Under Pressure (Lessons Learned Book 1)

by Smartypants Romance

  I kiss her so I don’t have to look at her, but this time is deeper than anything we’ve shared before, our mouths connected as intensely as our bodies. That familiar tingle races down my spine, signaling I’m close, but I hold it at bay, wanting to see if she’ll come twice for me.

  I slide my hand in between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling it carefully. She digs her heels into the mattress, bringing her hands to my shoulders to clutch at me, her low whimpers spurring me on.

  I come first, groaning in her ear, unable to stop the rush of emotion that comes along with it. How soft she is pressed against me. How sweet her sighs sound. How goddamn amazing her pussy feels clenching me, drawing it out until I’ve poured everything into her. More than I was willing to give in the first place.

  I pull out and continue to rub her clit, watching her face transform as her climax overtakes her, tears leaking out her eyes as she squeezes them shut, panting harshly. She blindly gropes for me, pulling me in close when she finds me, her shuddering breaths gradually easing.

  I roll onto my back and she curls herself around me, my hand lazily playing in her hair.

  “I’ve never felt so powerful,” she whispers. “So alive, almost out of my own body.”

  She looks over at me as if she expects me to reciprocate, but I close my eyes, unable to say anything. To admit to her how much I liked it, crave something like that again, anything she wants to do to me. “You are powerful,” I tell her instead. She has too much power. Over me.

  This is no longer a matter of sleeping with a girl to get her out of my system, the chase wearing off after I’ve caught her. Because I’m uncovering more sides to Mia every time I’m with her, surprised more at her tonight than any other. Who knew a seductress lies inside her? One that has me wanting more. So much more.

  I unconsciously rub at my wrists where the tie rubbed at me before realizing what I’m doing, and wrap an arm around her as she snuggles more deeply into my side, her hand lying on my chest directly over my heart.

  I soak the novel experience up while I can, basking in her presence, letting myself be weak for just a while longer. But this is it. I’ll continue to be her friend, but I can’t let her in like this again.

  If I do, she’ll never leave.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mia

  “Put more power behind it. You’re barely hitting me.” Tyler holds his hands up and motions for me to try it again.

  I wipe the sweat out of my eye with the back of my forearm, narrowing my gaze at him. “You probably don’t feel it because all your nerve endings are dead in your hands from punching with no gloves.”

  He grins briefly before returning his face to a neutral expression. “You said you wanted to box. I’m trying to help.”

  I nod, raising my arms again, his words from our fight in the lab the other day running through my mind. I need to focus on my own stuff.

  I appreciate him taking time to continue helping me, even though I insisted when we came here he was welcome to do his own thing.

  I use as much force as I can to hit the mitt on his hand, pleased with myself as I knock it backwards, but all he says is, “You’re too slow bringing your arm back. You left yourself wide open for me to break through.”

  “You know, I respond to positive reinforcement better than negative.” I smile sweetly, earning another brief grin.

  “And you should know I don’t do positive reinforcement.”

  “You did in bed last time,” I flirt playfully.

  It doesn’t get the response I want, though. Instead, all emotion shuts down on his face.

  I instantly step toward him. “Tyler—”

  “Still having to fight girls?” that same guy from before drawls, coming upon us. With his shaved head, thick neck, and tattoos running down both arms, he sets me on edge. It’s more than just his appearance, though. It’s the energy he puts off, like he’s mad at the world and wants to take it out on anyone he can get his hands on.

  Tyler can give off that same vibe sometimes, but with him it’s contained, reserved within him and under control. I’ve never feared for my safety around him.

  Tyler gazes steadily at me, merely saying, “Not now, Erickson,” not even glancing his way.

  The man blows out a breath, visibly annoyed, then turns to me. I instinctively shrink under his shrewd gaze, despite what Tyler said about not giving in to him. I know he’s a bully, but I can’t help how my body reacts. I’ve never done well with confrontation. Tyler seems to be the only one I can talk back to.

  “And what about you?” Erickson asks me, his upper lip curling. “You think you’re some kind of boxer? Jenkins had to get permission for you to be here, like you’re something special.”

  I glance at Tyler, his eyes flashing. “Don’t talk to her. Shoot your shit all day long to me, but leave Mia out of it.”

  Erickson smiles gleefully. He got exactly what he wanted—a rise out of Tyler.

  And because of me.

  My heartbeat picks up, suddenly aware I’m a very small person in between two very large guys, and I try to communicate with my eyes to Tyler that I can take whatever Erickson says. It holds no importance to me.

  “What, afraid she’ll like me more?” he taunts, moving to put his arm around me. His beefy hand only brushes my shoulder before Tyler steps in, knocking it out of the way.

  “Don’t fucking touch her.” I’ve never seen him so darkly serious as he crowds Erickson back, the two of them evenly matched in height, but not in weight. Erickson’s got Tyler beat by a good thirty pounds at least.

  I quickly retreat, making it out of the danger zone before running into another muscled body. I spring away, glancing back, and Ethan’s hands settle on my arms briefly to steady me before he drops them, his attention on the two men in each other’s faces. “What’s going on?”

