Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance (65 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fenton

Her
green eyes were so
hopeful. Kya's lips curved in a smile more tantalizing than any of the food so
far. I had to kiss her again. Underneath the pepper and cherry of the dark red
wine, there was the addictive taste of her. As my tongue lapped deep in her delicious
kiss, I pulled her onto my lap.

She came willingly. Her
hands gripped my shoulders as she wriggled closer. I could not get enough of
her. This was exactly what I needed. Her hunger for me, a long stretch of
private hours, and her satin lips pressed against mine. Her fingers tangled in
the hair at my neck and pulled me deeper into the kiss.

I swept my hands up and
down her back. Gripping tightly at her waist, I pressed her to me. Then, my
hands roved again from the soft material of her dress to the silk of her warm
skin. Her legs were bare, and her high heels already kicked off onto the floor.
I could run my hand up the length of her. I could brush aside the chaste hem of
her dress. I could have Kya and finally get her out of my system.

Unless
she's just doing this for the endorsement deal
,
I thought.

The jagged thought cut a
pause in our kiss. I took a swig of wine to cover it up. When I caught her lips
against mine again, I let a dribble of wine escape. I moaned when she lapped it
up.
Is she seducing me or is it the other
way around?

If I wanted to be free
and clear of Kya, I had to make sure I had the upper hand. I pulled away from
the lips and tasted the slope of her neck. I licked the point where her pulse
jumped and had to swallow another moan. It took all I had not to devour her.
Instead, I nibbled the sensitive spot underneath her earlobe. Then, I brushed a
hot breathy kiss over the curve of her ear. She shuddered with pleasure.

She tipped her head back,
exposing more of her neck, and I licked my lips to comply. All Kya had to do
was submit to my hot kisses and hungry tastes. Her little gasps of pleasure
were all the seduction I needed. I wanted her with every electric throb of my
body. If this was her plan to soften me up, it was working. All my rational
thoughts dripped away to pool at her feet.

"Dinner getting
cold," I said.

"I'm just hungry for
you," she said.

I twisted on the couch,
laying her down. She reached up and pulled me to her. Our lips met again,
tangled, and tasted. My head spun as I shifted to press my length against her.
Kya's back arched up to meet me and every inch of friction between us gave off
incredible heat. Her legs slipped open underneath me, cradling me closer. I
gritted my teeth and allowed myself one rocking thrust against her. Through the
stiff barrier of my pants, I still felt the warm softness of her.

"No. I can't. We
can't." I pushed back off the couch and stumbled back a few steps. The
edge of the coffee table knocked against the back of my calf, and I held out my
hand to steady myself.

Kya grabbed my hand and
pulled. "Don't worry about it. It’s just pleasure, no business.
Please."

Her emerald green eyes
were heavy with passion. I could not tear my eyes off her lips, pink and
swollen from our kisses.

"It’s neither,"
I said, scrambling to leave. "I can't explain. I've got to go."

I knocked my forehead
against the elevator wall.
It's neither?
Somehow, kissing Kya, feeling her body pressed against mine, was more than
pleasure. And, I knew if it was business to her, it would kill me.

"Lose big time,
buddy?" the cab driver asked. "You got the look of one down on his
luck."

"I don't believe in
luck," I said.

"Yeah, you keep
telling yourself that. Things'll come around. Don't worry," the cabbie
said. "How much you lose?"

"I don't know. I
wasn't playing with money."

"Oh, man, I
underestimated your problem." The man eyed me in the rear view mirror.
"Rolling the dice on a love affair, eh?"

"Exactly," I
agreed. I straightened up in the seat. "How am I supposed to know if she's
just using me to get a good business deal or if she really wants me?"

"Buddy, if she's as
good as all that, who cares?"

I looked into the mirror
and caught the lipstick smudges around my mouth. My shirt was unbuttoned, my
collar half scrunched up. I smoothed down the hair at my neck where Kya had
tangled her fingers. The sensory memory made my blood pound again and I cranked
open the window.

"Oh, man, you lost
it all. I can tell. I've seen that look before." The cab driver chuckled
to himself and turned up the radio.

I opened my mouth to ask
him how many couples he had driven to the little white chapel. What was I
thinking? I had my chance to sleep with Kya and get her out of my head. Instead
of taking it, here I was letting her spin my thoughts out of control.

"I don't lose,"
I said. I paid the cabbie and wished I could believe it.

It was not as simple as
having sex with Kya and moving on. I knew now that one taste of her lips was
not enough. I was afraid nothing would be enough. I wanted more from Kya, and
the realization was all consuming.

I did not realize the
lights in the gym were off, even though it was open until midnight. Where the
place had been busy with off-shift workouts the night before, now it was
silent. I took three more steps inside the main entrance and ducked on
instinct.

A heavy fist sang past my
head, followed by a thick shoulder. I twisted away and crouched into a low
position to take on my attacker.
 

