The Perfect Comeback

by Kacey Shea

  Matt releases his hold on my wrists, his movements deliberate and restrained. Placing one hand beside each of my shoulders, he lowers himself closer, like the reverse of a push up in slow motion. He stops when there are only millimeters separating us and holds his chest above mine. His eyes are hooded and his mouth parts as he waits for my next move.

  My fingers, now free, can’t help but skim down his chest and along his sides. His muscles are taut and strong. I stop once my hands rest on his abs, unsure of whether to continue my exploration or stop before things go too far. Do I want them to go too far? He’s so damn sexy, and kind, and funny too. But I’m not looking for another momentary hookup, and there’s no way he’s relationship material. Not for me.

  But still . . . his body is magnificent. A well trained wall of muscle, speed, and agility. He would deliver an amazing fuck. I just know it.

  “Mia . . .” He groans and his forehead drops to rest on mine. Matt continues to keep his body at a distance and my center aches for him to come closer.

  “Matt.” His name leaves my mouth in a whisper. I’m too scared to say it any louder, as if that will allow him into my thoughts. God, how I want to lift my hips to rub against him. I can already feel how hard he is and we’re barely touching.

  “Can I . . .” His breath, as heavy as mine, skitters across my earlobe and shoots a shiver down my spine. My center pulses with need and my eyelids flutter shut as his mouth ghosts over my ear. Whatever he asks, I think I’ll say yes. Can I take you back to my place? Can we exchange our dates for no pants parties? Better yet, Fuck me, please? He doesn’t say any of those things, though. He has incredible strength, because even though I feel his arousal harden between us he doesn’t make one attempt to thrust or grind forward.

  “Can I kiss you?” His request comes like a splash of cold water and it pulls me right out of my lust induced state.

  “No.” My reply is quick and without deliberation. Had he asked anything else I might have said yes. Sex. Fucking. Getting off. Those are propelled by the natural desire to experience carnal pleasure. But kissing? Kissing is intimate. It’s filled with romance and a promise of more. It leads to feelings and crap I just can’t think about. Basically, it’s what I avoid at all cost. Sure, had we fucked, we probably would have kissed, but to ask for that . . . To lead with it? That’s a piece I’m not willing to give freely. Especially not to Matt.

  “Okay.” He breathes out a deep exhale and pushes off the floor, leaning back on his heels. Taking his hair in his hands, he winds it back in one of those topknots only some men can pull off and still appear manly. His erection strains against the fabric of his athletic shorts, and sweat glistens on his chest. It’s really difficult not to stare or regret my decision, but I accomplish both by crawling to my knees and then standing.

  He does the same. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “It’s fine.” I shake my head. “Don’t apologize.”

  He exhales another heavy breath. “We should probably call it a night.”

  “Yeah.” I can’t even meet his steady gaze.

  “Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you at the back.”

  “You don’t have to. I mean, I can take the bus.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You love riding on my bike,” he says with a cocky grin and I wonder if he doesn’t know how much I secretly enjoy it. Only there’s no way he could so he must be messing with me. I’m thankful he’s letting me get away without talking about feelings. For not making it weird or laying on a guilt trip for turning him down.

  “Right. The death-a-nator on wheels. Nothing says love like a healthy dose of fear on the road. You got me.”

  His laughter squelches all that’s left of our awkward miss of an encounter. Just like that, we’re back to comfortable. “In that case, I’ll grab my keys.” He turns and walks away before I can argue or come back with a clever quip, and I realize I don’t want to. As much as I pushed him away, there’s a part of me that’s pleased he didn’t run. She’s the same whorish part that’s smacking me for turning him down. Because she knows as well as I do a kiss with Matt would have led to a sex-filled night worthy of bragging rights for the century.

  “You ready?” he asks but I haven’t moved an inch.

