Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly. “And I hate myself for it.”

  “Don't.” I put my hand over his and moved it away from my face.

  “Don't hate myself or don't apologize?” He let his hand fall to his side, but he didn't step away from me.

  “Both.” I forced myself to look at him. “I appreciate the apology, but I don't need it. You don't owe me anything.”

  “Yes, I do.” His eyes were fierce, but it wasn't anger directed at me. “I owe you more than a damn apology, but I know there's no way in hell I can ever make up for what I said or did.”

  He spun around so unexpectedly that it startled me. He ran his hand through his hair, then down to rub at the back of his neck, a gesture I'd already come to recognize as pure frustration.

  “You know how people say that you don't know what you have until it's gone?” He stared out the window. “That's what happened to me. I lost you, and I didn't truly understand what that meant until I'd screwed things up so badly that I knew I could never fix them.”

  I closed my eyes as a pair of tears rolled down my cheeks. Then, suddenly, a pair of large, hot hands were cupping my face. I opened my eyes to see him standing over me, his face twisted with pain.

  “Please don't cry, Cyn. I'm so sorry.” His voice cracked as his thumbs brushed away my tears. Then he dropped his hands and took a step back. “I'll go now. Don't worry about Vegas. I'll make sure no one bothers you. And if you don't want to go, I'll make sure no one thinks poorly of you. I'll make whatever arrangements necessary for you to feel comfortable.”

  He was still talking about how he'd do whatever he could to make sure I was okay, but I'd essentially tuned him out. My head was making enough noise of its own, trying to argue logic against my heart. Despite everything that happened, all that he'd done, I still cared about him. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Make me a promise,” I said, cutting off what he'd been saying.

  “Anything.” It may have sounded rash, but one look at his face told me that he was serious.

  That was all I needed to make my decision.

  I crossed the distance between us with several quick strides. He looked down at me, eyes widening in surprise as I grabbed the front of his shirt.

  “Don't ever disrespect me again.”

  “Never,” he vowed. His hand was trembling as he brushed back my hair. “I am so sor–”

  I didn't let him get the rest of the word out, cutting it off as I pulled him down toward me and pushed myself up on my toes so I could reach his mouth. I put everything into the kiss, every pain and hurt I'd felt, all of my desire.

  After a moment of surprise, he was kissing me back, his arms tight, body hard. I felt it all from him, the truth behind everything he'd said, and everything he hadn't been able to say. As he lowered us down to the faded carpet, I found that I didn't need him to say anything else. We could talk over all of the events of the last few weeks, and I knew we’d need to address some of what happened at some point. Set rules. Define our relationship, blah, blah, blah. But right now, nothing else mattered. It was in the past, and this was the present.

  I wanted him. Even if it became another thing I’d come to regret.

  Tyrell stretched out over me, raising himself on his elbows so that he could look in my eyes. I smiled before he asked the question, and then he kissed my forehead, my nose, cheeks, jaw, and lips. His lips burned a trail down my neck while his fingers were busy unbuttoning my blouse.

  “I intend to pay attention to these very soon.” He brushed his mouth across each breast, teasing through the thin cotton. “But right now, I'm going to keep apologizing.”

  The next thing I knew, my pants were off, panties around one ankle, and Tyrell's head was buried between my legs, tongue and lips doing things even more amazing than they had before. My first orgasm hit me before I'd even realized how close I was to coming.

  “Ty!” I cried out as he held me against his mouth, not letting up until one orgasm rolled into the next.

  My body was on fire, the most wonderful, pulse-pounding, toe-curling fire anyone could ever experience. I was pretty sure the heightened emotions of the past few days made everything more intense, but at the moment, I didn't care to analyze anything. I only wanted to feel.

  Finally, after I'd lost count of the number of times I'd climaxed and every inch of my skin was humming, he rolled off of me and onto his side. It wasn't until my brain started functioning on a semi-regular level that I realized he was watching me.

  And he was still completely clothed.

