Read Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance) Online
Authors: Celia Loren
"Just hanging out at my buddy's, too." His eyes
move up from mine and I frown, wondering what he's looking at. He reaches
forward and runs his thumb across my temple. As he removes it, I see it's
glistening slightly. "You're sweating," he murmurs.
"I…" I trail off, distracted by the feel of his
skin on mine and unable to come up with a lie. "I was hot. Just took my
sweatshirt off. Left it downstairs."
He nods, rubbing his thumb against his forefinger.
"Well, I'm all done in here." He slips quickly by me and I allow my
gaze to follow him, admiring the back of his wide shoulders and the two small
divots in his lower back just above the top of his towel.
I shake my head at myself as I step inside the bathroom and
close the door behind me. The mirror is still steamed up from Logan's shower. I
reach my hand forward and rub the fog away with my fingers, leaving a small
circle where I can see my face. I look slightly flushed, and the line of my
hair is damp with sweat, as Logan observed.
I begin to strip off my clothes. I feel like I need a cold
shower, even though I just had the best sex I've ever had. Fuck. What the hell
is wrong with me?
I slowly turn the pages of the admissions packet that I just
got from the Dean's Office of the University of Denver. I let my fingers rest
on the chart with the GPA and standardized test scores of their typical
incoming students. I'm surprised to see I'm toward the high end of the average.
I never seriously considered going to college. I'd always
hung out at my mom's salon, her boss and coworkers treated me like part of the
family, and so it made sense that I would go to cosmetology school and end up
working there. It was a foregone conclusion. But am I doing it because
I
want
to, or because my mom wants me to?
I sigh and close the packet, then stand and walk across the
quad. The students are mostly on break, but a few summer students lie reading
on towels spread over the grass, soaking up the late afternoon sun. I feel a little
thrill as I surreptitiously watch them. It's actually really easy to picture
myself here…but what would my mom think?
No, that's not the point
, I remind myself. I'm here
to see if I want to go here. That's it.
I frown. Part of me wishes I had never considered this
route. It would be a lot easier to just go to cosmetology school and then work
with my mom. I wouldn't upset anyone. It would feel comfortable. Stupid Logan.
It's really his fault that I'm here, considering any of this. I wish he hadn't opened
his big mouth.
I head back toward the parking lot and my car. The steering
wheel is hot and I roll down the windows to cool off as I drive toward the
street. I don't even know what I'd major in. I'd have student loans. There
would be so many unknowns. I don't like unknowns.
I peer both ways down the street as I pull up to a
stoplight. Shit. This doesn't look familiar. The campus is just south of
Denver, but now it looks like I'm headed toward the city center, rather than
back south to Thurmont. I gnaw on the side of my lip as I try to catch a
glimpse of the next street sign. Forget it. I'm a lost cause when it comes to
directions. I pull over to the side of the road and take out my phone to map a
route.
I quickly type in Duke's address and put the phone on my
dashboard so I can hear the automated directions. I glance up to check my
rearview mirror before pulling back out and catch a glimpse of a handsome guy
in it. Wait,
Logan
? I do a double-take and then turn around in my seat.
He's walking down the sidewalk toward my car. What the hell is he doing here?
I undo my seatbelt and hop out and walk quickly around to
the sidewalk. He's got earphones in and his head is bowed, so I wait in his
path until he notices me. As he reaches me, I see him frown down at my shadow
on the cement, and then glance up to see who's blocking his way. His look of
shock is priceless. He yanks out one of his earbuds.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
"What are
you
doing here?" I retort.
"I thought you had the day off from training," I add, regarding his
sweat-drenched appearance.
"And I thought you were hanging out with Maya," he
replies, crossing his arms, too. We face each other in a standoff until my lips
finally crack into a smile.
"I'll tell if you do," I finally offer. He nods:
deal. "Well, I…" I find myself struck shy suddenly, and search the
ground with my eyes as though the words I want lie on the pavement. "I
sort of looked at the University of Denver. You know, took a tour and
stuff," I shrug, playing it off like it's no big deal. I look up to see
how he took my confession, and am surprised by the joy in his eyes.
"That's amazing," he grins, and I find myself
blushing.
"Your turn," I murmur. He runs his hand through
his damp, curly hair, and pulls out his other earbud. Finally, he takes a deep
breath.
"Alright, but this is just between you and me. No one
else can know, seriously." I nod, taken aback by the vehemence in his
words. He takes a deep breath. "OK, well, I'm training in Muay Thai up
here," he says rapidly, the words spilling out of his mouth. "My dad
doesn't know. There's a Brazilian master here, just moved from Sao Paolo to be
with his daughter, and I asked my dad to have him come train us at Team Apex,
but my dad refused. Said he knew enough and didn't need him. But I want to be
the best, and I don't think my dad…he's not taking me seriously. So I had to
look elsewhere."
