by Skye Warren
What power he gave her, simply by wanting her and taking what he gave her. She had the feeling that she could ask him for anything, tell him to do anything, and he would do it. And she had the oddest urge to try it. She’d test his boundaries, test him. And he’d prove himself, again and again. At least, that was the fantasy. The reality was a big strong man whom she was uncertain about, at best.
He kissed above her lips then to the side, nibbling his way around them. The tease.
“I can’t get enough,” he whispered.
If only it were true. If only they had more time together to explore each other, to get to know each other. But they didn’t. They only had maybe another week together, and then they had their own lives to lead.
She was done with martial arts. He embodied it. She looked away from the need in his eyes. It was too much like her own.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head but didn’t look up.
“Come on, baby. If you don’t tell me what the problem is, how can I fix it?”
Her lips turned up. “Can you solve my problems?”
“I can try.” His eyes were so damned earnest, like a puppy bringing her his toy. It wasn’t what she really wanted or needed, but how could she turn him down? Because what she really wanted was something she couldn’t have.
“I want you.” She left it vague. Let him think she wanted sex. Well, she did, too.
“You have me.”
“For how long?” It slipped out. She wasn’t supposed to say it. She knew this relationship couldn’t go anywhere. Why play the needy girl? She’d only beat herself up later.
Still, she held her breath to hear what he’d say. And then released it in a sigh when Abe’s face went blank.
“It’s okay,” she said, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Never mind.”
But he was determined to give them to her, damn him. “I don’t know. But we’re together now. Can’t that be enough?”
“Yes,” she said, but it wasn’t. He had to know that. He’d given her all of him, but it didn’t really count if there was an expiration date. Soon they would both be flying back to their homes, to different states. And all she could do between now and then was grow wonderfully, painfully attached to this man.
Abe turned his face toward the street. Paris followed his gaze to where Rafael and Addie were arguing on the sidewalk. Cabs were hard to come by. As was civility, apparently. Maybe the stress really was getting to everyone.
“I’m going to open my own school,” Abe said.
Fake it. Paris smiled and forced out a, “Wow, that’s great.”
“Well.” He paused. Paris’s pulse thudded in anticipation. Abe looked nervous. He was never nervous. “I can open it anywhere.”
With her, that’s where he could open it. “Oh, Abe.”
“So…” He shrugged helplessly.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t even want you to.”
“Oh, great.” His words were sarcastic but the bitterness felt real. She felt the coolness as he physically pulled away.
She pulled him back. “It’s not like that. I want to be with you and see where this goes. The thought of not seeing you after this is…painful. But I’m not going to lie and say that I’m ready to commit to something, and I don’t really think you are either.”
He said nothing, but his eyes were resigned. He agreed, even if he didn’t like it.
“What if you started a school there, and then it turns out we just didn’t know each other that well. Then you’d be left in a strange city or you’d have to give up all that money. All that work.”
“Maybe you could come stay with me,” he tried. “We could pick a place together. It wouldn’t have to be a commitment for you. You could come and live there for a while, and go back if you wanted to.”
“Maybe,” Paris said, but her voice betrayed her doubt. The truth was that she really shouldn’t get involved with someone in martial arts. She didn’t want that to be a part of her life anymore. And…another part of her brain, one she’d tried, unsuccessfully, to mute, said that Abe’s skills could be used against anyone. She could protect herself against a fumbling guy like Claxton. She’d be helpless against Abe. But she couldn’t bring that up with Abe, not without explaining herself.
Abe said nothing more, just pulled her close.
Maybe once she was back at home, she could find some way to forget the things she couldn’t have. Abe played with her hair, curling a lock around his finger. He tugged down lightly and she looked up.
She gave him a half-hearted smile. “We have this. Let’s just enjoy it.”
He pursed his lips like he wanted to argue, but didn’t.
Wait a minute. “What are you guys doing here? Are you missing practice?”
“Not exactly.”
Already, he couldn’t hide anything from her. “What happened?”
He shook his head.
“Is it your knee? Did you hurt it worse? Dammit, Abe.”
She worked with athletes every day. Injuries were common among athletes of Abe’s caliber. But even the most minor of injuries could be incredibly debilitating. And it was the day before his competition.
“Well, look on the bright side. If I bomb, I probably won’t get the sponsorship. I won’t be able to open my school. And then I can bum off you.”
He was joking, but his eyes were troubled.
Christ.
At the sound of a shout, they both looked over. Rafael’s belt was in a mud puddle, and judging by his angry expression, it was Addie’s fault. Except Addie didn’t look repentant like Paris would expect. She looked smug.
Paris and Abe shared a look, these crazy kids, then walked together to the corner.
“Looks like we’ll be taking the shuttle after all,” Abe said.
“I thought it was too cold for your wimpy ass,” Rafael said.
“It would be, but you’ve got so much hot air that I’m good, thanks.”
Paris rolled her eyes. “Come on, sis. Next thing you know, they’ll be pulling out tape measures.”
