by Vivian Wood
11
Connor
Connor gestured for the waitress and settled back into his white chair at Barmini. It was an eclectic gathering, and not what he’d planned—a small group of investors, his closest friends, and Sam. However, it had worked out beautifully.
Chase and Jay were completely taken by Sam. He glanced over at the trio, who were buried in deep conversation. Sam was dressed in a smart white suit with a deep neckline and sky-high stilettos. James had matched her to the décor, yet she managed to outshine even the swankiest of cocktail lounges in the city.
Chase laughed loudly and Jay couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Can’t say that I blame them.
“For real?” Jay asked Sam. “Damn, how’d you get seats like that?”
“I’m an alum,” she said as she sipped at her scotch with just a splash of soda. “Any time you guys want to go to a game, just let me know.”
“Awesome, man,” Jay said with a fist bump to Chase.
“I don’t know why you put up with this guy,” Chase told her, and nodded toward Connor with a smile. “He can be a pretty demanding SOB, right?”
“Oh, he’s not so bad,” Sam said. She smiled across the table at Connor warmly.
Connor knew he should work the table, enchant the investors, but she commanded everyone’s attention. Even the investors, save for one who clearly had tastes that differed wildly, weren’t being very covert with their looks in her direction.
“Sam,” one of the investors said to her. He didn’t give a damn that he’d interrupted the conversation. “Tell me, what do you do?”
“Oh, I’m an event coordinator at an agency in the city,” she said. “We manage pretty much every type of event, but this time of year it’s mostly weddings. And the occasional over the top graduation party.”
“Event management,” the investor said. He stared at her with clear desire. “I can see how you’d do well at that.”
She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I have to admit, I thought it would be quite different when I started. But you haven’t seen the wild side of people until their big event is on the line.”
“I can imagine,” the investor said. “Is this your first job post-college? I’m guessing you majored in communication or business, then. Very fitting for marrying Connor, here.”
She shook her head lightly. “Actually, no, I majored in math education.”
“Math?” the investor asked. She’d genuinely confused him.
“Math education, it’s a little different,” she said.
“Connor, you’ve got a smart one here,” the investor told him.
“I’m becoming more aware of that by the day,” Connor said as he took her in. There was something about her. Something that just reeled him in closer every day.
Sam wasn’t just hot. She was truly beautiful. It was an intoxicating combination he wasn’t used to. Why did it take you so long to notice she was more than just another hot piece of ass?
“Are you okay?” one of the investors asked Connor. It was the oldest man at the table, and one who stared nonstop at Sam’s breasts. Or at least, nonstop until he’d decided to call me out just now.
“Yeah, fine,” he said. He readjusted his position again in an attempt to hide the fact his dick was hard. Thank God we’re sitting down. Every time Sam smiled, there was another awkward shift in his trousers. It was ridiculous, this power she seemed to have over his body. He knew he had to cut himself off after this drink. Not only did he need his head in the game for the rest of the night, but he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t hit on her with just a drop more of liquid courage.
Sam caught his eye across the table and looked at him funny. She raised a brow, and asked silently why he kept shifting around. He wrinkled his nose at her, and she giggled. That giggle was enough to turn his erection hard as steel. It took all his willpower not to groan in frustration—or go somewhere and jerk off just to get her off his mind.
“These stools are a bit uncomfortable,” the one investor who had no interest in Sam said.
“The price you pay for minimalism and overpriced watered down drinks,” he said.
“Oh, definitely,” said the investor. “No lounge could get away with such nonsense a few years ago. But the hipsters persist. Yes, they do,” he said. “White on white in a room full of people guaranteed to spill their drinks. What were they thinking?”
Eventually, the investors trickled out of the bar. The sun was setting, and Connor could finally relax. It was just the four of them, and it seemed so natural. Like Sam had always been a part of his crew, of his life. “So, shall we?” Chase asked.
Connor looked around the bar, which was packed already for a Thursday evening. “Yeah, this place is dead anyway.”
“You gotta update your pop culture references, man,” Jay said.
“Come on, it was a good movie!” Connor said. As they stood, Connor was grateful for the dim lighting and dark suits. You need to stop looking at her at least for a little while. Otherwise, the whole bar is going to know you’re hard for her.
Chase clapped him on the back. “You bagged a good one, buddy,” he whispered into Connor’s ear.
He didn’t know what to say. It’s all a sham. The lies just piled on top of each other. First it was his family, now his friends. He’d thought it would be easy, this whole façade, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. Part of him wished he could just start over. What would it have been like if I’d dated Sam for real? Knock it off, you can’t be thinking about things like that or ‘what ifs.’
Yet Connor felt a twinge every time he looked at her. It was a pull that was more than sexual desire—that he could have brushed off. At least until the show was over.
The four of them walked out of the bar together into the deep pink and purple light of the sunset. As they parted ways, both Chase and Jay pulled her in for hugs and kisses on the cheek. “Next time bring your girlfriends,” she told them. “I could do with a little more estrogen at these things.”
“Will do,” Chase said.
“Can’t,” said Jay. “Single again.”
