Win by Submission

by Melynda Price

  “Do you want me to get your purse?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll get it.” Katie took a step back, and it was hell to let her go. But then she paused, giving him a peculiar look. “Where’s your crutch?”

  Out of habit, he glanced to his left, just now realizing it wasn’t there. “I don’t know. I must have dropped it.” He’d been running on adrenaline since he’d walked in here and found that bastard in Katie’s office. Apparently his adrenal system worked just as well as that gimp stick. Right now, he couldn’t even feel the ache in his leg. Though once the octane left his system, he was pretty sure he was going to be feeling it in more places than that. He’d jerked his back when he’d lunged for the door and already he could tell the muscles were tightening up.

  “Oh, here it is,” she said, pulling the crutch out from under her desk and handing it to Cole.

  “Thanks.” He propped it under his arm and reached for the light switch, waiting for her to walk by before hitting the lights. He followed her out, pausing to make sure the door was locked before he headed down the hall toward the elevators.

  Neither of them spoke as they rode to the top. Though she was still visibly shaken, he couldn’t help but admire her efforts to keep it together. Cole purposefully kept his mouth shut. That bastard had pushed his buttons, and he was having a hell of a time shedding the pent-up aggression bottled inside him. He needed about an hour with a heavy bag before even attempting to discuss the Carter issue with Katie.

  When Cole thought about how close Carter had gotten to her, how easy it’d been to approach her—and what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up when he did? His gut twisted with what-ifs. Right now, the bastard was still trying to win her back. How much worse would it get now that he knew it wasn’t going to happen? Cole must have let his expressionless mask slip to the dark, broody scowl that mirrored his emotions, because Katie reached over and took his hand, giving it a little squeeze.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she whispered. “How embarrassing and utterly unprofessional.”

  Unprofessional? Fuck unprofessional. They’d moved past that point about the time his tongue had been in her mouth. “You have nothing to apologize for, Katie. None of this is your fault. And you didn’t drag me into anything. I offered.”

  “But you look so mad . . .”

  That’s because he was mad. He was bloody furious—but not at her. Maybe at himself, for letting that fucker get near her, but he could never be mad at her. Exhaling a sigh, he laced his fingers with hers and tugged her closer. “Come here.” Katie took a step toward him and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight against his chest. “If anyone should be sorry, Katie, it’s me. I never should have let him get that close to you.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. You can’t be with me every second of the day. I’m just grateful you came when you did.”

  He didn’t respond, not trusting himself to say something he wouldn’t regret. Instead, he held her as the elevator rose to the main level. When it bumped to a stop, a chime announced they’d reached their floor, and he let her go just as the doors slid open. They exited together, walking to the parking lot. Cole was about to suggest they swing by the house and get cleaned up and then head into the cities for supper, when they reached her RAV and the words died in his throat, replaced by a snarled oath.

  Katie gasped and stumbled a step back, bumping into Cole. His hand immediately came around to steady her. “Oh, my God . . .” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Keyed into the driver’s door was the word BITCH. Her windshield was shattered, and two of her four tires were slashed.

  Cole growled a ripe curse. “I know what you said before, Katie. But this has gone too far. We have to call the police.”

  Cole didn’t give her a chance to protest. He dialed them himself, and fifteen minutes later, a squad car pulled up behind them. He remained silent throughout the interview, interjecting only when the officer specifically spoke to him. When he asked Cole the nature of their relationship, there was a moment of decided hesitation.

  That was a really good question. What was the nature of their relationship? And would he be honest with the officer? The last time her mother asked him a similar question, she’d been painfully disappointed with the answer.

  “Katie is my physical therapist. I’m staying with her during my recovery.” When the officer’s brows rose in suspicion Cole added, “I needed a place to stay that had certain accommodations for my injury. The house she’s renting is handicap accessible, and her uncle is a close friend of mine.”

  It sounded so simple—so logical, she thought. So then why did it feel much more complicated than that? Because you’re falling for him, idiot, her inner goddess was quick to answer. Katie didn’t have time to deny it—which would have started an internal debate she stood no chance of winning—because the officer surprised her by asking, “That’s it? You’re not romantically involved then?”

  “Would it matter if we were?” Cole challenged, his brilliant blue eyes hard and defensive.

  “Well, apparently it does to someone.” The officer pointed at her RAV. “Listen, I’m only asking because in my experience, these things have a way of getting out of hand. I’m not trying to pry into your personal lives, but in order to do a thorough risk assessment here, I’m going to need the whole story.”

  The officer turned to her expectantly. Katie reluctantly nodded, and recounting the past proved every bit as painful as she feared it would be—talking about things she’d rather not speak of, thinking about things she’d rather not remember.

  When she got to some of the more sensitive details, Cole must have sensed how difficult it was for her, because he reached for her hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. She knew this wasn’t easy for him to hear when she noticed the little muscle above his cheek twitching. Casting him a quick glance, she saw his jaw clenched in effort to restrain his anger.

