Her apprehension about facing whatever awaited her beyond the locker room was no longer a concern. Alyson was too busy trying to shut out Victoria’s disturbing words to let something so trivial bother her.
It didn’t matter what she or anyone else had to say about Jami or their relationship. She wasn’t going to stay away. He was too important to her. If by some chance Victoria was right and Jami was a time bomb, then she would just have to find a way to cut his wires. As she walked away, her phone buzzed to life. Pulling it from her pocket, Alyson swiped the screen with her thumb and answered.
“Hello?” Once again, no one was there, and if they were, they weren’t answering. Shaking her head in irritation, she disconnected the call just as she stepped into the hallway.
Jami stood outside the locker room with his knee bent and his foot propped against the wall. He studied her as she came to a stop in front of him. “Who was that?” he asked, tipping his head at her phone.
Sliding it back into her pocket, Alyson shrugged. “No one important.”
He nodded slowly, and then looked past her shoulder to the locker room opening. “So I’m a good guy, huh?”
Drawing her bottom lip in, Alyson let her teeth scrap over it. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“No, just overheard. You girls talk loud. It echoes,” he said with a wink.
Alyson’s eyes narrowed. “How much did you overhear?”
“Enough.” He shrugged. “Look, Ally, what happened out there…this whole thing between us…Coach is right. I need to focus.”
And there it was. Don had finally gotten inside his head and convinced Jami that she was no good for him. Fury boiled in her veins. “So you’re going to just let him dictate who you choose to spend time with, who you’re friends with?”
“It’s nothing like that,” he argued. Pushing away from the wall, Jami grasped her upper arms. “Don knows how important winning this title is to me. He’s gotten me this far.”
“I know how important the title is to you, too, Jami. You have to know I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Not knowingly,” he amended. “But the more time we spend together, the less I focus on my training. My head isn’t in it half the time, and I’m getting my ass handed to me out there. If I went into the ring like that…”
He left his words to hang in the air between them. Alyson filled in the blanks. If he went into the ring unfocused and unprepared, he would get his ass handed to him. But what bothered her most of all was that Don wasn’t the only one blaming her for Jami’s failures. Now Jami was, too.
Jerking free of him, Alyson folded her arms and slanted him a contrite look. “So your inability to pay attention is somehow my fault now? Here’s something to consider. Maybe you’re just ADD, because last time I checked, we don’t see each other that often, and when we do, it’s a couple of hours at the end of the day. I really can’t see how that is interfering with your schedule, so please, explain it to me.”
Growing agitated Jami ran his fingers through his damp hair and looked away. “You’re obviously looking for a fight, and I’m not going to give you one. We’ll talk later.” Considering the topic closed, Jami turned and fled into the men’s locker room.
For a brief moment, Alyson hesitated, but then she realized that she didn’t care. Screw propriety. Screw decorum. Screw modesty. Stomping after him, Alyson found Jami opening one of the metal lockers. The way the muscles in his back rippled with each subtle movement paralyzed her and Alyson stood watching as he reached inside the small cube and pulled out a towel. He flipped it over his shoulder and cut her a hard look. “What are you doing in here?” he asked as he slammed the locker door shut and leaned against it with one heavy arm.
Blinking, Alyson took a couple more steps toward him and leaned against the row of cold orange metal. The deep groove down his back held her attention as she spoke. “You can’t just send me away, Jami. We need to talk about this.”
Shoving off the locker, Jami stood tall and hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “I told you later. Now, unless you plan on sticking around to watch me shower, then I suggest you head back the way you came.”
Seeing the challenge in his eyes, Alyson gave him a bored expression. He wasn’t going to intimidate her. She wouldn’t let him scare her off. She was staying. Even as she thought it, she doubted herself. He wouldn’t really strip down in front of her, would he?
Eying her for a long moment, Jami seemed to come to a conclusion. Shrugging, he said, “Suit yourself,” and then shoved his shorts down his powerful, thick thighs.
