Chapter 20
I hadn’t been told yet who, if anyone, would be taking over my previous duties for the gym, so the least I could do in return for Lance taking a chance on me was to continue to oversee the books. It was while I was performing this task that someone unexpectedly entered the office.
“Sophie?” I lifted my head at the sound of my name, taking my focus away from the computer screen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Trevor entered before softly closing the door.
He glanced around the room, seemingly stalling for time.
I had no idea what he wanted to talk to me about, but the longer he remained silent, the worse I feared our upcoming conversation might be.
But to be fair, I didn’t know this man, so I could be way off base.
“Can I help you with something?” I finally asked, needing to break the lingering uncomfortable silence.
A few strides later, he stood directly in front of the desk, three feet from me. “Is there something going on between you and Jackson I should know about?”
His question threw me, and I hoped to God he hadn’t seen the surprise written all over my face.
“Nothing other than him hiring me to be his sports therapist.”
“Hmmm.” He stole a large breath of air before shifting from one foot to the other. “What made him change his mind?” His tone was accusatory, which didn’t sit right with me.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I will,” he replied.
“Good.” The tension between us continued to build, but I was still at a loss as to why. “Is there anything else? I should finish this up before Jackson is done with training,” I said, pointing toward the screen. Truthfully, I’d finished ordering the supplies needed right before he walked in.
Trevor retreated a step and turned toward the door, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he swiveled back around to face me.
“I see the way he looks at you. We all do. And none of us are thrilled.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I know exactly what he means.
“He’s distracted, and he needs to be focused.
More now than ever. His upcoming fight could affect his career if he loses.
And Jackson doesn’t lose. But he might if he doesn’t get his head back in the game.
He has…. We all have a lot riding on this.
So, if there is something going on between you two, it needs to stop. Now.”
I’d abandoned my chair and stood beside the desk, struggling to maintain my even-keeled breathing. I wanted to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, but I refrained.
“I can assure you there is nothing going on between us other than professionalism.” I lied right to his face.
Yes, neither Jackson nor I had crossed the line, but we’d come unbelievably close.
And who knew what would’ve happened if I’d grabbed on to the brazen rope he’d thrown me.
We might both be dangling from it right now.
“Good.” He appeared pensive for a moment. “Let’s keep this conversation between us. I don’t need him worrying about anything else.”
“Agreed.”
Agreed? Why did I say that? I was the last person who would be aware of what weighed heavy on Jackson’s mind. I barely knew anything about him other than how his moods switched on a dime and that there were a couple instances where he seemed concerned about me.
And he’s attracted to you. Don’t forget that pivotal point.
With his back to me, Trevor said, “He’s probably done training now if you want to do what he hired you for.” His irritated tone bristled over me, but I cast aside my own annoyance and followed him out of the office, heading toward the back room as he stopped to talk to Elton.
As I ran my conversation with Trevor through my head, I didn’t notice Jackson until I heard sloshing water. Clear across the room, he lowered himself into a large steel basin, his movements slow and steady until he was completely immersed.
“I should be used to the shock of the freezing water by now,” he said, the faintest smile flashing across his face. It disappeared the second our eyes locked.
Ice baths were commonly used after an athlete’s intense training, working to speed up recovery time as well as helping to ease inflammation and pain. Buried to his neck, Jackson closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the basin.
“Can you set a timer for fifteen minutes?” he asked without looking at me. And I was thankful because after my blunt conversation with Trevor, I wasn’t really in the chitchatting mood.
“Sure.”
“And can you grab me a towel?”
“No problem.” It was then I noticed he’d discarded his shorts next to the bath. “Are you naked?”
I wished I could steal back the words, but there they were out there, floating around in the air between us.
His lids popped open, and that same faint grin made another appearance.
“Of course. And I’m gonna need you to give me a full rubdown once I get out.”
“While you’re naked?” My voice rose with the question, higher than I liked.
“Yes. Is that gonna be a problem?”
I recalled what I’d told his trainer moments ago. “I can assure you there is nothing going on between us other than professionalism.” I was a professional, and I needed to start acting like it. I could do this. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him naked before. He was just a client.
“Not at all,” I finally answered.
“Good.”
“Good,” I parroted, turning on my heel to retrieve a fresh towel for him.
Only when the alarm I set on my watch sounded did I reenter the room, a big white towel clutched in my hand.
As soon as he noticed me, he started to rise from the tub.
If I didn’t hurry and shield him from view with the fluffy fabric, I had no doubt he’d give me another show of him in all his glory.
I almost tripped over my feet trying to get to him before he fully stood, and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard him chuckle, a sound he probably rarely made.
But when I looked at him, he wore no expression.
He took the towel I thrust at him and wrapped it around his waist, his chest expanding on a quick inhale.
Without a word, he moved toward a massage table a few feet away, untucking his towel before lying on his front.
The loosened fabric hung over the sides, threatening to fall and expose his ass if he moved the wrong way.
My steps were tentative as I approached, my heart threatening to beat right out of my goddamn chest if I didn’t get a hold of myself.
