Chapter Thirteen
Fuck, she smells good. Even covered in a light sheen of sweat, her sweet floral scent envelops me. I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch her.
Those shorts damn near killed me when she came into my apartment, especially as I was closing the door while her back was to me, and I saw how well they molded to her ass. They’re tight and just about cover her cheeks and the tops of her thighs.
Her workout top is long, stretching over the waistband of her shorts, it’s sleeveless and cut close to the top of her tits.
She’s sent to drive me fucking crazy and I can’t help but wonder if the change in her attire is because she feels this too. Still, I’m hesitant to do anything that might make her back off. If anything is going to happen, she has to be the one to make the first move.
It’s a foreign concept to me, holding back when I want a woman. Usually the woman reciprocates, and there is no confusion about what either of us wants.
I shift a little when her thighs press together, folding my hands together in my lap because my dick is getting excited. What I’m going to ask isn’t even something that we should get excited about, in that way anyway.
Think about fucking Marris. Not how good she smells, not how her chest is rising and falling a little harder than it was before. And not her damn nipples, which are pushing through her top.
Clearing my throat, I run a hand through my hair.
“There is this event that I have to go to on Friday night.”
“Oh,” her brows lift.
Is that disappointment I hear in her voice?
“It’s a black-tie thing, a charity that the governing body runs each year. Erm, I was gonna go on my own but… I thought you might like to come?”
Her eyes get impossibly wider. I almost take it back when she nods.
“You’ll come?”
“I’d love to. I need to get out more. Not that I’m using you as an excuse or anything,” she hurriedly adds.
I chuckle and hold up a hand. “I didn’t think that. I asked.”
Her nose scrunches in that adorable way she has when she’s trying to think things through.
“Yes, I’d like to go. This Friday?”
“Yeah, can you get time off work?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Okay, great. I’ll text you all the details. Sorry about cutting this short. Do you want to use the shower?”
Fuck, I’ve never offered her that before.
“I’m good. I’ll go straight home.”
I nod. And we look at each other. She gets up first. I’d completely forgotten about the charity event until I thought about not seeing Meg once I go into training for this fight.
I can’t train with her, all of my time will be taken up, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have some spare time when we can do stuff. Even though women are off the table too .
This thing with Meg is different. It’s not about getting physical. I want to get to know her. I want her to open up more. I’ll still be able to talk to her, maybe even see her, like a friend. I want to fuck. Shit, it’s more than that. I just don’t know how to articulate that in my head.
After she leaves, I take a quick shower and grab my shit to head to Sam’s.
I checked out some of the bullshit Marris and his team have been posting. Sam only told his trainer yesterday that I’d accept the fight. They’ve gone on the offensive in a big way. I’ve never talked shit about an opponent before and I won’t rise to this either. No matter how much I want to.
In the long run, it makes me the bigger person. But people will expect me to respond, the press will try to drum it up, make it worse than it already is.
Fucking Marris. Maybe it’s a good thing they want to bring the fight up. The sooner I beat his ass and get this over with, the better.
I tug on the collar of my shirt again and Dixon laughs from his chair. He came over with a tux for me to borrow. He’s the only person big enough to have something that will fit me. I could have rented one, but I got so caught up in all the shit at the gym, and Marris throwing more shit at me and my reputation, that I forgot.
Not about the fact I’m taking Megan out again. That has been on a constant loop around my brain.
“What’s got you so fidgety?” he asks, popping the tab on a beer can from my fridge. It’s been there a while, but I have them in for when he comes over.
“I hate these penguin suits.”
“A minor inconvenience. What else?”
“Nothing. ”
“Bullshit. You forget I know you. Is this about Marris and all his shit talk?”
I straighten the bow tie again, then sit down opposite the man who became my legal guardian when I was a kid. Dixon rescued me from having to spend a year in foster care. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that. Which is why I trust him enough to be honest. To a degree.
“This woman I’m going out with tonight.”
His brow arches before I even go on. Dixon was divorced when I moved in. He’s had girlfriends over the years, but no one serious. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t trust women enough to get close to one. Not after his ex-wife cheated on him, stole a lot of his money, and vanished with a guy he called his buddy.
He’s a good guy, he didn’t deserve that. He’s not the right person to go to for advice about women but I can trust him not to give me shit about it. Not like the guys at the gym would, or any of my other friends. The ones that are married too would find it fucking hilarious I’m asking questions about a chick.
“Angelina mentioned her.”
“Of course she did,” I sigh, leaning back and spreading my legs. The pants are a little on the tight side, but I’m not worried they’re gonna split or anything. “What did she say?”
