9. Adam
CHAPTER 9
ADAM
C aine can’t keep his eyes off Max, and it makes my hackles rise. Caine is intense. He’s unpredictable at times and I’ve seen what happens when he snaps. He tends to keep it in the cage, but the look in his eyes as he stares at the new woman in town reminds me a lot of what he looks like before a fight.
I shouldn’t care. And I don’t, not really. I don’t think he would do anything too crazy, but part of me isn’t sure.
It makes me think of Drew, how he believes he’s a monster because of his past and what he’s done. Yet, he’s more in control than Caine, a man who was given everything in life and chose something else just because he could.
He never struggled like us, he got it all handed to him. Until he started fighting. This has been the first time he’s had to work toward anything. You aren’t just gifted with the skills, it’s something you have to train and fight for. That’s how I know what he looks like when he’s motivated for something he wants.
And I think he wants her.
Which means he won’t stop until he has her.
She surprised me today. She’s clearly motivated and tenacious. When she screws up, she tries again until she gets it right. It’s rare to impress me, but she did. It’s different.
Now, here we are at The Tavern once again, Alexander and Cal already at the bar trying to talk to Danner. Caine, Drew, and I sit at a table toward the back keeping an eye on our surroundings.
Though, I feel like that means we’re all looking at the same thing.
Max.
The mysterious woman who’s arrived in town and caught too much attention in such a short time. And she doesn’t even know it.
I watch her make drinks quickly—much quicker than she did that first night—and not put up with any shit from the patrons.
“What do you guys think of her?” Drew asks. Neither Caine nor I respond. “She seems like she’s serious about her training.”
That makes Caine scoff, but he still doesn’t say anything.
Instead of responding, I push away from the table and approach the bar. I’m not even sure why my feet are bringing me up to the dark wood, sticky from having drinks spilled on it all night, but then I’m there. Staring down into the eyes of this fiery redhead.
“Hi, Coach, ” Max greets with a sneer. “What can I get you?”
“Water,” I state simply. She rolls her eyes and mumbles something about “boring gym guys” before slapping a glass full of water on the counter in front of me.
“It’s Adam by the way,” I say as she starts to turn away.
“What?”
“My name. At the gym it’s Coach, but outside of it, it’s Adam.”
“Enjoy your water, Coach,” she says pointedly before returning back to serving other drinks that require a bit more effort than my glass of water.
As I get back to the table, Caine is leaning back in the chair that looks too small for him, with his large arms folded across his chest and his gaze locked on the redhead behind the bar.
“You both officially piss her off with your water orders?” Drew asks once I sit down.
“Something like that,” I responded.
“Alright, well, if either of you end up running her out of the gym, then that’s on you.” Drew shrugs.
“So, you’re telling me you were so nice and welcoming to her last week while we were gone?” I look at him skeptically. Drew doesn’t take too kindly to new people either. He’s as distrusting as the rest of us. We all have our reasons, and his are because he doesn’t open up to anyone. Not even me.
Which is why what we have could never be anything more than just sex. Just the time for us to both get off and have a good time, then go our own way. No strings, no emotions. Neither of us could handle more than that, especially not Drew.
Caine on the other hand, scares almost everyone who meets him. And for good reason. Not me—I’ve met scarier. I’ve fought scarier. Lived with scarier. I’ve seen the darkest parts of humanity firsthand and came out alive.
He may think he’s the scariest thing to walk around, but he’s not. Not even close. The real dangers, the things that should scare you, are the things you’d never expect. The nicest people can be the vilest behind closed doors. The real monsters hide in plain sight, and you never know until it’s too late.
“Whatever, I’m heading out.” Drew stands up, looking down at me as he does, with a silent question.
We try to keep our situation to ourselves, it’s no one else’s business. Especially not the other guys. I’m a coach and Drew started off as just one of my fighters when he rolled into town five years ago. He started to help coach a year ago, and even more so now after his injury. But I know what people would think about us sleeping together. They would think he’s using me or some other stupid shit.
So, we decided it’s best to keep it just between us.
I answer Drew’s silent question with a small nod. He knows what that means and accepts it with his own nod.
“See you guys tomorrow.”
With him gone, it’s just Caine and I at the table, sitting in silence. He has yet to look away from Max.
“You going to go talk to her?” I finally ask.
“Probably not.”
I nod once like his answer makes sense. I’m not going to try and figure him out, or question what the fuck he’s doing.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to your staring contest then.” I stand up, slapping a twenty on the table for a tip, despite not buying anything.
