Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) (20 page)

Shooting him an uncertain look, she tentatively placed hers in his, and he tugged her to her feet. “Nikko, what are you doing?” she asked, sounding exasperated, tired—and on the edge of defeat.

She was on the precipice of caving. He sensed it in her undeniable awareness of him, felt it in the quickening of her pulse, could see it in the aching need in those breathtaking eyes that bore not only her wants, needs, and fears, but her very soul.

In that moment, something in his chest shifted and his heart felt tight, like it was being squeezed, or rather filled—filled to overflowing. He lifted his hand to cup the side of her cheek, his gaze dropping to her mouth as his thumb gently traced her plump bottom lip.

Mine
. . .
The claim resonated in his head, his inner voice so feral and possessive he didn’t recognize it. Yet the statement felt so true, so right, he could hardly argue with it. If he didn’t kiss her right now, surely he’d die.

Nikko lowered his head, but before his lips could touch hers, she whispered, pleading . . . “We can’t, Nikko. I’m your therapist.”

“Then you’re fired,” he growled, closing the distance and claiming her mouth in a kiss so consuming it would banish any and all doubt from her mind that she belonged to him.

Her startled squeak turned into a throaty moan as his tongue pushed past her lips. The sexy sound shot right to the base of his cock, and he couldn’t help but answer her with his own wanton growl. She tasted like honey. He could feast on her mouth for hours. Which got him wondering, if her lips tasted this good, how much sweeter would the rest of her be?

Her hands slid up his chest, palms bracing against his pecs, and he fully expected her to push him away—until her body went soft against him and those fingers curled, her nails scraping against his flesh as she twisted her hands into tight little fists, gripping his T-shirt and pulling him closer. He growled his approval and deepened their kiss, curling his hand into her hair and angling his mouth to fit more perfectly over hers.

When her sweet little tongue tentatively flicked against his, the rush of pleasure flooding his veins was so intense she nearly unmanned him. Never in his life had he been so close to coming by just a kiss. But Violet did things to him—strange things to him—scary things he wasn’t interested in thinking about right now, not with this intoxicating woman in his arms. God have mercy, it was like coming home. It felt so right. And for the first time in over two years, Nikko could taste his salvation, feel it floating within his grasp. If he could only just reach out and take it . . .

Penelope’s voice came through the intercom, fracturing the moment. “Your one o’clock is late. Would you like me to call him?” Violet jumped, tearing herself from his embrace. It took every last bit of Nikko’s willpower to let her go.

Her eyes locked on his—large, round, and unblinking—staring in shock like she couldn’t believe what she’d just done, like she’d committed an unforgivable crime. The regret in her eyes gutted him, cutting him to the quick and releasing over six months of pent-up emotion he’d been suppressing since the day he’d met her. He wasn’t ready to name the unwelcome feelings. Instead, he turned them into anger. Anger he knew. Anger was safe.

“Nikko, this was a—”

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking say it, Clover!”

She flinched, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his words, but it was too late to take them back.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“The hell I don’t. It’s written all over your beautiful face. I can see your regret, your shame. I’m good enough to fuck in an airplane bathroom but not good enough to have a relationship with. Is that it?”

More shock . . . and now anger flashed in those eyes. Well, she could join the club.

“How dare you.” she yelled, stepping up to him with a hell of a lot more balls than most of the CFA fighters he sparred with. “Don’t you dare make this about you!” She poked him in the chest with her index finger, her blunt little nail digging into his skin.

“Then who is it about, Violet? Huh? If I wasn’t such a goddamn head case, I wouldn’t need to see a shrink, and you wouldn’t be caught in an ethical issue that’s making you choose between me and your career! So don’t you dare stand there and lie, acting like this isn’t about me or that you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me!”

“I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you, Nikko. I
can’t
be seen with you, because it’s unethical! What we’re doing here is wrong, and I’m on the freaking clock, kissing my patient. In no scenario is this okay.”

“I fired you.”

“What?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a belligerent chin lift. “Before I kissed you, I fired you. I’m not your patient anymore.”

“You can’t fire me, because you didn’t hire me!”

“I sure as hell can. It’s real easy. Clover, you’re fired. See . . . ?”

