by Amity Cross
“Whatever’s happened you need to work it out with him,” he said. “I’m not goin’ to be the guy you use for revenge.”
I felt tears forming, so I lowered my head, swiping the back of my hand over my eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to hide my embarrassment.
Hamish smiled kindly. “Don’t think anythin’ of it.”
I shuffled on the spot, curling my arms around my stomach for an extra layer of protection. He had something going and I probably just shat all over it. He deserved to have something go right in his life after what I’d put him through.
“Is she nice?” I asked, glancing up at him.
Hamish frowned. “Is who nice?”
“The woman at the bar you keep looking at. Does she treat you nice?”
He shrugged, which was typical Hamish. Always shrugging things off saying they’ll be all right. “I don’t know if she feels the same…or if what I feel is anythin’ more than physical.”
I snorted and shook my head. “She’d be a fool not to.”
Lifting a hand, he placed it on my shoulder and squeezed. “Dean can be fuckin’ stupid, but I saw the way he looked at you at the weddin’. If you want it, you’ve gotta fight for it. Fuck knows I fought hard enough.”
I sighed and glanced at the faces around us. Anywhere but at Hamish. I’d fought and Dean had pushed me away. I’d sat in his fucking lap, grinding against his hard-on, and he still didn’t want me. I wasn’t sure there was anything to fight for.
I was fighter kryptonite.
“I’m sorry for coming here and trying to drag you into my petty shit,” I said, turning back to face the consequences. “I’m sorry for what I did to you at the wedding. I should’ve—”
But Hamish didn’t need to hear it. “Like I said…don’t think anythin’ of it.” Turning me gently toward the exit, he murmured, “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I really am sorry, Hamish.”
“I know, darlin’,” he murmured. “But it is what it is.”
We walked through The Underground and out into the night where Hamish stood with me as I called a taxi.
“You should go back inside and patch things up with your girl,” I said, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “I’ll be fine out here.”
“I’ll wait,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “Or have you forgotten how fucked up this place can get?”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m in the mood for some self-destruction.”
He straightened up. “Don’t do that, Josie. You stayin’ with Ren?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t told anyone I’m here. I just… I needed to get away.”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, hanging my head. “I feel like utter crap already for coming here like this. Last person I should be talking to about Dean is the guy I dumped for him.”
“Lori has taught me a few things about openin’ my eyes,” he said, ignoring me. “I could be mad at you, but I’m not. It was the right thing to do to go our separate ways. Sometimes, I need to keep remindin’ myself that.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Maybe you need to keep tellin’ yourself it’s okay to move on. Don’t keep beatin’ yourself up about it. I’m good.”
Was he high or something? “I don’t deserve this. How nice you’re being to me.”
“Hindsight is a wonderful thing,” he said with a wink.
“Is that her name? Lori?”
He nodded. “She’s been workin’ the bar in there for three years, and I never once saw her. I never would’ve seen her if you hadn’t…”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say about that.”
“It didn’t work between us, but it doesn’t mean it won’t work between you and Dean.”
I snorted. “He’s still hung up over Monica Miller. How can I compete with the pedestal he’s got her on?”
“You know, I don’t understand that,” he said, knocking his shoulder against mine. “If you’re askin’ me, I think it’s habit more than anythin’.”
I snorted and shifted away from him as the yellow taxi came into view at the end of the lane. He’d been nicer to me than I deserved.
“I’m sorry,” I said again as I backed away.
“Don’t worry about it,” he shouted after me. “You look after yourself, all right?”
I waved him off, feeling a little better about my failed seduction but still a whole lot rejected, and got into the taxi. There was nothing else I could do.
The chapter of my life labeled ‘Hamish McBride’ had finally been closed for good.
The hotel bar was mostly empty when I pulled up a stool.
The idea of going back to my room and watching late-night infomercials was out of the question, and drowning my sorrows was a way better idea. Drinking my body weight in vodka martinis was probably the best decision I’d made in the last three weeks.
In here, I could sit in my own little world and forget about the embarrassment I’d caused myself. I’d wallow for tonight, and tomorrow I’d go get a lovely spa treatment of some sort and then I’d be clearheaded enough to work out what I was going to do when I inevitably came face to face with Dean. Once my head was back on my shoulders, I’d get the next flight back to Sydney and get on with it. Because that’s what professionals did, and I was a professional.
I. Was. A. Professional. Said the woman with three empty martini glasses on her high score.
“Well, well, well,” a gravelly voice rumbled beside me. “This is a surprise.”
Glancing up, my gaze met Gabe O’Connell’s. My stomach did a flip, and I rolled my eyes. Just what I needed when I was already well on the way to being inebriated. I could always puke in his lap. It wasn’t my mouth, but at least it was warm and wet.
“Great,” I drawled, reaching for my newest glass. Pressing it against my lips, I took a large sip, not caring if I slurped.
“Boyfriend dump you or something?” he asked with a smirk.
“Don’t you live here?” I asked, scowling at him with as much force as I could muster.
