Knocked Out By Love (Love to the Extreme)

by Abby Niles

  For a long moment, she studied him. She had never made this kind of agreement before. It was like she was making a business deal, but at the same time, she knew Brody was dead serious and wanted to make sure she understood his limitation.

  “How does an arrangement like this work? Do I just call you when I’m in the mood? Like a booty call?”

  As much as she wanted to not get into a relationship, she hated the idea of being someone’s booty call.

  “No.” He sharply shook his head. “I don’t do booty calls, either. A woman should be treated with respect and not just called up when I’m in the mood to fuck, or visa versa. We go out, have fun together, then we end the night in bed.”

  “I don’t get it, Brody. That’s dating.”

  “No. We are both aware of each other’s agenda. We both know there’ll be an expiration date, a time when we’re ready to move on. Are you ready to have an adult relationship?”

  She chewed on her lower lip. He was giving her exactly what she wanted, with no fear of things getting weird between them over unwanted emotions. Just two adults, going in with their eyes wide-open, appreciating each other in a way she’d never truly enjoyed the opposite sex.

  “I am.”

  He nodded once. “I’ll pick you up tonight at seven. Be ready.”

  With that, he left. No good-bye. No kiss. Nothing intimate.

  She stared at the closed door.

  No pressure.

  This might be the best arrangement she’d ever made.

  …

  Brody slammed the door of his car then scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning.

  What had he just done?

  Made a deal that was doomed to fail, that’s what.

  He’d come over here certain he was starting the first day of a real relationship with Scarlett. Something he’d once believed would never happen. Ryan had always stood in his way.

  Now it looked like Scarlett was the obstacle.

  She had no intention of getting into a relationship again. Though in hindsight, he should’ve considered this possibility. She hadn’t just gotten out of a long-term relationship—she’d just ended her marriage, which wasn’t even final yet.

  He had to respect her decision. The problem was, could he?

  He wasn’t stupid. Until an hour ago, Scarlett had been forbidden to him. With the dissolving of his friendship to Ryan, and knowing the extent to which the man had hurt Scarlett, he could pursue her in the way he’d only fantasized about. But that idea had been stopped in its tracks.

  The moment she’d said she wasn’t looking for anything real, he should’ve walked away. He was already in too deep for this to end any way but badly. Yet, the idea of another man walking into her life and doing all the things he wanted—had always wanted—to do to her forced him to make the damn arrangement.

  Now it was his job to keep his own wants under control. She had set the parameters. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a relationship based strictly on a physical connection. So this wasn’t new. He knew how to do this. He had to stay focused on her pleasure, help her become confident with her body—with her words.

  That was the important thing, and no other man would show her that but him.

  He cranked the car and drove off. Goddamn, this had already been a fucked up day. And the day wasn’t over yet. Next, he had to confront Greg. No more pussy-footing around. It was time to get real with his coach.

  He backed out of the driveway, and fifteen minutes later, he strode into Greg’s gym. As usual, his coach was standing outside the ring, shouting instructions to his new toy as he sparred with a partner.

  Brody approached him then tapped Greg on the shoulder.

  He sent Brody a quick glance. “Minton,” he said, with a short nod of acknowledgement.

  “I need a few minutes with you.”

  His coach hung his head for a moment. “I don’t have time. I’m working with Randy.”

  Irritation flared hot, and Brody fisted his hands. “Make time,” he said between clenched teeth.

  Greg turned his head, his gaze traveling over Brody. He pressed his lips in a tight line. As he returned his attention to the ring, he said, “Randy. Take five.”

  Five minutes was all the time Greg was going to give him. Well, if that didn’t feel like a kick to the goddamn gut.

  “What’s eating at you, Minton?”

  The glances he was getting from the other fighters were making him uncomfortable. “Privacy would be nice.”

  Greg blew out an annoyed breath. “Come on, then.”

  The jerk was making the decision a lot easier on Brody. They had a long past. He’d thought they could sit down, hash out their differences, and things would get better. Greg’s current attitude only confirmed what Brody had always known.

  He was done.

  As Greg sat down in his chair, he leveled Brody with an impassive stare. “What?”

  “It’s time we parted ways.”

  He didn’t know what he expected from his coach. A little shock maybe. Some hesitation. But a quick, “You’re right,” left Brody fumbling for his footing.

  “It’s something I’ve been thinking long and hard on, too,” Greg continued. “I don’t have anything more to offer you, Minton. You’ve been a part of this gym for years. I’ve invested a lot of time into you, and you haven’t produced the results I expected by now. I’ve had to accept you just don’t have that ‘it’ factor I’m looking for.”

  Greg’s words fed the thoughts Brody had been having ever since those articles had come out, and it only succeeded in pissing him off even more. “Fuck you, Greg. I bust my ass in here training. You’ve never gotten less than one-hundred percent of me in the cage.”

  “And yet, you still haven’t been good enough to get out of the middle of the pack and really shine. I can only do so much. You’ve had a great career, Minton. Made some great money. Be proud of that. But it’s time for me to put all my focus on Randy, who does have the ‘it’ factor.”

