§
Mike looked put-together, as always, stepping into the diner like he’d just left a photo shoot. The man was handsome. And completely playing for the other team. To think Tuck had felt jealous of him, it was ridiculous.
Smart young man that he was, he’d begun his graduate degree at UCLA and just spent a few days attending a conference at MIT. He decided to stay over the weekend, “soakin’ up the culcha” he explained in a horrible attempt at a Boston accent. We met up for brunch.
“You look like hell,” he greeted me, a kiss on each cheek.
“Thanks, good to see you too!”
“I thought you just got back from a week in Mexico with your mom?”
“Redheads don’t exactly tan.” I knew it wasn’t just my paleness. I’d always been pale.
“So, I met him.” He started right in, as if we’d already been discussing the subject.
“What?”
“Tuck.”
I was glad I wasn’t sipping my coffee when he spoke or I would have spit it out all over him. “Tuck?”
“He’s a feisty one.”
“Wait, what? How did you—?”
“A couple of days ago I was at the taqueria with a friend. And this big, huge hunk of a man came over all, ‘How’s Jewel’?’” He broke off and made a rough and tough face like an animal. Or as much of a rough and tough face as he was capable of, which wasn’t much, but I got the gist.
“He was angry?”
“En fuego. I think he came over to throw down like a jealous lover.”
I winced.
“But not for long.” Mike explained how the friend he’d been with had slung an arm around him and started to flirt. With Tuck. “It was like slow motion, you know, when someone finally figures something out? He looked at me, looked at my friend, looked back at me.”
“He realized you’re gay?”
“And I didn’t even have to pull out my ‘Yes, I’m gay’ sign.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Yes. He said, ‘you’re gay.’”
“Oh God.” I rested my hand on my forehead. This was like a soap opera. “What happened next?”
“I thought about giving him a gold star, but I didn’t have any on me. So I told him he should give you a call.”
“You did?” I squeaked.
“Yes, and if he doesn’t, you should call him.”
“Mike, it’s complicated.” I shook my head.
“Listen, Jewel, if you don’t hit that, I’m going to call the cops. Because that man is so hot it’s illegal. He’s who you were all worked up over this summer, right?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Oh, please. He walked up, steam coming off all of his big muscles because he’s so hot.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t you try to deny it. That’s the kind of man who’ll make you so crazy you’ll go to a friend’s house and get so drunk on mojitos you pass out on his couch.”
“Yes,” I admitted with a groan. “It was him I was worked up over this summer.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard to admit.” I buried my face in my hands. “Why did he think you and I were a couple?”
“Because…” I trailed off, not able to find the words to explain that he’d been my hot-as-hell stepbrother tormenting me body, mind, and soul for weeks on end and I’d sort of, kind of let Mike’s status hang out there as a possible buffer between us, as if the specter of a boyfriend might somehow keep him at bay. Instead, I relied on the old standby. “It’s complicated.”
“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Mike rejected my waffling. “I want to hear your plans to seduce this man. You need some sexy lingerie.”
“Mike,” I started to protest.
“No, you’re right, no lingerie, no panties at all.”
Somehow I made it through the rest of our meal without crying, throwing up, or babbling everything to Mike. I knew he’d be a good listener, it just all still felt too raw. I didn’t trust myself where Tuck was concerned. Certainly not around him, not even talking about him. I felt so volatile and vulnerable. Instead, I got Mike going, telling me entertaining stories about the weird and brilliant people in his graduate program. When it was time to go, I hugged him good-bye and went about my usual Sunday business, a study group, a yoga class, dinner with a textbook, and then.
And then. I sat down to my computer, my fingers hovering above the keyboard. So many times I’d thought about typing in his name, clicking on a simple search. Crusher MMA. If he’d gone pro, something would come up. Even if he hadn’t, with all the attention he’d garnered in his summer fights I figured something would surface, some news about him, a picture or two.