I step outside, the bite of the coastal breeze hits me before I pull on my helmet and swing a leg over my Yamaha YZF-R3, turning the key, letting out the clutch, and revving the engine before driving off toward Drew’s house.
Drew’s front door swings open, and he’s already shirtless, tattoos cover his arms and onto his chest, and I know they cover his back as well. The skin on his toned stomach is the only area on his torso untouched with ink. Unlike me, with practically every inch of my own skin covered with it, some of the artwork has meaning, stories from my life. Others are just there because I didn’t care what the artist put on me, I just wanted to feel the scrape of the needle on my skin.
He opens the door wider, and I step inside, kicking off my wet boots as he walks further into his house. I shed my jacket, meeting him in the living room before draping it over a chair, pressing my hands against the top of it and leaning forward.
“Did I miss anything?” he asks, dropping onto his couch, his sweatpant covered legs spread out casually.
“Nah, I left not long after you.”
“Okay, well then let’s do what you’re here for,” he says casually and something about his tone irritates me. Like this is just for me. Like this is just a chore or something for him to check off a list.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I question, standing up straight, and folding my arms across my chest.
“What it always means—you’re here to fuck, let’s fuck so I can go to bed.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “What is your deal?”
“Nothing, fuck .” He slaps his hands against his thighs, standing from the couch and I refuse to move from my spot behind the chair.
“Then why the fuck are you acting like you don’t even want me here? Because I’ll leave, I don’t give a shit.” I grab my jacket, ready to do just that.
“Of course you don’t.” He shakes his head.
“Are you jealous or something? Suddenly wanting a relationship? What the fuck is going on?”
“No, I’m not fucking jealous, I’m pissed off, Adam. Every fucking day you act like everything is fine, but you won’t let me do anything. Won’t let me practice or participate in anything other than helping you,” he spits out.
“This is about not letting you train? Because I won’t let you fight?” I ask, my tone dripping with annoyance. “Fuck me for not wanting you to get your other knee blown out, right?” I shake my head.
He steps up to me, getting in my face, his anger palpable and mine is close to matching his at this moment.
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed lately, Coach, but I’m a big boy and know what I can and can’t handle,” his lip curling as he practically growls the words in my face.
“And as your Coach I know what I’m willing and not willing to let my fighters go through.”
“That’s all I am? That’s all any of us are then? Your fighters?”
“Yes, and just so it’s clear that’s all you’ll be.” I let the anger take over, and am about to storm out the door because I didn’t come over here for a fight. I thought we’ve been on the same page, but it doesn’t seem like it right now and I don’t know where any of this came from.
Instead of saying anything else, he grabs me by the back of my neck and slams his mouth onto mine. I want to fight him, to get to the bottom of this sudden anger, or just leave and let him be pissed off alone. But when he bites down, his teeth sinking into my lower lip, I realize this is going to be a different kind of fight.
This fight is the kind we’re going to have like this, with our bodies seeking pleasure instead of pain. Our mouths are sealed and tongues tangled as we fight for dominance. We lick and bite as our hands grab and scratch. I work my hand into the waistband of his pants, gripping him roughly in my fist, squeezing his shaft, feeling the bulges of his piercings. He lets out a moan as I roughly run my hand up and down, jacking him off.
He thrusts into my fist as I swallow down his moans. His pace increases and I can tell he wants more; he wants to come. And he’s close.
I break our mouths apart, dropping my forehead to his, using my free hand to hold the back of his neck tightly. I grip his erection tight at the base and he continues to thrust against me, trying to gain the friction I’m not allowing him to find.
“Seems like you just wanted to get off. Wanted to use me to get yourself off.” I grip his neck tighter.
“So what? That’s what we do. Fuck,” he groans . “Move your hand.”
I let out a dry chuckle. “No, you want to get off? You can do it yourself.” I remove my hand from his pants and back away. Grabbing my jacket, I don’t look back at him as I quickly slip my boots on.
“That’s how you’re going to leave things, then?” Drew asks from behind me, I can hear how pissed he is, and I know how explosive he can be. I also know how well he can bottle it up.
“Yup, finish yourself.” I leave his house, and he doesn’t try to stop me. Not even when I’m on my bike, about to drive off, all I see is the light from his living room through the window darken and know that’s all the response I’m going to get.
Fine by me. Despite my raging hard on, I head back home. Knowing whatever has been going on between us isn’t really over, but there’s no denying it’s changed. Who knows if that change will be good or bad.