by Fawkes, Sara
sweat, his beautiful tattoos shining in the dim light as his cock, hard and thick, prodded at her
entrance.
“I want to fuck you, Marcy. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you.”
She pumped her hand as Jax would pump, spreading her fingers, pressing her palm against her clit,
imaging his cock swelling inside her. But as she climbed toward her peak, her fantasy changed.
Suddenly Jax had her against the wall, her cheek pressed against the cool surface, hands bound and
secured over her head. And then she heard the soft hiss of a flogger as its tails flew through the air.
When the first imaginary blow thudded on her skin, she climaxed. Hard and fast, the pleasure merging
with a fantasy pain.
Even after her bath, Marcy couldn’t get Jax out of her mind. Restless in bed, she imagined him
with her at baseball games and fight events, restaurants and parties, laughing deep and low, making
her smile with his gentle teasing.
Her early morning exercise routine cleared her head and she made it through the day at the
sporting goods store without once mentioning his name to her co-workers. But that evening, after she
parked her Jeep in the Club Excelsior parking lot, the reality of the situation hit her hard.
What the hell was she doing? How could she step back into the ring with Jax when all she could
think about was getting him in bed? Utterly confident, assertive and in control, he epitomized
everything she secretly longed for but had been too ashamed to seek out after Preston’s brutal
rejection.
And yet in the ring, he didn’t want her submission. He wanted her to fight. Push him away. Yet, on
a sexual level, fighting him was the last thing she wanted to do.
The incongruity of his demands in the ring with her innate desires was tearing her apart, and it had
only been ten days. How would she get through three more weeks of training?
A knock on the window wrenched her back to reality and she startled, her tension dissipating at the
sight of Two Step’s concerned expression.
“Hey there, baby girl.” He ruffled her hair as she stepped out of the vehicle. “Got worried when I
saw you just sitting in your Jeep. Everything okay? The bucket of bolts finally call it a day? Need a
tow truck?”
“This bucket of bolts will still be going when you’re too old to climb into the ring.” Marcy
grabbed her gym bag then patted the hood of the Jeep before locking the door. “I just had a rough
night and then an even rougher day at work because of it. Needed a minute, but I’m good now.”
“’Cuz of Jax?”
Marcy stopped in her tracks and looked back over her shoulder at her old friend. “Why would you
say that? I’ve only had one session with him. I barely know him.”
Two Step shrugged. “The two of you set that ring on fire yesterday. No one got anything done until
he called it quits.”
Cheeks burning, Marcy turned away. “He has a different approach to training.”
“He has a different approach to you,” Two Step said quietly. “Ask any of the other fighters he’s
coaching. They’ll say...”
“It’s nothing.”
Two Step tapped her gym bag lightly and laughed. “Sorry. I got confused when I saw the brand
new pink, sparkly gym bag, the make-up you don’t usually wear, and the loose hair. I don’t think I’ve
ever seen your hair down. You look pretty. I’m sure Jax—”
“Don’t be silly.” Marcy cut him off as she pulled open the door to the club. “It’s training. Nothing
more.”
***
“Anything you want to discuss about our session yesterday?”
Arms folded and legs apart, Jax stood in the center of the training mat. His tight green and white
fight shorts only served to inflame Marcy’s already heightened state of arousal. Why couldn’t he have
worn baggy, torn shorts like some of other fighters, maybe an unwashed T-shirt, or better yet, a ski
suit? Why did he have to taunt her with his chiseled pecs and toned abs when she was already at the
edge of her rope? Damn Two Step and his suggestive remarks. If he hadn’t said anything, she would
have had no problem keeping it professional.
None.
Really.
Jax frowned when she didn’t respond. “You seem distracted. Were you okay last night?”
Marcy sucked in a sharp breath and her cheeks heated as she thought about just how okay she had
been after their session last night—the first night in over a year since she’d let anyone touch her.
“I’m good. Just worried about how my...uh...dog is dealing with these extra training hours. He’s
not so keen on our new dog sitter. She’s stingy with the treats.” Well, it was partially true. Noodles
didn’t like her being away. At all. But Noodles wasn’t the only reason for her disquiet.
Jax laughed. “My dad is looking after a stray pup I found on the beach last time home. Her treat
addiction actually helped bring my dad back into the world after my mother died.”
They spent a few minutes trading dog stories and Marcy’s tension eased. Okay. He wasn’t a sex
god put on earth to drive her crazy. He was human. A regular guy. Her coach.
At a natural lull in the conversation, Jax outlined his strategy for their evening training session and
the weeks to come. Marcy took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. Jax could help her achieve
her goal. A shot at the state title. She would be a fool to throw the chance away on a silly fantasy.
“If you’re happy with that,” Jax said, wrapping up his outline, “we’ll start with some simple arm
bars and triangles.”
Relieved to be spared another session of his hands touching her body, Marcy dropped to her knees
on the mat and waited for him to position himself on his back.
