5 Rounds: An Enemies to Lovers Sports Romance (The Fight Game Book 1)

by Nikki Castle

  I try to pull her even closer, my thumb starting to trail circles on her skin where I'm gripping her waist. I want to soak up another few minutes with her like this.

  Last night was… a lot of things. Even though I told her a little about my family the night we sat on the couch, it's a whole other level of vulnerability letting someone overhear one of the worst conversations I've had with my family in a while. Even the memory of my mom's selfish cries makes my teeth clench.

  But Remy didn't show any of the pity that I'm used to when people hear about my unsupportive parents. She just offered me her honest opinion and let me do with it what I wanted. She didn't awkwardly pull away—she just stood, strong and unflinching, with her painful truth.

  In that moment I could've kissed her for her strength and her honesty. So, I did.

  I don't think sex with Remy will ever not blow me away. The chemistry between us is like a pull that clearly neither of us can resist. We fit so perfectly together that it actually makes me angry that we waited this long to start doing this.

  Only now, it's more than just sex.

  I asked her to stay with me last night. I've never wanted to ask a girl to stay. I've never cared to spend more time with them after I've come down from my orgasm high. If they did stay it was only because I'm not enough of a dick to send them home when it’s late. But I've never wanted to spend more time with them, or keep the physical touch going without having sex. I've never wanted to cuddle.

  But last night—as well as this very moment—I can't seem to get enough of Remy's body against mine. It feels like there's a current running between us that's constantly pulling us together, an energy that's also hypnotizing me and demanding that I spend as much time around her as I can. Kissing her, touching her, talking to her.

  It should probably scare me, but it feels so natural to want to be around her that I can’t really bring myself to be freaked out about it. She’s been in my life for longer than probably any other girl so there’s already a level of comfort between us that I’ve never experienced before. And no matter how I look at it, I can’t see wanting to spend time with Remy—in bed, out of bed, in the gym, everywhere in between—as anything but a good thing.

  The sex isn't even on the forefront of my mind anymore—I just want her.

  The thought makes my breath catch and my eyes shoot open.

  I want Remy? Since when do I have any interest in a girlfriend?

  My focus has been on fighting for years now. The whole reason I've stayed away from steady girlfriends—other than not finding anyone interesting enough to hold my attention—is because I need to be selfish to be a good fighter. 'Selfish' and 'boyfriend' don't exactly go together in a sentence.

  Yet when I look at Remy, I can't fathom any of that. I just want more time with her. Surely, I have time outside of the gym to spend with another person? Is that enough to be a good boyfriend?

  Does she even want a boyfriend?

  I suddenly realize the insane turn my thoughts have taken. I frown and mentally shake the images from my head—of fight nights with Remy curled in my lap, of dinner in the city, of lazy Sundays between the sheets. I'm getting way ahead of myself here.

  I gently slide away from Remy, trying not to wake her. I smile when I see her frown in her sleep at the missing weight of my arm around her.

  Pulling the sheet up her body—and growling when her delicious tits are no longer visible to me—I exhale one final smile at the sight of her before quietly grabbing what I need for the gym. I slip out of my room a few minutes later.

  I'm not sure how I get through my classes and private lessons at the gym today; I'm completely distracted with thoughts of Remy. I occasionally glance at my phone, debating texting her, but I give up on the idea when I realize I'm not sure what I'd actually say. I turn back to my students with a sigh.

  It's almost 8:00 when I'm finally done working and teaching for the day. I once again think about calling Remy, this time with the idea of just flat out asking her if she wants to hang out. But the fact that I'm not sure what her answer would be has me discarding that idea, too. I still have no clue where her head is at with us.

  I cringe. Us. When did I become that guy?

  Apparently when a feisty little brunette gave me a listening ear and mind-blowing orgasms.

  Sighing, I grab my phone to see who might want to hang out tonight. I never realized how much time Jax and I spend together until he wasn't around.