Abe said nothing, and Rafael’s cheeks darkened.
“Oh my Lord,” Addie said. “You guys have actually done that, haven’t you?”
“Of course not,” Rafael said, and “Don’t be ridiculous,” Abe said, at the exact same time.
Paris giggled with Addie. “You so have. So tell us who won.”
“It wasn’t a competition,” Rafael said, and “A gentleman never tells,” Abe said, at the same time again.
That had Paris and Addie gleefully speculating all the way to the shuttle stop.
#
“I’m sorry,” Paris said under her breath.
“Don’t apologize for sleeping with the guy. Apologize for not telling me all about him.” Addie spoke just as quietly, so as not to disturb the slumbering dragon that was their mother.
“I’m sorry,” Paris repeated. “I honestly didn’t think it was going anywhere.”
“And now?”
“It can’t. He’s going to go back and open his school, settle down. And I’m going to settle down, too, at home. It’s okay. This is just a fling.”
Addie didn’t look convinced, but she said, “At least one of us is getting some.”
Paris turned to look at her sister, sitting next to her on the sofa, and raised her eyebrows. “What, have you been watching Sex and the City or something? You’re seventeen. You’re not getting anything.”
“Oh, please. As if you were completely innocent at my age.”
As a matter of fact, she’d lost her virginity at seventeen, but she wasn’t about to say that. “You don’t have time for boys. You have to train.”
Addie groaned quietly. “Don’t remind me. Seriously. I get enough of that from Mom.”
“Ouch! Did you just compare me to Mom?”
“Sorry, but if the shoe fits…” Addie trailed off. She was teasing, but Paris failed to see the humor.
�
��Should I wake her and tell her you ate fish and chips for lunch?”
“You wouldn’t!”
Paris cracked her best evil smile. “I would, actually, so don’t test me.”
“Oh, that’s just wrong.”
“I’ve been learning from the best.”
“Who? Mom?”
Paris laughed. “No, actually. I meant Abe.”
“Oh. Abe. The rat bastard Abe who humiliated my sister.” Once Paris had told Addie the whole story, Addie was upset she had been nice to Abe. If she had known, she said, she’d have given him a piece of her mind. Where her sweet, docile sister had gone, Paris had no idea.
“Watch your mouth,” Paris said mildly. “But yes, he is kind of a rat bastard. But… I think I like him anyway. Is that weird?”
“No.” Addie shook her head sagely. “Girls always go for the bad boys.”
“Yeah, but he was sweet this morning. Abe covered for his friend with their coach, even though I get the impression this guy is kind of a jerk to him.”
“Aww. Honor among rat bastards.”
“Yep.” Paris smiled briefly. “Now you need to get going or you’ll be late for training.”
Addie glanced at the open door to their mother’s room and bit her lip. “Should I wake her?”
“No, it’ll just make you late for sure. I’ll handle her.”
“Thanks, sis.” Addie gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and slung her backpack on. She turned back at the door. “Go easy on her, okay? I know how she can be, but she was up late last night. I think she was worried about you.”
Paris leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Not wanting to think about her mother and confused about Abe, she let her mind drift into a light doze. She hadn’t gotten all that much sleep last night either.
She woke to the sounds of banging in the bathroom. Mom came into the living room.
Without looking at Paris, she said, “I assume you sent Addie to her training.”
“Yes, Mom. Although she would have gone herself without me.”
“That doesn’t matter. We’re here to support her.”
“I do support her. I support her just by being here and loving her, not by babysitting her.”
“Are you saying that I’m doing it wrong?”
Paris winced at the increasing shrillness of her mother’s voice. “Of course I’m not saying that.” Maybe just a little.
“Are you saying I don’t love her?”
“No.” Paris sighed, exhausted. “I’m not saying anything. She left in time for her school meeting, okay?”
But Mom wasn’t so easily placated. “Do you think I like taking care of all the details? Do you think I like babysitting her? This is what I do because I love her.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“I know you don’t want me to butt into your life, but that doesn’t mean Addison doesn’t appreciate what I do for this family. Just because you decided to quit…”
“I know Addison appreciates it.” That was true, and Paris knew she should have shut up right there. “But don’t make it sound like you don’t butt into my life.”
Mom gasped, but how could she not know?
“You always butt in. Always.”
“What? What do I tell you to do?” Mom’s voice was wobbly, which was kind of scary. But, damn it, she asked, and Paris was going to tell her. She would make her understand.
“Everything. My entire freaking life is built how you want it to be. I work in the gym so that I can be around you and Addie. Even when I’m not at the gym, I’m running errands or handling sales or managing the website. My apartment is only two miles away from your house and the gym, and somehow I still manage to rack up two thousand miles a month. The only thing I won’t do for you is go back to training, but even then you can’t leave it alone. So don’t give me shit about not being supportive enough, Mom. I’ve given you my entire life for support, okay?”
She blinked rapidly, open mouthed. Paris imagined she must have the same look on her own face. “I can’t believe you swore at me,” she said in a small voice. Then she turned and walked out of the suite, slamming the door behind her.