He stops just as quickly as he started, and there's a
silence, broken only by the cars going by on the street. He searches my face
for understanding, and I get the sense he's been wanting to share his secret
with someone for a while. And it's not like I didn't know there was tension
between him and Duke, though this situation seems more like a symptom than the
cause.
"Is that why you've been holding back at
practice?" I ask, and he frowns. "Sorry, I heard you and Raul talking
at the barbecue."
"Oh. Yes. My body wants to use the new techniques I'm
learning, but I can't let myself because then my dad and everyone else will
know I've been training outside the team."
"Well, I won't tell," I say simply. "And
you'll keep my secret, too?" He nods. "Why, though?"
"Why what?"
"Why doesn't Duke take you seriously?" I ask,
wanting to know what's really underneath their strained relationship.
He sighs, then looks around. "You have to get back
right away?" I shake my head no. "Then come on, I know a place right
around the corner that serves a killer burger, and I'm starving."
Five minutes later, I'm sliding into a corner booth at a pub
and peering down at the menu.
"So how was it?" Logan asks, putting his menu
down.
"What?"
"Campus."
"It was…" I pause, trying to gather my thoughts.
"Well, beautiful, first of all. Nerve-wracking. Exciting…why are you
smiling at me?"
"I just think it's great."
"I mean, I was just looking," I grumble. "And
I don't even know what I'd major in."
"You'd figure it out."
"You sound very sure about the whole thing," I say
rather accusatorily. He raises his eyebrows and I catch myself. "Sorry. God,
I'm taking this out on you, aren't I? I feel like I've been living under a rock
and I just realized it. Do you know what I mean? And now I'm sticking my head
out, and I'm just…I'm scared. And angry…And just…" I throw up my hands.
"I do know what you mean," he replies, pinging the
salt shaker back and forth across the table between his long fingers.
"I don't think my mom realizes that she's doing
anything…that she's, well, being sort of controlling. Her life,
our
life,
was just so unsteady and crazy with my dad around, so now she wants to know
that I'm safe, and close."
"It's not malicious, it's just how she is," he
fills in.
"Right," I agree, relieved that he gets it.
"Have you ever seen a picture of my mom?" he asks
abruptly.
"No. I mean, there aren't any in the house,
right?"
"I have a few in my room. My dad destroyed the rest. I
look just like her, is my point. I think he sees her when he looks at me. For a
while I thought it was me, but I don't think it is."
"That's why…well, why he treats Austen differently than
you?"
He shrugs. "I think. Austen also grew a lot faster than
me, and was way more talented at MMA at first. So I think my dad felt like he
was right, you know? Like it proved something. I was scrawny, weak, like
her
.
But then I had my late growth spurt, and I started considering that maybe I
didn't deserve to play second fiddle. And then I got angry. I just decided
however hard everyone else was working, I'd work twice that hard. And now…now
I'm good. I'm really good. But I don't know if I'll ever get my shot as long as
I'm under my dad's thumb."
"What's your mom's name?" I ask quietly, realizing
I don't know.
"Fiona."
"Do you ever talk to her?"
"Now and then. My dad doesn't know about that,
either," he adds pointedly. "She left him high and dry, and I know
that. It's not like I think that was right, and I don't expect anything from
her, either. But she apologized to me, and she's my mom," he says, a
helpless feeling creeping into his voice.
"I get it. I don't know if I'd talk to my dad. I mean,
I don't even know where he is right now. After he finally gave her a divorce he
left town. I think maybe he's in San Francisco."
"He ever hit you?" he asks quietly.
"No," I snort. "He used to use that like a
badge of honor. Like, everything else he'd done was somehow forgivable because
he'd
never hit his daughter.
Bullshit."
"Well, obviously I don't think my dad's perfect, but
I've never, even in his angriest moments, seen him even think about hitting a
woman. Or me or Austen."
The bartender is almost on top of us before either of us
notice he's there. Logan orders two burgers and I stick with just one. As the
bartender fills our drink orders, I drum on the wooden table with my thumb.
"So, is that why you keep going with MMA? You want to
prove you're better than Austen?"
His expression turns more serious than it's been the entire
conversation. "No, not at all." He stops and reconsiders for a
second. "Well, at first, yes, you're right. It was a fucking slog, those
first years. I was smaller than everyone else, not just Austen, and all these
new techniques are being thrown at you and you feel like you're shit at all of
them. But then I started getting these flashes…" His hazel eyes take on a
faraway look as he continues. "When I didn't have to think about the
technique, everything else would just fall away and I'd know exactly what to
do. When I'm just in this sweet spot. And it's like I'm more alive than I've
ever been. And then I know this is what I'm meant to be doing. You know what I
mean?"
