His hips surged forward, pumping into her hand, and he growled into her mouth, deepening their kiss as he unfastened her jeans and shoved them past her hips. She still bore the faintest hint of his masculine scent on her skin, and it made him fucking wild. Stepping on the crotch of her jeans, he shoved them past her knees, hobbling her ankles, as his hands circled her tiny waist and he boosted her onto the vanity. Katie guided him forward, seeming as desperate to be filled by him as he was to oblige. He grabbed her hips, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of her ass. The moment she brought him into contact with her hot, wet folds, and felt the opening of her tight cunny greedily swallowing his throbbing cockhead, he surged forward, burying himself balls deep in her silky glove. Her mouth broke free of his, head tipping back in glorious surrender as her lustful cry blended with the roaring sound of the jet engine.
Mine . . . The claim echoed in his head, over and over, until it became a desperate mantra he pumped his hips to—drawing back and surging forward, again, and again, and again. Mine . . . mine . . . mine . . .
Katie Bug!”
She heard her uncle’s booming voice before she saw the man standing by the conveyer belt of the luggage pickup. At the sight of him waving to get her attention, a rush of joy squeezed her heart until her eyes burned with tears. Honestly, she wasn’t a crier, but these last twenty-four hours had wrung just about every emotion out of her until the surplus of tears she’d stored up over the last two years hovered ever ready at her lids, prepared and waiting to burst forth at the drop of a hat.
“Uncle Marcus!” She returned his smile and waved. Quickening her pace, she stepped away from Cole’s hand resting against her lower back, and rushed forward to throw her arms around her burly uncle. He squeezed her tightly and lifted her off the ground, just like he used to when she was a little girl. The feeling of her legs dangling in the air immediately brought her back to another time. Suddenly she was eight years old again, without a care in the world, basking in the love of her adoring uncle.
Aaaand the waterworks started again, except this time she was helpless to stop them. She cried tears of joy at seeing her beloved uncle, tears of sorrow at the circumstances that brought them together again, and tears of frustration at the total loss of where things stood between her and Cole.
He’d rocked her world in that cramped little bathroom, making her an official member of the mile-high club. Hell, she might as well face it, he’d rocked her world since the moment she’d met him. And now they were on his turf. In the land of My-lifestyle-isn’t-exactly-conducive-to-having-a-relationship, not that he’d even said he wanted to have a relationship with her. And FYI, she reminded herself, calling her his girlfriend out of the blue in front of a group of guys did not equal relationship consent.
If Cole wanted this to be more, was interested in this being more, then he was going to have to talk to her about it. The uncertain ground they stood on, combined with all the other uncertainties in her life right now made her feel like she was skydiving without a parachute. She needed something to hold on to, something that was certain and true, and right now Uncle Marcus seemed to be the only one volunteering to be that anchor. Perhaps sensing her need, he squeezed her tighter. She had no idea how far above the ground her feet dangled. It might as well have been a hundred feet, considering how lost she felt.
“Now, Katie Bug, everything is going to be just fine. You’re here now. Uncle Marcus is going to take care of you.”
It was a vow she wished had come from Cole’s lips. But she was grateful to hear it, nonetheless. Perhaps she was being unreasonable to expect a man like Cole to jump in with both feet so soon. Some guys had difficulty expressing their emotions. Maybe he just needed more time. She could give him that, she decided. Right now, with her life on hold, she had nothing but time.
Wrangling in her escaped emotions, she kissed her uncle on the cheek when he set her back down. “Thanks, Unkie.” He chuckled at the nickname she’d given him when she’d been too young to say his name properly. Unfortunately for him, the nickname had stuck and most people in the family still called Marcus “Unkie” to this day.
She hastily dried her cheeks before turning back to face Cole, and she found his eyes locked on her. She felt the heat of his gaze watching her closely, but he wore no expression on his drop-dead gorgeous face. What she wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking right now. Since their bathroom tryst, he’d been contemplatively silent. But she noticed he’d made a point to touch her at all times—as if he couldn’t stand the loss of contact. Whether holding her hand, or pressing his palm to the small of her back as he escorted her off the plane, his hand was always touching her somewhere. Surely, this wasn’t just gratitude with a healthy dose of lust, was it? Honestly, the man was impossible to read.
“Cole, my boy!” Uncle Marcus bellowed, demanding the draw of Cole’s attention as he stepped up and clapped Cole soundly on the back in a manly half hug. “Good to have you home, son! Damn, I missed your cranky ass.”
At the ribbing, Cole smiled, the affection he felt for her uncle clearly displayed on his face—a rare moment, that. To glimpse the unguarded emotion warmed her heart. He clearly loved the man as much as she did, which made her love Cole all the more as she watched them together.
“Hey, old man.” Cole clasped him back in an equally powerful back-slapping hug. “Well, see if you’re still sayin’ that in a week. You’ll probably be tryin’ to ship my ass to Siberia next. It’s about just as fucking cold.”