  I undo the Velcro straps of my boxing gloves, ripping them off. “Erickson touched me—”

  “Shit,” Ethan swears, scrubbing a hand down his face, then sighing. “Well, it was bound to happen.”

  “What? What was bound to happen?” I look toward them, both of them breathing heavy, tension running rampant through the area. Other guys circle around as Erickson taunts something else, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, but I’m too far away now to make out what he said.

  Tyler’s livid at whatever it was and I try to push through the forming crowd, to get to him and tell him it doesn’t matter. Whatever he’s saying is unimportant, not worth any of this.

  Ethan grabs my arm, shaking his head. “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way. Erickson’s on the warpath now. He’s finally found the chink in Tyler’s armor.”

  Me? I’m his weakness? The thought sends a rush of gooey warmth through me, even though I abhor the idea. I want to be his strength, lift him up. The way I’ve seen him following along with the biofeedback, the way he accepted my embrace in the lab.

  I don’t want to bring him down, make him lose his famed control, his pride, to this lunk of a man.

  But I fear it’s too late. A loud crack echoes in the air, but I can’t see over the heads of the guys surrounding them, nearly everyone in the gym now watching the brewing fight.

  I grab Ethan’s arm, using him as leverage to put myself up on my tiptoes, but it doesn’t make a difference. “What happened?” Is that my voice that sounds that terrified?

  “Tyler punched him.”

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Erickson wanted it. He didn’t even attempt a block. Now he can justify hitting him back.”

  Heavy blows sound, the crowd reacting after each hit. I can only catch glimpses of the two of them, Tyler looking like he’s gained back some of his control, despite the rage still there, Erickson’s eyes full of savage exhilaration, blood dripping down his face.

  “Who will win?”

  “Tyler has technical skill on his side, but Erickson has more experience actually punching people. And he’s the type with nothing to lose. He lives to
fight.”

  “What did he mean when he said Tyler got special permission for me to be here?”

  I glance up at Ethan’s face, an uncomfortable expression crossing it. “Girlfriends aren’t allowed here. Not that you’re his girlfriend,” he rushes to add. “But it’s the same principle. He had to clear bringing you here with Marty, be responsible for you.”

  “So, could he be kicked out of the gym because of this?”

  Ethan stares ahead at the two of them, fists raining down upon each other. He’s tall enough to see what’s going on, and by the wince on his face, it can’t be good. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Erickson provoked him, but he threw the first punch.”

  “Enough,” a booming voice sounds, the same man from my first night here coming up behind us. The crowd parts for him and even the fighting stops, both men panting heavily. Blood is flowing freely from Erickson’s nose, a wild grin on his face, but I only have eyes for Tyler. He has the beginnings of a bruise around his left eye, lip swollen, and he’s teetering unsteadily, but he’s in control again, whatever set him off initially under wraps now.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Marty demands, sizing the two of them up.

  “Jenkins attacked me, sir,” Erickson tells him gleefully. “Outside of the ring with no protective equipment. I was just trying to defend myself.”

  The owner of the club makes a sound of disbelief. “Is that true?” he asks Tyler quietly.

  “Yes.” He doesn’t bother to elaborate or advocate for himself. He stands taller, though, prepared to take any punishment coming his way.

  I glance around, all the bystanders keeping mum about the fact that Erickson was the one who instigated all this. Do they think that’s snitching or something? Well, screw that. I don’t hold by the same standards. “Tyler was defending me,” I pipe up, a roomful of heads swiveling my way. “Erickson insulted me, then tried to grab at me.” Okay, it wasn’t really grabbing, but it was definitely an unwanted advance.

  Marty’s eyes shoot over to Erickson, narrowing menacingly.

  He immediately goes on the defensive. “She shouldn’t even be here. She’s not a boxer. Besides, she wanted it.” He looks at Tyler as he says this, obviously trying to rile him up again, but he doesn’t fall for it this time, only clenches his fists against his side.

  “Both of you in my office. Now,” Marty states with quiet authority, turning around before even checking to see if they’ll follow him.

  The crowd parts further to let them pass and I desperately try to make eye contact with Tyler, but he won’t look at me.

  Ethan leads me away as the office door slams shut after a few of the other gym-goers give me dirty looks. What’s that saying—snitches get stitches? Yeah, I believe it right now. But there’s no way I could have kept quiet. Tyler’s not to blame at all.

  “Do you want to spar?” Ethan asks awkwardly. “Or use the punching bag?” He glances with worried eyes toward the office, his attention clearly not on me. But bless his heart, he’s trying.

  “No,” I tell him softly, finally unwinding the protective cotton strip from my hands. “I’m just going to wait over by the door.”

  After another five minutes, the office door abruptly bursts open and Erickson storms out, violence on his face. “This is bullshit,” he shouts, swiping his arm along a shelf to knock over a row of boxing gloves on his way out. “Fucking bitch,” he mutters as he passes by me.

  I take a step back, coming up against a hard chest again, but this time I know who it is, the feel of his body impressed upon my memory.

  I turn around, catching Tyler’s face set in a fierce expression watching Erickson exit. Like a predator stalking his prey. “What happened?” I hesitantly ask, almost afraid for him to turn those eyes on me next.

