Hot and Cold (3 page)

“Didn’t mean I won. I thought a loss was fine. Everyone lose one fight sooner or later, but then I lost the second. Rising stars don’t get to do that.”

It all snapped into place. The suspicious hours at the gym. The distant look in his eyes even when we were together.

“That’s where you’ve been,” I said, stroking his face. “Your mind never left the cage.”

“Oh, it leaves there plenty.” He leaned into my touch. “But not to good places. It makes me wonder what I am without my championship belt. If my fists don’t get me places, I’m nothing but a drag on everyone around me.”

He said ‘everyone,’ but his eyes made it clear he meant me. “What are you talking about?” I said. “Useless? You’re my everything.”

His smile flickered but it didn’t catch. He just looked plain exhausted, inside and out. This hard work wasn’t just for me - I wasn’t that arrogant to think that - but I knew he had always had issue with where he came from and where I came from.

“I missed you,” I said. “That’s all.”

I kissed him firm on the lips. Sweat dribbled down between us, and I tasted the salt and the energy he had spent.

God help me. Seeing him wounded trying to prove himself to me was as much a turn on as him coming home bold with victory.

I nudged closer to him and nibbled on his lip. His breath caught, but I was in no mood to wait. I ran a hand down the hot, wet stretch of his chest and slipped straight into his pants.

Part of him wasn’t tired, at least.

I wrapped my fingers as much as I could around the thick, hard, fullness of him and tucked it out of his shorts. He was kissing me back now, his tongue testing the nib of mine. I wasn’t going to pose him any challenge, but it was fun to pretend.

I tried ducking down to reward his efforts with my mouth, but he grabbed my head and held it in place. I was helpless to do anything but be ravished by his kisses.

My hand was free to move though.

It took the gentlest trace of my curled fingers up and down to get him to sigh. I stroked more vigorously, feeling his heartbeat and the moisture thicken. His sighs grew into groans.

He clutched me to him, the wonders of his voice now rumbling against my own chest. Just that alone had me feeling amazing. I had missed him. I had missed being with him, but I had also missed taking care of him.

Sean needed me now, and if he needed my love and attention more than my body, then I should be there. I should have been there all along.

I gripped as tight as I could, and thumped up and down as hard as I could. Sean kissed my neck and then he started nipping at the skin. He twitched under my grip and then he let out the sweetest mountain of a release in my ears.

A molten pool of heat blanketed my fingers. I didn’t stop till I had all of it.

Sean and I tumbled into the nook of the couch and we just lay there heaving.

I didn’t have everything I came here to find. But it was still a more perfect ending to the evening that I could have dreamed up.

I had my man, and he had me. Whatever this was, we could get through it together.

CHAPTER THREE

The pot started to boil on the stove, the soup hissing and popping in thick gloppy ways. The sounds warmed the kitchen even more than the steam pouring out of the top. The next burner over, a skillet sizzled and cracked with brick red sausage. The oven groaned underneath as it heated some biscuits to perfection.

I clutched my ladle, shut my eyes and breathed it in like a flowery meadow. But no flowers smelled as good as a great meal.

“You mind if I add protein powder directly to my bowl?” Sean asked.

He sat at the dinner table nearby. We weren’t going out, but he’d still changed out of his gym stuff into dark pleats and a button-down. He looked suave as hell, but still nowhere near enough to tolerate what he’d just said.

“Are you nuts?” I shot at him. “You can’t just change the consistency of the soup and call it the same.”

“The powder doesn’t make it thick. I drink it in milk all the time.”

“Then just do that now. You shouldn’t need more protein anyway. You think I got four pounds of sausage just for me?”

He dashed into a grin. “Oh I’ve seen you handle a lot more than that.”

“Hah, don’t flatter yourself.”

“That was actually a compliment to you.”

I huffed and turned back to the stove, but mostly to hide my smile. Things weren’t quite back to normal in the bedroom department, but the frost had definitely been melted clear.

Sean had had me meet him as he came from the gym a couple times the past few days. The mix of his amped up testosterone and the effect his scent had on me was explosive.

We had barely brushed lips before he was taking me bent over the couch, bare and open to him. I left like his prisoner, like I was in some stockade.

I wanted him? Well, I got him, full and out of control.

It was amazing.

Tonight was probably gonna be our day off, which was fine. I was sated enough to think about my career and Sean had other hungers than for my body. This was the meal I planned to serve at the Cordon Competition coming up, so it worked for both of us.

I sipped at wine and watched my concoctions come to life. I could only hope to help his situation with some TLC. If only I was the type to be able to just declare that things would be alright and make it so.

Sean nursed a dark porter and studied an MMA match on his phone even as he waited. Whatever happened at his next match, there was no doubt that Sean threw his everything at the problem. I was a fool to ever think he’d slink away from anything, me included.

When the gumbo had reduced to a nice broth and the biscuits were golden brown, I plated them. One by one, I set them before Sean:

“First we have my main dish, a Mo-Town take on gumbo. Something to keep you warm on the nights ahead, without having you sweat like they make it down South.”

Sean set his phone down and made deep admiring noises that sounded pretty genuine.

“And for our side, we have two butter biscuits, rich and chewy at the center and smothered with salted butter and a dash of honey on top.”

“Those do look good,” Sean said. “Though I think you should have considered applying the butter and honey directly to your chocolate skin.”

I knocked his shoulder and slapped down the last dish.

“And finally, some extra sausages, you damn pig.”

