Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

I see Austen glance over from the driver's seat as we head
back from the fight. I'm trying my best to be casual and can feel myself
failing miserably. Unlike our drive that began the night, our conversation has
felt stilted and strained.

"You're being quiet," he finally remarks.

"Am I?" I ask innocently.
Too soon to bring up
what the ring girls said
, my brain commands my twitching mouth.
It's
only your first date.

Suddenly he pulls over to the side of the road and turns off
the engine. "OK, what's up?" he demands, turning to face me. I
reluctantly pull my gaze from the dashboard at look him in the eyes. I sigh
inwardly. He's so handsome…

"Do you know those ring girls at the fight
tonight?" I ask.

"Yes. I went out with both of them," he answers
matter-of-factly.

"Oh. I didn't expect you to be so honest about
it," I reply, feeling thrown.

"Look, I know I've got something of a reputation in certain
circles. All I can tell you is, around when I turned eighteen or so, I got a
little girl crazy, and now I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. I would never
have asked you out if I weren't."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're different than the girls I usually sleep
– go out with," he corrects himself. "Smarter, for one thing. And if
I were intending on playing a girl right now, I wouldn't choose one I lived in
the same house with," he points out. "I mean, just imagine the
logistical problems."

"Uh-huh," I murmur, not entirely convinced.

"I know how I come off," he says more quietly.
"Charming, earnest, the good guy. And I used that to my advantage for a
while. But it was all on the surface. You have that goodness through and
through. It's like it leaks from your pores. Maybe I'm hoping I'll absorb a
little. I want to actually be who people think I am."

I watch him frown down at the steering wheel, picking at a
fraying piece of leather at the bottom of it. I've never heard him talk to
anyone like this before, and he sounds like he's being honest.

"Alright," I say.

"Alright?" he repeats, turning toward me.

"Alright, you can take me on a second date," I
tell him with a little smile. He grins boyishly and leans forward.

"Come here," he breathes, taking the bottom hem of
my t-shirt in his hand and slowly pulling me toward him. I feel my body light
up in anticipation before our lips even touch. He runs his bottom lip across
mine teasingly, before moving his hand around the back of my head and really
pressing his mouth against mine. I quiver as his tongue moves deep into my
mouth and I reciprocate, our tongue probing against each other's.

I feel his other hand move around my waist, trailing a
finger against my skin just over the top of my jeans. His mouth breaks away
from mine and moves to my ear, sucking on my lobe before swirling his tongue
around the inside. I moan as he moves his hand from my head down my chest,
firmly cupping my breast and massaging it with his strong fingers. His head
moves back and he leans forward to make contact with my mouth again, but his
seatbelt clicks, holding him back.

My eyes fly open and I can't help but suppress a giggle,
turned on as I am. He grins back at me and blows out a steadying stream of air
from his mouth.

"Probably just as well," he murmurs regretfully.
"I wouldn't have been able to hold myself back much longer, and the first
time we have sex is definitely not going to be on the side of the road."

I'm struck speechless for a moment. He's being presumptuous,
but then again I can't deny how much I want him, too. I clear my throat as I
attempt to recover. "I'd sort of forgotten where we were," I admit as
he adjusts his jeans and I catch a glimpse of a sizable bulge in his pants. His
hand moves to the key and he restarts the car.

"Me, too," he agrees, and pulls back out onto the
road. When we get back to the house, he pulls into the garage and reaches his
hand toward my cheek. "You've got a little lip gloss…" he explains
with a smile as he rubs it from the outside of my lip.

We get out of the car, each smoothing our clothes and
looking at our reflections in the car windows to check for any other signs of
our side-of-the-road exploits, and then head inside. As we walk through the
kitchen, it's clear from the turned off lights on the first floor that our
parents have gone to bed. We walk toward the foyer and he stops in front of the
door to the basement.

"Goodnight," he whispers, planting a soft kiss on
my lips. He lingers there for a moment, and I wonder if he's going to ask me to
come downstairs with him, but he pulls away.

"Goodnight," I reply, and hear him shut the door
behind him as I turn the corner to head upstairs. About midway up, I hear the
sound of water running and begin to tiptoe. I don't know why exactly, but I
suppose I feel deep down that I'm breaking the rules.

I stop just before the last step as I see the bathroom door
ajar. Logan's standing shirtless in front of the mirror, a pair of athletic
shorts hanging low on his hips. I let my eyes trail over the tattoo that
spreads across his right pec and then winds around his shoulder. He bends over,
spitting out the toothpaste in his mouth, and as he stands up, my eyes wander
down across his sculpted ab muscles to the happy trail under his belly button,
surrounded by the sharp “V” of his hips. I'm so transfixed that I don't realize
that he's staring at me in the mirror's reflection.