My
shadowy assailant came back at me with heavy feet. I planted a heavy uppercut
into his midsection only to discover he was a thick man with a wide layer of
belly fat. I changed tactics and swiveled away before he hammered me with a
mallet-like fist. If he was just a common brawler, I could keep moving until he
was worn out. Something told me he was not alone; so it was better I took care
of him quickly.

He charged again,
planning to flatten me with his truck-like momentum. I stepped aside and kicked
hard at his knee. It was enough to send him off balance. The big man toppled
over in the dark, taking out a shelf of free weights in his fall. I waited
until he sat up and used his own movement to increase the impact of my fist as
I jabbed downwards. We met hard in the middle.

The large man slumped
onto the floor and everything went quiet. Now that the fight had cleared my
head, I knew there were two more people in the darkened gym. I waited until
someone flicked on the overhead lights. The big cage lights warmed up slowly
and two men appeared near the boxing ring.

One man wore a dark gray
suit, too shiny for my taste. His companion wore dark black pants and a black
t-shirt. The tight shirt did nothing to conceal the gun he had strapped under
his arm. Both men applauded my performance. I glanced at their defeated friend
– a military man long retired from the look of his dog tags and generous girth.

"They have classes
here, demonstrations, if that's what you're interested in," I said.

"You haven't fallen
so far as that. Just a few fights away from the MMA title, if you can keep it
together," the man in the suit said.

"Thanks for the
advice. I'll keep it together," I said.

"We can help with
that. Might be a little easier to keep things running smooth if you had a
little extra cash." He rubbed his fingers against his thumb when he
mentioned money.

"Sorry, I'm not
signing any endorsements or any other deals. I'm fighting for myself all the
way up to the title." I tried to walk past them, but the man in the black
pants blocked my way.

"You'll like this
deal, I promise," the man in the suit said. "You lose your next fight
and you make a tidy little sum."

"And, what if I
win?" I asked. I saw movement near the side door and hoped it was my
manager. I had never wished to see Kev Casey, but his smarmy face would have
been the most welcomed sight. If anyone could send off a couple of slime ball
fight fixers, it was my slime ball manager.

Instead, the gym owner
strode in and froze. His eyes darted over the pile of free weights and the
unconscious man. Then he glanced over the man in the suit and his friend in the
dark pants. He did not meet my eyes. He pursed his lips tight and looked back
at the man in the suit. The wild hope that he would kick the men out died when
he gave the man in the suit a small nod. He recognized them and said nothing.

"You closed up
early, went to take your lady out for dinner," the man in the suit said.

The gym owner gave
another small nod and turned on his heel. He was out the door. We all watched
his shadow dart across the parking lot and heard the slam of his car door. The
engine fired up seconds later, and his tires tore out of the parking lot. I
shook my head, certain he was not calling the police from the safety of his
locked car.

"If he closed up
early, then I better get going," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Wouldn't want to be trespassing after hours."

"No need to hurry.
We go way back with the owner. He won't mind if we finish our business discussion."

"We don't have
business together, and there is nothing more to discuss," I told him.

The man in the suit took
a few steps closer to me. His eyes were narrowed and his smile sharp.
"Like I said, you'll like this deal. However you want to lose is up to you.
Just know when you do, there will be a nice fat wad waiting in your locker
here."

"And what happens if
I win the next fight?" I asked again.

"If you lose, we'll
pay you. If you win you'll pay," the man said with his same sharp smile.

"I'll pay? Who's
going to make me? I think you saw what I did to your friend." I crossed my
arms over my chest.

"Why make things
hard for yourself or your friends? Not everyone can face Tony with such
aplomb."

"I'll take the
compliment, but not the deal," I said.

"Make no mistake,
Mr. Morris. Unless you lose we'll find a way to make you pay," he said.

"You don't know much
about me, do you?" I asked. "I don't have friends, and I don't much
care what happens to me. I like to fight. I like to win. I don't need your
deal."

The big man called Tony
groaned and heaved himself to his feet. He rubbed his jaw and checked his teeth
before glaring at me. "He understand yet?"

"He will," the
boss man said. "For God's sake, go get some ice. We're taking care of
this."

"All you're doing is
getting out of my way," I said. "You don't have any leverage over me
and I'm not taking your rotten deal. I fight to win and I'm not bending for
anyone."

"What's that saying?
Some proverb or something about bending. If you don't bend, you break,"
the man said with a curled lip that made his smile a snarl.

His companion in the dark
pants and shirt stepped forward and flashed his gun. "Lose if you want to
stay lucky."

"I don't believe in
luck," I said.

The men laughed and left,
leaving a hollow silence behind them.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kya

I
showed up at the boxing gym early the next morning. I knew it was pushing too
hard, but I hoped the coffee and donuts would soften my ambush. If previous
mornings were a good indication, Fenton should have still been asleep in the
back room.