  What neither Cole nor the cop knew was that she’d given them a censored, abridged version of the story, telling him only what he needed to know for the report. The officer recommended she file a restraining order and helped her fill it out, which had required her to give more details than she’d wanted to. The officer was confident it’d go through, not that Katie had a lot of faith a restraining order would do any good. But at least having the decree would help exonerate Cole if things happened to get out of hand—and by the looks of her SUV, she’d say that ship had already sailed.

  The tow truck arrived just as they were finishing the report, and the officer kindly offered to take them home. Once they got there, Cole headed straight into the gym. As the hours passed, he hardly spoke, withdrawing into a broody silence that set Katie’s nerves on edge. By the sounds echoing from the room, he was wailing on that heavy bag with a fevered intensity.

  She wanted to go to him, needing the comfort of his strength more than she wanted to admit. What happened with Carter had rattled her—badly. She didn’t know what she would have done if Cole hadn’t shown up when he had. She wanted to thank him, but she wasn’t exactly sure what to say. The nervous energy thrumming through her veins made it nearly impossible to sit still.

  Getting up from the couch, she paced a path from the kitchen to the gym door, hesitating every time she reached the solid oak panel, wanting to go to him, but afraid to take the first step. Turning around, she retreated to the kitchen and decided a glass of wine might help take the edge off her nerves. Perhaps then she’d have more courage to go talk to Cole. She pulled a bottle of Lambrusco out of the cupboard and was wrestling with the cork when she heard the door open. Before she could turn around, another shut, and a moment later the shower started up.

  Well, alrighty then. That oughtta give her just enough time to down a glass of wine—maybe two if she was quick about it.

  Cole tipped his face into the shower’s spray, letting it beat against his flesh as the burn in his poor abused muscles slowly began to subside. Damn, his back hurt. He really must
have jarred something. The muscles in his lower lumbar had tightened up like a board, which did zero to improve his pissy mood. The last thing he needed right now, on top of everything else, was the reminder of how far he still had to go if he had any hope of defending his title against De’Grasse.

  Just as he’d suspected, as soon as the adrenaline had left his system, the aches and pains had set in. His legs ached, his hips were sore, but he hadn’t let that stop him from beating the shit out of that heavy bag. The workout had helped to defuse some of his aggression, but had done zero to outlet another kind of aggression that had been building inside him for weeks now. Every man had his breaking point, and after today, Cole had just about reached his. The protectiveness he felt toward Katie only stoked his primal need to claim her for his own.

  He’d never thought himself a male controlled by his baser instincts, which was ironic considering how he earned his living. It was that animalistic, testosterone-fueled drive that made him the great fighter he was. He’d just never found anything worth fighting for outside the cage—until Katie. Cole knew she was shaken by what happened today. And he wanted to be there for her. Problem was, he didn’t think he was strong enough to do it. Not without breaking his promise to her and risking losing her trust.

  It’d been hell to stand there, listening to her tell the officer about the suffering she’d endured at Carter’s hands—the haunted look in her verdant eyes, the tremor in her voice when she’d spoken of the abuse. And as brutal and horrible as it had been, Cole couldn’t shake the feeling there was a lot more she wasn’t telling him.

  Cole wasn’t sure how long he stood there, letting the water beat into his tired muscles, but when the jet stream turned cold, it finally forced him to move his ass. Leaning heavily on his crutch, he used his other hand to grab a towel off the rack and did a quick dry job before wrapping it around his waist, tucking the loose end against his hip to hold it in place. Droplets of water fell from the ends of his hair, landing on his shoulders and sluicing down his chest and back.

  He felt like a hunched-up old woman as he gimped his way from the bathroom, but at this point he just needed to find a tolerable position for his back, so granny style it was. Cole’s progress from the bathroom to his bedroom was a painfully slow process. He purposefully didn’t search out Katie’s location, hoping to get into his room unnoticed. The thought of her seeing him like this was damn emasculating, and he knew the ass chewing he’d be in for if she discovered how much he’d potentially set back his therapy.

  Stepping in tandem with his crutch, he gritted his teeth, biting back the groan of pain as he walked to his bedroom. He’d almost made it to the door when a glass bottle connected with the granite counter top and Katie demanded from across the kitchen and living room, “What’s wrong with your back?”

  Aww hell . . . This was the problem living with your damn PT. Nothing got past her. “I’m fine,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  “Bullshit. My grandma’s got better posture than you. And she’s dead.”

  He could hear her marching across the living room and quickened his pace, trying to escape to the do-not-enter zone of his bedroom before she caught up with him.

  “I told you, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard, Cole.”

  Before he could pass through the doorway, Katie darted in front of him, planting her palm against his abs like a traffic cop. The moment she touched him, a hot jolt of lust shot right into his groin, making him instantly hard.

  “Are you trying to get away from me?” she asked with a suspicious scowl.