  I could've felt self-conscious, but I was done wasting time with things that didn't matter. And while I thoroughly enjoyed what he'd just done, I wanted more.

  “Please tell me you have a condom.”

  He gave me a startled look, then looked away. “We don't have to...”

  “Hey, you didn't blow my mind so much that I don't know what I want.” I gave him a smile when he looked at me. I reached over and took his hand, bringing it up so I could kiss the tips of his fingers. “Maybe we'll want to talk things out later, and we'll have to figure out what all this means, but right now, I don't want to think about anything but each other. Okay?”

  His eyes searched my face, then he pulled me to him, rolling us over so that he was on top of me again. I felt the tension in his body, but he was gentle now, taking his time as he kissed me long and slow, his hands working off the rest of my clothes, and his own, with extraordinary dexterity.

  When we were finally skin on skin, and he'd rolled on the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket, he settled between my legs. I whimpered as his cock brushed against my extra-sensitive skin, my hips instinctively jerking.

  “Shh,” he murmured, taking my mouth even as he eased his way inside me.

  I gasped as he rocked against me, but he swallowed the sound, tongue teasing, exploring. My clit was already swollen from his mouth, and every time the base of his cock rubbed against me, it sent a jolt of electricity through me. I wrapped my arms around him, nails running down his back, digging into his skin as I clutched him to me. I'd always felt hyper-aware of him, and now it was almost overwhelming, taking over each and every one of my senses. He was all I could see, hear, smell...feel. He surrounded me, filled me.

  “My Cyn,” he whispered against my lips. “Mine.”

  My stomach tightened, and I knew I was close to coming again. But I wanted it to be with him.

  “My Ty.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “Come with me.” I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip.

  He thrust into me deep and I cried out, eyes closing.

  “Look at me.”

  I obeyed, my eyes meeting his as I moved with him, squeezing him tight as he withdrew. The tension that had been between us from the first moment we'd seen each other was there now, thick and crackling with all our pent-up emotions. We'd worry about the words later, but now, all of it exploded over us, and that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tyrell

  We did talk. Eventually. Between additional rounds of the best sex I'd ever had. At one point, I called Dorian to tell him that I'd be in at the gym first thing Tuesday morning and that my head was in it now. He called me a few choice names, but under it, I heard his approval. As my boss, he had to tell me I was an idiot, but as a man, he understood.

  And I also finally understood what really happened between Sara and me. She hadn't dumped me for Dorian. It'd been him from moment one, and she hadn't been able to stop herself.

  I knew the feeling.

  I couldn't get enough of Cynthia Rose. She was a drug. The more I had her, the more I wanted. But now I had all the time in the world with her. We didn't want to waste our time mincing around with all the niceties, worrying about convention. We knew that what was between us was stronger than what anyone else thought.

  And to my relief...it worked.

  I worked my ass off with Paul during the day. Studied film of Pressman fight
ing. I watched my diet. Made sure, despite my insatiable appetite for Cyn, I got plenty of sleep.

  So when we flew into Vegas on Friday morning, I knew I was ready to face Hollin Pressman the next day. Friday night, I obeyed Paul and didn't go to the room that Anita and Cynthia Rose were sharing and ask her to come back to mine. She would be as much my incentive to win as the title.

  I was looking forward to seeing all of the different places in my massive suite where I could make love to her.

  But, first, I had a fight to win. And a dose of revenge to deliver to the man who’d slutted out his girlfriend to take me down.

  * * *

  The blow knocked me back, and I barely managed to get my arms up in time to block the second one that Pressman tried to use to put me down. It was the fourth round and we'd each gotten in our own fair share of hits. Hollin's nose and right eye were swollen into one nasty-looking mess. I didn't even know how he could see. His torso would be a mass of bruises tomorrow, but he was pushing through the pain as much as I was.

