by Cecy Robson
Finn came in, grinning. “You said ‘shit.’ ”
And yeah, there was my blush, again. I didn’t make a habit of swearing. The one percent of nun that remained in me didn’t approve. Finn snagged a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and then hopped back out, laughing.
I cleared my throat when Killian’s stone face hardened. “You already have fifty-nine thousand followers on Twitter and almost thirty-nine thousand likes on Facebook.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“I posted a picture of you on all the MMA pages advertising your upcoming match and provided your links. MMA is huge—you should see the traffic those sites get.”
“Which picture?”
“Huh?” I’d heard him. I just didn’t want to answer.
Something he caught in my expression eased the severity of his voice. “Which picture of me did you post? The professional ones I had taken are too old now. I know you didn’t use those.”
“The one I took of you a few weeks ago when you were sparring.” And sweating, and when your shorts had slipped oh-so-perfectly just below your hips, I clearly didn’t say. I also didn’t admit that most of his likes and followers were women who were probably inappropriately touching themselves to that picture—mostly because I didn’t want him mad…and because I knew that I was probably right.
“Sofia, I don’t want to twitter.”
“Tweet,” I corrected.
“Whatever. It’s not something I do.”
“I’m doing it for you.” I adjusted my position and was pulling in my chair when Killian came around, appearing oddly amused.
“You’re pretending to be me?”
I played with my hair. “Someone has to if you won’t.”
He leaned closer and slipped his arm around me. “What are you saying when you’re doing all that pretending?”
“Nothing bad.”
“No swearing?”
He laughed when I narrowed my eyes. Killian once told me I looked “cute when I was trying to be all mad.” I hadn’t taken it as a compliment.
“You said you’re pretending to be me. I do have a mouth on me.”
I flattened out my long floral skirt. “If you’re just dying to know, I mostly provide motivational commentary—like what you tell your students.” I opened the program I’d been developing and pretended to start my work with the hope he would move on.
Not only did he not move on, his fingertips lingered along my ribs, tickling my side. “Anyone talking back to me?” My flaming-red cheeks answered for me. “Oh, yeah? Who?”
“Some guys asking for workout tips and…stuff,” I stammered.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“And stuff? What stuff?” he pressed.
Of course he was going to make things difficult for me. “I refer them to your website, where I spell out some basic tips for getting into shape.”
His fingers trailed downward to the small patch of exposed skin between my red top and my long skirt. “Tips? You’re giving out tips?”
My typing slowed to a stop. We’d fooled around when we woke up, but when he saw what I was wearing following his shower, round two had quickly followed.
His fingers grew more playful, making my voice squeak when I attempted to form a decent response. “I emphasize cutting carbs and choosing a healthier lifestyle in general.”
He pushed my hair aside, baring my shoulder. “So you like my…lifestyle?”
His warm breath made it easy to forget where I was and hard to keep my mind on the conversation. “Yes. It’s nice, um, good.”
“Good?” he rasped.
“Yes.” Oh, sweet heavens, yes.
“So you’re spilling my deep dark secrets for getting into shape all over the Internet?”
“You know I wouldn’t do that…even though I know what you eat since I’m, um, the one feeding you. Now that your fight’s approaching, you pound protein, green leafy veggies, and only ever drink water.” I needed a second when his fingers lingered and his lips found that sweet spot on my neck. “One peanut M and M at night is your big treat.”
“Not my only big treat.” He flicked his tongue over my skin. “What else do you know about me?”
“I, ah, also know how much you run…for how long…and the type of cardio and…and weight training you do.”
“Do you?” he murmured, nipping a little.
I tried not to moan and failed miserably. “Yes…I watch you.” Okay, maybe “gawk” was a more appropriate word. “It’s brought more hits to your new website,” I told him. At least I tried to, anyway. Good Lord, that mouth of his.
Killian pulled me closer. “I see. Anyone else talking to me?”