“Yeah, I do,” he replied, sitting on the stool beside me.
“So what are you doing at a hotel? Trawling for your next victim?”
He laughed and gestured for the bartender to pour him a scotch. Turning to me, he said, “My apartment is being painted.”
“I bet you say that to all your conquests,” I slurred, slumping over the bar. He seemed to be enjoying the train wreck.
“The offer still stands, you know.”
“Which one?”
“Come work for me. I’ll make it worth your while, sweetheart.”
“One,” I snapped, holding up my middle finger. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I like you. A lot. What’s two?”
“Two,” I went on, raising my pointer finger to join the middle one. “Not for all the money in the world.”
“Fair enough,” he replied with a laugh. “I’m not withdrawing it, though.”
“Harassment is a chargeable offence.”
Raising his glass to his lips, he sipped at his scotch, one stormy eye fixed firmly on me. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to see how far he could push and get away with it. Fighters were all the same with their offence-defense crap. They thought they could take it from the octagon right into the bedroom. I had news for Gabe O’Connell…
“I’m going to challenge Lincoln Hayes for the title,” he declared, shifting my focus from my knickers to business.
I leaned back and studied him. “Why are you telling me this?”
He smiled, flashing his perfect teeth. “Courtesy?”
Yeah, right. “The same courtesy you showed my fighter in the octagon?”
Gabe tilted his head to the side in thought. “Hmm, that’s interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
“Your fighter,” he said, emphasizing the word your.
“So?” I shot back, beg
inning to feel sick. Maybe I should call it a night.
“Did he do something to hurt you?”
“Who?”
His gaze met mine, and I fixed on Gabe’s stormy gray eyes. They really were striking. Paired with his scruffy beard and tattoos, they almost glowed.
“Dean Hayes,” he replied, not once moving away from me. It was like he was getting closer, or it might’ve been the alcohol distorting my balance.
“Dean Hayes?” I asked, blinking about a million times.
Reaching out, Gabe plucked the glass from my fingers and placed it back onto the bar. “Any man who drives his woman to drink like this doesn’t deserve her.”
“And who deserves me?” I asked, curling my lip. “You?”
He didn’t answer. He just downed the rest of his drink. “You going to the Gala next week?”
“Of course.” I didn’t know what game he was playing, but I wasn’t interested in his theatrics. Not tonight and not ever.
“You got a date?”
I leaned forward and glared at him. “No.”
He just smiled, which enraged me further. “No, you haven’t got a date?”
“No. I don’t need one,” I declared, offended. “I meant no, I don’t want you to take me.”
“Who said I was asking?”
“Ugh!” I exclaimed. “You’re so infuriating!”
Infuriatingly arrogant and sexy. Two traits I was usually fired up by. The fight and the fuck. It was what had fueled Hamish and me through all the on and off again we’d endured and was probably the reason we’d both hung on for so long.
Gabe smirked and stood, holding out his hand. I glanced at his open palm, then back up into his eyes. He was way too calm and collected for my liking.
“Are you going to take it?” he asked with a chuckle.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t trust you.”
“I’m just making sure you get back to your room safely and don’t wind up sleeping in a stairwell,” he teased, his lips quirking.
Oh damn, his lips.
“I’m not drunk,” I complained.
Leaning forward, he whispered, “I won’t tell anyone.”
With a sigh, I placed my hand in his, and he tugged me to my feet. He was just making sure I got back to my room, right?
Gabe couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face as he led me to the elevator. On the ride up, he kept glancing at me, and I kept inching away until I was squashed in the corner. When we arrived at my floor, I weaved around him and strode down the hall, wobbling slightly in my six-inch heels.
“This is my room,” I declared, standing beside my door.
He didn’t respond straight away, so I stared at him. I studied his face, his tattoos, and his lips. Especially his lips.
He turned, smirking as he caught me staring.
“Josie,” he murmured, stepping closer.
“Gabe,” I replied, beginning to feel hot under the collar.
I raised my hand and played with the button on my blouse, the one below my cleavage, and everything began to tingle. Tingling was bad.
“I’m all up for a revenge fuck,” he teased, his gaze dropping to my breasts, which I’d accidentally been flashing him with.
“I don’t think…” I faltered even though everything inside me began to clench at his blatant proposal.
“It’d be the perfect revenge.”
Before I could comprehend his offer, his mouth closed over mine and we fell back against the door, his hands burying into my hair. I needed to feel a man’s touch so bad. I parted my lips and let his tongue twine with mine. My hands had a mind of their own as they roamed over his body. I ran my palms under his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of muscle in his back, and the movement coaxed him to press harder against me. He thrust his thigh between my legs, forcing them to part as he began to grind against my clit.
A sharp pulse of pleasure rolled through my body, making me moan into his mouth, and he took me deeper. He kissed exactly like he fought. Brutally.
God, this was what I wanted with Dean. This was how I’d imagined it would be with him yesterday in the gym when I finally worked up the courage to address my feelings. I had envisioned fireworks and a dirty little romp on the gym mats as the sun rose, not fleeing to Melbourne with a broken heart.