“Mount.” He beckoned her forward, his voice curiously husky and for a moment she wondered if
his touching exercise had affected him as much as her. She crawled up his body and then sat astride
his abdomen in Full Mount. God, his stomach was rock hard. Just like the rest of him.
His body stiffened beneath her. “Christ, Marcy. Are you trying to kill me?”
Puzzled, she shrugged. “I thought you wanted me like this.”
“I do. No. Fuck. I mean to practice the submission, you need to be in High Mount.”
Understanding dawned and she tried and failed to repress a smile. “Am I mounted too low for you,
Jax?” She was sorely tempted to give a little wiggle because she could feel something hard pressing
into her ass and she was desperate to know if he was wearing a cup. In all her years of training she’d
never affected a guy this way and she had to bite back a laugh.
His eyes blazed with liquid heat and his voice dropped to a husky bark, “Move up.”
Marcy eased herself up, her thighs parting wider as she positioned herself high on his chest, her
knees under his armpits. “High Mount is easier with female fighters. Your chest is so broad...”
He cut her off with a low growl. When she glanced down to see what she’d done to irritate him this
time, she was caught in the blistering heat of his gaze.
“I’m on to you, little fighter.” His eyes glinted, amused. “Don’t think for a minute you’ll distract
me from doing what I came here to do.”
A smile curled her lips. All week she’d had to listen to the fighters at the gym talking about the
aura of mystique surrounding J
ax and his “fighter whisperer” ways. And yet his visible discomfort at
her position on top of him made him seem all too human. All too male.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He raised an eyebrow and exhaled through gritted teeth. “How about we try for Mid Guard?” The
warmth of his breath caressed her inner thighs and moisture flooded her sex. How unprofessional.
She’d practiced this position countless times with other fighters in the club. Not once had she ever
wanted to tear off their clothes and...
“Actually, probably better if we move to Full Guard.” Jax bucked suddenly, throwing Marcy
forward and onto her hands and knees, a standard defense to High Guard, but one that put her breasts
within an inch of his lips.
Her nipples tightened and she quickly rolled to her back to hide her body’s response. Jax moved
into position on top of her, taking his weight on his elbows, his legs tucked between hers. So hot. So
heavy. So masculine.
Dominant. Controlling.
Arousal coursed through her veins and she tried to think of anything but the erotic weight on top of
her.
Coach. Training. Professional. But her body, now a live wire, wasn’t on board.
“How do you want me?” Her breathy voice shaded into a whisper.
For a long moment he didn’t move. She could feel his heart drumming in his chest, hear the rasp
of his breathing and when she turned to look at him, the heat in his eyes made her shudder.
He dropped his body, his hips pressing against the juncture of her thighs, his lips only inches away.
Her pussy throbbed and she arched under him. If she stretched up just the tiniest bit, she could have a
little lick of his enticing, full lips. Just as she had imagined last night and every night since the day
they met.
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
As if he had heard her unspoken demand, he dropped his head and his lips brushed over hers.
Fire streaked through Marcy’s body with such intensity she forgot to breathe, burning its way
straight to her core. She blinked and then Jax was gone.
Alone, limp on the mat, she drew in a ragged breath. What the hell had she been thinking? Had she
learned nothing from her break-up with Preston? Just because Jax was dominant in the ring didn’t
mean he was dominant in the bedroom. Or that had any interest in her besides being a coach. Yet the
more she was with him, the more she craved his touch—like a drug addict who had found the source
of an endless fix.
It could only end in disaster. Just like before.
She was opening herself up to be hurt all over again.
Chapter Three
Marcy had just pushed open the door to Callaghan & Sons Sporting Goods when she heard the cash
register drawer slam.
“How’s my favorite fighter and soon-to-be State champ?” Val Rosario, the Assistant Manager,
waved from the till as Marcy entered the store, ready for her afternoon shift.
Determined to put some distance between her and Jax and regain her training focus, Marcy had
cancelled her Saturday morning session at the gym and picked up the extra shift at the store after
teaching her class at the youth club. Although Reid’s brother Matt paid her well, fight training wasn’t
cheap and he was always happy to have an extra pair of hands on the weekend.
She grabbed her apron and joined Val behind the counter. Val had been the Callaghan brothers’
first hire. She knew everything about every piece of sporting equipment the store stocked. She also
made it her business to know everything about the three Callaghan brothers who owned the store and
the gym where they trained. Not that Val had ever been to the gym, but she was a fight fan and liked to
stay on top of the gossip.
“I heard about the new hot coach at Excelsior.” She tied Marcy’s red apron around her waist and
finished it off with a giant bow.
“Don’t I get a ‘hello, how are you’ first?”
Val laughed. “Nope. Saturdays are too busy for meaningful conversation, and I want the scoop
before the post-lunch masses descend on us.”