  I run across the room to grab my things and pull on my jacket and shoes, and then meet him at the exit as he’s keying in the code. We don’t speak on the walk to his bike, or when he hands me the helmet. The engine roars to life and I relish the inability to make conversation for the next few miles until he drops me back at home. He doesn’t move off the bike, but helps me off at the curb in front of my building with a blinding smile. It’s then I realize I haven’t asked him why he was working a painting job downtown, or if he still is. Or updated him on the status of his website. And we still have those dates. Those horribly daunting dates hanging over us like a cloud. Before he can say good night I have to give him an out.

  “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m not—”

  “It’s okay, Mia. You didn’t want me to kiss you. That’s why I asked.”

  “I totally understand if you want to cancel our dates—”

  His laughter rises over his idling engine and he shakes his head. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting out of that bet so easily. I have big, big plans. Sunday. Pick you up at two o’clock, sharp.”

  I shake my head because there’s no way he’s serious. “I’m just saying I’d understand. Nothing’s going to happen between us, Matt. It’ll only be a waste of time.”

  “Funny, I don’t see it that way,” he says matter of factly and fastens his helmet atop his head. “See you Sunday. Good night, Mia.” He nods and pulls away from the curb before I can even respond.

  Making my way inside my apartment, I flick on old re-runs of my favorite show for background noise while I shower and get ready for bed. Why would he still want the dates? Why didn’t I let him kiss me? My mind is a confliction of self-doubt while my body goes through my nightly routine. When I snuggle under my comforter, the coldness of my apartment seeps in through my wet hair, but it’s his last words that leave me most alarmed. Matt and me together doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t see it that way. His resolve rings with a truth that frightens me more than the zombies on screen who feast on human hearts.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Matt

  It was too soon.

  I shouldn’t have asked to kiss her. She’s not like other women and I almost blew my chance. Not again, though. I have the perfect date planned for Sunday. One that doesn’t break my bank account, too. She might have given me an out, and that’s probably because she’s not looking forward to spending her day with me, but I’m surprisingly okay with that. Mia’s not an easy target, cynical to the bone, and yet I can’t wait to prove her wrong.

  God, that woman. She was hot as fuck fighting against me on the mats. Doing exactly what we had practiced with a confidence that takes most weeks to master. That was probably the biggest turn-on of all. Okay, that and her body is amazing. Curves in all the places a man can’t help but dream of holding tightly while sinking into her sweet, wet center.

  That’s exactly what I imagined during my shower before bed, and those same gorgeous curves danced in my dreams through the night. My body was painfully hard and unsatisfied when I awoke Friday morning.

  But as much as I’d love to daydream about Mia, I’ve got a whole hell of a lot of work to do before our date. This Friday’s schedule is insane. I teach at the gym, work a full day with the painting crew, and then head back to the gym for a few more hours before catching a bus to Zig’s. It’s after dark by the time I get there and it’ll be well after three in the morning when I get home. I’m basically running off sheer will and energy drinks at this point. There’s not even a light at the end of the tunnel, because after tonight I’ll be back at the gym by six to teach my early classes. At least tomorrow I’ll get a nap between work and the bar.

  I’m about to step foot inside Zig’s when my cell begins to r
ing. Looking down at the caller ID, I recognize the number and turn back away from the bar, walking a few steps to where there’s less noise before I pick up. It’s the event organizer for the fights in a few weeks. This can’t be good.

  “Hello.”

  “Matt, it’s Kyle Ramos.” His speech comes in a rush and holds the kind of tone that conveys he’s already done with this conversation.

  “Hi, Kyle. How are things going? You ready for a kickass night of fights in a few weeks?”

  “That’s what I’m calling to check on. Things going all right at the gym?”

  Shit. How is it possible he’d have any idea they’re not? The only person who knows is my brother. My father and uncle might suspect, but neither would have anything to gain by babbling that kind of gossip around town. Clearing my throat, I decide to feel him out before making any admissions. “Things are going stellar. My guy Xavier is ready to take home the W and earn himself a UFC contract.”