Shit, I shouldn’t be kissing Gabe O’Connell. He’d beaten Dean in the octagon. He was the bad guy. The rival. I was crossing brands into enemy territory. This was a betrayal. I shouldn’t be… But he was so good with his mouth, so imagine what he could do with his…
“No,” I rasped, tearing my mouth away from his.
“You can feel it, right?” Gabe murmured, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “How good it could be?”
My body shuddered against his at the thought. I knew he was right. Sex with Gabe O’Connell would be mind-blowing because he obviously knew where to put it and how, but my heart wouldn’t be in it. I’d just be scratching an itch created by another man.
“I can’t,” I said breathlessly, pushing my palms against his chest.
He stepped back, breaking contact, and my gaze dropped to his crotch where a very impressive erection was pressing against his trousers, begging to be freed.
“You sure?” he asked with a smirk. “You look hungry.”
His words slapped me around the face, and suddenly, my mind was clear. The proverbial ice water had doused my body, and I shuddered as I realized what I’d almost done.
Fumbling for my key card, I yanked it out of my pocket and shoved it into the lock. It flashed green, and I couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Gabe stepped forward, thinking I was desperate to get inside and rip his pants off, but I slammed the door in his face before he could even get close.
“Oh, c’mon!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled. A second later, his fist pounded against the door.
Ignoring him, I shoved into the bathroom and turned on the shower, twisting the taps as far as they would go. Steam began to billow into the little room as I kicked off my heels and stripped out of my clothes, dumping them without a care. The water and grime on the floor would probably ruin my expensive silk blouse, but I didn’t give a stuff.
Stepping under the shower, I twisted the cap off the bottled hotel soap and began to lather up a face washer. I was such an idiot. I was so stupid even the dictionary didn’t have a word to describe the level of dumb I’d been tonight. First Hamish, a good guy who I just needed to leave alone to move on with his life, then Gabe O’Connell. GABE O’CONNELL. I was certifiably fucked in the head.
Emptying the little bottle of soap, I slapped the face washer against my skin and began to scrub myself clean.
Dean couldn’t find out. If he knew, he wouldn’t want me around anymore. I’d almost fallen into bed with the guy he’d tried to protect me from. I’d let the slimy asshole shove his tongue down my throat. That was the ultimate betrayal.
No one could ever know.
No one.
Ever.
10
Dean
The weekend went by, and my phone was silent.
I think I called Josie about twenty times and left just as many messages like a needy bastard.
I was that worked up about a particular missing blonde I didn’t even bother going to the Friday night fights at the arena. Josie left me reeling out of control at the gym, and I knew I’d hurt her, but her proposition was out in left field, and I hadn’t seen it coming at all.
Seriously, I was a guy. I thought about a lot of inappropriate things, but Josie… I didn’t know. She wasn’t like anyone else I knew.
The one thing I did understand in a sea of shit I didn’t was I’d made a mistake the other morning. I was holding onto false hope with Monica, and I had to let go. I didn’t want her. I wanted the idea of her. It was hammered into my head over and over, but it wasn’t driven home until Josie sat in my lap and showed me her true feelings.
I either had to make things right wi
th her or take a leap into the unknown. It would be hard, and I’d fuck up all the time, but the more I thought about it, the more desperate I was to jump.
When Josie finally turned up at the gym on Monday morning, I was alone.
I was running full tilt on the treadmill, my gaze studying the approaching thunderstorm over the ocean as I tried to focus on something other than where she was and who she was doing all weekend. Every now and then, a bolt of lightning would race across the surface of the massive cloud, the after image burning into my vision. The storms around here were crackers—wild and unrelenting. Exactly like Josie Cunningham.
She strode in, her head held high, and made her way across to the little room we’d set aside for her office. It was hers to do whatever she wanted with, and she’d instantly made it into a fighter-free zone. Every time I went in there, it was like I was stepping into another world.
Today I didn’t even feel the difference as I jumped straight off the treadmill and followed her in. I was definitely not in the mood for playing around anymore.
Closing the door, we were alone in the tiny space, my size filling it to the brim. Her back was to me, but she knew I was standing behind her because her shoulders tensed.
My breathing was shallow from my run, and I could feel a bead of sweat trickling down my spine, dampening the AUFC tank I was wearing. The air was a little tense for my liking, but all I could feel in the room was her and how my presence had altered her stature. I couldn’t even see the view of the ocean and the brewing storm clouds behind her in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The otherworldly hue of the thunderstorm haloed her, making her blonde hair shine like gold.
I understood it now. Why she took that chance the other day.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” I said, watching her movements.
She shrugged, making a show of sliding off her jacket and laying it across the back of her chair.
“Josie.”
She sighed, staring at the floor for a long moment before she turned and glanced up. Her blue eyes met mine, and I wasn’t sure what I saw in them, but I knew I didn’t like it.
“Why did you go?” I asked.