“His name is Jax.” She didn’t even pretend not to know who Val was talking about. Val probably
already knew more about him than her.
“Susie Q came in to get some new fight gloves.” Val fished around in the drawer under the till and
pulled out an elastic band. “Said he was a looker but he had peculiar ideas about training.” She gave
Marcy a questioning glance, her eyes partially shielded by her long, dark lashes. “She said he got
friendly with you in the ring.”
Marcy gritted her teeth. Exactly what she’d been worried about. Everyone had been watching. She
should never have let him touch her that way. And yet the memory of his hands on her body sent a
shiver of need down her spine.
“He didn’t feel me up, Val. He was trying to get me used to being touched without freezing up.”
Val snorted a laugh and tied up her long, dark hair in a quick ponytail. “Sure. If I was a guy and I
had a girl who looked like you alone in the ring, I’d want to get her used to my touch too.”
Marcy groaned. “We weren’t alone. We were in the middle of the gym. And Reid was watching us
to make sure things didn’t get...out of hand.”
Val handed Marcy a pricing gun and then rounded the counter. “There are lots of ways for things
to get out of hand. Not all of them can be seen.”
A steady stream of customers kept them busy until mid-afternoon. When they finally got a break,
Val went to the storeroom to check the new deliveries and Marcy returned to the mind-numbing task
of pricing a shipment of baseball gloves. Five years ago, working at the sporting goods store had
seemed like a good way to indulge her love of sports and defy her parents’ expectations. But now that
the novelty had worn off and she was effectively estranged from her family, she often found herself
longing for something more.
“Marcy.”
She spun around at the familiar rumble of Jax’s voice and tried to pretend her heart hadn’t just
skipped a beat. “Hey, Jax.” Her voice rose in pitch despite her attempt to feign nonchalance. “You
looking for equipment?”
His eyes roved over her body and she stiffened and cleared her throat. Jax met her gaze,
amusement in his eyes. “Never seen you in regular clothes before today. Marcy without the armor.
Soft and sweet.”
Burn, cheeks. Burn. “Never seen you in regular clothes, either. You look...good.”
Now there was an understatement. With his gray Club Excelsior T-shirt stretched tight over his
broad chest and his jeans hugging his narrow hips, he was beyond mouth-watering. Good thing she’d
already had lunch.
Flustered she twisted her ponytail around her finger. “So, what are you looking for?”
His gaze followed her hand and then drifted back to her face. “A cup.”
For a long moment she forgot to breathe. Oh God no. No images of cups and where they might go.
No thoughts of Jax’s cup digging into her ass when she sat astride him in the ring.
Swallowing hard she pointed behind him, “Aisle six.”
Jax’s face softened and he leaned over the counter. “I also wanted a chance to talk to you. I owe
you an apology. What happened in the ring yesterday shouldn’t have happened.”
Marcy’s stomach clenched. She had known that kiss was a mist
ake when he disappeared without
saying goodbye, and yet a tiny part of her—the stupid part, had hoped she was wrong. With a shrug,
she returned to pricing the gloves, slapping the stickers on them with a force that shook the counter.
“No big deal.”
“It’s a big enough deal that you cancelled your session today.”
She shrugged. “Fight training is expensive. I always pick up extra shifts at the store when I can.
Plus, I have other stuff I do on Saturdays. I have a life outside the ring.” She shifted uneasily from
foot to foot and glanced quickly toward the back of the store, hoping to see Val. Or a customer.
Anyone to save her from death by mortification.
“When Reid told me you weren’t coming in, I asked where I could find you. He sent me to the
youth club. But when I saw you and Two Step with the kids, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Jax paused and
his face softened. “You were so different with those kids. You were relaxed. You laughed. You have
such a beautiful laugh...”
His voice trailed off and Marcy’s face heated. The only time she ever felt like herself was when
she was with the kids at the youth club. They had no expectations. As long as she showed up, she could
never disappoint them. Still, knowing Jax had been there, watching, seeing the side of her that she
showed to so few people made her feel uncomfortably exposed.
“You want to take this customer, Marcy? I’ll handle the till.” Val swooped down on them after
no-doubt eavesdropping for most of the conversation. Ignoring Marcy’s pointed glare, she waved
Marcy away from the counter. “Go ahead. Take him where he needs to go. Show him the goods.” Her
lips quivered with a repressed smile and Marcy resolved never to speak to her betraying friend again.
“Aisle six, isn’t it?” Jax gave her a warm smile. “You can talk me through the products and we can
finish our conversation.”
With a defeated sigh and a last irritated glance at Val, she tossed the pricing gun on the counter.
“Fine. Follow me.”
Two agonizing minutes of Jax’s eyes boring into her back later they arrived at aisle six. Marcy led
Jax past the fight gloves, grapple dummies and punch bags to the men’s clothing section. Fight shorts
hung in neat rows along the wall and packaged cups filled the shelves.