  We hadn't spoken to each other, not even at the press conference where he'd made comments to the reporters to try to bait me, but I didn't take any of it. I'd already decided that I wouldn't sink to his level, no matter what he'd done, or what he would do. Before we left New York, Dorian told me that he'd followed up on everything Cynthia Rose had given him, and he had enough proof to have Pressman looked into, probably even kicked out of the league.

  I told him to hold it. I didn't want anyone to say that I'd only gotten the title by default. It would've been different if Hollin had used drugs or something like that. But what happened with Gilen was on me too. Yes, Hollin had sent her, and yes, Dorian had hired her, but I'd listened to her, let her get in my head. That was my fault.

  So I was going to beat him, and then Dorian could consult with the rest of the league's board and decide what to do about Pressman's actions.

  I dodged a move that would've tripped me, and let my momentum carry me around for a quick blow to his right side. Before either of us could move past that, the bell rang, signaling the end of the fourth round. I headed for my corner.

  “One more round,” Paul said as he held up a water bottle so I could rinse my mouth. “You're pretty much toe-to-toe on points, so if neither of you goes down, the judges won’t have an easy time of it.”

  “I can take him,” I said, blinking the sweat out of my eyes.

  I kept my gaze straight ahead, not focusing on any one person or thing. I was aware of the doctor dabbing at a cut on my eyebrow, but I didn't acknowledge it. The entire left side of my face felt swollen and bruised, but it wasn't affecting my vision. What worried me was that I was pretty sure at least one of my ribs was cracked. It wasn't bad enough that I couldn’t breathe, but it hurt more than I liked. If I wasn't careful, a well-placed kick or hit might break it, and even if it didn't put me on the mat, I knew it'd be enough to take me out of the running. I wasn't so arrogant that I couldn't see how good Pressman was.

  “He's dropping his elbow.”

  A new voice caught my attention. Dorian stood next to Paul. He'd been with Sara in the owner's seats, but now he was here.

  “What?”

  Dorian leaned closer, and I could see the glint in his eye that he'd always gotten when he fought. He might've retired, but he still had that instinct.

  “He drops his right elbow when he uses his left hand,” Dorian said. “If you can get him to do that, a hard enough hit should take him down.”

  I nodded to let him know I understood what he was saying. Pressman was right-handed, but if I could get him to use his left, I had a shot at a knockout. And Paul was right. I could go all the way to the end with Hollin, I had no doubt of that – unless he managed to break my rib – but I didn't know what the judges would decide. That would be the safest thing to do. Hold out unless I saw a clear shot. But I didn't want to be safe.

  I wanted to put Hollin Pressman on his ass.

  The bell rang and I stepped back into the ring. I didn't know what Hollin's trainer had told him, but he came out swinging. I blocked blow after blow that came for my head, my torso. He tried a kick, and I grabbed his foot, twisting it to drop him. For a moment, as I held him pinned, I thought I’d get him to tap out, win that way, but his elbow came in contact with the side of my head and I couldn't keep my grip.

  I rolled away, spots dancing in front of my eyes. I got to my feet, staggered for a moment, then caught my footing just in time to block a fist to the jaw.

  I had to end this now.

  Knowing this was going to hurt, I purposefully dropped my right hand, opening myself up for a shot. He took the bait and swung left. I ignored the impending blow and focused on putting everything into this one punch.

  I felt the jolt all the way up my arm, heard my knuckles crunch against Hollin's jaw. The world seemed to slow as his eyes rolled up, his body going limp. The roar of the crowd was a dim noise behind me. I heard the thump as Hollin hit the floor, and then the ref was there. I stumbled back against the cage, pushed myself off, knowing I needed to stay on my feet.

  It wasn't until the bell rang that I let the relief flood me. It was over.

  I won.

  * * *

  “I don't need to go to the hospital,” I protested again, glaring at Dorian.

  “Doc says you've got a cracked rib, maybe broken.”

  “And he wrapped me up. Exact same damn thing they’d do at a hospital.” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off now while every ache and pain started to make itself known.