“Ladies beware,” Sam said with a smile.
“Nobody you can hook me up with? A sister perhaps?” Jay said with a smile.
“My sister’s too young for you,” she replied.
“As long as she’s eighteen, ain’t no such thing,” he said.
Chase groaned. “Come on, I’m driving your drunk, inappropriate ass home.”
“My friends really like you,” Connor told her as they stood on the sidewalk and watched the guys head to their car. Small groups of women in cocktail dresses, men in suits, and couples who clung too tight to each other continued to pour from their daily lives into the bar.
She smiled up at him. “They have good taste, just like you,” she said with a wink.
It was strange, how Sam seemed to have it all. Looks, personality, intelligence, charm and wit. She was the perfect girl. “I don’t know,” he said. “They never seemed to really like my ex.”
Sam cocked her head. “Maybe that’s why she’s your ex, then.”
He laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Although, in Sandra’s defense, they weren’t around her much. I guess that’s not much of a defense. We were together for years and she met them maybe five times.”
“It was fun hanging out with them. Outside a club setting, I mean. It was… I don’t know. A chance to get to see there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
He snorted. The vulnerability put him on edge. “Plenty of women would kill to get with what meets the eye.”
Sam blushed and looked away. “You know what I mean,” she said. “And, besides, wow. Way to go full cocky on me.”
“I do know what you mean,” he said softly. “Sorry.” Connor looked at her and wondered. It was early, and she looked incredible. Underneath that fitted white jacket was just a slip of a silk camisole. Should I invite her to the underground fight club I’m headed to? Or… s
hit, no. It’s stupid to let her get so close.
Sam started walking toward the parking lot, a few steps ahead of him. From behind, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her hourglass body. Screw it, I’ve been trying for the past two hours not to indulge.
She positively glowed in the fading light of day. From her shapely calves to the swell of her hips and that unbelievably small, tucked-in waist, she was sheer perfection. That short skirt showed off nearly every inch of those long legs, and damn, it killed him. Her curtain of nearly black hair cascaded down her back, a contrast to the white ensemble.
Maybe it’s not so stupid to bring her. I mean, after all, it would really amp me up to have her in my corner, right?
Connor debated the pros and cons as they reached his car. The last time he was at this club, he really got waled on. He’d thought he could hold his own—he was a goddamned Navy SEAL—but when those boys fought like dogs, like their lives truly depended on it, it was another story.
He couldn’t blame the guys, either. That money must seem like a lot to some of them. What’s the worst that could happen? She sees me get pounded?
Actually, now that he thought of it, it didn’t really matter if the guys at the club tore him apart or not. Whether he won or lost, it would surely turn her on. Right? Women love that shit.
“Hey Sam, do you want to go somewhere with me?”
She frowned. “Really, Connor? This was the last thing on my schedule today—”
“No, not for business. I mean for pleasure.”
She paused with her hand on the door. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.
“Get in,” he said, and gestured to his car. He started the engine. “If you really want to see another side of me, come to this club with me.”
“Club? Connor, I’m really not in the mood for dancing and sloppy cocktails.”
“It’s not that kind of club.”
“Not that kind of club? I am not going to a sex club with you, if that’s what you have in mi—”
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said. “You’ll see when you get there. But you’ve got to trust me. Trust me?” He looked at her and could see the curiosity in her eyes.
“Well… okay,” she said. “Am I dressed okay for it?” she asked, and looked down at her suit.
“Trust me, nobody’s going to be looking at how you’re dressed.” He grinned, gunned the engine, and headed toward Washington Highlands.
12
Sam
She was nervous when they parked in what looked like an abandoned, decrepit parking lot with barbed wire fencing. But no way in hell was she going to let it show. Sam already felt way overdressed, and slipped out of the white jacket, pulled the silky cami out of her skirt and made do with a makeshift minidress ensemble.
“I told you, nobody’s going to be looking at your outfit,” Connor told her as he opened her door. She shrugged it off, but took his hand.
The party was in an undisclosed warehouse, the only hint of nightlife the occasional blare of music that sounded when the doorman let groups in or out.
“What you want?” the doorman asked, an imposing man the color of midnight. He barely glanced at Sam.
Connor leaned into the man and whispered something to him, which opened the gates to the roar inside. “Was that a Fight Club quote?” she asked him. Sam had to hurry in her heels to keep up.
“Maybe it was,” Connor said. As they walked through a thick mess of curtains at the end of the hall, the click of her heels still echoed in the steel chamber, but below them and all around them were throngs of people. Kanye’s “Black Skinhead” blasted through the speakers.
Sam was nervous as hell.
“Come on,” Connor shouted into her ear. “Let’s get you a drink.” It was barely dark outside, and yet the people were slick with sweat. Molly-infused mayhem surrounded her.
As she waited by the bar behind Connor, she ran over the conservations she’d had with Chase and Jay. Connor had been wrong when he’d said his friends hadn’t cared for his ex much. They absolutely loathed her. Of course, the guys had been drunk, but didn’t that make them more honest—albeit a bit abrupt?