That’s why I hadn’t done it until now. It would hurt too much. But now that I’d heard his name, knew he was walking around in the same neighborhood where we’d been together, I couldn’t resist. It felt like dominos, the click of one against the other creating the inevitable cascade. First the divorce, Tuck’s not my stepbrother anymore. Click. Then the discovery, Mike’s just a friend, I wasn’t cheating on him, never had, never would. Click.
Click went the computer mouse. Up came the photos. Tons of them.
The first one I clicked on, he had his fist up in the air, a man holding his forearm clearly declaring him the winner. Blood dripped down the side of his face, his body glistening in sweat, every inch man and muscle. He looked like a modern-day gladiator, victorious in his conquest.
My sex clenched at the sight of him, heat prickling my skin. I needed a sip of ice water. Even through the computer screen, this man electrified me.
He was everywhere, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, the newest addition to the UFC line-up with a huge heavyweight fight coming up in early December. His debut fight as a pro.
He’d done it. Tears sprang to my eyes. He’d worked so hard for it, earned it purely with his own sweat, blood and grit. I wished I’d been there with him when he’d won that fight, the one that propelled him forward, paving the way for him ahead. He’d done it, finally struck out on his own. It killed me to not be part of it at all, to just be reading about him online. I needed to be by his side. I couldn’t stand it.
Slamming the laptop shut, I turned out the light and tried to fall asleep. Ha. His sweaty, glistening, chiseled body, raising his fists in triumph. The set of his jaw, the hard intense burn in his eyes. Rest didn’t come easy.
§
A week later, a Fed Ex package arrived at my door. Inside, a ticket to a fight in Vegas plus a paper itinerary: a round-trip flight, a car picking me up at the airport, a suite at the Bellagio. And a note, written on a sheet of notepad paper torn in half: please come. His scrawl, I’d seen it a few times. I recognized it instantly.
He wanted me there. Maybe he needed me there.
It didn’t even take a second, I knew instantly, yes, I’d go. Even if all he wanted was friendship and support, not interested in me in any other way. Maybe he just wanted to show me what he’d accomplished. Maybe this was a way for him to get closure and end this random, fucked up chapter of his life. Hell, maybe he handed out tickets like candy at a used car dealership, indiscriminate, thoughtless. This could mean nothing to him.
But I’d go, ready for anything. In a hotter-than hell backless dress and heels. Because for once in my life I knew exactly what I wanted and I didn’t care about the risks and consequences. I didn’t worry about whether it was prudent. I didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. I wanted Tuck.
CHAPTER 28
Tuck
I hadn’t heard anything from her. My handler confirmed she’d received the package. I could have called, texted, hell I could have flown the fuck over to Massachusetts and thrown Jewel over my back, caveman style, dragging her back with me. That’s what I wanted to do.
From the moment I’d seen Mike at that taqueria, I’d been dying to talk to her, see her, apologize. She hadn’t been cheating on me. Mike was gay. I was an idiot.
But I kn
ew I couldn’t force this. Even though our parents weren’t together anymore, she might not want to be with me. She might be back at her ivy-covered college thrilled to be rid of me, thanking her lucky stars that she escaped the beast.
I knew I was an animal, intense, but with Jewel that was the only option. If this went down again between us, there was only one way it was going to happen. No more playing games, no more yes-then-no, I-want-you-but-I-can’t bullshit. If we got into this again, that was it. Lockdown. No more loving then leaving, no more “I’m not sure” drama. I needed this girl like I needed the air I breathed. If this started up again, she needed both eyes wide open when she walked into it. Because if she came to me, I was never letting her go.
I’d been training like a monk for months now, if monks kicked the shit out of people. Back in August, I’d clinched it, sealed the deal. I’d gone at that last amateur fight like a bat out of hell, unleashing every ounce of pent-up frustration and rage coursing through me. I had a lot. I won no contest, unanimous decision.