  His body shook from trying to restrain his anger. “Maybe it has nothing to do with me. Maybe it’s the coach. Ever thought of that? The only titled fighter you’ve had under this roof was Richard Sentori, but he had a belt when he came here, didn’t he? What happened when he took you on as his coach?”

  Red crept up the man’s neck and into his cheeks as his nostrils flared. “Get the fuck out of here, Minton.”

  “Gladly. I’ll go find me a coach who actually helps make winners, you fucking asshole.”

  Brody spun and stormed past the fighters, who’d undoubtedly heard the entire exchange, if their slacked-jawed expressions were anything to go by. Embarrassment rushed over him, infuriating him more. He despised creating a public spectacle. He’d let his anger get the better of him, and he’d willingly participated in this one. And they’d heard his coach all but call him a has-been.

  Fuck him and fuck this. He had the ability to be the heavyweight champion, and he was going to prove that it was the coaching keeping him from advancing, and not the fighter. There was only one person he could think of that he’d want in his corner.

  Mike Cannon.

  After jumping into his car and racing across town, he stopped in front of Mike’s facility. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he pushed out a long breath then climbed out. He had to go in there calm and collected, and not like some enraged fighter fueled off emotions. Mike didn’t respond to stuff like that.

  He stepped into the facility and scanned the interior. The training center was larger than Greg’s. But the two biggest differences were the fighter sparring with a trainer inside the traditional boxing ring, and the other fighter grappling on blue mat—the two titleholders. Dante “Inferno” Jones and Tommy “Lightning” Sparks.

  Mike trained champions. Greg put all his energy into maybes. Fuck. Was a maybe all he was?

  The unwanted thought hit him with the power of a punch on the sweet spot, wiping away the confidence he’d felt as he stormed out of Greg�
�s gym. What if he was wrong and Greg and the news articles were right?

  He didn’t have time to dwell on it as the bald and muscular owner strode out of a back office. Nervous energy zapped through Brody. Seemed “nerves” was the word of the day. That was the third time he’d been afflicted with the shit.

  Big day of changes with unexpected outcomes, he supposed.

  As much as he wanted Mike as his coach, it was very possible the man would tell him no. He had the reputation of being extremely choosey about who he trained. Hell, he’d even cut ties with two title holders, Richard Sentori and Tommy, because of their behavior.

  After being defeated by Dante, Sentori went on to fall flat on his face with Greg as his coach. He was no longer in the CMC and was now fighting for lesser-known MMA organizations, while Tommy had made a huge comeback that Mike respected, and so had allowed him back on his roster.

  Mike didn’t fuck around.

  “Brody.” The beefy man walked over to him and extended his hand, which Brody took firmly. “What brings you to this side of town?”

  “I was hoping we could talk.”

  Mike’s brows arched up, indicting his surprise. “I’m intrigued. Come on. Let’s talk in my office.”

  He followed the other man into a small office. Mike sat behind a desk, and Brody took a seat in a beat-up old leather chair. Mike leaned back and hooked his arms behind his head. “What can I do for you?”

  And here went nothing. “Do you have room in your house for a new fighter?”

  Mike studied him for a long moment. The silence only increased the nerves churning in his stomach. He wanted this…bad.

  “Why do you want to leave Greg?” Mike finally asked.

  No reason to sugarcoat anything. The entire facility had heard the exchange between them. It would be the talk of every locker room across the country by tomorrow. “Greg and I have outgrown each other.”

  “You outgrew each other, or are you butt-sore over him focusing on Randy Boss?”

  At Mike’s bluntness, Brody blinked, having a hard time finding the right words to answer the question. He finally settled on, “Both.”

  “I’m not going to blame Greg for putting his energy into Randy. From what I’ve heard, CMC is impressed with him, and think he’s going to have a huge career. I’ve also heard that you’re reaching the end of yours. What do you think I could do for you that Greg hasn’t?”

  Palms sweating, Brody rubbed his hands over his fighting shorts. “I’ve been with Greg for a long time. I need a change. A new direction with my training. You can do that for me.”

  Mike picked up a pen and started jotting something down on a yellow legal notebook. “I don’t ego stroke, Minton. I’m sure you’ve heard that about me,” he said, without looking up. “I haven’t been impressed with your last two appearances in the cage. You’re scheduled to fight Raster in a few weeks, and we both know that’s a step back for you.”

  Not that he was surprised by Mike’s knowledge of the goings-on in the MMA world, but he was surprised that Mike was aware of Brody’s schedule when his opponent wasn’t part of this gym.

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “So, why should I sign a fighter whose career is going backward and not forward?”

  Fucking ouch. Not only had he been verbally bitch-smacked by his ex-coach, Mike was adding insult to injury. Brody squared his shoulders. “Because I say I’m not done. The last thing I need is another fucking coach who has lost his faith in my ability in the cage. If you can’t get behind me, then this meeting is over.”

  Mike glanced up, respect shining in his eyes. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll coach you for this next fight. Call it a trial run. This’ll be a good way for both of us to see if it’s the coaching or if it’s the fighter that has taken your career in the wrong direction.” Mike stood and offered his hand. “Do we have a deal, Minton?”