Knowing what he was really asking then was the proverbial cold shower my body needed to hurl me back into reality. I stiffened and shrugged out of his hold. “Children seem to admire you.” My tone was a little sharp. Who was I kidding? It could have punctured meat at that moment.
A smile eased along his face. “Kids, huh?”
I opened the drawer, scanning through the files I’d created to keep physical copies of his records. Killian’s hand cupped my backside as I found what I was looking for. I tried not to react. That was how round one had started in his bed. We were both exhausted, but the skin-on-skin contact had perked us right up.
His hand kneaded slowly. “Any other followers I should know about? Dog lovers, electricians, maybe a rocket scientist or two?”
He was going to make me say it. “Women find you…attractive and have given you compliments.” I didn’t mention #SweetAssIdLikeToSuck was among the many popular hashtags his fans used to tag him. I cleared my throat. “I thank them on your behalf.”
“Is that so?” He was really smiling then. “Ever give them any compliments back—on my behalf, I mean?”
“What do you think?” I snapped, smacking his hand away when he gave my butt a squeeze.
Killian threw back his head, laughing. “Come on, princess. I’m only messing with you.”
“Sure you are. And aren’t you just hilarious.” I grabbed my purse and stormed out.
“Sofia—wait. Where you going?”
I didn’t answer him and stomped out the door. Jealousy had reared its ugly head. I knew what it was and I knew I should ignore it. And maybe I could have if it weren’t for the sick amount of women who tweeted naked and highly suggestive shots of themselves to Killian’s attention. The last few women—Holy Heavens, the image of their naked butt pyramid would forever be burned into my retinas—accompanied their oh-so-classy crotch shots with: Something for your wallet, @PhillysKillianOBrien, LOL.
It took all I had not to reply: You’re all sluts, LOL.
Your mamas didn’t raise you right, LOL.
But no, I hadn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t. These were Killian’s fans after all, however diseased they might be.
I tore my way down the block. It wasn’t until I crossed the street and reached the coffee place that my pace slowed. The more I did to promote Killian, the more I became aware of his epic and instantaneous popularity. Women, like, wanted him. Men wanted to be him. But it all seemed to be for the wrong reasons.
“What can I get you?” the teen behind the counter asked.
“Large iced tea, please,” I answered.
I texted my contact at Epic Sports to reschedule the meeting for this afternoon, but my mind remained on my interaction with Killian. I hoped that he was simply teasing me about his admirers. I also hoped he realized that unlike his groupies on Twitter and Facebook, I recognized that there was more to him than his looks.
I had loved Killian before he’d grown into his hulking size, and long before those muscles first flexed.
Yeah, you could say that I loved him on the inside first.
I took a sip of my tea before heading out, hoping it would cool my temper and let me focus on what needed to be done. His fan club wasn’t arou
nd to help him. But I was. And insecurities racking my brain or not, I would do my best.
As I was leaving the shop, I caught sight of Norman Kessler being pushed in his wheelchair by his caregiver. For the first time in years, he seemed to react, appearing to break out of his typically limited state.
His head lolled in my direction, then back and forth, slow at first, then really fast, like an animal trapped in a box and struggling to break free. The motions seemed painful, but that didn’t stop Norman. What was even more disturbing were the gurgling sounds from deep within his throat. Was this poor man getting worse? I took a chance and approached. “Hi, Norman.”
His head shook harder while his vacant expression turned toward the sky. “He’s very agitated today, miss,” his caregiver said apologetically.
“I’m sorry,” I responded.
The caregiver nodded, but said nothing more. Instead he simply continued on. I watched him push Norman away. While he was pleasant and cordial, he seemed unusually detached given the debilitated state his patient was in. I supposed Norman’s condition made him hard to bond with.
I turned to leave, almost smacking into Killian in my haste to return to the gym. He grabbed me by the shoulders to steady me, but not before shooting a glare in Norman’s direction. “You okay?”