"Like what you see?" he asks drily.

"I…I…" I stutter, walking up the final step to the
hallway outside of the bathroom door. "I was just waiting to brush my
teeth," I lie.

"I'm all done," he says, wiping his hands on the
towel hanging next to the sink.

"Oh, I have your book, by the way," I say, trying
to recover the situation. I walk quickly into my room and grab it from off the
bed. When I turn around, he's leaning on my doorjamb, arms crossed over his
bare torso.

"Not your cup of tea?" he asks as I hand it to
him. I catch a slightly smug smile cross his lips and frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just thought, you know…" he searches my face
for a second as though to see if I've caught on yet.

"I read the whole thing," I continue defensively.

"Great," he says with a shrug, then turns to go.

"Hey, no," I sputter. "Why did you assume I
wouldn't like it?"

He stops and stares at me for a moment. "Because this
book is about people doggedly pursuing their passion. Doing whatever it takes
to be successful. I don't really think that describes you."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. "I'm going to
cosmetology school in the fall. I'm going to be successful at that," I
point out.

"Right. Cosmetology school," he says with a barely
perceptible snort.

"What's wrong with being a hairdresser?" I demand,
my anger flaring.

"Nothing," he replies calmly. "If that’s your
passion. But it's not yours."

"You…how would you know?" I gasp at his
presumptuousness.

"I guess I thought it was pretty clear you're only
doing it because your mom wants you to. And you do most things just to make her
happy."

"That's not true," I argue, even as I feel a ring
of truth in his words.

His hazel eyes pierce right through mine. "You don't
really want to be a hairdresser. You took the job at the gym and didn't even
tell her you knew she'd set it up. I think you're so used to it that you don't
even know if you're doing things because your mom wants you to, or because
you
want to."

I grit my teeth to suppress the cry I feel forming in my
throat. "It must be nice to walk around feeling like you're smarter than
everyone else," I blurt out, wanting to sting him back. I see his eyes
dilate momentarily, but then he just shrugs. "Goodnight. Thanks for the
book." 

He watches me for a moment longer and then turns and walks
out the door. I close it quickly behind him, remembering at the last second not
to slam it because our parents are just down the hall.

 I sink down on the edge of my bed and angrily wipe a
tear off my cheek.
How dare he! He doesn't know the first thing about me
,
I insist to myself.
Then why am I so upset
? A contrary voice in my head
demands to know.
Prick. Asshole. Know-it-all
, I think over and over,
trying to drown out his words. I'm going to be perfectly happy at cosmetology
school this fall.

My phone dings with a text and I take it out of my purse to
see a message from Maya:
So, how was the date?

I’d let Logan get so far under my skin just now that I'd
almost forgotten about my date with Austen.

Chapter Nine

"Hm? What?" I ask with a frown as I snap my head
up.

"I said, 'are you OK?'" Austen repeats, a
quizzical look on his face.

"Oh, um, yeah," I reply, giving a little shake of
my head. "Why?"

"You've been rubbing that same spot on the desk for a
while now," he says, nodding down to my hand, still moving a paper towel
in circular motions on the gym's reception desk. I stop as I look down at it.

"Got lost in my thoughts," I explain, giving him a
shrug and a small smile. I was thinking about what Logan said to me last night.
As much as I've been trying to forget it, his judgements keep tugging on my
brain.

"What thoughts were—" he stops as Duke and the
rest of the fighters ascend from the locker rooms, cleaned up and done with
their training for the day. "See you tonight," he murmurs before
breaking away from the desk to meet his dad at the front doors.

"Bye, Caitlyn!" Duke calls out, and I give him a
wave as they head out. I cross out from behind the desk and head toward the
right side of the gym, where all the normal weight-training and cardio
equipment is. Harold will be here in an hour or so to relieve me, and I like to
start him off with a clean slate.

I head around the machines picking up people's forgotten
towels. There aren't very many people working out right now, as it's between
everyone's lunch break and the after-work rush. But it never feels too hectic
over here anyway. It's a no-frills gym, and it attracts low-maintenance people.

After I toss all the towels into the big bin by the steps to
the locker rooms, I head toward the team's training area. They're usually good
about putting away their equipment, but I just like to check. I stop in my
tracks as I spot Logan still in the back of the space, hammering away at a
punching bag. I turn around quickly, not interested in continuing last night's
conversation.

"Hey!" I hear him call after me, and wince.
"Hey, Cat!" he yells again as I continue out. With a sigh, I turn
around and raise my eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes?" I ask imperiously.

"Want to learn a few moves?"

"What?"

