She shook her head. “Even if you’re right, how can it work? We’re total opposites. I’ve done that before, remember?”
“No,” she said leaning forward for emphasis, “what you did was get involved with a jackass who didn’t truly love anyone but himself. The relationship failed because the douchebag couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, Lucie, not because he liked saving cows and you liked eating them.”
“Amen, Red!” Fritz slammed down a fresh round of beers and braced his fists on the table. “I never could stand that pansy-ass, tree-huggin’ nancy.” He shook a thick, arthritic finger at both of them as he spoke. “Never trust a man if he don’t at least drink beer. A man that only drinks things ending in ‘tini’ ain’t really a man. He might as well be announcing the size of his pecker as he is ordering a drink, if you know what I’m gettin’ at.”
The girls laughed and thanked him for the sound advice, assuring him they’d hold every man to that wisdom from now on.
“Well, all right then. This one’s on me, long as you gimme some sugar.” The old man leaned down so they could each plant a loud, smacking kiss on his cheeks covered in white stubble. Standing up he said, “Now that’s a perfect way to end the night. I’mma let Michelle close up tonight and head on upstairs. You gals behave, y’hear?”
After they promised and bid him goodnight, Lucie turned to Vanessa with equal parts excitement, terror, and determination. “Okay, tell me what to do.”
Vanessa’s green eyes seemed to literally spark with mischief and a corner of her mouth hitched up. “He’s been giving you seduction lessons, right?”
“Yeah,” Lucie answered warily.
“So it’s simple.” Vanessa placed her arms on the table in front of her and leaned in. “You go home, put those lessons to good use, and show the teacher just how good of a student you really are.”
…
Reid pulled the door open to his old gym and walked through slowly. The tangle of emotions brought on by the familiar smells and sounds transported him to an earlier time. A time when he was young and under his father’s thumb.
“What the hell’s the matter with you? For the last goddamn time, get your hands up!”
The echo of his father’s voice in the large, open space acted like an overdose of lactic acid in his muscles, causing tension and pain. He followed the sound of mumbled gripes to a ring where it looked like a high school kid was sparring with a guy who could’ve been the center of a college football team.
“Watch his take down! He’s gonna go for—” The bigger guy shot at the kid’s lower body, wrapped his arms around his hips, and tackled him to the mat. Stan Andrews called a time out and the fighters broke apart, one sucking in labored breaths, the other looking bored. “For fuck’s sake, Peterson, why do I even bother with you?”
“Sorry, Coach,” the kid said, lowering his eyes to the mat.
“Still busting balls I see,” Reid said through a tight jaw.
His old man’s head didn’t move much, but his eyes cut over and narrowed on his only son like he was sizing up an enemy before he finally straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, well, if it ain’t the prodigal son.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve read the Bible, Pop. The prodigal son returns home after leading a misguided life and begs for his father’s forgiveness. I’m not returning. Just visiting. And all I’ve ever done was lead the life you trained me for so I have no reason to apologize.”
“Oh, you don’t, do you? How about apologizing for taking everything I gave you—all the knowledge, all the training, all the dedication—and leaving me behind while you live your big life in the big leagues.”
“I didn’t leave you behind,” Reid argued. “I offered for you to come live out there with me. I have a large guesthouse you can have all to yourself. You turned it down.”
Stan scoffed. “Live out there as what? A retired has-been fighter living off his son’s charity? No thanks. I shoulda been your manager.”
Reid worked his jaw and repeated a calming mantra in his head several times before allowing himself to speak again. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue. I was in the area and thought I’d say hi—talk—but if you’re too busy that’s fine, too.”
After a minute or two of staring at each other, his dad finally showed signs of life. “Peterson. Grady. Hit the bags for a while. You,” he said pointing at Reid, “come with me.”
Reid followed his dad into the small office consisting of a worn metal desk and a couple of folding chairs in front of it. Stan sat behind the desk in the beat-up vinyl chair sporting several strips of silver duct tape to hold torn edges together. Reid spun one of the chairs around and straddled it, laying his forearms on the back. Everything in him told him to get up and leave. He knew he wasn’t going to get any warm and fuzzies from his father. At least, that’s how things would’ve gone years ago. Maybe his father had softened over the years.
Yeah, and maybe his mom would walk through the door and say how she hadn’t meant to leave them like a pair of shoes she no longer cared about.
One of the things his father had taught Reid was to analyze people’s body language. If you paid attention to that—whether in a fight or out of one—you could almost always anticipate your opponent’s next move or how they’d react to yours.
The older man leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his barrel chest. He was guarded and unhappy about his son’s surprise visit. “So why’re you here? I’m sure you’re not looking for any pointers with all them fancy trainers you have back in Vegas. You come to gloat about your success?”
“Geez, Pop, can’t you just drop your resentment of life for one fucking minute?” When all he did was scoff, Reid took a deep breath and tried for civil. “I have a fight coming up. It’s a title fight to win my belt back from Diaz.”
“Yeah. I know all about it.” Stan gestured toward Reid’s arm. “Shoulder healed?”