“Who the hell do you think you are? Donald freaking Trump? You can’t fire me, Nikko. I’m not going to let you throw away all your hard work and progress over some meaningless fuck.”

Oh, she did not just say that!
“Is that what you think this is?” he growled. “A meaningless fuck? Sweetheart, I can walk out of this office and get laid in five minutes. I’m a goddamn MMA fighter. I’m in no short supply of willing pussy. If you think that’s what this is between us, then maybe you’re the one who needs a shrink.”

She gasped and the pain in her eyes confirmed he’d made a kill shot, which ironically ricocheted right into his heart. He couldn’t do this with her . . . Obviously, what this meant to him and what it meant to her were not the same thing. Maybe he was a stupid fool for ever thinking it could be. Whatever . . . He was out of here.

Nikko spun on his heel and hauled ass to the door. Since when had he become such a sensitive little bitch? If that’s what these therapy sessions were doing to him, then Dr. Violet Summers could shove them up her lovely little ass.

“Nikko . . .”

He could hear the pain in her voice, and his feet almost quit listening to their marching orders—insubordinate little shits. Thank God his hand was still taking commands because it gripped the doorknob and yanked.

“Nikko, wait . . .” she called after his departing back, but he had zero interest in taking another kidney punch.

V
iolet felt ill. A whole week had come and gone without any word from Nikko. He’d missed three appointments, refused to take her calls, and wasn’t responding to any of her texts. He’d completely shut her out. The pain of his rejection was far worse than the misery of treating a client she was falling for. At least then she had a way to help him. He’d been starting to open up to her, and they’d begun to build a bond of trust and, dare she hope, friendship—one she’d absolutely shattered last week.

Nikko had made it glaringly obvious that if he couldn’t have all of her, he didn’t want any of her. The man was so damn stubborn she wouldn’t put it past him to throw away his career in the process. Whether he realized it or not, that’s exactly what he’d be doing if
the CFA discovered Nikko wasn’t coming to therapy.

It’d been a miserable week, but she’d held out hope that he’d come
around after he’d had time to cool off, thinking he’d realize it was bet
ter this way—keeping it business. She believed with all her heart that she could help him get beyond the demons of his past, and she didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize his position in the CFA.

At any rate, she couldn’t leave things like this, though Nikko seemed to be perfectly content to do just that. She hadn’t thought he actually meant it when he’d fired her. Deciding last night that she wouldn’t let another day go by without resolving this, she figured she could either (a) steal his address from his file and go to his house unannounced since he wasn’t taking her calls, or (b) wait until today and go to the one place she was sure he would be—the gym.

Sitting in her car, letting it idle in the parking lot of Miller MMA, all the reasons this was a horrible idea kept playing through her mind. But what was her alternative? She didn’t trust herself to go to his house. Shit . . . she had to get in there. Taking a deep breath, she prayed for courage and turned off the engine.

Vi climbed out of the car and readjusted her suit, smoothing out the wrinkles and rallying behind a façade of professionalism. She had a psych eval to deliver to Dean on a fighter the CFA was considering signing, and she grabbed it from the backseat. Hopefully, it was early enough she wouldn’t run into Dean, but she wanted to be prepared with an excuse for dropping by, just in case.

She walked through the front doors to avoid going past the offices in the back and was met by a cacophony of dull thuds, echoing slams, and coaching shouts. It was only eight a.m., and already the gym was in full swing. She stepped into the main area and saw two fighters going at it. Cole Easton was facing the cage, his attention focused solely on the men fighting it out in front of him.

She glanced around, looking for Nikko, and ducked right. She hadn’t taken more than ten steps when she heard Cole bellow. “Stop! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Vi froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Fighting the urge to cringe, she straightened her shoulders and slowly turned, preparing to face an irate Cole Easton. Relief flooded through her and she exhaled a sigh when she saw the man’s attention was not on her but the fighters in the cage.

“You’re going to get KO’d if you don’t get your guard up! Shit, my girlfriend has better defense than you do! You keep those arms down like that, and you’re going to be seeing her for rehab!”

Violet hurried on, heading toward the weight room. She was almost there when another voice stopped her cold. “Can I help you?”