"Left me a note,
rented a private gym. Sorry, miss, that's all I can tell you," the owner
of the gym said.

I drummed my fingers on
the notched wooden bar he used as a check in desk. "A private gym? Are
there a lot of those in Vegas? Which one?"

"It wouldn't be very
private if I knew, now would it?"

There was something
strange about the way the gym owner's eyes shifted over my head and swept along
the front windows. He seemed nervous, as if he expected a bolt of lightning to
strike him, even though the sun was shining.

"Why did Mr. Morris
switch gyms? Did something happen?" I asked.

"No, nothing
happened. Fighters are like that. Maybe he thought there was bad mojo here or
something," the nervous man said.

If that was Fenton's
reason, I was starting to agree with him. The gym owner made me nervous and I
left quickly. Maybe the man just did not want to talk to me because I was the
reason Fenton was acting erratic. I had not exactly been calm and predictable
myself.

The only constant was my
terrible attempts to sign him to the endorsement deal. No matter what I did, I
could not separate the inevitable pleasure of his company with the contract I
wanted, no, needed him to sign. My behavior was unfair to him as a client and
as a date.
Date?
No, Fenton was more
than a casual date. Those were not casual kisses we had exchanged on the couch.

I blushed, thinking about
how easily I had thrown aside our business, the entire point of the evening,
and let myself get carried away by how he made me feel. Melting and open,
electric and consumed, Fenton's mouth on mine had kindled a response from my
body that I could not control.

He must have felt as
overwhelmed as I did because he was the one that suddenly broke away. His face
was a storm cloud, all the friction between us charging him up, despite the
fact he had refused my offer. He did not have to refuse. He could have stayed.
That confused expression as he left made my heart soar; there had to be more
between us.

Maybe that was why out of
all the casinos in Vegas, he chose the Tropicana. I got out of the cab to hear
a commotion in the main lobby. Fenton was leading a massive entourage through
the casino to one of the bars. Did he hope that I would see him, join him?

I pushed my way into the
throng and felt a thrill when his laser blue eyes caught sight of me. He turned
away and continued berating a reporter and trash talking Mario Peretti.

"Like I said, it was
a lucky punch. I hear he wasn't so lucky at his fight last night. No
consistency," Fenton said.

"And, you'd say
you're a consistent fighter?" the reporter asked.

"Yes. One misstep
doesn't change my record." Fenton glanced over me again and then threw his
arm around a ripe redhead. "Maybe you should go and do a little research
before asking any more questions. I don't have time for you to try out
headlines on me without any real substance." He used his free hand to
shove the reporter away and strutted off with the redhead plastered against his
side.

I ignored the desire to
storm away and sulk. Instead, I followed the crowd into the bar and pushed my
way to the tight circle around Fenton again.

"You really are a
glutton for punishment, eh?" Kev Casey said. Fenton's manager snaked an
arm around my waist.

I did not struggle even
as my stomach clenched. Kev was repellant, but he guided me right next to
Fenton. I went so far as to put my hand over Kev's shoulder and delighted in
Fenton's immediate frown.

"Now, don't look
like that, Fenton," Kev said. "We need her. Now that you've gone full
diva on me and rented a private gym, it might be time for you to consider Ms.
Allen's deal a little more seriously."

Fenton released the
redhead though she clung to his arm. "Ms. Allen has never managed to fully
articulate her pitch."

"We can go over the
contract any time you like," I said. "You know where my suite is when
you're ready."

"I'm ready,"
Kev said. "How about we head up to her suite and make it a private
party?"

The redhead nodded and
tried to slip under Fenton's arm again. He unpeeled her and crossed his arms
over his chest. "We don't need her or her fancy suite."

"Then, how exactly
do you plan to pay for that private gym?" Kev asked.

"It just so happens
I met two other endorsement agents today. I thought you might like them,
too," Fenton said. He waved to a tall, striking woman with straight brown
hair and her curly haired, curvy friend.

"Bethany Smith and
Alice Meadows," I said.

"Oh, you know
them?" Fenton asked. His smile was wicked as beckoned the two women over.

"They work
exclusively for a big time shoe company. Shoes that you don't or would ever
wear. They're for basketball," I said.

"What's wrong with
that? If they're willing to pay me, I can wear them outside of the ring,"
Fenton said.

I swiped my hair back.
"I warned you about the bigger brand names. They have tricky contracts
that can drop you for any little thing. Like getting kicked out of your hotel
suite," I said.

"Well, let's just
say I like their approach better so far," Fenton said. "No mix-ups or
mixed messages."

"Is that what you
think?"

Fenton gave me a deeper
look, but the two women joined us and pulled his attention away. "We heard
you like tequila, Mr. Morris, so we took the liberty of ordering a bottle. The
good stuff, no need for body shots unless that's what you're in the mood
for," Bethany said.