Marcus threw back his head and laughed that deep, hearty belly laugh Katie loved—the one that could silence a room. But she didn’t think the jest was funny at all. The thought of Cole going anywhere, the idea of being separated from him, even hypothetically, made her want to throw up. But then she remembered the other reason she was here. The reason that had nothing to do with the fact she was in love with this cage fighter and couldn’t wait to get back to his place so she could jump him in a real bed where they both had plenty of room to move. She was his PT, which meant she was the one in charge of his training—not dear old Unkie.
Instead of focusing on Carter, who deserved zero percent of her time and worry, she put her attention on something she could control—Cole’s rehab. She was safe here. No one knew where she was. Not even her parents. She’d trust the police to do their job, and soon Carter would be behind bars.
In that moment, Katie made the decision that she would not walk out of this airport a victim. She was here to help Cole complete his rehab, and she was single-mindedly focused on achieving that goal. She would monitor his training at the gym to make sure he didn’t push himself too hard or too fast. She’d dedicate herself to getting him back into cage condition, and she would not allow herself to think about Carter or the true reason she was here.
Grabbing her bag off the conveyer belt, she slung it over her shoulder and said, “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing for you that I’m in charge of your training right now.” She almost laughed as both men whipped their heads around to stare at her with varying degrees of shock. “I for one am sick to death of the cold, and can’t wait to get in some bikini time, so we are not going to Siberia. We will, however, be in your gym bright and early to continue your therapy and training, so I suggest we get a move on, boys.”
Katie didn’t look back as she turned and marched toward the door—having no fucking clue where she was headed. But she couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at her lips when Uncle Marcus’s deep, throaty chuckle rang out behind her. “That’s my girl!” he laughed. “Holy hell, Cole, I feel sorry for you. And you thought I was a ball breaker . . .” Another back-slapping clap rang out, and she could have sworn she heard Cole mumble under his breath, “Oh, fuck me . . .”
Had Cole honestly thought this was going to break her? That he’d entertained the idea, for even a moment, told him just how much he still needed to learn about this amazingly resilient woman conked out in the backseat of Marcus’s Tahoe. Sure, she’d been rattled. Who t
he fuck wouldn’t be after having a psycho stalker trash your house and kill your cat. He was just thankful she hadn’t insisted on looking inside the box. She did not need the image of her cum-stained panties seared into her brain. It was bad enough he couldn’t get the fucking picture out of his head.
He’d been watching her since they got off the plane. Fuck, who was he kidding—he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since they left that bathroom. He swore he’d never be able to step into another airplane lavatory without thinking of her and remembering some of the best sex of his life. He’d known the moment she made the decision she would not let this break her. It seemed as if she’d made a decision, and just like that, flipped a switch, blocking out that painful part in her life.
He could relate. He’d certainly had plenty of experience blocking out painful shit. Problem was, he also knew that shit had a way of unearthing itself. It wouldn’t stay buried forever. Eventually it would rise up and demand to be dealt with. He just hoped when it happened to her, she’d let him in enough to help her pick up the pieces. Katie was a strong woman—stronger than she even realized—and a master at shutting people out. The fighter in him connected to her on that level, the hidden plane where broken souls went to heal. She could pretend she was fine for only so long. But until then, he’d play along, watching for the signs he’d seen in himself, knowing it was only a matter of time before she cracked. Hopefully by then, he’d earn her love and trust enough that they could get through it together.
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing her back here, Cole.”
Marcus glanced at him from the driver’s seat, and Cole exhaled a pent-up sigh, dragging his hand through his hair. He didn’t respond.
“Looks like you’re about due for a trim,” Marcus commented offhandedly. “Never known you to wear your hair so long.”
Cole shrugged. “That’s because it’s too hot to fight in, makes me sweat. Hasn’t really been an issue of late.”
“Well, that’s about to change, son. You look amazing. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you up and on your feet again.”
“Not as good as it feels.”
Marcus chuckled. “We’ll set up some light-contact sparring this week, see how you flow. Maybe put you in the ring with Kruze.”
“Sure. Whatever you think,” he responded halfheartedly, his thoughts too wrapped up in Katie right now to give any serious thought to getting back in the cage.
Perhaps sensing the direction of Cole’s mind, Marcus cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and said, “I, uh . . . owe you an apology.”
Cole glanced into the backseat, checking on Katie, needing to see her and wishing he would have climbed into the back like he’d planned. But Marcus had asked Cole to ride up front with him so they could they could catch up and Katie could sleep. Cole had wanted to tell him Katie could rest in his arms just fine, but out of respect for his manager, he sat up front instead.
Finding her slumped against the rear driver’s-side door, eyes closed, head resting against her arm, Cole tore his gaze away from the woman his arms ached to hold, and glanced over at Marcus.
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did the last time I talked to you—when I asked you to get Katie here. Giving you permission to seduce her was wrong of me.”
“Giving me permission? You say that like it was my idea. You asked me to do it, Marcus.”