Alyson began to hyperventilate. In all the times she had been up close and personal with him, felt every hard, defined muscle against her body, under her fingertips, none of it prepared her for the vision of him naked.
Jami was thick everywhere—from his shoulders to his chest, his legs, and especially between his legs. Even as he turned and started walking away, giving her yet another glorious view to feast her eyes on, she was thinking about one part in particular. She wanted to touch him, feel him, and taste him. There. If she ever had any doubts about sleeping with him, they evaporated the second his shorts hit the concrete floor.
Jami was hers. He would be hers. Now she just needed to claim him.
TWENTY-ONE
As Jami lay in bed, he couldn’t erase the image of Alyson from his mind. The look on her face when he dropped his shorts had him burning up. He wanted her so bad it was painful. His argument with Don had put him in a foul mood, and the more she questioned him, the more his nerves prickled. He didn’t want to fight with her, so he taunted her with his nudity instead, expecting the mere threat of it to run her off.
He should have expected her to resist. She was stubborn, after all.
He hadn’t expected that making good on his promise would affect him just as much as it did her. Still as a statue except for the heavy rise and fall of her chest, he was surprised he hadn’t heard her heart pounding, because the shout of his was deafening.
She watched him, immobilized, her eyes flashing with a mixture of want and need. At her side¸ her hand tightened into a fist, and he got the impression that it had taken all of her strength to resist coming to him, and despite what he had told her moments before, what Don had been pounding into his head since the day he showed up with her on his doorstep, he wanted her, too.
All of this took place in a split second. When Ally didn’t immediately act on her obvious want of him, he forced himself to walk away while everything in his body was screaming at him to take her there. On the bench. Spread out on the floor. Beneath the hot spray of the shower. Anywhere he could have her, he wanted her.
The thought of it had his body strung so tight that Jami had to relieve the pressure twice before he could leave the gym without pitching a tent. No doubt the other men wouldn’t appreciate him showing off.
Don’s words echoed loudly in his head, reminding him that he needed to keep his distance. He and Ally were just friends. He was building himself an empire, a name, and he couldn’t allow anything to stand in his way.
Not even happiness.
The problem was that every moment he spent with her, he craved more. More time, more her, more everything. He couldn’t get enough. It was becoming something of an obsession. He spent every waking moment thinking about her. Even in sleep, he couldn’t escape his desire for her.
Ally was in his head, his blood, driving him crazy. Just like when they were teenagers.
The first time he laid eyes on her was in the school hallway, and he could still remember the instant attraction. He was riveted by her beauty. From then on, he looked for her everywhere, needing another glimpse of her pretty face. And the first time he took her into his arms to shield her from her father’s madness he was consumed by a driving need to protect her always. All he dreamt about for years was the next time he would get to hold her in his arms.
Even now, it galled him to think back on that time, because he had looked forward to those tim
es when her father would lose control. It gave him the excuse he needed to be there for her, with her.
The knowledge of that used to drive him crazy because he knew a man like that would take it to another level one day. One day he would touch her the way a child should never be touched. It was only a matter of time. He’d waited for that day to come.
As Jami’s eyelids grew heavy, he thought back to those days when he was young, his anger quick and ruthless, and slipped into a fitful sleep.
He was in his room, sitting on the bare hardwood floor with his back against the bed and his head thrown back. He started at the ceiling, dreaming of the day when he would have enough money to leave all this behind, but that wouldn’t be for a while.
The shoebox resting in his lap was lighter than it should be. After completing another run that evening, he’d rushed back home to add another wad of tens to the pile, only to find that someone had beaten him to it.
Except for a few stray dimes and pennies, they’d taken everything. Two-thousand one-hundred and fifty-one dollars—all of it, gone.
The bastard had told him he would never leave. Now he ensured he wouldn’t.