“She’s cute. Seems friendly. And you looked at her like you wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe.”
I pull a face. It’s kind of true. Angelina is perceptive.
“So what’s the issue? You like her?”
“Yeah… I do. But she has a history.”
“Of?” he narrows his eyes, automatically suspicious.
“Domestic violence.”
“Oh,” he rubs his chin. “That’s tough.”
“The worst part about it is she killed him.”
“No shit,” he says in surprise .
I explain what happened, and he looks as if he approves. Being an ex-soldier, he knows how tough it is to take a life. It’s something I have absolutely no experience of.
“You like her enough to figure a way past that? Does it bother you?”
“Not in the slightest. I’m glad she took that asshole off the board. But she’s got trauma, you know. I’m not sure how far to take things. I’ve been training her for a while. This is only the second time we’ve gone out in any other capacity.”
I fill him in on how she asked me out the first time.
“Then she’s interested,” Dixon says matter-of-factly. “But I see what you mean about treading carefully. I guess all you can do is take it at her pace. Let her take the lead.”
“It’s come at the wrong time, with this fucking fight.”
“If she’s interested, she’ll wait.”
It’s almost seven thirty. I need to get going soon if I want to be on time to pick her up.
“I’m worried about what I do. The fighting. She lived with a monster who beat the shit out of her for five years. What if she sees me that way?”
“Have you ever lifted a hand to a woman? Or anyone outside of a ring, for that matter?”
“No, Jesus, you know I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then you don’t need to worry.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“She knows. Come on, she wouldn’t have come around here as much as she did. Or gone out with you, and accepted your invitation tonight, if she felt that way.” He eyes me for a moment. “Is that all this is about, or is it about how you feel about her?”
I almost want to laugh, the big tough navy seal and an MMA fighter discussing their feelings.
Dixon has always been open. He’s a thinker, big on philosophy. He works on the premise that talking things through to avoid misunderstanding is a way of life. If you want an easy life .
We’ve never had problems talking about stuff before. Doesn’t stop me feeling like a dick asking for relationship advice.
"You've done this before, with that chick in college,” he points out.
Yeah, Veronica. We were together for a little under a year. It was good while it lasted, but we outgrew each other. He’s right, I am capable of it. I’ve just never met anyone I wanted to take that step with.
Trust me to pick a woman with enough baggage to fill a train car. At the same time, I want to help her clear that baggage. I want her to see she’s worth so much more.
“Whatever that thought was, hold on to it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Just go have fun. What will be, will be.”
That repeats in my head all the way over to Manhattan. I hired a driver for the night so I can have a few drinks without worrying about getting behind the wheel. I’d never put Meg in danger like that.
The same doorman greets me. He’s an avid MMA fan, and he was thrilled as hell when I showed up the first time. I humor him again because you should never dismiss a fan, but my head isn’t in it.
Especially when the elevator opens and Megan steps out. Even the doorman stops mid-sentence.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
“Damn straight.”
I glare at the doorman until he shrugs sheepishly and steps away. My eyes go back to Megan and I’m sorry, but this time I can’t help my eyes roaming up and down her body. And it’s a fucking gorgeous body.
I have no clue what you call this kind of dress, but it’s fitted, floor length and only has one delicate strap over her left shoulder. There is a split up the side that shows off some leg and the top comes down quite low in a V that shows off her cleavage .
I can’t help but notice a small, beauty mark on the curve of her left breast and all I can think about is how much I want to run my tongue over it.
She’s wearing her honey blond hair tied up in some complicated style but it looks good, shows off her swan-like neck and bare shoulders. She isn’t wearing any jewelry. Not that she needs anything to make her look even more gorgeous. Her make up is what I think they call smoky eyed, and her lips are a light shiny pink.
“Wow,” I can’t help but say as she comes towards me.
“You too,” she eyes my tux.
“I look like a penguin.”
“You look handsome.”
“You think?” I grin.
“Do I need a jacket? I can run back up for one.”
And cover up all that fucking gorgeousness. Not a chance. “It’s still quite warm out and I have a car that will take us to and from the venue.”
“Fancy.”
“That’s me,” I laugh again.
Then I hold out my arm, my elbow bent. After a moment, Meg slips hers through mine and I tug my arm gently towards my side, so she has to step closer. She smells fucking divine. I’m a lucky sonofabitch that she’s chosen to trust me. Like Dixon says, I’m gonna make the most of this.
And if the what will be, will be motto has a little push in me letting her know I’m more than interested, so be it.