  He doesn’t look at me, though, his gaze still trained on the door. “Marty told him not to come back. He was tired of his behavior here to begin with, constantly trying to pick fights with people. Especially me. This was the last straw.”

  I’m not at all sad to see Erickson go, but hate that it was me that caused this all the same.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Can we just go?” he cuts me off, grabbing his hoodie from the coat rack. “I’m not really in the mood to be here anymore.”

  “Yeah, of course.” I slip on my coat and follow him out the door, carefully walking up the stairs toward the ground level, each step making my heart sink further.

  Did I taint the boxing gym for him? Will he only think of fighting with Erickson every time he goes there now?

  He stops in between our two cars in the parking lot, finally looking at me. I gently touch the corner of his eye where the bruising is the worst, then the edge of his lip where it’s split. “You should get ice on these.”

  He nods, jangling his keys in his hand. His face is hard, like violence is still on his mind. “I don’t want you to think I did that in there because of you.” My eyes widen but I stay silent. “He was never going to let it rest till he got what he wanted.”

  “That’s what Ethan said.”

  I don’t know if I feel better or worse. As terrible as it sounds, a primitive part of me enjoyed the thought of him fighting for my honor.

  He looks back down at his keys, running his fingers along the key fob buttons. “I need to go and take care of this.” He motions to his face.

  “Do you need help? I can follow you to your house.”

  He stares at me for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.”

  I watch him get in his car and back out of the space, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. I can’t point my finger exactly on what about him seemed off, but there was something…

  God, what am I thinking? He was just in a brutal fight. And as awful as his face looked, his head and torso had to have been hit nearly as bad. He probably shouldn’t be driving home. What if he has a concussion? Can you get those if you didn’t actually go unconscious?

  Maybe I should follow him, make sure he’s okay.

  He doesn’t want your help. He just said so.

  I bite my lip, indecision waging a war inside me. I don’t want him to resist me out of spite if he’s in a bad mood. But he really does need help…

  I’ll go over there later. Bring him some dinner and medicine so he’ll feel better.

  I drive home, more centered now that I have a plan, and walk into my apartment, a wave of sweltering heat blasting me. My God, she has the thermostat set to eighty-one. What is wrong with this girl?

  I immediately strip off my coat, hanging it up, and step into the kitchen, gazing at the mess of dirty dishes from dinner two nights ago. I glance over at Kelsey in the living room, hunched over the coffee table painting her nails. I purposely left them here, hoping she would take the hint to wash them, but apparently that’s too subtle of an approach for her.

  I sigh and fill up the sink with hot water and dish soap, dumping in the silverware first.

  When was the last time she cleaned? Not just the dishes but the common areas too. And forget about cooking, keeping track of our bills, anything like that.

  “Can you keep it down in there?” she calls out. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

  Resentment bubbles within me, recalling what Tyler said ages ago about rewarding bad behavior. That’s what I’ve been doing with her, haven’t I? Coddling her. She’ll never actually do anything if I continue doing it for her. And I don’t care anymore if she acts pissy or mad about it.

  “Hey, I’ve decided on a new rule,” I call out to her. She pauses and blows on her fingernails, looking at me. “If I cook a meal, then you’ll clean it up.”

  Her eyes narrow. “What?”

  I concentrate on getting all the caked-on gunk off a fork. “Yeah, I was thinking it’s really unfair for me to both cook and clean. If you eat the food I make, then you should do something to help out. Or you could cook and I’ll clean.”

  “You know I can’t cook.”

  �
�Then I guess it’ll be you cleaning.”

  She huffs, her eyes wide like she can’t believe this is happening to her. “It’ll ruin my manicure.”

  “They make these things called rubber gloves.” I can’t help the sarcasm that leaks out, but it seems to fly over her head.

  “I don’t like cleaning.”

  “Okay,” I say cheerfully. Her face clears of its worried expression, but then I continue with, “Then don’t eat my food anymore.”

  She quickly screws the cap back on the nail polish and jumps up. “You can’t do that. Fast food makes me fat. How else am I going to eat?”

  I take my time setting the dirty plates in the water, reminding myself that I shouldn’t be babying her anymore. “Kelsey, you’re twenty-one years old. You can figure it out.”

  She stomps up to the breakfast bar, eyeing me speculatively. “What brought this on? Why are you being this way?”

  I rinse off a plate, placing it in the dish rack, wishing she’d just accept what I say and move on. She seems to have no problem using that attitude with me. “It was actually Tyler that pointed it out to me a while ago. You remember him, right? The guy you told I had a crush on?”

  “I said I was sorry about that,” she pouts, finally appearing contrite.

  “You did.” I nod. “Though it would have been better if you had said nothing at all.”

  She stares at me, like she’s seeing me in a new light. After avoiding confrontation with her for so long, I’m not quite sure where this newfound confidence is coming from.

  No, that’s not true. I know. It’s Tyler. The way he looks at me when I call him on his bullshit, like he’s proud of me, despite himself. I love how that look makes me feel. I love the confidence I have with him, how safe I am. I love both his intellect and raw physicality, the dual sides of him so attractive.