"Self-defense moves," he explains. "I thought
I could teach you."

I feel my blood boil as I start to walk toward him.
"Oh, you thought you could teach me? Dumb, little ol' me? Well, here's
something you could stand to learn," I say, planting my feet in front of
him. "Manners! And not judging people! The reason I worry so much about
making my mom happy is because she was miserable for so long. I've had to get
ice packs for the black eyes my dad used to give her, so yeah, maybe I do put a
happy face on things for her sometimes, it's really none of your business
anyway!"

I turn on my heel as the last word comes flying out of my
mouth. I can feel the tips of my ears burning as I head for the door once
again.

"Hey, hey, wait," Logan protests, and I feel his
taped-up hand grabbing my arm. I shake him off and keep going. He rushes around
to cut off my path and puts his hands up, fingers spread wide. "I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have said what I said last night." I take a deep breath,
feeling my anger draining away and being replaced by shock at how I just got in
this muscular man's face.

"Well…" is all I can manage to say in response.

"I didn't know all that stuff about you and your mom.
But even if I had, it still wouldn’t have been my place…I really am
sorry," he repeats.

"Thank you," I murmur. He clears his throat, and
we stand awkwardly opposite each other, each of us with our eyes on the mats.

"I was serious about teaching you self-defense,
though," he continues. "I just thought, what if I hadn't been there
during your birthday party? Not that it seems like you need work on standing up
for yourself so much now."

"I guess I was pretty fired up," I admit, glancing
up to see him smiling at me.

"That's good. Anger's a powerful fuel. Too many women
are too polite to fight back."

"I should probably get back to the desk," I hedge.

"It's not that busy. And they know to just swipe their
cards when they come in," Logan counters. I chew the corner of my lip for
a second, and then shrug. I suppose it couldn't hurt to learn some moves from
an expert.

"OK."

His eyes light up. "Great," he says, nodding to a
mat behind him and indicating for me to follow him. "You'll never be able
to subdue a larger or very determined attacker. All you need to do is get free
for a second so you have time to run away."

"Alright," I say warily.

"Also, never get closer than you have to. It'll just
make you more vulnerable. Better to kick him in the groin than get up close and
try to get him in the neck. Do you know anything about Jiu-Jitsu?"

"I know that it's the stuff that looks like wrestling,
and Raul teaches it."

"Right. Well, a lot of what it's about is staying calm
and relaxed even when a guy's got a choke hold on you. Sometimes if I'm caught
in a rear naked hold or something, Raul will just start describing a beach to
me, trying to get me to picture myself there. It's annoying as fuck, but it
works," he adds, grinning wolfishly. "So let's say a guy grabs you
like this," he says, suddenly reaching out and grabbing my wrist. I
swallow nervously as a ring of heat extends out from where he's touching me.
"Your instinct is to panic and pull away, right?" I nod. "Stay
calm, and use his position against him." He extends his other hand and
taps my thigh. "Move this leg back. Get lower. Move your hand toward him
instead of away."

I obediently bend my arm forward. He's right…it becomes
impossible for him to continue to hold onto my wrist, and he has to let go. He
smiles at me as he straightens up. My stomach flutters, and I will it to stop.

"Good," he says. "Now do it again."

Twenty minutes later, I realize that Logan has no intention
of this being a survey course. But I suppose I should have guessed that about
him. We still haven't progressed from the first move. He forces me to practice
it again and again, telling me I have to know it in my body so that I can do it
under extreme circumstances.

Finally, he nods. "OK, we'll come back to that one
later. Now, let's say an attacker comes up from behind you." He wraps an
arm around my shoulders, turning me around and pulling me against him roughly.
But then he stops. I wait for him to tell me how to get out of it, but he's
silent. I become very aware of his heart beating through the back of my rib
cage, the smell of his sweat, and the feel of his taut muscles relaxing against
mine. I start to close my eyes.

"Hello?" someone calls from the reception area.

"Yes! Sorry, be right there!" I call back as I
jump away from Logan, who lets his arm around me go slack, releasing me.
"Pick up again another time, OK?" I ask him as I hurry back to the
desk. He nods without saying anything as he watches me go.

"Sorry, just need to renew my membership," the man
at the desk apologizes.

"No worries," I tell him as I hear the sound of
Logan hitting the bag again.

When Harold comes to relieve me half an hour later, I don't
see Logan anywhere. He must have left when I went down to the locker rooms. On
the drive home, I feel myself nervously chewing on the side of my lip. Logan
makes me so mad, but…but…
something
.

