch my baby get hurt.” She carries the tray to the table and distributes the drinks. “Why must you keep tempting fate? You’ve survived—”
“A car wreck, a fall from the roof, and a run-in with a burglar,” I interrupt, knowing exactly what’s coming. This is a common refrain from her. The trouble is, she and I view it differently. “I survived all of those things because it wasn’t my time to go. When it’s my time, it’s my time, regardless of how often I get into the cage.”
Her lips wobble, and her eyes gloss over. I mentally kick myself, feeling like an asshole. I know she’s genuinely worried, but I’m never going to give up my passion just to pacify her. She sips her tea and we sit in silence for a long moment.
Finally, she asks, “Have you met a nice girl to settle down with?”
Despite myself, I chuckle. This is our other regular discussion, and she’s used to me shutting it down quickly. I’m about to shock the hell out of her.
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
She gasps, then claps a hand to her mouth before she can spray tea all over the table. “Dev!” she chokes as she swallows. “Couldn’t you have had the good grace to wait until I didn’t have a mouthful of liquid to drop that bombshell on us?”
I shrug, feeling all kinds of gleeful. I’m not one of those guys who needs his mommy’s approval but damned if it isn’t nice to have it from time to time. “You asked.”
“I expected you to say the same thing you always do.”
“Career before relationships,” Dad intones, mimicking me.
A grin spreads over my face. “Well, it turns out that I don’t have to choose.”
Mom’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“The girl I’m interested in is a professional fighter, same as me. She’s beautiful, fierce, and won’t let me off the hook for anything.”
“Sounds as if I’d like her,” Dad says. “When are you bringing her to visit?”
I savor a mouthful of coffee before replying. “Once I win her over. At the moment, I haven’t gotten there yet. She’s a very cautious person and might have been burned before, so I need to let her know she can trust me.”
“Don’t rush her,” Mom warns, raising a finger. “That’s a surefire way to scare her off, and I want the chance to meet this girl.”
“You’ll get it,” I promise, wishing I felt as sure as I sound. I dearly want to believe Harley will come around, but while I’m certain she’s attracted to me, that doesn’t always mean something in the grand scheme of things. Gabe and Sydney shared a mutual attraction for years before they acted on it. The thought of going for that long without touching Harley sets my teeth on edge. “Now, tell me what’s going on with you.”