The fact that his father knew about his fight and his injury shouldn’t surprise him. Being an active coach it only made sense that he still followed the sport. But damn if that little kid inside of Reid didn’t swell with pride at knowing his dad was up-to-date on his life. Stupid kid.
“Yeah, almost a hundred percent. I’ve been working with a really great PT. She’s worked fucking miracles with it. Actually, you know who she is. Lucie, Jackson Maris’s little sister. Remember her?”
Reid was taking a chance bringing up the Maris family for any reason with his father. Since Reid had spent any spare time he had at Jackson’s house, the relationship between the adults had been strained to say the least.
His dad stroked the stubble on his jaw with one hand as he thought back. Then he grunted. “Quiet little thing. Kinda gangly and awkward if memory serves.”
“Not anymore,” Reid said with a half smile. “She’s gorgeous, not to mention totally amazing. But, yeah, that’s the one.”
Stan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You fucking love her or something?”
“No, it’s not like that. I mean, yeah, I really care for her—” Reid cursed on an exhale. “I was thinking about maybe trying to do the whole relationship thing. See where it leads.”
Stan jabbed a finger in his direction. “Now you listen to me, boy. You might be in the twilight of your career, but I’ll be damned if you haven’t managed to stay on top with as old as you are. You’d be a fucking idiot to throw that away for a woman.”
Reid stared his old man down and kept his jaw clenched tight to avoid yelling and causing a scene. “I’m not throwing anything away. There are plenty of guys that manage to have relationships while having careers in the UFC. Some are even married.”
“And how many of those”—he actually paused to make air quotes around the next word—“relationships actually last? I’ll tell you right now, there’s only two kinds of women out there. The kind that love the lifestyle, the publicity, the traveling. It’s what they crave and it offsets all the shit they have to
put up with to have it. But as soon as it’s gone, so are they.
“Then you have the kind of woman who won’t put up with the life. They might at first, and they’ll tell themselves that it’ll get better and the relationship is worth the sacrifices. But eventually they realize they deserve better than what we can give ‘em, and then they’re gone, too.”
Reid stood up and pushed the chair out of his way. “Look, just because your wife left you, doesn’t mean the rest of the world is doomed to the same fate. Lucie isn’t like that.”
Stan slapped his hands on the disk as he rose, stormed around, and got right in Reid’s face. “That’s what you think! You think you know someone. Love them with everything you have and then they decide they’re better off without you and they leave. That’s reality, kid! So don’t go thinking you’re fucking special and the rules don’t apply to you.”
Reid’s temper flared and he raised his voice to match. “Think I’m special? Where the hell would I ever get a stupid idea like that? Sure as fuck wouldn’t be from you. You never let me forget I was only as good as my next win.”
“That’s because it’s the truth! We’re fighters, Reid! It’s who we are, what defines us.”
Reid lost the battle with controlling himself and let his emotions run. Yelling back, just like in his younger years, he said, “I love fighting, but being a fighter is not the only thing I am! It’s not all I’m good at!”
“Oh really?” Stan’s voice finally leveled out, but just because he wasn’t yelling didn’t make his response any less acrimonious. “I suppose you’re referring to your silly sketches and sculpting now. That’s just what every woman wants is a grown man who plays with clay all fucking day. Gimme a break.”
Old feelings of inadequacy bubbled to the surface, threatening to choke the breath from his body. Reid knew he’d gotten past all of his dad’s bullshit years ago, but for whatever reason, when it came to dealing with his old man, Reid felt like that insecure kid all over again.
His dad cursed, sank into the vinyl desk chair again, and dragged both hands down his tired looking face. “You do what you want. It’s your life. But if you came to get my advice, here it is: You’ve got life by the balls, kid. You’ve got fame, fortune, and you can get laid all you want without any attachments. Keep it that way…and spare yourself the heartache.”
Reid scoffed and opened the office door, shaking his head. He’d known this visit wouldn’t go well, but his conscience wouldn’t let him blow off his old man regardless. Sometimes he wished his conscience was like the grasshopper from Pinocchio. That way when it caused him to do stupid shit like this, he could squash it under his heel.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Pop,” he tossed over his shoulder on his way out. “As always, it’s been a pleasure.”
Chapter Sixteen
Reid strode into the apartment and made a beeline to the fridge. He grabbed two bottles of beer, downed the first in seconds, and then cracked the second one open as he headed onto the balcony.
Since the place was dark, he figured Lucie was still at the bar with Vanessa, which was perfect because his mind was a jumble of things and he needed time to straighten it all out. He took a giant swig of the cold liquid and wished it could cool his emotions from the inside. Maybe he’d break his diet for one night and get stone drunk. Numb himself for a few hours so he didn’t have to think about his upcoming fight or the fact that he had to leave Lucie in a few short days.
Hell, he hadn’t even told her yet. Every time he tried his gut tightened and he ended up kissing her instead. And that sure as shit never led to a conversation. Not one of words anyway.
Lucie.
What the hell was he going to do about her? He’d never felt for any woman even a fraction of what he felt for her. He loved being with her, and he certainly loved her as a person…then again he could say the same for Butch, but what he felt for her was a hell of a lot stronger than that of his trainer. But as far as being in love with her? Reid had no idea how he was supposed to know that.