* * *

That night, I lie in bed, waiting for the rest of the house to
be quiet. Ever since I came up to my room after dinner, I've been itching to
see Austen. Today was just so frustrating and confusing, and all I want to do
is press my body against his. That's it. Maya texts me, but I ignore it.
Finally I hear my mom and Duke's door close, and Logan finish his nighttime
bathroom routine. I wait ten more minutes and then quietly walk to my door.

I tiptoe down the steps and around to the basement door. I
pause for a moment, hearing the TV on down there, but decide not to knock. I'm
feeling punchy, and just want to go for it. I open the door and quietly close
it behind me, then walk slowly down to the basement. As I turn in from the
stairwell, I see Austen lying on his black leather couch, watching a sports
news show on TV. Suddenly, I'm nervous.

I stand at the bottom of the steps for a moment, watching
the TV's light flicker across his relaxed face. He looks so calm, so completely
unencumbered by any external pressures. I let my eyes trail over his closely
cropped hair, his straight nose, his sensuous lips, then down across his
collarbone to his shirtless torso. One arm is tucked behind his head against
the armrest, and his bare feet twitch slightly where they're sticking out of
his sweatpants at the other end of the couch. I run my hand under the hem of my
tank top and then step forward.

"Hi," I say quietly as I walk toward the foot of
the couch.

He glances up quickly and smiles as he sees me. "Hey. I
didn't hear you come in. Can't sleep?"

"Didn't really try, to be honest. Weird day."

"Yeah? Wanna talk about it?"

"No," I reply. "Mind if I join you
anyway?" He doesn't say anything in response, just moves over a little on
the couch and opens his arms. I smile, feeling my stress recede, and walk over
to him, curling up next to him as he lays his arm over me. I feel his warmth
against my back and take a deep breath, letting the sounds of the TV wash over
me. "How did you know you wanted to be a fighter?" I ask suddenly.

"Thought you didn't want to talk." I elbow him
gently in the ribs and feel him grin against my hair. "Um, I dunno. My dad
got me into it really early on, and I turned out to be good at it."

"That's it?"

"Does it have to be more than that?"

"No, no. Of course not."

"What's on your mind, Cat?" he asks, taking my hip
and turning me toward him.

"It's nothing," I reply shaking my head.

"Alright," he replies, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something."

"You got me something? Why?" I ask, smiling as he
swings a leg over me and stands up.

"For your birthday," he explains over his shoulder
as he heads into the bathroom, returning with a bouquet of roses in a glass
vase.

"You didn't have to do that," I tell him as he
places them on the coffee table in front of me.

"I wanted to. I've actually never gotten flowers for a
girl before."

"Really? Or are you just flattering me."

He laughs. "No, honestly! I didn't bring them upstairs
for obvious reasons, so if you want to see them you have to come down here and
visit me."

"So they're bait. I get it," I reply teasingly,
tugging on his sweatpants so that he sits down next to me. He runs his hands up
my thighs, spreading his fingers wide as I shiver under his touch.

"I want to take you out again. Dinner. Somewhere
nice," he says, leaning in close and placing a quick, soft kiss on my
lips.

"OK. I'm not, you know, fancy. I mean, you've already
got me in your bedroom," I point out, returning his kiss.

"That's not why I want to take you out," he
replies, continuing our game with another kiss. "Besides, I don't want to
rush anything with you."

"If you're implying that I came down here tonight just
to have sex with you, then I am insulted, sir," I say indignantly, placing
another, slightly longer kiss on his soft lips.

"I can tell," he replies, wrapping his arms tightly
around my waist and pulling my body against his. My breasts pillow against his
pecs as he kisses me, hard, his tongue exploring my mouth as I meet it with my
own. He pulls away abruptly, and I blink rapidly in surprise. "But I've
rushed things with girls before, or pretty much always, and it never ends well.
I was starting to think Logan had the right idea, but I don't think I could
ever take that route."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"He never dates at all. Says girls are a distraction
from training."

"Oh." I feel a strange sense of disappointment in
my stomach, as though it matters what Logan does in that area.

"Now you get out of here before I change my mind,"
he growls, giving me a quick slap on the butt. I squeal and jump to my feet and
head over to the staircase. "Wait, I changed my mind!" he calls after
me.

"Too late!" I laugh, and hurry up the stairs,
closing the door behind me. He's right, though. I think if I'd had sex with him
this early on, I would have regretted it, too. I head through the foyer and
then up to the second floor.

 As I close my bedroom door behind me, I spot Logan's
book on my bed. Weird. I know I gave it back to him. I pick it up, frowning. I
was wrong, this isn't Logan's book. Or rather, it's the same book, but a
different copy. This one's brand new. I open the cover and find an inscription
on the title page:
This one's yours to keep. Happy Birthday. Logan.