The UFC had finally come calling and it was all coming together as I’d hoped. I got hooked up with top-notch guys, trainers and coaches and teammates who pushed as hard and gave as much as I did. They scheduled my first fight early in December, giving me plenty of time to settle in, train, get used to the new spotlight. Plus plenty of time to promote my pro debut: Vegas, baby. It was on.
The day of the fight her flight was supposed to get in at two. By four, I’d had it. I needed to know.
The guys with me figured I was amped up about the fight. “You got this,” one of them reassured me.
Another offered me a fist bump. “It’s in the bag.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, turning into the corner with my phone. I sent her a text:
You here?
My phone said it only took two minutes to receive a reply. It felt a lot longer. Then I got it.
Yes
When I stepped into the cage the night of a fight, adrenaline surged my body, making me feel invincible. What I felt now made that look weak. She’d come. Soon, I’d see her. I’d touch her. I could walk on fire.
I didn’t know what she had in mind. She might think she’d simply come and cheer for me, clap politely, shake my hand and head out. I had other plans.
My crew ran me through my pre-fight routine, warming up my body, pumping up my mindset. I didn’t need a pep talk today. I knew I had this.
I was getting my hands taped up, surrounded by people when the knock came on the door. The second I saw her it was like everyone disappeared from the room. Her hair, her skin, her mouth. I needed to devour her.
Her lips parted when she saw me, as if she felt it, too. This thing between us, I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it couldn’t be denied.
“Hey,” she said shyly, the guys in the room with me parting for her.
“Give us a second.” I stood up. The trainer finished taping up my hand.
“Five minutes,” Coach barked. “Then we got to get you in there.”
I nodded, never taking my eyes off of Jewel.
Everyone left and we were finally alone. I stepped closer to her. I could see her trembling, smell her unique, feminine scent, light and lavender. Leaning down, I brought my head to hers, my face down to her soft hair. She stood much shorter than me, but fit perfectly, a puzzle piece. We didn’t touch, just stood close as I breathed her in.
“You were right,” I murmured.
“I was?” Her voice sounded shaky, breathy.
“Under a year.” I’d guessed it would take longer for our parents to split up, maybe a year and a half or two. But she’d been right on the money, under 12 months. I didn’t say what was on my mind, what I bet was on both of our minds. Nothing stood in our way anymore. That taboo, the label that kept us apart, that ripped her with guilt, was gone.
“It ended fast.” She laughed, light and slightly nervous I could tell. That close, I couldn’t stop myself, I brought a hand to the small of her back. She shivered at my touch, but didn’t pull away. She felt so right in my arms. With her where she belonged, it felt like I took my first real, deep breath of the last four months. Surely she must feel it, too, what we had between us?
“Good to see you.” My voice sounded gruff. She felt so good pressed against me, so soft and warm and fucking sexy as hell. My hand touched her bare skin in that backless dress. No bra, just how I liked.
“Good to see you too,” she whispered.
“Glad you came,” I whispered into her hair, my lips coming down to her forehead, gentle, like she’d melt away if I went too fast, too hot.
“I heard you ran into Mike,” she said.
“And his friend,” I confirmed. She pulled away a bit, not out from my arms but enough so she could look up at me with one eyebrow arched. “I’m an idiot,” I agreed, pulling her back against me. No contest. Jealousy had made me blind. I wasn’t the first man to fall prey to it. I wouldn’t be the last.
She nodded, her head against my shoulder, under my chin.
“I’m sorry, Jewel.” Nuzzling down, I found her ear, my hand up at her neck, thumb stroking her soft skin at the hollow. “I need you to know,” I whispered to her. “There’s been no one since you. No one.”
She shook in my arms and I felt her tears against my skin, hot. I kissed her cheek, kissing them away. No need to cry, now. If I had anything to do with it, she’d never have a reason to cry again.
“Time to go.” Coach poked his head into the door.
“Fuck,” I breathed into Jewel.
“Time for that later,” Coach insisted.