  But a missed call and text message catch my eye. I open the message with a frown, wondering why Aiden would've called me.

  Aiden: Hey man, people are gonna start showing up at the house at 9 if you feel like coming over. It'll be chill, just some drinks and maybe a fire out back. Text me if you need the address.

  I completely forgot Aiden invited me to his party tonight. I wince and rub my temple. House parties remind me of college kids, which I was never really a big fan of. Also, lots of talking. At least at the bars I don't have to make conversation, and I can slip out without being noticed.

  But with a sigh, I decide this is probably as good an opportunity as ever to put some time in with the team. If Aiden invited me that means there's going to be a few others from the gym, so at least I'll have some people to talk to about fighting. I'm not big on socializing with the students since I enjoy being the stoic, no-bullshit coach that keeps his distance, but there is such a thing as too distant. An hour at a party will give me a chance to spend some time with them and prove I’m not a total asshole.

  I tuck my phone in my bag and head for the showers, ignoring the little voice in the back of my mind that's whispering I'm only going to the party in the hopes of seeing one particular student.

  I walk into the townhouse and immediately remember that there is a very valid reason that I don't do house parties. It feels like I've walked into the middle of Hipsterville.

  There are people scattered all over the couches in the living room and crowded around the bar in the kitchen. I even notice the people smoking in the backyard through the open back door beyond the kitchen. I recognize a few people from the gym but for the most part, this is a party of freshly graduated, lost-in-the-world twenty-three-year-olds that are getting together to smoke weed and talk about problems they know nothing about. Not exactly my ideal crowd.

  But when I spot Aiden in the kitchen, I plaster a smile on my face and make my way over to him.

  "Hey man, you made it! Can I get you a beer?" Aiden gives me an overly excited fist bump, his grin stretching from ear to ear. I make a mental note that although I'm most likely going to have a terrible time here, it makes a big difference for team morality when I spend time with the guys. My smile becomes a little more authentic.

  "Yeah, a beer would be great, thanks. Who's coming from the gym?" I look around the first floor, trying to decide who will be the easiest to spend the next hour with.

  Aiden opens the fridge but looks thoughtfully over the door as he thinks about his answer. "Uh, Max's here somewhere, so is Lucy, but I don't think Remy is coming. Two of the new fighters are here too, Dane and Pete.”

  I try to ignore the pang of disappointment I feel when he says Remy isn't coming. I had assumed that she comes to events like these, seeing as she's such a social person. It wouldn't have been the worst thing to hang out with her in public—although I'm not sure I would've been able to keep myself from eye-fucking her.

  I smile thankfully when Aiden grabs an IPA from the fridge. He pops the top off with a bottle opener then slides the beer across the counter to me.

  "I also have a few friends here from Temple," he continues, crossing his arms and leaning against the bar. "Not sure if you'll know anyone but some of them graduated the same year you did."

  I nod, deciding not to tell him that running into people I went to college with doesn’t exactly sweeten the evening for me. I take a swig of my beer.

  Someone calls for Aiden from the living room, at which he nods and then turns to me. "I have to go handle that
. Max's outside with the rest of the guys if you want to say hey. I know you're not exactly the mingling type." He clasps my shoulder with a big grin. "But thanks for coming anyway."

  I flash him a very crooked, very guilty smile. Busted.

  I make my way outside, immediately recognizing Lucy's ringing laugh. I find her sitting around the fire with Max and the two new fighters that Aiden had mentioned.

  "Holy shit, you actually came!" Lucy exclaims in mock-shock. I roll my eyes and tug her ponytail before giving each of the guys a fist bump.

  "Figured I'd bless you with my presence for a while," I tease. I sit down in the camping chair on the other side of the fire and take a swig of my beer.

  Lucy rolls her eyes and fakes vomiting on my shoes. I wink at her with a grin.

  I turn to the two guys across from me—Dane and Pete, Aiden had said. I've seen them at the gym and know they’ve just joined our fight team, but I haven't spent any time training with them yet. As much time as I spend at the gym, I typically don't remember anyone's name until they've either scheduled privates with me or they've started training with the fighters.