"Yes," I breathe, stunned by his description.
"Or, no. I mean, I've never felt that. But I want to."
"You will. You'll find it."
I break into a smile at his sincerity. "I don't know
why I believe you, but I do."
I don't know what we talked about for the next couple of
hours. The conversation flowed so easily from one thing to another, kicked off
by a random association to a word and then looping back around and then away
again. But by the time we're walking back out toward my car, the sun is sitting
just over the horizon, sending an angry glare off my windshield.
"Where's your car?"
"Just one block south."
"I was a little lost before this, so maybe I'll follow
you back to the highway and then hang back, stagger our arrival times." He
nods, but looks distracted. "Logan? You OK?"
His head snaps up. "Yup. Highway. Got it."
"See you back at home," I say, reaching my hand
into my purse to find my keys as I step toward the road.
"Cat?"
I turn around and find him stepping toward me. I feel one of
his hands slide around my waist as the other cups my cheek. His lips find mine
and all of a sudden I'm floating against him as our mouths press together. His
lips are so soft…surprisingly so…softer even than Austen's…Austen!
I step back abruptly and bring my arms up to push his chest
back. I see his gaze registering surprise and hurt as our eyes meet.
"I'm sorry, I thought—" he murmurs.
"No…it's—I…I'm seeing Austen," I mumble out just
above a whisper. The change in his expression is abrupt. A coldness sets across
his features and his lips rise in a smirk.
"Of course you are," he says, then shakes his head
as he turns around and starts to walk away. "See you back at the
house!" he calls back, almost nonchalantly.
"Logan! Should we…" But he's headed resolutely
away. I realize I still have my keys in my hand and head around to the driver's
side of my car, fumbling with them to open my door. I take a deep breath as I
slide behind the wheel and start the engine.
I want to believe that our relationship didn't just
completely change, but I saw the coldness in his expression. Now I'm just
something else that his older brother got to first.
When we get closer to our neighborhood, I fall back. I’ve
been following Logan home, staring at the back of his head as he drives in
front of me on the highway. Now that I know where I am, I turn left as he
continues home. I don’t want to arrive back at the house too close to him, both
so as not to arouse suspicion and so that we won’t be alone when we pull into
the garage and walk up to our respective bedrooms.
I drive aimlessly through the residential streets. My skin
feels like it’s on fire. That kiss, though it couldn’t have been more than a
few seconds long, was something else. My body reacted so immediately to his,
all of my nerves endings lighting up at once.
I pull over and rest my head on the top of the steering
wheel.
No, Cat. No, absolutely not.
It’s just because Logan is
forbidden, that’s it. That’s where these feelings are coming from. It’s already
complicated enough, to be dating your mom’s boyfriend’s son, while living in
the same house. Giving way to any kind of illicit attraction to said son’s
brother? That would just be beyond the pale.
I take a deep breath and start home. I think I’ve given Logan
a sufficient head start. When I press the garage door button clipped to the
passenger seat visor, I’m dismayed to see Logan just stepping out of his car.
He just got back, too. He glances up, squinting against the sudden brightness,
and then looks away when he sees it's me. As I pull into the last remaining
space just next to him, I watch him shift his weight toward the door, then
stop. I turn off my engine and step out, nervously chewing my lip.
“I thought I was supposed to drive around so we didn’t come
back at the same time,” he says, his face expressionless.
“I thought I was,” I reply with a small shrug of my
shoulders.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Well,” he finally says,
and gestures toward the door. I force myself not to look at the body of the man
who just awoke such feelings in me, fixing my gaze straight ahead and walking
into the kitchen.
“Hey!” Austen says, looking up from the kitchen sink where
he’s just turning off the faucet. He looks over my shoulder in confusion as
Logan shuts the garage door behind us. “Oh, I thought you were with Maya.”
“No, I was. Logan and I just happened to get home at the
same time.”
“Yeah, I just went for a trail run,” Logan adds, explaining
away his sweaty appearance.
“Good cardio,” Austen agrees.
Logan clears his throat. “Well, I’ll be upstairs,” he says,
and walks toward the stairs. Austen watches him go for a second before quietly
walking up to me and sliding his arms around my waist.
“How’s Maya?” he whispers, kissing me softly on the cheek.
“She’s good,” I say lightly. Fuck. It’s one thing to lie to
my mom, but I feel way guiltier lying to Austen. His lips move to my mouth and
my already revved libido responds quickly. I grab his slightly stubbled cheeks
and kiss him back hard. He seems momentarily surprised, but then I feel his
arms wrap around my waist and his erection press into my thigh.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I gasp, pulling my mouth away. He
nods back with a grin.