  “You need to get checked for a concussion.”

  I scowled. “I'm fine. All I want to do is go back to the hotel.”

  “Get your head checked out first.” This time, it was Doc speaking up, and I gave up, knowing I had to go. When it came to medical decisions, his word was law. I had to trust him, even if I didn't like it.

  And that was how, an hour after my match, instead of being in bed with Cynthia Rose, buried in the wet heat I'd been craving, I was sitting in a hospital bed, listening to the doctor telling Dorian and me that there didn't appear to be any damage beyond the superficial.

  “But I'd still like to keep him overnight for observation,” the doctor said.

  There was a knock at the door that kept me from arguing. A nurse stuck her head in. “There's a young woman out here who seems a bit anxious.” A smile played at her lips.

  The doctor looked at me and I nodded. I hadn't told Dorian that I didn’t take his advice about staying away from Cynthia Rose, and the two of us had been very careful not to let our personal life leak into the professional over the past week. Now, I wanted her here, and I didn't care what he thought about it.

  She came in, barely glancing at Dorian or the doctor as she walked straight over to the bed. Her face was pale and my heart twisted when I realized how worried she'd been for me.

  “I see you decided to ignore my instructions,” Dorian said. He sounded more amused than annoyed.

  “Actually, if you remember correctly, you gave me two conflicting pieces of advice. I just chose to go with the latter.” I reached out and took Cyn's hand. Her fingers were cold, and I pressed them between my palms to warm them. My knuckles were bruised, fingers stiff, but none of that mattered now.

  “Fair point,” he said.

  “I couldn't stay away.” I raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I'm in love with her.”

  Her eyes brightened as color rose to her cheeks. I didn't care that there were other people in the room. I couldn't have waited a minute longer to tell her how I felt.

  “I understand completely,” Dorian said and I heard the smile in his voice. “I'll leave you to her care then. Sara and I plan to stick around for a few days, and the offer extends to the whole team. The rooms are paid for through Wednesday. Even if you don't stay, I expect you to take the next week off.”

  The door clicked closed and we were finally alone.

  “I was so scared.” She broke the silence. “I don
't know if I can do this. Watch you get hurt like that.”

  I sat up and wrapped my arm around her waist. The painkillers the doctor gave me had taken care of most of the pain. Having Cyn here took care of the rest. “We can talk about that later. Right now, I want to celebrate with you.”

  I kissed her, savored the taste and feel of her. I couldn't believe I'd almost lost her. I didn't care what it took, I'd never let that happen again.

  “Easy.” She gave my chest a gentle push. Her face was flushed, and when I put my hand on the side of her throat, her pulse raced under my palm. “You're here to get better, not put the moves on me.”

  I shook my head, slowly so I wouldn't risk getting dizzy. Throwing up or falling off the bed wasn’t the way to make my case. “The doctor said there was no definite sign of concussion, so I plan on taking you back to the hotel and celebrating.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I don't think that's sound medical practice.”

  I grinned at her. “How about if I tell the doctor that I have someone who will stay with me all night and make sure I don't pass out?”

  “I don't think he'll be thinking what I know you're thinking.”

  I slid my hand up to her cheek and brushed my thumb across her lips. “I don't want to spend the night here. I want it to spend it with you. Just the two of us, alone.” I kissed her palm. “I need to be with you. Only you.”

  I watched her resolve weaken.

  “I suppose, if the doctor agrees to release you...”

  My smile widened. I didn't care what the doctor said. I was walking out of here with Cyn, with or without his permission. No one was going to keep me from my girl again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cynthia Rose

  The first time Hollin hit Tyrell, I thought I was going to be sick. Only the knowledge that, technically, I was here for work, and not as Tyrell's girlfriend kept me from running out. Though I wouldn't have left even if I hadn't been here for work. He needed me here. I knew it. And no matter how much I hated it, I stayed. Work did, however, give me an excuse not to watch too closely. It didn't, however, keep me from hearing everything.