  "So, I hear you guys are trying to get on the next fight card," I say by way of a conversation starter. Since I'm here I might as well use the time to get to know the new additions to the team.

  They nod, eager to have my attention, and launch into a description of their training and fight goals. I smile and nod along, occasionally adding my thoughts and suggestions when they ask me questions. It makes me happy to see fighters just starting out being this excited about their training. I've been in the game for so long that I've seen plenty of fighters burn out and lose their love for the sport. It’s refreshing to be reminded of the excitement that we all start out with.

  "Do you think Jax will fight again?" Dane asks me, as if sensing my train of thought.

  I shrug and take a sip of my beer, enjoying the alcohol's pleasant hum in my veins. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "Nowadays I'm not sure he enjoys it as much as he used to. He's so good and could easily go further, but that would mean stepping in with a whole other caliber of fighters—fighters that have their hearts set on the UFC and are willing to dedicate their entire lives to getting there. I don't know if Jax wants to give everything up for that."

  They all nod in understanding. The whole gym loves Jax, but we've all noticed that he's been less excited for his fights in the past year.

  "Speaking of Jax, when does he get back from San Diego?" I hear Lucy ask.

  I turn toward her. "This weekend. Sunday."

  "And how has it been living with our darling Remy?" she asks with a grin.

  I tense when I realize I have no idea if Remy has told anyone about us. I study Lucy for a moment but decide she's probably not close enough to Remy to warrant that kind of intimate conversation. I know Lucy sensed the tension between us last week, so I answer her question based on the assumption that that's why she's teasing me.

  "Well, we're both alive and kicking, so as well as can be expected," I shrug.

  "And there have been no other pranks? No other… incidents?"

  I narrow my eyes at Lucy and decide she should be the last person to be told any kind of gossip.

  But before I get a chance to answer, Max pipes up beside me.

  "Speak of the devil," he murmurs. "Look who just walked in."

  I turn my head toward the house—and feel my heartbeat stutter, just for a beat—when I see Remy walk through the door.

  She immediately commands the attention of the crowd with her genuine smile and unassumingly perfect, womanly body. Her jeans are tight enough to showcase her very feminine curves, while her trademark combat boots contrast that with her “take no shit” aura. She’s wearing a very cut-out white tank top that lets her black bralette peek through, the lace of which covers just enough of her breasts that it’s not overly revealing, but entirely enticing. My mouth goes dry at just the sight of her.

  She greets a few people before spotting our group, then freezes when she notices me.

  After a moment she plasters a smile on her face again and walks over to us. "Hi," she squeaks nervously, looking at everyone but me.

  I grin at how uncomfortable she looks. Clearly, she's never had to hide a secret about sex before, and I realize quickly that Lucy is going to see right through her.

  I'm surprised to realize that I couldn't care less.

  As much as I keep my personal sexcapades out of the gym and away from my job, I wouldn't mind stamping a claim on Remy. I don't enjoy sharing my women, for one, but I'm starting to realize I also feel a very carnal type of possessiveness when it comes to her. I should be the only one that wakes her up in the middle of the night with a screaming orgasm.

  I shudder at the memory of last night—and then quickly wipe it from my thoughts before I decide to drag Remy upstairs for a repeat performance.

  "Hi, Remy baby," I tease with a grin. "Fancy seeing you here."

  She finally looks at me with a quirked eyebrow. "I should be telling you that. Since when do you come to house parties?"

  I shrug nonchalantly and gesture at the group with my beer. "I wanted to bond with the team." I'm rewarded with a grateful smile from Dane and Pete.

  Before we can say anything else, Lucy cuts us off. "Actually, we were just talking about the two of you living in the same house. How's that been going?"

  Remy whips her head to glare at a very smug—and very smiling—Lucy.