  Yes. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  Before he could respond, she slipped behind him, placing her hands on his back, deft fingertips tracing the line of his spine and fanning out to follow his muscles. She immediately found the sore spot in his back, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing pain in his cock. He bit back a groan, but it managed to escape him on exhale.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the spot.”

  It was so not the spot, but what-the-fuck-ever. Katie’s hands were on him and it was blissful torture. She was in her bossy PT mode, which was so much better than how she’d been earlier. Perhaps she craved the distraction, needing something else to focus on besides her shitty afternoon, because Cole just about dropped to his knees when she said, “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get the Biofreeze. We need to work these knots out.”

  Oh, for the love of God . . .

  Katie would have loved to blame her impulsive offer to rub Cole’s back on the three glasses of wine she’d just consumed, but in truth, she was still stone cold sober and resorting to altruistic pretenses to get close to him. He was avoiding her—again, and after the day she had, she just wanted to be near him. Okay, that was lie. She was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to be near him, to touch him, without having to admit the truth of it—she wanted Cole Easton.

  But she was scared—hell, terrified—to let him touch her again. She was afraid he would lose control again, like when he’d kissed her. The moment had been amazing, his touch consuming and intoxicating, but Cole was a powerful man, a passionate man—more man than she was prepared to handle. In theory, she wanted him to make love to her, to blot out any remaining memories of Carter that still haunted her dreams. But in reality, she was a sad, broken woman using pathetic excuses to be near the man she desired but was too big a coward to go after.

  At the thought of rubbing Cole’s back, her pulse leapt with anticipation. The bottom dropped out of her stomach as she grabbed the tube of Biofreeze off the shelf and headed for the couch. Minutes felt like an eternity as she sat there waiting for him to come out. When Cole didn’t appear, she started to wonder if he changed his mind about taking her up on her selfless offer. The thought that he might have disappointed her more than she wanted to admit. Had hearing the details of her horror with Carter scared him away? Had he finally realized what she’d been trying to tell him all along?—that she was just too ruined? Rallying her nerve, Katie rose from the couch and approached his room.

  The door was ajar. She could see Cole between the crack, standing at his dresser. His back was to her, and he was clad in nothing but a pair of red low-riding gym shorts with the word Tapout printed across the ass in white. Katie’s breath halted in her lungs. She took a moment to appreciate his exquisite form—broad shoulders tapered to a trim, narrow waist—before making her presence known. Cole’s muscles rolled and flexed as he leaned on his crutch, maneuvering to apply deodorant beneath one arm and then the other.

  He truly was a thing of beauty. It was amazing to watch the rate at which he was recovering. She just hoped the damage he’d done today didn’t set him back. Katie had never worked with an athlete more driven, more focused, or more dedicated than Cole. It was incredible to watch how he pushed his body, day after day, to limits that would break any other man. Cole had the heart of a survivor, the heart of a champion, and the more time she spent with him, the more she grew to admire him. But right now, she was mostly admiring his ass.

  If he knew she was standing there, ogling him from the doorway, he gave no indication of it. Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, Katie knocked softly on the door frame. Cole looked over his shoulder, not seeming surprised to find her standing there. She held up the tube of Biofreeze, reminding him why she was hovering in his doorway.

  “Are you ready?”

  “You sure this is such a good idea?”

  His tone was soft and husky, like a caress she felt all the way to her toes. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn she heard a hint of warning in his question. Perhaps she should take heed.

  “Of course,” she replied, using her best professional voice. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He looked as if he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. “I’m your therapist, Cole, and you’re hurting. It’s my job to help you.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more of this charade, him or herself.

  But apparent
ly he wasn’t buying it, because his brow arched in question, silently challenging her motives.

  “Can I come in?” she asked a bit testily.

  As if decided on something, Cole gave her a smile that warmed all the way to her toes. Seriously, it wasn’t fair for a man to be this sexy. Although her nerves were still rioting, a part of her relaxed at his charming grin.

  “Do you need an invite?” He capped the deodorant and set it of the dresser. “What are you, a vampire? You’re not gonna sneak in here in the middle of night and attack me if I let you in, are you?” He shot her a teasing grin over his muscled shoulder.

  She laughed, but the tension thrumming through her veins made her sound a bit hysterical.

  “Besides,” he continued, moving gingerly toward the bed, “that was your rule, not mine.”

  Cole set his crutch against the nightstand before easing himself down on the edge of the mattress. His handsome face tensed in the slightest wince. If she didn’t already know him so well, she would have missed it. He was hurting more than he let on, which helped renew her determination to help him.

  Leaning back against the pillows, he stretched out in a lazy sprawl. The woman in her couldn’t help but appreciate his masculine grace. Her therapist’s eye couldn’t help but notice he was favoring his left side. Cole took up a good amount of the queen-size bed that now looked more like a twin. Lacing his hands behind his head as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he gave a crooked grin. “You’ve always been welcome in my bedroom, Kat.”