My attention bounced between him and Norman. For some reason, Killian seemed to resent Norman and I couldn’t grasp why. Norman couldn’t hurt a soul.
Before I could question him, he told me something that sent every hair on my body standing on end. “Your brother just showed. He says he wants to fight me.”
Chapter 11
“Sofia, try not to panic. Maybe Mateo and Killian just need to throw down.”
I glanced over my shoulder to where my sister-in-law, Evelyn, sat in Killian’s chair, nursing her newborn son. Maybe I would have believed her if she didn’t sound so on edge. In the Octagon, Teo lifted Killian and body-slammed him to the mat. I jumped out of my skin when his body bounced off the mat with Teo still on top of him.
Evie’s thick blond hair fell like a curtain over her face when she smacked her hand over her eyes. “Was that Mateo?”
“Uh-uh.”
A crowd of young trainees had gathered to watch them, hooting like it was Christmas and yelling things like “Get him,” “Beat his ass,” “Make him bleed,” and “Ground and pound,” which did nothing to soothe my mounting hysteria. “Oh!” they yelled when Killian shot Teo across the ring and into the metal fencing.
“Th-that was Teo,” I said, feeling sick.
I staggered toward my chair, practically missing it when Teo nailed Killian across the jaw. They had on full head and face gear. They wore mouth guards. This was a friendly bout—or so they’d claimed. My growing worry called them liars. My growing worry had a tendency to be right.
I covered my eyes when Killian’s leg left the mat and became acquainted with Teo’s face.
Something bounced off the mat. I really hoped it wasn’t my brother’s head leaving his shoulders. “Oh, Jesus,” Evie moaned. “Who was that?”
Although I dropped my hands away from my face, I kept my head down as the sounds of smacking skin, yelling, and thundering rolls across the Octagon echoed like a growing twister. “I don’t know. Don’t really want to know right now.”
Evie’s pale face met mine. “I shouldn’t go out there, should I? I shouldn’t demand he get out of the Octagon, right? I shouldn’t embarrass him in front of those men—tell me I shouldn’t, Sofia. It would be wrong, right?”
I didn’t respond, mostly because I wanted her to stop this blatant show of testosterone. Evie was a little thing, even after giving birth to a nine-pound baby. She was incapable of being mean or aggressive. But she didn’t like Teo fighting, and the idea of him getting hurt physically pained her.
The other piece of it was that my brother loved Evie. And even though he was clearly trying to make a point, he wouldn’t want her upset. He’d stop if she asked him to. But a part of her, like a part of me, knew Killian and Mateo had to do this, whatever this was.
“Sofia?” Evie was begging me to answer.
“I don’t like this” was all I managed.
It was more than that. I hated them sparring so brutally. But when Teo challenged Killian into the Octagon to “show him how it was done,” Teo appeared to be trying to reconnect with him. Well, at least that’s what it seemed liked at the time. I hoped I was right and prayed that their reconnection didn’t come at the expense of someone’s teeth.
“Oh!” the crowd yelled.
“Fuck ’im up!”
“Kill himmmmmmmm!”
I was two seconds from puking, which meant I was only one second behind Evie. The swings, the kicks, the throw-downs proved our men were out for blood. Which was why Evie and I were hiding out in Killian’s office. Call us wimps. Call us cowards. Call us faint at the sight of bleeding corpses.
Another body slam. More arms swinging. Followed by—thank you, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—the bell ending the match. The crowd hooted and applauded. Awesomesauce. At least they’d had fun watching.
Mateo left the ring. Killian followed at his heels. “Is it over?” Evie asked.
“For now.”
“Is Mateo walking out—is he okay?”
She probably expected one or both of them to be sprawled out and unconscious. I couldn’t blame her, seeing how I’d expected the same outcome. Mateo and Killian removed their gear. Both had red, swelling faces. Both were dripping with sweat. Both were…laughing. “You’ve gotten slow, Kill,” Teo said over the bark of the crowd.