“Don’t get hurt.” She looked up at me, eyes shimmering. She brought her hand to my cheek, traced my lower lip with her fingers.
“Last time I saw you, you wouldn’t have minded seeing me get knocked around.”
She smiled. “Now I would.”
I looked down at her intently and told her, “I’m winning this for you.”
CHAPTER 29
Jewel
He’d stopped touching me several minutes ago, but I could still feel him, his heat, the pressure of his hand on my bare back, his lips on my forehead. Some guy led me down a hallway and out to my seat. It was massive, the arena, the lights, the music pumping and throbbing through the air. But I barely registered it. The thrill of having seen him eclipsed it all.
I’d remembered it being intense together, but to see him again, to feel his body against mine left me breathless. It was just like it had been before, everything else melting away, leaving only him burning my senses.
Out in the crowd watching, a few rows from the cage, my heart was in my throat. If I’d thought he had fans before, now the arena practically shook with screams. Women seemed ready to tear their clothes off for him.
Somehow I didn’t feel threatened. In even that brief moment with him, I’d felt so certain. As if the past four months had fallen away, leaving us right back where we’d left off.
His opponent in the cage looked intimidating, like he’d just gotten out of prison. By fighting his way out. He smiled before he put in his mouth guard and showed an entire mouthful of gold teeth.
Tuck took some hard kicks to the side. Every time he got hit, I flinched and felt it myself. But he looked strong, solid.
After round one, he looked out at me. He nodded his head. I knew what that meant. He wanted me to watch him take this guy out. It didn’t take long after that, he knocked the guy flat with a sharp uppercut. Mr. Prison went down like a huge tree in the forest. Some guy near me even yelled “Timber!”
After the fight got called, Tuck’s fist up in victory, his handlers led me back into the same room as before. The adrenaline flowed through me, I couldn’t keep still, my hands twisting the program, my breathing coming fast. Finally, his coach and a couple of other guys walked Tuck into the room. He had a gash over his eyebrow that needed tending. Blood ran down the side of his face. They sat him down and someone was on him, fast, cleaning the cut, giving him a couple of stitches.
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He never took his eyes off of me. He didn’t flinch, not for a second, even when I did when the doctor pierced his skin with a needle. He watched me, hot, heavy, shirtless, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, either.
We weren’t left alone. Everyone wanted a piece of him, the victor. People crowded into the room, congratulating him, hyping him up. I knew he was grounded and had a good sense of himself and I was grateful. I could see how people could get caught up in all of this. But I knew Tuck wouldn’t lose himself, let himself get taken in by big sales pitches. He’d listen, pick and choose his opportunities, play his cards right. Because he wasn’t just a great fighter, he was smart, too.
Finally, after he showered, after he got interviewed, after another rep from another sponsor chatted him up, we were in the elevator together. With a bunch of other people, still, but he held my hand and we pressed together, close. I could feel him breathe against me, scenting me as if he couldn’t get enough. I shivered in anticipation.
Up in his hotel suite, another mob waited for him. The after-party. I’d never seen a hotel suite like this, it had to be several thousand square feet with a crazy Vegas view. One wall had a gigantic fish tank. The bar looked stocked with any and every liquor you could imagine. He held my hand and led me through it, stopping to acknowledge people, accept a pat on the back, congratulations, a hug. He shrugged off shots and blocked girls with their breasts hanging out of their tops. Holding my hand, he steered me through it all until we got to a closed door.
Looking at me, intent, heated, he opened the door to his bedroom. Pulling me in after him, he closed the door behind us and locked it. Finally, we were alone.
We tore into each other like wild animals. I tried to remember he’d just gone through a brutal fight, but I couldn’t hold back, not when I’d been aching for him for months.
“You must hurt all over,” I panted, trying to make myself not fist my hand in his hair and grind up against him.
He cupped his hand around my ass, crushing me closer. “Nothing like how I’ve been hurting for you.”
Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance Page 25