“Professional,” I mumbled, reminding myself I didn’t want to do anything to fuck up this opportunity.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“What?”
“Did you say something?”
“No,” I responded.
“I thought I heard you mutter something.”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?” He turned his head to the side and locked me in his eyesight.
“Yep.”
“You bring that oil?” Thank God he’s switched the topic.
“Yes.” I’d run back up to my apartment to grab it while he’d been in the ring. I hated watching men fight, so I was happy to keep myself busy while he went round for round with his sparring partner.
“It helped a lot.”
“I’m happy to hear it.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prefer his breezy tone to the brutal curtness I’d experienced before, but with this newfound airiness came confusion.
Although he’d proved what I’d known all along: the man was moody.
Better enjoy it before he switches back.
“I’m ready when you are,” he said, yanking me away from my thoughts and shoving me back into my predicament.
Wrapping myself in the silence that followed, I prayed he’d remain quiet so I could do my job without distraction.
His skin was icy cold, and I wondered how he wasn’t shivering. I’d never submerged myself into a bath of ice water, but I’d imagine it’d be quite some time before my teeth stopped clattering once I got out. I supposed Jackson was used to it, though.
“How long have you been fighting?” I asked, digging my fingers into his triceps.
So much for not talking.
“All my life.”
“How about professionally?”
“Since I was eighteen.”
“How old are you now?”
“How old are you?” he asked, turning my question around on me. Was it rude to ask a man his age? Because I’d heard it was for a woman, although I didn’t mind.
“I just turned twenty-nine. On the fifteenth.”
“Of this month?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Wasn’t the fifteenth the first day you came here? The day I mistook you for—”
“A whore?” I blurted, unable to stop the words from leaving my mouth. “Yeah, it was.”
“Sorry about that.” His shoulders tensed with the apology.
“It’s fine. I got over it.”
I tried to play off the memory as no big deal, but it’d been a huge deal at the time. I’d contemplated not taking the job because I didn’t want to work with Jackson. But I’d been desperate. Still was, which was why I was thankful he decided to keep me around.
“I thought Lance had asked you to come so I could—”
I tapped his shoulder, needing him to stop. “I know the whole story. Lance filled me in before I left that day.”
“He did?”
“He explained the mishap and assured me it’d never happen again.”
Jackson turned on his side and raised himself up, resting on his arm. His movement forced me back a step.
“What did he say exactly?” His gaze briefly roved over me.
“He told me you had too much energy, and because you can only train for so long, you needed another outlet, sex with hookers being the optimal choice.”
“They weren’t hookers. They were fans.”
“Did you pay them?”
“No,” he answered, seemingly offended. Our conversation spiked a wave of jealousy to burst to life inside me.
Picturing him with other women didn’t sit well with me, and despite my irrational reaction, the ugly beast built and built the longer we discussed the topic.
“Why do you care?” A smirk twisted the corner of his mouth, and I wanted to smack it off him.
“I don’t,” I lied.
“Good.” He assessed me for a moment. “That day was the last time anyone visited me.”
“Visited you?” I balked. “That’s a polite way of saying it. But that’s not true. A brunette showed up a few days later. The one that ran out of here clutching her shirt.”
He positioned himself back on his stomach, relaxing his arms over the edges of the table for me to work on. I went to work unknotting his muscles.
“I told her to leave. I never fucked her.”
“Had you ever had sex with her before?” Why am I torturing myself?
“A few times. But I wasn’t feeling it that day.”
“Oh.”
“No one’s been here since,” he added, his declaration short and to the point.
“Oh,” I repeated, not quite sure what to say to that.
“So, is it true that you have too much energy you need to work off, or is that just an excuse to have sex with countless women? No attachments. No obligations.” Oh.
My. God. Seriously? Not only was my question unprofessional, it was inappropriate and none of my business.
Instead of turning onto his side like he’d done just moments before, Jackson repositioned himself until he sat upright, the towel shifting and barely covering his dick.
His gaze aligned with mine as he parted his lips.
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had an overabundance of energy.
Even after training for hours, I was still raring to go, and if I didn’t get rid of it, the energy would eventually transform into anger.
And since I couldn’t risk getting into fights outside the ring, Lance suggested bringing in women to take that edge off. It worked.”
“Why not just masturbate?” I’d apparently bitch-slapped my inner voice, because I kept saying whatever popped into my head. No filter whatsoever.
His hand moved to rest over his groin. “I did. But it’s not the same thing. Not the same kind of release. Now, if we don’t stop talking about this, I’m not going to be able to stop my dick from getting harder.”
“Harder?”
He gripped the towel this time, the outline of his arousal prevalent.
The angel on my left warned me to abandon this conversation and to do it immediately, while the devil on my right encouraged me to pursue it, filling my head with the image of his fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing me, tempting me to let go of whatever reservations I had and fall into the depths of what he could offer me.
Even if that offering was a solitary opportunity.
In the end, the angel won.
But the devil snickered beside him, making promises to appear again very soon.