“And you’ve gotten old,” Killian added, shoving him affectionately in the shoulder.
I knew then that I would never understand men.
Evie groaned and shook her head. But when she adjusted Mateo Jr. within her stretchy shirt, tucking his curled body against her like a baby kangaroo in a pouch, the stress from the match eased from her face.
She smiled, taking in her infant son. As tired as she seemed, her obvious happiness made me think the sleep deprivation was well worth it.
Someday, I hoped I could experience that kind of love.
I stood and edged my way around the desk and to her side, stroking the top of Mattie’s dark hair. I’d spent the first few weeks following his birth helping Evie and Mateo adjust to parenthood. I loved every moment of it. But once they established a routine, I realized that they no longer needed me and I could allow my commitment to Killian to lure me away.
It wasn’t until I saw the little man that I realized how much I’d missed him. “Is he sleeping through the night yet?”
“No, he’s still eating a ton.” As if on cue, Mattie searched for another snack. Evie chuckled and switched sides. “If he wasn’t gaining as much weight as he is, I’d swear he was starving.” She kissed his head. “You’re going to grow up to be big and strong, like your daddy, aren’t you, little one?”
I laughed a little. Yes, little Mattie was on his way to becoming a very big boy. “When I talked to Lety the other day she was already asking when you and Teo planned to give Mattie a sister—she insists every boy needs at least two sisters.”
Teo stalked into the room with Killian prowling behind him. “Easy for Lety to say,” Teo said. “Her ass is getting enough sleep.”
Despite the protective gear, Teo’s and Killian’s faces were significantly bruised. Evie averted her gaze when Teo bent to kiss their son’s head. When he noticed her withdraw from him, Teo cupped her face, sweeping his lips tenderly across her jaw. “Babe, I’m okay,” his deep voice murmured. “Just needed to blow off some steam.”
She watched him through lowered lashes. “I hope that was all, Mateo,” she said quietly.
She wasn’t happy and neither was I. I crossed my arms when Killian pulled me to him, forcing some distance between us. He bowed his head, recognizing that I was upset.
At first I thought he’d give me space. Instead he took my hand in his and led me around the de
sk. My face reddened as deep as his when he plopped me onto his lap and his arms circled my waist. He’d never been this affectionate in front of my family and was making it clear that we were together.
Teo straightened, frowning before slowly easing into the folding chair beside Evie. He took a sip from his bottle of water, but it did nothing to soothe his temper. “Ma comes home tonight,” he growled.
I tried to find someplace to position my hands. I’d grown accustomed to showing Killian affection…at his house…with no one else around. In front of my family was a different story. Someone else may not have cared if her brother was watching her sit on her boyfriend’s lap. But that same someone hadn’t grown up in my household. Teo had been more father than brother to me. I recognized his scrutiny for what it was—his need to protect me from harm, just like he always had.
The thing was, although I hadn’t appreciated their throw-down, I wanted to show Killian some love. At his place, I would have wrapped my arms around his neck for the start of a long kiss. The best I could manage then was to place my arms over his. “Yes. She had fun in Boston,” I finally spat out.
Teo rolled the water bottle between his palms. “You staying with her tonight?”
Evie frowned. “Teo, Sofia can stay wherever she wants.”
Teo shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ Ma’s old…”
“Mateo,” Evie said more sternly.
“If she breaks a hip and no one’s there to save her—”
“Jesus, Mateo.” Evie rolled her eyes. “Your mother’s barely fifty.”
Teo took another pull of his water. “Doesn’t mean she can’t break a hip.”
Killian nodded. “True. Maybe she should move in with you so you can keep a closer eye on her, Teo. That’s what any good son would do.”
Evie’s small body shook when she laughed, stirring Mattie. Teo met Killian’s grin with a glare that eased into a smirk. “Says the son who shipped his mother off to Florida.”
Killian’s grin widened. “It’s warm there—lots of sun.”