She turned and, there was no mistaking it, the woman was talking to her. A gorgeous little blonde pushing a laundry cart came over to her, wearing a warm, welcoming smile. “I think you might be lost.” Eyes the color of the sky on a bright, sunny day gave Violet a quick head-to-toe once-over. “The offices are that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction of where Vi was headed.

“Thank you. But I’m actually looking for someone. Do you
happen to know where Nikko Del Toro is?”

The woman’s smile fell like a rock slide. “You’re here to see Nikko?”

Vi nodded, surprised at the sudden change in the woman’s demeanor. Was that jealousy she saw flashing in those eyes, dag
gering her with crystal-blue shards of glass? Was she seeing Nikko? Had he already moved on? He’d made a point of telling her the last time he saw her that he was in no short supply of women wanting into his bed. Was that why he wasn’t returning her calls?

“You’re a reporter, aren’t you?” she accused. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told all the other beautiful women strutting in here thinking their tits were going to get them an interview with him. Don’t waste your time. He’s not interested.”

Holy crap . . . For being such a sweet-looking little thing, this honey badger could bite. “I . . .” Vi stammered a minute, not sure how much she wanted to tell the woman, who no longer looked quite so harmless. If she weren’t involved with Nikko now, then they had some other kind of history, because this level of devotion wasn’t easily given. “I’m Nikko’s therapist,” Vi supplied, fibbing a little. Right now she wasn’t so sure she was Nikko’s anything.

And just like that, the woman’s icy demeanor melted. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought . . . I thought you were a—”

“Reporter?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking truly remorseful. “I’m sorry if I sounded bitchy, but it’s been a zoo here lately. Paparazzi are crawling all over the place. Then there’s that publicist . . . Anyway, my name is Willow,” she offered, stretching out her hand. “I do the housekeeping around here. Sorry I jumped down your throat, but these boys are my family.”

“So you and Nikko aren’t . . . ?”

She let the question hang in the air. Willow broke into a fit of laughter. “Me and Nikko? No. Definitely not. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. But he’s like a brother to me. He might be insanely hot, but that guy’s way too angsty for my taste—especially this week. Whew . . . even
I’ve
been avoiding him.” She dropped her voice to a confidential tone, Vi’s job automatically earning her the woman’s trust and confidence. “Kyle’s been sparring with him every night after the gym closes. Nothing is helping. Something’s wrong, but he won’t talk to anyone. I can’t reach him. Nobody can. Do you think you could talk to him? Maybe find out what happened to set him off?”

Vi was afraid she already knew. “That’s why I’m here.”

The relief on Willow’s face twisted the knife of guilt in Vi’s gut. This was her fault. In trying to do the right thing, it appeared she’d done more damage than good. Nikko had begun to trust her, he’d finally started opening up. And now, according to this woman, he wasn’t talking to anyone. Had she made them both miserable for the last week just so she could keep her professional conscience clear?

“Could you show me where he is?”

Willow nodded. Leaving her laundry cart behind, she led Vi down
the hall. The closer they got to the last room on the right, the louder the dull thuds became. The rapid fire thud, thud, bang . . . Thud, thud, bang . . . Bang, bang, thud, thud . . . came in succinct bursts.

“He’s been in there all morning,” Willow told her, stopping outside the door, a worried frown drawing her brows tight. “Good luck.”

She’d need it. Willow headed back down the hall and Vi took a moment, trying to compose the riot of emotions slamming into her heart with the same ferocity of the thuds coming from that room. Rallying her nerve, Violet opened the door and forced herself to place one foot in front of the other.

At the sight of him, her breath caught in her lungs. Nikko’s back was to her as he stood across the room whaling on the heavy bag, clothed in nothing but a pair of low-riding fight shorts and a fine sheen of sweat. His muscles flexed and rolled beneath his tan flesh, drawing her gaze to his broad, muscular shoulders tapering to his narrow waist. His breathing was timed with his punches and kicks.
Ffft
. . .
ffft
. . .
ffft
. . .
Ffft
. . .
ffft
. . .
ffft
. . .