Realizing how bad that sounded, Cole shot a quick glance at Katie to make sure she was still asleep. Fuck, he must be tired to let something like that come flying out of his mouth. Wishing like hell he could redact the last thirty seconds, he shot Marcus a dark scowl. “What’s done is done. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Was this Marcus’s way of asking him if he was sleeping with his niece? (a) It was none of his damn business. Both he and Katie were adults, and what they did behind closed doors was between them. (b) If this was a real apology, then it was bad fucking timing.
“I’m just saying, I let my fear for her safety cloud my judgment. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“Fine. Apology accepted. Now, will you please drop it?”
“God damn, Cole, did I honestly say I missed your prickish ass?”
“No, you said you missed my ‘cranky ass,’ and considering the day I’ve had, you’ll probably like me a whole hell of a lot more if I just don’t speak.”
Katie lay there, forcing her breath to maintain the even, rhythmic cadence of slumber. All the while her heart rioted inside her chest, breaking a little more each time it slammed against her ribs. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard it herself. And to think she owed the truth to a pothole. Betrayal lashed at her, the cords of truth tearing into her flesh, serrating the fragile bond of trust that had formed between her and Cole.
How could he do this?—pretending to care about her when all along it’d been nothing but a lie to get her here to Vegas and under her uncle’s wing. Now his offer that night in the fish house made much more sense. He’d suggested she come back with him, planting the seed, and growing the hope that there was something special between them. Had she really been that stupid as to think she could snag and hold the interest of a man like Cole Easton—a man who claimed he’d never been in love—seriously? Did she think she possessed some magical vag that after one night of hot sex, and voilà, Cole Easton would suddenly be in love with her? Give me a fucking break!
Now that she knew the truth, everything else clicked into place. Cole’s end game?—get her to Vegas by any means necessary. Oh, and while he was at it, help himself to some free PT and pussy—big fucking hardship there. But the most pathetic thing was, it probably had been. His reaction to her scars had proved that much, though he’d provided a smooth enough cover-up. Give that guy an Oscar. Really . . . he deserved it—he was a better fucking actor than Matthew McConaughey. Guys like Cole were probably used to giving out a pity fuck or two. And he did owe Uncle Marcus. He’d said as much himself—the guy had saved his life.
Afraid that if Cole looked back he’d see the silent tears streaming down her face, Katie shifted in her seat, facing away from Cole and Uncle Marcus. With any luck, they’d think she’d rolled over in her sleep to get more comfortable. How much longer was this fucking car ride going to last?
Her answer came a few minutes later when the Tahoe came to a stop.
“Bet this place is a sight for sore eyes, huh, kid? You got your key?”
A door opened, sending a balmy breeze brushing past her. “Don’t need one. I’ve got the house passcoded.”
She felt Cole’s eyes on her and forced herself not to tense. Never once had it occurred that she might not be staying here with him. And the knowledge he was leaving her was just a little more salt in her hemorrhaging wound. The door remained open for an unusually long time. Forcing herself to lay still under his stare, pretending to be asleep, was torturous. Marcus said something to him she didn’t catch.
“I’ll be by in the morning to pick her up.”
He must be tired. The low, rough timbre of his voice made him sound like he was in pain. He probably was. With everything that happened, she hadn’t gotten a chance to stretch him today. The thought that he might be hurting bothered her, which only added further insult to injury. She was busy berating herself for being such a gullible fool when the door finally closed and the SUV began backing away.
Cole was lucky if he’d gotten two hours of sleep. He should have listened to his gut and never let Marcus take Katie home with him. He wanted her with him, in his bed, wrapped safely in his arms. Considering he’d never let a woman he was sleeping with past his front door, that was saying a whole hell of a lot. The fact that he couldn’t unwind without her and give his body some much-needed rest told him he had it really fucking bad for this woman, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t scare the ever-loving hell out of him.
Perhaps being separated from her when they’d spent the last several weeks shari
ng a house together, knowing she was only a hallway away, was the cause of this disquieting ache in his chest. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Then again, his nerves were on high alert and frayed like old rope after the last couple days, so he was probably just being edgy.
Anxious to see Katie, Cole rolled out of bed and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand as he trudged into the bathroom—seven a.m. Yep, two fucking hours, and this was the first day in over six months he was setting foot back in the gym. That thought alone had his nerves doing cartwheels. Was he ready for this? He sure as hell didn’t feel ready. The thought of seeing his friends again, and the questioning looks on their faces . . . He knew what they’d all be thinking, even if they didn’t have the balls to say it—the same damn thing he was thinking. Will Cole Easton fight again? Will he ever be 100 percent, or is he nothing but a washed-up has-been who can’t admit that his fucking career is over?
Cole stood beneath the shower’s hot spray, letting the water beat into his sore, tired muscles as he battled his own inner demons. His back ached, his neck was stiff. Overnight, he felt like he’d aged ten fucking years. After a quick scrub, he quit the shower and stepped onto the bath mat. The silence in his house was deafening; the solitude he’d once craved above all else now left him feeling alone and vacant. It’d been only a handful of hours, and already he missed Katie. He wanted her with him, needed her beside him, when he stepped into that gym today. Katie filled a void inside his heart he hadn’t even realized was there.
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