  Mike was offering him a moment of truth. If he lost this next fight, or put in another bad performance ending with a lucky win, he’d have to face some hard facts.

  Pushing that thought aside, he stood and took Mike’s hand in another firm shake. “Deal.”

  Now he had to prove himself.

  Chapter Seven

  Had she made a mistake? Where was Delaney? Scarlett paced the living room.

  It’d been almost two hours since Brody had left, and in that time, her insecurities had gone crazy.

  Unless things went horribly wrong, she was going to have sex tonight—with Brody. What if she did something stupid? Brody hadn’t blinked an eye when she’d ineptly tried to explain what she wanted. Instead, he’d turned the tables and made the moment hotter than anything she’d ever experienced. With only words.

  She wasn’t such a smooth talker. But talking dirty wasn’t her only concern. Trying to get her marriage back on track, she’d experimented with different things, even gone as far as taking a burlesque class. She’d been so proud of herself and had been excited to show her husband what she’d learned.

  And he’d laughed. Humiliated, she hadn’t finished the routine, and he hadn’t encouraged her to continue.

  She’s stopped trying after that. What if Brody laughed? What if tonight just proved that she sucked in bed? A wave of nausea assaulted her.

  Oh God. She couldn’t do this.

  The front door opened behind her, and she whirled around.

  “Thank God!”

  Delaney froze just inside the door. “I’ve been gone a few hours. What the hell could have happened in that amount of time?”

  “Lots.” Scarlett motioned for to hurry inside.

  Delaney closed the door, rushed into the living room, and sat down on the couch. “Spill it.”

  Where did she even begin? She bit her thumbnail. “Brody left a couple of hours ago.”

  “Okay,” she drawled out the word.

  “We made an arrangement.”

  Delaney cocked her head.

  Scarlett inhaled deeply. “We agreed to an adult relationship.”

  “An adult relationship?” Delaney’s face screwed into a what-the-hell expression. “Is that some mature way of saying fuck buddies?”

  A laugh shot out of Scarlett mouth. At least Delaney needed a clearer definition, too. “Not according to Brody. His definition of…” She hesitated over the next two words. Say it, girl. “Fuck buddies”—she suppressed a grin as satisfaction coursed through her—“means only having sex like a booty call. People in an adult relationship still go out before ending up in bed, and there are no strings attached.”

  Delaney pursed her lips then shrugged. “Sounds like a sweet deal, Scar. I mean Brody wants to wine and dine you, rock your world, and there’s nothing expected. So…hell, yeah.”

  Scarlett breathed a sigh. She didn’t know why it was so important for her to hear that from her friend, but it was. “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “Hell, no. If there’s one person who deserves to have some fun, it’s you.”

  She deserved it, but deep down, the worry about disappointing Brody threatened to ruin that fun. What if Brody called uncle before the end of the night because she was too uptight? Could she recover from the humiliation on top of everything she’d already been through?

  “What’s got you freaked?”

  Good lord, was she wearing “I think I suck” on her forehead? “How can you tell I’m freaked?”

  Delaney cocked a brow. “How long have we been friends?”

  “Forever.”

  “Exactly.”

  Scarlett licked her lips. She hadn’t told Delaney everything about her marriage. Some things were just better left unsaid, and if she’d confided in Delaney, her friend would have hated Ryan. Now, it didn’t really matter. Besides, maybe her friend could give her some tips.

  “How do you please a man?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Like give them unforgettable sex. You said you and Blake had the most amazing sex ever. How?”

  Delaney stared
wide-eyed at Scarlett. “Have you never had amazing sex, Scar?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, that’s a no,” her friend said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Ryan critiqued me a lot.”

  “Critiqued you? Like, not in the ‘babe, I love it when you do this’ way?”

  “No, more like, you’ll never get me to nut with that kind of blow job.”

  As the crass words left her mouth, her face heated crimson, but if she was going to be honest, she had to say it exactly how he’d say it.

  “That motherfucker.” Delaney’s jaw clenched. “My guess is he couldn’t get your motor revving and wanted to make you feel inadequate instead of accepting responsibility for being a shitty lover.”

  A small smile came to Scarlett’s lips. She could always count on Delaney to make her feel better.

  “Listen to me, Scar. Don’t let that asshole into your head. Don’t let him make you doubt your abilities.”

  “Unfortunately, he already has. I have so much negativity in my head from sex that I’m scared everything I do is stupid.”

  “Did you doubt yourself when you were with Brody?”

  “That doesn’t really count. We never got past kissing. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if we had.”

  Delaney studied her for a long moment. “Do you play with the balls when you go down?”

  Her face scorched. “I—uh. What?”

  Delaney held her hand out, palm up, and slowly wiggled her fingers. “You know, cup them, massage them, kiss them, tongue them.”

  “Jesus, Delaney.”

  A brow arched up. “Well?”

  “I’ve never been sure what to do with them.”

  “Okay.” Without another word, she disappeared into her bedroom, returning a few seconds later with one of her thigh high stockings. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed two Cutie tangerines out of a fruit bowl and put them inside the stocking so they hung there…looking very much like a large set of testicles.