She stood there a moment, in awe of the impressive display of raw masculine power. Her heart hammered inside her chest, taking on another tempo—this one sending a rush of estrogen that flooded her veins, making her acutely and painfully aware of how much she wanted this man. The fabric of her suit was stifling. Overheated, she undid the top two buttons of her blouse and fanned herself with the file in her hand. It wasn’t helping.

She wasn’t going to lie—the thought of confronting him, especially after talking to Willow, scared the shit out of her.

Taking a deep breath, she forced the words past her lips, making her presence known. “Nikko . . . ?”

No response. He kept pounding away on that bag as if he’d never heard her, though she knew he had. She’d spoken loud enough. The tightness in her chest constricted more, her heart hammering against her ribs. He wasn’t going to make this easy. She’d been a fool to hope otherwise. “Nikko . . .” she tried again, her voice a little louder—firmer—as she walked toward him.

He still ignored her. It wasn’t until she stepped into his peripheral vision that she got any sort of a response from him. He flinched. The fluidity of his strike faltered and the poor contact with the bag made it wobble. The chain connecting it to the ceiling rattled, and she glanced up, checking to make sure it was steady.

He stopped the bag with one arm and made a quarter turn to face her. The brief register of surprise was immediately replaced by his patented surly scowl. Using his teeth, he unfastened the Velcro at his wrist and pulled off a glove before reaching up to tug his earbuds free, leaving them dangling around his muscular neck. She could hear the music blaring from the tiny speakers but didn’t recognize the song—something about the side of a bullet.

“What do you want?”

The relief she felt at realizing he hadn’t been ignoring her after all was immediately quelled. What did she want? After the courage it took her to come here and face him, that’s what she got?
What do you want?
Seriously? It must have taken her too long to respond, because Nikko shoved his hand back into his glove and turned back to the bag, laying into it with a round of combinations and punches.

“What are you doing?”

Ffft, ffft, ffft
. . .
Ffft, Ffft, ffft
. . . “What does it look like?”
Ffft, ffft, ffft
. . .
Ffft, Ffft, ffft
. . . “I’m training.”

“You’ve missed your last three appointments. You’re not returning any of my calls, or my texts.”

“I told you, Violet. You’re fired.”

He was really serious? She’d hoped he hadn’t meant it, and what was with this
Violet
crap? What the hell happened to
Clover
? She walked around the other side of the heavy bag and grabbed it, forcing him to face her.

“So that’s it? I draw boundaries you don’t like, so you quit on me? That’s a real shitty thing to do, Nikko. We were making progress—”

Nikko quit hitting the bag and exhaled impatiently. “That’s just it, Violet. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why that is? I don’t let people in—ever—and yet here you are. Do you think that’s by accident? You’re good, sweetheart, but you’re not that good. I’m not interested in having a one-sided relationship with you.”

The air fled her lungs, leaving her feeling like a deflated balloon. Was that what he was asking for? A real relationship? Then why had he told her before that he didn’t want one? And why did the thought of getting involved in one scare the ever-loving shit out of her? Because when she’d said it that night at Carboni’s, she hadn’t thought he’d actually want to go there with her.

“You don’t know what you’re asking. This is my career, Nikko—my reputation, my ethics . . .”

“Not anymore. You want to see me again, it’s going to be personal. I’m done with this professional, hiding-behind-your-desk bullshit. You’re going to feel what it’s like to lower
your
guard for a change and let
me
in.” Stepping closer so the only thing separating them was the heavy bag, Nikko dropped his voice to a throaty growl. “And believe me, Clover, I want in . . .”

The sound of his voice was like sex to her ears. God help her, she wanted this. She wanted him . . . and the worst part of it was, she knew exactly what she’d be missing if she refused to give in to his demands.

“You think you’re the only one taking a risk here. But you’re not. I have just as much to lose as you do, sweetheart. My feelings for you have absolutely nothing to do with a doctor-patient relationship, and I’m sick as hell of pretending they do. I liked you back when you were a tearful stranger sitting beside me on that airplane, and I really liked you when you invited me into that bathroom.”

Heat burned in her cheeks at the memory of just how much he’d liked her. He’d liked her better than anyone had ever liked her before, and she was pretty sure no one would ever like her that much again. If she refused him, refused the opportunity to give this a chance—them a chance—she knew, with absolute certainty, she was going to regret it for the rest of her life.