I turned to get him a glass of water, but he grabbed me by the flap of my T-shirt and yanked me down.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured into my mouth. “I’m sure it’s fantastic. It looks almost as good as you.”

He kissed me soft and tender. I’d spent so much time thinking the biscuits were the only thing with perfect consistency in this room, I’d forgotten about those lips.

Finally, I broke away. He’d gotten my heart pounding, which just made me more worried about what he’d say. Sean wasn’t a foodie by any means, but a good reaction still counted.

I watched him carefully blow on a spoon of soup before sipping it down. There was no way I could trust his words, so I’d have to watch his face.

It screwed up like he had tasted a salt lick. I nearly wrung my own hands off.

The next instant though, he went blank. A confused smile crept on his face, as if he couldn’t believe a gift he’d just unwrapped.

“This is good,” he said.

What I cared about more was how his spoon ducked back in before he even finished talking. For a few minutes, there were just the sounds of him eating: splashing soup, taking mushy mouthfuls of bread, ripping through sausage.

It was perfect.

I practically danced over to the kitchen and got my serving to eat with him. Maybe it was just his enjoyment, or maybe it had cooled down, but it all tasted more amazing than I expected.

I shut my eyes and let myself imagine that victory might just be possible.

“I love this new recipe you made up. I love the biscuits, too. It’s like the best of two worlds. They just fit together right.” Sean headed to the kitchen. “There’s more right?”

“Yeah, I was hoping you might like it enough for lunch or-“

“Fuck that.” He dumped the rest of the pot into his bowl and came back. “This thing is like ambrosia. If I eat enough at once, I might just become a god.”

“Ambrosia?” I said. “Fancy.”

He flashed his brows as he sat down. “Not a bad word for a poor white boy, huh.”

“Not bad at all.”

“I didn’t well in school, remember? Mythology, especially. That was just plain fun. I guess soul food is as close as I’ll get to the real thing though.”

“Gumbo isn’t soul food,” I grumbled. “It’s Cajun.”

“Hmm.” He stroked his chin. “I thought anything a black person made counted as soul food.”

“I’m in a mind to make you a soul knuckle sandwich.”

He edged in over me. “Is that right?”

I smiled my sweetest smile. “Just try me, pretty boy.”

He dimmed. “The state I’m in, you might just get through my defenses.”

It looked like I already had. What had I said? He
was
pretty. It didn’t mean he couldn’t fight.

“Hey,” I started. “You’re going to do fine.”

He nodded.

His phone buzzed right then. He frowned at the number, but he picked it up.

“What up?” he said.

His expression lightened right away. “Really?”

A grin erupted on his lips. “Troy, you are a fucking miracle maker.”

His manager must have good news. Just watching his eyes glow like a tropical surf, made me feel a cool breeze. It’d been a while since I’d seen him like that.

Just as quickly, it evaporated. “When?” Sean asked.

“
This
Friday?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, see you.”

He set it down and looked out over his soup like he was watching the sun set.

I touched his wrist. “What’s happening Friday?”

“My next fight,” Sean said.

“That’s great, baby. Right?”

He clenched his jaw, like he was training to fight with it. “Yeah. It’s good. It’s just not much time.”

“You’ve been training like a machine the past week and a half,” I said. “You’ve got plenty of practice in.”

“It sure as hell wasn’t enough last time,” Sean snapped. He saw me go wide-eyed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I edged his bowl away. “Too much of that will make your mood hot.”

We sat for a while, hand in hand. Under his shirt he tensed and untensed all his rippling strength. It would have been such a treat in any other situation. Now it seemed like he was already trapped in some fight in his head.

“You’ve got this,” I said, softly at first, then again. “You’ve got this, Sean.”

He looked me over as if he were searching for the source of my voice. “You that sure?”

“I am.” I gripped his mound of a shoulder and tugged my chair in tighter. “You just can’t psych yourself out.”

“It’s easy to say, but I’ve got nothing without this.”

“You’ve got me.”

He met my eyes, looking almost suspicious. He didn’t speak, but I could read his thoughts:
Do I, sweetheart?

I wasn’t so stuck up to think it was personal. He was trapped in a loop of negativity. I’d been there more than once. The best way to free yourself was to do something where your mind wasn’t needed.

“Let’s go out,” I said. “I’ll open the windows and let the dishes soak, and we’ll go have some fun.”

He looked like he was about to shake his head, so I shot back in. “Don’t tell me you’re going to train. That’s
not
what you need now.”

“Fine. What do I need?”

“Something similar, maybe. Close but without the pressure.”

Even in his slump, he got my meaning. “Dancing?”

“Yeah. It’s perfect.”

He chuckled. “Did you get the impression I was any good the last time we went? You must have been more wasted than I remember.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t have done what you did to me later that night.” I propped my chin up on his shoulder. “Come on. I’m not talking a dance-off. It’s just you and me, going out and getting our mind off things. It’s not like you’re the only one who’s got something to worry about.”

He took another spoon of the soup. “Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“That’s what I’m telling you, too. Do you believe me? Will you just let go and have some fun?”

His eyes met mine. Maybe, it was a shift in the light or the wine sinking deeper, but they started to shimmer. “Yeah, I will. Let’s go.”

We rode out into downtown. I wasn’t exactly Saturday Night Fever girl, but I knew a few places, mostly through my friend, Jada. We found a low key club, not all hip-hop, not part-rave. I was underdressed and had on slippers, but together we looked hot enough to be waved in early.