"Hello, Kya. I
almost didn't recognize you out of linen button-ups and off the tennis court.
Must feel kind of strange," Alice said.

"What's strange is a
company that makes basketball shoes looking for a MMA fighter to endorse their
product," I countered.

"We make shoes for
everyone. Everyone needs shoes," Bethany said. "Not everyone needs
vitamin supplements, do they Mr. Morris? Do you take vitamins?" She
squeezed his bicep and batted her eyelashes.

"Speaking of
shoes," Alice continued. "Our company made a pair especially for you.
Completely original, custom designed. Come try them on."

They led Fenton to a
V.I.P. booth. Waiters cleared away the small table so they could make a big
scene of revealing his custom shoes. Alice knelt to help slip them on, her
generous cleavage attracting more attention. Bethany poured him a glass of
tequila and held it to his lips.

I waited until he stood
up and roped his arms over the two women. They started off on a lap around the
bar to try out his new shoes. I deliberately crossed their path and pretended
not to realize I was in the way. When Fenton cleared his throat I made sure to
hold eye contact as long as I could.

"Not really your
style," I said.

He glanced down at the
shoes and then back up at me. "Who cares?" Both he and my rival
agents laughed.

Fenton finally broke away
from the other agents and mingled with fans. I endured the awkward attentions
of a young Mixed Martial Arts fan as he waited for an autograph.

"I love how he just
does what he wants. That's like me, you know?" the ruddy young man said.

"I can
imagine," I said.

He launched into a story
about standing up to his manager at the restaurant where he worked. I nodded
and kept him jostling closer to Fenton. When it was almost my young hopeful's
turn, a rotund man jumped in front of him. We were both surprised by the man's
grace.

"Ling Pho Lounge,
tonight," he said to Fenton.

Fenton nodded. He signed
my young friend's cocktail napkin and turned away without even looking at me. I
had to recapture Fenton's attention. He circled back through the bar and
settled into the booth with Bethany and Alice again.

If I could not get Fenton
to look at me, at least I could get him to notice who I was with. I scanned the
bar for the man most likely to make Fenton jealous. At the bar stood a tall man
in black pants and a tight black t-shirt. He was passable handsome with short,
cropped brown hair and a semi-vacant look. He nodded at whatever his friend in
the suit was saying. I decided to introduce myself.

"Excuse me, do you
mind if I squeeze in here? I've been trying to get a drink, but it’s so
crowded," I said. I smiled up at the man in the black t-shirt.

The man in the suit
looked me up and down with narrowed eyes and a slow smile. "Buy her a
drink or I will."

"No, please, I don't
want to interrupt," I said.

"I'd like to,"
the tall man said. He sounded as if he did not talk much. "He's always
going on about work."

The man in the suit
flicked a quick look at the bartender and my drink appeared in seconds. The man
in the black t-shirt scooped it up for me. I realized he had nice brown eyes,
sort of sad, too soft for the hard muscles and sharp angles of the rest of him.

"Thanks," I
said and meant it.

His smile never had a
chance to appear. Fenton was in his face the moment we stepped away from the
bar together. Though he was taller and just as hard-bodied, the man in black
took one small step back.

"She's with
me," Fenton said.

"Didn't seem like it
to me," my companion argued.

"Or me,
either," I said.

"Kya, I need you to
come with me now," Fenton said. He reached out a hand without taking his
eyes off the taller man.

"I'm sorry," I
said to the brown-eyed man. "I have no idea what his problem is."

He looked down at me and
I saw the flash of sadness there again. "I do and it’s only going to get
worse."

"Not before I do
some serious damage to you and your friend over there. Now, turn around and
leave," Fenton said.

He stood with his
shoulders thrown back, his arms raised away from his body, fists coiled, but
not yet clenched. Fenton was a step away from fighting the other man and I had
to stop it.

"Excuse us,
please," I said. I grabbed Fenton's arm, but he did not budge.

"You're leaving.
Both of you. Now," he said.

The tall man shrugged his
shoulders and looked over at the man in the suit. The narrow-eyed man finished
his drink and nodded. They both headed towards the exit.

As soon as they were
gone, Fenton dragged me into the back hallway of the bar. He was breathing
heavily, muscles still coiled.

"I'm sorry. I just
didn't want to see you get taken in by those other agents. I had to do
something," I said.

"This was about
work?" he asked. His voice exploded in the small hallway. "You were
trying to get my attention to pitch your contract? With that man?"

"What was so wrong
with that man?" I asked. "He was a perfect gentleman. I didn't see
him running around signing women's breasts and trash talking every male in his
vicinity."

"Get it through your
head, Ms. Allen," he said. "I'm never going to be the buttoned-up
client you are hoping for. You're not really interested in me, and I'm done
with you."