  “Funny, a few of my guys downtown ran into him a few days ago. Said he looked worked over real good. I’m not saving my main event for someone who’s face looks like he ran into a bus and lost. My fans don’t pay to see that shit.”

  That. Okay, not the greatest. Especially now since I’m sure his opposition will get wind of this and use it to his advantage, but this is still better than Spencer knowing my gym is one fight away from going under. “He was jumped. But he’s already back in the gym. He’ll be ready. I promise.”

  “They catch the guys?” Kyle’s gonna push for the whole story, but that’s tough luck because it’s not mine to tell. Not to some amateur fight organizer whose daddy’s trust fund pays all the bills.

  “No, but you know how it is. They don’t rat. Not from where he’s from.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You sure he’ll be ready? Because I got a guy who can step in. One of Shawn Spencer’s guys.”

  I laugh, genuinely, because that’s not gonna happen. Not even over my dead body. “Come on, Kyle? Really? You want one of Spencer’s guys over my prized fighter? Do what you gotta do, but we both know that’ll be one hell of a boring match-up. Probably get knocked out in the first thirty seconds. You’ve seen the tapes. You know my guy is destined for greatness.”

  “Fine. Xavier’s in, but I’m counting on you, Haywood. Anymore shit like this, or I hear something’s not right, and I won’t hesitate to make the change. I’m doing this because I never believed any of that shit they said about you back in the day. That and you’re a damned good fighter.”

  “Then I hope you’re ready to watch this kid fight.” I’m too proud to say thank you, and with people like Kyle Ramos it does no good to grovel or suck ass. He only cares about the bottom line. His events bring the crowds and the sponsors, and I know all of my guys will step it up to another level come fight night.

  “Hell, yeah. Venue’s seventy percent sold out already.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  “One more thing, Haywood.”

  I blow out a breath because, really, could the universe cut me some slack right about now? “What’s that?”

  “I might have an opening for a lightweight match-up. Someone green who’s just looking to get his feet wet.” Thank God.

  “Crowd warmer. Got it.” I’m already going through my roster of guys. Ricky could probably step up. Either him or Mason. They’re both more than ready.

  “I’ll call you within the week, that is if you’ve got someone for me.”

  “Oh, I’ve got someone. I have an entire gym of guys chomping at the bit.” I’ve got a couple someones, but all in good time. We just have to show Kyle Ramos the quality fighters South Side Gym produces and everyone wins.

  “Good. It’ll be another grand added to what we agreed upon.”

  Yeah, that sweetens the pot. Even though the gym gets a cut, that’s still more toward bringing me out of the red. “Consider it done.”

  “I sure as shit hope you’re as legit as you preach down there at South Side. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Haywood.”

  “Talk soon.”

  Kyle ends the call without another word and I rush inside Zig’s for a long night of loud music, mouthy drunks, and bar brawls. Yeah, I need this fight to go my way. I can’t be working security every weekend, not for the long term. For the second time in my life I’m so close to success I can almost taste it. Only this time I won’t fuck it up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mia

  It’s D-day. The dreaded date. It could go wrong in so many ways, but more than likely it’ll only be another lackluster afternoon. I like Matt, I really do, but after today I’m prepared for that feeling to go away. Not that it’s personal. No, it’s just what generally happens after I date someone. That or I sleep with the guy, and that cannot happen. I won’t allow it.

  Not wanting to overthink or invite unwanted advances, I dress in my favorite worn jeans and a bright blue sweater, and go with my black leather boots and jacket. The last two have more to do with the fact I’ll be riding the hog; might as well be in style. Not sure what else I’ll need, I tuck my ID, credit card, and a twenty into the back pocket of my jeans, along with my cell. I refuse to wear a ton of makeup, but I do indulge in a red lipstick that almost matches the deep red dye of my current hair color.