There’s something wrong about this
, I think to
myself as I take his hand and lead him down the basement steps.
But I’m
feeling too high to care.
I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck as we reach
the carpeted basement floor. We stumble toward the couch and I tug my shirt
over my head and reach forward to relieve him of his. If he’s taken aback by my
aggressiveness, he’s not showing it. He’s matching my every move now, tugging
down his fly as I push my pants to the ground. I reach forward and wrap my hand
around his cock, feeling it twitch slightly in my hand as he groans. I’ve never
felt this needful before.
I sink to my knees and take him in my mouth. I don’t bother
warming him up, I’m already going fast, pulling him to the back of my throat
and swirling my tongue around his tip.
“Oh, fuck, Cat,” he moans. I move even faster, pressing my
lips firmly around his girth. “Stand up, stand up,” he orders me, his voice low
and harsh. I obey, and he turns me around, yanking my panties down to the tops
of my thighs and bending me over the armrest of the couch. I pant as I rest for
a second with my palms on the black leather. I hear the rip of a condom and his
hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks apart.
I feel his cock press into my opening and I whimper at the
intense pleasure of the sensation. I walk my feet out into a wider stance and
feel his hands move around to my hips, holding me in place as he drives inside
me. My fingers search for a grip on the smooth cushion as his dick hits me
right on my g-spot. He thrusts into me again and again and I bend my chest even
further down, stretching the limits of my flexibility.
“Harder, harder,” I beg. Maybe I want to be punished for
these conflicting feelings I have, maybe they’re wrong, but I don’t care. My
mind drifts unbidden to the feeling of Logan’s lips against mine, the smell of
his sweat as he pressed against me. Oh, god…I feel myself unspooling around
Austen’s cock, as the memory of his brother’s kiss fills my brain.
I beat him to orgasm. I feel him still thrusting behind me
and try to steady myself against the couch as guilt begins to consume me. He
comes inside me with a cry and I feel him collapse forward on top of me. I
close my eyes as I feel him stir, softly trailing kisses along my spine.
“God, you’re sexy,” he whispers, his hands moving up my bare
stomach and cupping my breasts as he takes a deep breath. I try to take comfort
in his touch.
Thoughts aren’t a crime. I didn’t do anything wrong. I pulled
away when Logan kissed me.
Austen stands up and slowly pulls out. I straighten up, feeling
stiffness in my legs from being stretched over. I pull up my panties as I turn
around and see him emerging from the bathroom. I find myself unable to make eye
contact as he walks toward me. He reaches up, taking my chin between his thumb
and forefinger and tilting my head up so that I look at him.
“You don’t have to be ashamed,” he murmurs.
“I don’t?” I answer, my eyes widening with alarm. How does
he know?
“I like it when you’re aggressive,” he assures me. Oh, that.
I bury my head in his shoulder and he wraps his arms around me. “You alright?”
he whispers. I nod silently, willing myself not to think about Logan ever
again. Austen is so kind, so steady, so comforting. He is what I need. “I think
our parents will be home soon. They went out to a movie.”
“OK if I come back later tonight, after they go to bed?” I
ask as he steps back to find his shirt, and I do the same.
“Of course,” he says with a grin. Good. The best way not to
think about Logan is to spend more time with Austen. I won’t give my attraction
to Logan any room to breathe.
“Later, then,” I say with a smile as I button my pants and
move to the stairs. He gives me a parting nod and I hurry up the stairs and
then round the banister to the second floor. I glance toward Logan’s room. His
door is shut. I flop down onto my bed, wondering if I should call Maya and
confess to her what just happened. Would she judge me for it?
I hear the distant sound of a door close. A couple minutes
later, I recognize my mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. I left Austen’s
room just in time. Her face peers around my slightly open door, her dark hair
swinging just above her shoulder.
“Hi,” I greet her, automatically mirroring the infectious
smile she’s wearing. She slips in and closes the door behind her. “You have a
good time?” She sighs happily and lies down on the bed next to me. I glance at
her profile, seeing how similar it is to mine.
“I hope you meet someone who makes you this happy someday,”
she murmurs. “Hey, let’s paint your room next weekend.” I nod slowly. Painting
is a sign, I think. A sign that we’re here for the long haul. She brought it up
when we first moved here, but I think she was waiting to actually go through
with it until she was sure things were working out. And as far as she knows,
they are. “What color do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I reply absentmindedly. “What do you think?”
“How about peach?”
I hate peach. “Sounds good.”