“Nobody was surprised she cheated,” Chase had told her, his voice slurred. “We were just surprised it took him so long to catch her red-handed. Excuse me, black-handed.”
“Chase, that’s racist,” Jay had said.
“How’s it racist? It’s true!”
Sam had simply smiled and shook her head while tactfully changing the subject. However, they both kept mentioning the ex over and over. Why do you care? Be professional, and don’t fall into any of these traps laying around.
“So, what is this, some kind of warehouse party thing where everyone’s high on E?” she shouted to him as he handed her an angry red cocktail.
“In part,” he said.
“What’s the other part?” she yelled at him.
“I’ll show you.” He took her hand, held it tight against his back, and started to lead her away from the massive dance area. In the back, behind steel doors which required yet another flurry of secret codes, there was no music. There was no dancing. There was just a cage topped with razor wire.
“What the hell is this?” she asked, and stopped abruptly. “Connor, if this is some kind of sick dog fighting thing—”
“Dog fighting?” he asked, incredulous. “Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’d be into that?”
“Then what is it?”
“Underground MMA.”
She breathed a slight sigh of relief, but was still on edge. She’d heard about these kinds of things, but didn’t think they really existed. Or that she’d know someone who was into it. “So, are you betting?” she asked.
“Liam!” Connor yelled, and motioned to a short, muscular guy in a worn-out Everlast t-shirt.
Liam grinned when he saw Connor, gave him a nod, and continued to the abandoned DJ booth. “Alright you sick fucks, it’s on in twenty. See Bernard to place your wagers.”
“It’s your new besties,” Connor told her before she could say anything, and nodded to the door. Chase and Jay made their way inside. “Guys, watch out for Sam, alright? And you stick close to them,” he told her.
“What are you—”
But Connor was already gone, disappeared into the darkness. “So, you come here often?” Jay teased her.
“All the time,” she said, distracted. “What’s he doing?”
“He’ll be back in a minute,” Chase said.
“So, is this where you pick up girls?” she asked. Sam tried to make light of the situation, but she was nervous and felt out of place.
“Let’s get a drink,” Jay said, and ushered the three of them to the quiet bar in the back. She looked down at her hand and realized she’d already downed the one Connor had given her.
“I know it seems weird, but a lot of military guys come here to blow off steam,” Chase said. “They dance with some hot girl. They fight. You know.”
She didn’t know, but she also didn’t want to act put off.
“You know the rules of MMA?”
She shook her head, and Chase gave her a quick rundown. “That sounds insane,” she said.
He laughed. “That’s the point.”
“Here we go,” Jay said. She turned, and the ring was lit up with blinding spotlights.
Liam was back in the booth. “Wagers are officially closed. Connor and Zohaib in the cage. Guys, we went over the rules backstage. Let’s keep it clean. Or, hell, you know what I mean.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. She would have recognized Connor anywhere, but he’d shed his suit in favor of boxing shorts cinched at the waist and nothing but wraps on his hands and feet.
She couldn’t help but drink him all in. The chiseled stomach and pecs, the flawless muscles bunched up his arms and shoulders. That delicious V-shape that flew wildly down his torso. There was something animalistic in all of this that turned her on instantly.
Sam looked at th
e other guy, who seemed to be well matched in size and muscle to Connor. She worried her bottom lip, unsure of what to think. “Don’t worry,” Jay said into her ear. “Connor will be fine.”
A bell rang from somewhere that seemed far away, and Connor and his opponent were instantly at each other. She put her drink down and covered her eyes when Connor took a hit squarely to the jaw, but quickly peeked between her fingers. Connor had the guy against the cage, which rattled rapidly. Connor punched him viciously in the stomach.
Blood was splattered across both their faces and chests. Connor’s white shorts were flecked in bright red. Relatively, it was fast—ten minutes at most. But it was way too long for Sam.
They were suddenly surrounded by people who pushed and cheered. The entirety of the dance floor must have been crammed into the back room. Every time a blow was landed, especially on Connor, she cringed.
He pinned down his opponent and went at him with unreal swiftness. Finally, the opponent tapped the cage floor. “It’s over,” Chase told her. She let out a long breath, unaware that she’d been holding it.
Liam was holding up Connor’s fist, which was covered in blood. Chase and Jay went nuts beside her, whooping Connor’s name, but she couldn’t find the strength to do more than lower her hands away from her face. Connor and his opponent hugged briefly and patted each other’s back as they exited.
Connor bounded out of the cage and jogged over to them. She noticed every girl he passed followed him lustfully with her eyes.
“Good work, man,” Chase said, and pounded Connor’s back.
“Wasn’t nothing,” Connor said, his breath already returned to normal.
Sam looked at him, inches away. Covered in a sheen of sweat and patches of already-dried blood, she saw another side of him. A rawer side, the one few people knew. As they made eye contact, she licked her lips, thirsty.
Connor’s gaze moved to her lips. The kiss was inevitable. But when she tasted him, the salty, coppery blend, it turned her on even more. When his tongue flicked against hers, she felt wetness start to spread between her legs and let out a moan into his mouth.