  Taking the elevator down a few minutes before two, I wait for Matt just outside my building. It’s a beautiful early October afternoon. The sun is out, the clouds are at bay, and even though I need a jacket, it seems everyone in downtown Chicago has decided to venture outside their homes to enjoy a few hours of good weather.

  I hear the engine before he turns the corner. Sliding a pair of shades over my eyes to shield against the sun’s glare, I only have to wait a few more minutes before Matt’s bike comes into view. God, he’s sexy on that death trap. He’s just the kind of man my mother always warned me to stay away from, and I absolutely hate the fact that makes him hotter. Or that I find him attractive to begin with. I shake my head and brace myself for whatever today’s date holds. I’m a strong woman. I can handle it.

  Matt pulls up to the curb between two cars and pulls off his helmet. He notices me with a lift of his brows and ghost of a smile. I push off the wall outside my complex and take my time walking toward him. I have never run toward a man and won’t start today.

  “I would have come in,” he says.

  “It’s okay.” I reach for his helmet but he shakes his head.

  “Nope. Not anymore. Here.” He opens one of those compartments on his bike and pulls out another helmet to hand me.

  I take it and put it on. “I hope you didn’t buy this for me.” He’s being safe and thoughtful but it only seems presumptuous. He won’t last four dates. I know this. Besides, what if I don’t want to ride bitch on his motorcycle anymore.

  “Who the hell else would it be for?” He only laughs and then revs the engine before sliding his helmet back on. “Ready?”

  Instead of shouting my reply I fasten the chin strap and climb on back. There’s one great thing about riding this way: no lame small talk. Grabbing his waist, I hold tight as he backs out onto the road and guns it. The rumble of the engine is a soothing melody and for a few minutes I forget what I’m doing or where we’re going. It’s peaceful. That is, until I remember we’re on a date. Watching my surroundings, I try to guess exactly where he’s taking me. He seems extra cocky that I’ll like it, which only magnifies my doubts.

  Oh God, he’s nearing the art institute, along with every other touristy spot along Michigan Avenue. Rae has dragged me to enough art shows over the years to last a lifetime. While I appreciate the effort of the artists, it’s just not my thing. Not unless we’re talking comics and graphic novels.

  He zooms past the Buckingham Fountain, and I swear if he takes me to that fucking bean I’ll jump off this stupid bike and walk all the way home. Thankfully, he pulls to a stop and parks far enough away from that thing I feel we’re safe.

  His expression is lit with excitement as he ta
kes my helmet and stores it along with his own. “You ready?”

  “I don’t know. Where are we going?” I ask with a forced sweetness.

  “Trust me, Mia.” he says and of its own accord my body flushes, remembering vividly the last time he asked me to trust him. “Come on.” He grabs my hand and starts walking so I have to either yank it away or follow his lead. Morbid curiosity propels my feet forward.

  “I’m not sure if you’ve ever done this before, because, well, I don’t really know much about you, but it looked like a lot of fun. Plus, ya know . . .” He stops short in front of the Fine Arts Building and that’s when I read the sign.

  TRAPPED IN A ROOM WITH A ZOMBIE

  “Oh no, you didn’t.” Pure awe and shock ooze through my mind, because how could he know? I’ve been begging Jared for months to go to one of these with me. Escape room, Zombie edition.

  “If you don’t like it we can do something else.” Matt meets my stare with a weak smile and squeezes my hand. I realize I’m still holding on to him. “But my vote is we give it a try.”

  Pulling my hand back into my personal space, I let my guard down and give in to the smile I’ve been fighting since his big reveal. “No fucking way! I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I’ve been dying to do this.”

  His grin grows and a chuckle leaves his lips. “Thank God! You had me worried there for a second. I put a lot of thought into today.”

  “You sure you didn’t get any inside help?” I tilt my head and study his response.

  His expression is stone-cold when he crosses his heart with his finger. “Swear it. Now. Let’s go solve some puzzles.” We walk the final steps and Matt holds open the door like a gentleman.