He frowned and took another drink of his beer. Stone drunk was definitely starting to sound better and better.
“You look way too serious for a beautiful night like this.”
Startled, he spun around, ready to berate her for sneaking up on him…when he got a look at the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen.
She stood in the open doorway to the balcony, hands braced on either side of the doorjamb, and one leg cocked up on the ball of her foot. Until that moment, if asked what he thought the sexiest thing a woman could wear would be, he would’ve said see-through lingerie.
But Lucie in nothing but one of his dress shirts that covered her from shoulders to midthigh blew away anything she could’ve picked from Victoria’s Secret. Her hair was loose and full like he’d already plowed his fingers through it and she had a sparkle in those silvery eyes that spoke volumes.
“Speaking of beautiful,” he rasped.
She began to back away slowly, but beckoned him to follow with a crook of her finger. Draining the last of his beer he reentered the apartment and closed the sliding glass door without taking his eyes from her. When she disappeared around the corner toward the bedrooms he set his empty bottle on the table, kicked his sport sandals off, and strode down the hall until he found her standing in front of her bed.
Just before he crossed the threshold she held out her palm and said, “Wait,” effectively stopping him in his tracks. “You can come in here on one condition.”
He flexed and fisted his hands, trying to control his instinct to pounce. “And what’s that?”
“You do as I say. The minute you break my rules, everything stops.”
A slow smile stretched across his face. She was trying her hand at seduction. He inclined his head. “I agree.” For now, he added mentally.
“Then come here and kiss me.”
One slow, deliberate step at a time he stalked her, trying to see if he could get the upper hand right away with intimidation. He had no intentions on making her first attempt at control a cakewalk. He was going to test her. Push her. See if she could keep him in line. Oh yeah, he thought as he reached her, this was going to be fun.
He slid a hand to her nape and wrapped his other arm around her middle just before he took her mouth. And man did he take it. Fisting her hair he angled her head and thrust his tongue inside and consumed her. Her body melted into his and he wondered if her foray into the land of seduction wasn’t already over.
No sooner had the thought taken wing when she pushed on his chest enough to break his hold on her. They stared at each other, chests heaving with shallow breaths. Her ruby lips, properly swollen from his kiss, beckoned. She was mere inches away and he wanted her so damn bad. The fighter in him yanked on the chains of restraint he’d agreed to, wanting to take back the upper hand, take back the control.
And yet he waited.
Waited until those bee-stung lips spread into the sexiest wicked smile. One that promised him rewards of the most lascivious kind, which just so happened to be his favorite. Maybe patience was a virtue after all.
She walked him around until his back was to the bed. Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, she slowly pulled it up his body. Her knuckles barely grazed his skin and yet it felt like they shot bolts of electricity straight to his balls. Once she divested him of his shirt she laid her hands on his shoulders and moved them over every inch of his torso, her fingers undulating over the ridges of his muscles as if committing them to memory.
Next they worked on his belt and the fly of his jeans. He’d been halfway hard just from seeing her in his shirt and kissing her senseless, but with her hands so close and the anticipation of events to come, it was now fully on board and straining to get out.
As she dragged his jeans down his legs she knelt on the floor sending erotic snapshots to his brain of all sorts of possibilities with her in that position. Once his jeans were gone her hands ran back up his thighs and her gaze raised to his. Her mouth was so
close to his cock he could feel the warmth of her breath seep through the cotton of his boxer briefs, making him harder than he ever thought possible.
Her eyes never left his as she dragged her lower lip up the length of him and then used her teeth to lightly graze over the head. He growled in the back of his throat and his dick jerked in response. “Ah, fuck. You’re killing me,” he ground out.
She smiled up at him, clearly proud of herself, as well she should be. Either she was a natural who’d come out of her shell, or he was a better teacher than he thought.
Her fingers hooked his underwear and a second later he was standing before her, completely naked, his hard-on jutting out from his body to point directly at what it wanted. Her normally soft gray eyes were like molten silver, burning him as they visually groped his erection.
Lightly she used the tips of her fingers to explore its contours from root to tip. The glide of her skin and soft graze of her nails as they trailed across the swollen head of his cock drove him to near insanity. Instinctually Reid’s hands wrapped themselves in her hair, ready to guide her sweet mouth over him.
“No,” she said firmly. “Grab the bedposts.”
He gave her a wry smile as he followed her orders. He’d forgotten who was supposed to be in charge. Force of habit.
“Keep your hands there. If you move them, I stop whatever I’m doing and back away.”
When she raised her eyebrows as though to ask if he understood the consequence of disobeying, he nodded. Then added a silent prayer that he not explode the moment her lips finally touched him for the first time.
Settling back on her feet, she wrapped one delicate hand around the base of his cock, angling it down to her mouth. A drop of precum seeped from the tip. If he’d thought she’d be hesitant or shy about something so visceral, he’d have been wrong. Instead, a hunger gleamed in her storm-gray eyes as she lapped up the bead in one long lick. He hissed in a breath, the feel of her silken tongue combined with seeing her—not just any woman, but his woman—on her knees in front of him rating as the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.