Jami’s eyes grew wet as a wave of depression and anxiety slammed into him. He had nothing left. Absolutely nothing. His father had cut off his limbs with this move. Allowed him to taste the sweet flavor of freedom on his tongue, and then snatched it all away.
Swiping the back of his hand across his face, Jami scrubbed away the tears that had begun to fall.
Why had he even been born? It was obvious that his father hated him. Even his own mother wouldn’t look at him unless it was with pity, scorn, or regret. He was an unwanted reminder of a responsibility they never wanted. Why didn’t they just drown him when he was a baby? They would have saved them all seventeen years of misery with that one simple act of kindness.
Maybe he should just end it himself. End it for all of them. He wouldn’t have to worry about looking over his shoulder anymore or struggle to survive another day under his father’s ruthless thumb. He could just be done with it all.
The concept was appealing on so many levels. Quiet, that was all he wanted. No one would even miss him. He was nothing. Nobody. A worthless piece of shit, just like Dad told him he was. He was a thief, criminal, and a failure at everything. What was the point in trying anymore?
His dark thoughts were interrupted by a distant and unmistakable sound of something shattering. Jami glanced at the clock beside his bed. Just like clockwork. Mr. Blake was up to his usual antics again.
Just once, Jami wanted to be a normal kid. He wanted to live in a home where he was welcomed, where his mother and father told him they loved him and patted him on the back when he brought home good grades. But if someone like Alyson Blake—so kind and gentle and impossibly sweet—could end up in a life worse than his, then there was never any hope for him.
The shouting grew louder, carrying through layers of plaster and brick, to his ears where each scream, each cry for mercy, drove him deeper and deeper into madness.
Burying his head between his knees, Jami covered his head with his arms. His fingers dug into his scalp, pulling at the short hairs along the back of his neck.
Why didn’t he stop? What made him feel like he had to use his fists instead of his words? Was Alyson and her mother that unreasonable that he felt the need to beat them to get them to listen? Each question piqued his anger more, because there would never be a good enough reason to hit a woman or child. Not ever.
He knew he would have to do something about it. Knew that one day it was all going to come to a head, and when it did, it would be the day he left here forever. He would put as much distance between him and this life as possible, and he would never look back.
Standing, Jami flipped the hat on his hoodie over his head and walked to the window. Through it he could see the yellow light filtering through the closed curtains next door. Mr. Blake’s looming shadow moved through the first floor, casting his darkness across every surface. Positioned on the opposite side of the home was Alyson’s room.
Lifting the sash, Jami kicked one leg over the side and jumped down into the crisp leaves gathered along the foundation. Reaching up, he replaced the window to cover his tracks, then, casting a quick look around, he took off across the lawn that connected the two homes, making his way around back where he knew Ally would be waiting for him.
***
“You know what they say. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Olivia sat at the end of the couch with Alyson’s foot on her knee. Dipping the little black brush into the bottle, she put a stripe of piña colada yellow polish on her big toenail.
Reclining against the opposite arm of the sofa, Alyson’s brows pulled down. “I thought I knew a lot about guys. But Jami isn’t like them.”
“Let me guess,” Olivia said sarcastically, “he’s complicated.”
“He really is,” Alyson implored. She sat up, looking her friend in the eyes. “Jami is soft and sweet, but he can be so hard, and when he gets mad…” Her eyes widened. “Let’s just say you don’t want to be there when he does. I told you how he asked me to have sex with him.”
“And I’m still confused about why you haven’t,” Olivia said with a mock scowl. “The guy is a walking advertisement for sex. If he could be bottled, women would pay top dollar to wear him on their bodies. He’s that hot.”
Laughing, Alyson said, “Okay, I get it. Jami is hot. Can we get back on point, please?” At Olivia’s flip of a hand, she continued. “So yesterday at the gym, things got kind of…intense. I decided that there was no point in waiting anymore, because we’re both adults and obviously, we both want to…you know.”