  Instead of waiting for Remy to awkwardly stumble over some kind of non-answer, I respond for her. "It's been great," I quip. "We were able to lay down some new ground rules and now we're perfectly capable of hanging out around the house. We had a lovely conversation about it just the other night on the couch."

  Remy's eyes go wide. I can tell by Lucy's barely-covered snort that she definitely understood my comment, but the guys might be too clueless to key into my hidden meaning. Remy's response will be what makes it obvious or not.

  "Um, yeah. I just needed to scream at him a few times until he finally saw the value of my house rules. We're practically civil now."

  Max chuckles from beside me, probably picturing how many screaming matches we must've had before we reached a truce.

  Little does he know, the screaming was of a very different nature...

  But it seems like the guys buy our lies. They start to ask her if she wants to head to the bar with them after the party ends here, but they're interrupted by someone calling Remy's name from across the yard.

  She turns to the group that has since congregated near the grill. Based on the amount of Temple gear I see some of them wearing, I deduce that they know each other from college. She excuses herself from our circle and walks over to her friends with a big smile.

  I try to rejoin Dane's conversation about the upcoming UFC fights this weekend, but I keep getting distracted by the sound of Remy's lively laugh. I can't stop myself from glancing over to where she's standing.

  She's having an animated conversation about some kind of college memory with one of the girls. She's gesturing wildly, her facial expressions conveying every emotion during the length of the story, and every so often she throws her head back with a deep belly laugh.

  She's absolutely radiant when she's happy. Her hair is blowing in the warm September wind and she occasionally brushes away a stray strand that's blown into her face. I realize I want nothing more than to tuck the hair behind her ear and kiss her so hard that she forgets her own name.

  After a while she chances a look my way. While her friend is talking, she peeks a glance at me from beneath lowered lashes. I grin and wink at her, unashamed that she caught me looking.

  Her eyes drop down again as a blush flames her cheeks. But she can't quite hide the small smile that tilts up the corners of her lips.

  Finally sensing a lull in the UFC conversation around me, I use the opportunity to excuse myself from the group and make my way over to Remy. I decide I want to coax a few more blushes out of her,
maybe see if I can convince her to sneak out of here with me. My nerves tingle with excitement.

  Remy looks up at me with wide eyes when I reach her side. But just as I open mouth to make a teasing comment, I'm cut off by someone recognizing her as they walk by.

  "Remy? Is that you? Holy shit!"

  She turns startled eyes toward a man in suit pants and button-up. His dark hair is slicked back, and he's got a beer in his hands. His whole image reeks of Corporate America.

  I narrow my eyes at him, something familiar nagging the edge of my consciousness.

  "Jason?" she gasps. "Wow, it's been years. How are you?"

  That's when it hits me. Jason started at Temple the same year that I did. We actually lived in the same freshman dorm building. At the time he was an awkward, nerdy kid studying philosophy. I think I heard he eventually used his degree to go to law school.

  He grins at Remy and steps a little closer to whisper, "I know, right? Although God knows it hasn't been long enough to forget Lowe's class."

  I put two and two together and deduce that Remy and Jason probably had a class or two together. They were both liberal arts majors, so they most likely spent time in the same academic buildings. Even though Remy is three years younger than us, I'm not surprised she was taking classes with juniors and seniors. Everyone knows she's a bit of a brainiac.

  My pride at her being the polar opposite of my usual bimbo is soured by the fact that Jason has yet to acknowledge me and is now hanging on Remy's arm.

  "Hey man, long time no see," I interrupt in a tight voice, trying to resist the urge to yank her away from him.

  He turns to me as if just now noticing my presence. Both he and Remy are wide-eyed as they look at me.

  When he doesn't immediately remember my name, I add coldly, "It's Tristan. We were freshmen together in Peabody Hall."

  A flash of recognition appears in his eyes. He looks me over and then grabs my shoulder in an overly friendly gesture, a fake grin plastered on his face. "Tristan. Hey, man! How you doing?"