Paris wanted to run after her. She wanted to scream and rage and cry. Instead, she collapsed back onto the couch without even a sigh.
“Fucking hell,” she said to the empty room.
Seven
“Breathe.”
Just one word, but Abe heard in it all the years of his training. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax his body, clear his mind. Open up his senses and allow instinct to take over. Focus. If he started to get distracted, then breathe. In and out.
“Good,” Abe heard, pulling him from his meditations. When he opened his eyes, Sa Bum Nim’s eyes held a spark of something. Pride, maybe. Abe’s chest swelled to be able to give that to him.
Sa Bum Nim gave him his competition schedule and other logistical items. “Go warm up.”
“Yes, sir.” The charged air in the stadium made Abe pause. “No last minute tips?”
“When the chicks are ready to fly, the mother bird watches them go.”
Sa Bum Nim walked away, and Abe smiled. That was a bigger vote of confidence than Abe had ever hoped to hear from him.
Now he was ready to compete.
Abe donned his protective gear for the first match. His first opponent was another regular tournament-goer from California. Abe had fought him before, knew him to be solid. Well, they all were. He hadn’t been pandering when he’d said as much to the reporters.
But still, this guy was a serious medal contender. Abe would have to go hard. It would mean risking both his stamina and the stability of his knee, but that was a risk he’d have to take. It wouldn’t do to get knocked out on his match.
They met in the center of the court, Abe wearing red gear, his opponent, blue.
They bowed.
Shi Jak. Begin.
Abe bounced on his feet. He had attack scenarios in his mind, but it would do nothing against this opponent, not while his defenses were so intact. Abe waited for an opening. And his opponent gave him one, lunging forward and launching a combination of jabs and kicks. Abe deflected each one and let the moment whip his body around. His torso was exposed for just a second, but he landed a clean kick to his opponent’s head.
He allowed himself only a brief moment to savor his victory before refocusing. This time it was Abe who attacked. He saw the guy curving to the right, leaving his side exposed, and moved in quickly. His right arm jabbed to his opponent’s side—blocked. He swung his left arm around, aiming for the template, but at the last minute had to use it to redirect a kick from his opponent.
But there—an opening. It wasn’t there, but it would be. The guy was lifting his leg, and with a lot of force, most likely for a head kick. Abe could block it—or duck. And if he ducked, he could pull up quickly and score a jab to the torso. By the time he had it all worked out, it was happening. But because he knew what would happen, it was automatic. It could have gone differently, if the other guy hadn’t done what he’d expected, and in that case Abe would’ve rolled with the punches, literally. But Abe had read him correctly, and his right fist connected with his opponent’s chest gear in a satisfying thump.
By the third set, Abe had the round on lock. Still, he took a blow to the temple and managed to twist his knee on a kick before it was over.
The referee called time. Abe had won.
That was the only first round, which only meant that Abe had qualified for the next round. He had many more to go.
His opponent, having lost a single round, was now out of the running for the top two medal spots. Instead, he would participate in the repechage, a tournament style setup to determine the winners of the two bronze medals. The winners of the gold and silver medals would have to win every single one of their matches in order to compete in that last match.
Abe sparred again, this time against a much lesser opponent. He’d won handily, enough to bolster hi
s confidence and almost rest his knee. Still, he was running low for the morning of the first day.
On a ninety minute break, Abe limped into the back room for a snack and found Rafael sitting at a table. Abe grabbed a bottle of water and a granola bar and sat down next to him.
“What’s up, man?”
Rafael gave him a grim smile. “As expected, I guess.”
“So, rough as hell?”
“Pretty much. Just skated by on that last one.’
“It’s a mixed bag, that’s for sure. The last couple were okay, but I fought hard on that first round. Could’ve been out, and wouldn’t that have been great?”
“Please, I saw that match. You weren’t close at all. But yeah, he did make you work for it.”
Abe took a swig from the bottle. Then another, then another, crunching the bottle as he drained it.
“How’s your knee holding up?” Rafael asked.
Hurts like a bitch. “It’s fine.”
“That bad, huh?”
Abe would keep it together, and he’d do it without any hand holding. “I said it’s fine.”
“I saw you walk in here and it didn’t look fine. You looked like an old lady.”
Since Rafael didn’t want to drop it, Abe would do what he usually did: deflect. “There’s no need to bring your mother into this.”
“I’m glad you’re handling this with such maturity.”
“Suck my dick.”
“No, thanks. But if you want to be a stubborn bastard, be my guest.”
Mission accomplished. “What time is your next match?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Great, I’ll be able to watch.”
The thing Abe liked to do best was fight, but if he wasn’t doing that, the second best thing was to watch a fight. Well, if he were being honest, that statement applied to fucking more than fighting. But thinking about fucking just made him think of fucking a beautiful woman with satin midnight hair that always curled at the tips.
He would have liked to relegate Paris to that group of women that only wanted a commitment from him. Then he could write her off. Except, well, she didn’t want a commitment.