“Have sex,” Olivia finished for her. “You can say it. You want to jump on his big, muscly body and ride him until the cows come home.”
“Liv!” Alyson screeched. She broke out into a grin. “You’re so bad! You talk about him like he’s just a piece of meat.”
“I bet he has a lot of that, too,” she said, her pale eyebrows arching suggestively.
Alyson cleared her throat, refusing to acknowledge that statement. She had seen a lot more of Jami than she expected to see and she would be the first to say that he definitely lived up to the hype. No wonder women screamed his name as if they were suffering from multiple orgasms. Her friend was right. Jami was sex walking. He defined it.
The problem for her was that she had no experience in winning a man’s heart. “So what’s happening with you and Spencer?” she asked to distract herself.
“Nope, you’re not going to change the subject that easily, missy,” Olivia scolded. “But since you asked… Spencer can kiss my lily white ass. That asshole totally took me out last night to the Crab Shack and ditched me in the middle of dinner. Can you believe that shit?”
Alyson felt terrible for her friend. What was he up to? Opening her mouth to voice her concerns and her apologies, Olivia held up her hand. “I didn’t tell you that because I want your pity. Spencer’s a dickhead. Moving on. So what’s the game plan for getting your guy to open his eyes and take you to his bed?”
Alyson snapped her mouth shut and grew quiet as she thought. She watched as each of her nails were covered in soft yellow lacquer and wondered exactly what she would do. Throw herself at him? Beg him to screw her brains out? Demand that he pull his head out of his ass, stop listening to his coach, and choose her? The answer wasn’t easy, nor was it forthcoming.
“Maybe I should just go to his house and woo him,” she said flippantly. Maybe if she tried hard enough to put herself out there, he would get over his little commitment issue, or whatever the hell his problem was, and admit that he had feelings for her, too. And dammit, she knew he did. Why else would a man who could have any woman he wanted any time he wanted spend so much time lazing around with her? Why else would he look at her the way he did, speak to her the way he did, or get possessive of her the way he did with Bret that night, if all he wanted was temporary use of h
er body?
“You know what, that’s a good idea. It’s perfect, actually.” Capping the nail polish, Olivia shoved Alyson’s foot onto the floor. “We’re going to go find you something killer to wear, and then you are going to go over there and open his eyes to the glory and greatness that is you.” Grabbing her by the hand, Olivia tugged at her arm until she got up and followed her.
Several hours later, after entering Olivia’s House of Beauty and Pain, Alyson found herself standing outside Jami’s home. She was freshly manicured, pedicured, flat-ironed, and shaved, and the pit in her stomach was a gaping maw of panic.
She had no clue what to expect once that door opened and she laid it all on the line, but she was going to do it. Dammit, she was going to do it!
Don whipped open the door before she even had a chance to knock on it and regarded her with a stony expression that instantly set her on edge. “He’s not home. I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.”
She just bet he would. Bristling at his cold shoulder treatment, Alyson took a step closer. “No need. I think I’ll just wait here for him to get back.”
“Why don’t you call him instead? I’m sure you can track him down. Your kind always does.”
“Excuse me?” Offended, Alyson took a defensive stance. “I’m sorry, but I have been nothing but nice to you, so I’d like to know what I did to deserve being treated this way.”
Slapping his palm against the screen door, Don shoved it aside and stepped onto the porch with her. As small as it was, he invaded her personal space, but there was nowhere to retreat to unless she stepped down onto the sidewalk, placing herself at a bigger disadvantage.
Standing her ground, she returned his glare.
“You want to know why I treat you the way that I do?” he sneered. “Because I see your type everywhere I go. Gold diggers, tramps—you sniff around that boy like he’s a meal ticket, and I’m sick and damn tired of it.” His gaze scraped over her in disgust. “You come here all dolled up in your Sunday best and think you’re just going to use him and toss him away, but you’ve got another thing coming.