No Holds (The Fighter Series Book 4) Read online

  “What?” I grin unapologetically, spreading my arms to the side. “I did exactly what you’ve trained me for. I saw the opening. Coach?” I call out to him restraining a laugh.

  Daniel’s glare hardens. “Monday you better come in here with a different attitude. Do you understand me?” he scolds me like a child. “I mean it, Ryker. Get your damn head in the game. You have a fight coming. Take advantage of the wide variety and don’t let your ego get the best of you. You’ve already lost once because of it.”

  Fucker knows the low blows.

  I’m in the shower washing up and of course, thinking of Whitney. I should’ve kissed her the other night, given into the desire to taste her lips instead of fucking my head up with a small sample. After her little moan, I knew if we went any further, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself. I took the gentlemanly way out.

  I’ve rubbed one out at the fantasy of her at least six times in the past few days and today is no different. I grip my cock, curling my fingers around the shaft and stroke it to the images of her lips and the sexy as fuck noise I know her mouth can make.

  I brace myself on the wall with my palm and squeeze my dick, pumping it in quick rhythm. Her lips are parted, eyes heavy-lidded filled with incredible lust and satisfaction as I thrust into her. Her skin shimmers with sweat, her breaths panting as she moans my name.

  I stroke faster at the pressure building.

  My dick slides in and out of her pussy, wet for me, wet because of me. She’s biting her lip, head pushed back into the bed as her lithe hips buck greedily to meet mine.

  My breaths become harsh, my grip tightening as I work my fist faster.

  And then…I hear the door open and Kyce calls out for me. Instantly, all sexy images of her vanish and I’m in the shower with a massive hard-on.

  I drop my head and sigh.

  Great. Blue balls for our first date.

  Just my fucking luck.

  “Dude, do you ever fucking work?” I yell out.

  “Where you taking her?” he asks.

  I knock the water all the way to cold and allow it to suck the breath out of me, the iciness stinging my skin. It does the job, ridding me of the raging hard-on, yet my desire to feel her is still fervent.

  Turning off the water, I pull a towel around my waist before stepping out of the shower. “Mercy’s.”

  “Oh, dude. You’re trying to get laid with a fancy place like that.”

  I regard his excitement with little concern. Kyce gets easily excited over anything pussy. I step into my little closet area, big enough for some of my clothes I’ve stashed here and slide into my boxers and then into my jeans. “I’m not getting lucky tonight.”

  “I bet she’ll think differently.” He tips his chin.

  I shrug into my shirt and exit the room, smirking like a clever shit. “Good. I’ll prove her wrong.”

  His head jerks back and he pinches his brows together. “Your main goal tonight isn’t pussy? What’s with her?” He hops off the counter.

  I raise a shoulder keeping my expression emotionless. “She’s different. I like her.”

  “When’s the last time you got laid?” he chuckles.

  I laugh. “Why? Because she’s different? Maybe I’m sick as fuck of dealing with all the shameless women at my disposal.”

  Disapproval contorts his face as he bounces his finger at me. “This has Jackson’s name all over it. He’s gotten to you, hasn’t he? Filling your head with all the lovey shit about marriage.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to marry her.”

  Nerves. They’re not something I deal with often. I don’t experience them before a fight. I don’t combat them as I stand before an opponent. And I definitely do not deal with them when I take women out. Encountering them now makes no sense. It’s putting me on edge and in a shit mood, regardless if I’m about to knock on her door.

  My breath fucking snags at the sight of her. Standing there with shimmer eyes, her hair falling around her face, she’s dressed up, but not too dressy. The silver fabric of her shirt fits tightly but falls loosely into her cleavage giving me just enough of a sneak peek of the smooth skin. Her pants hug tightly to her curves. And her heels…

  Fuck me…I should’ve finished off in the shower.

  I set my jaw. “You look beautiful.”

  She smiles innocently and tilts her head. “Like a distraction?”

  “That’s putting it lightly.”

  Every ounce of my body is aware of her as I help her into my truck. The scent of her perfume—an intoxicating mixture of exotic and seductive—travels through my chest in a direct path to my cock.

  “Fuck,” I whisper as I round the hood of my truck. I’m in deep shit.

  She bounces her knee and doesn’t say much, her view darting everywhere except to me.

  The restaurant has a soft hum as other people chat quietly amongst themselves. Because there are times I’m spotted by people who recognize me, I reserved a table in the back corner to give us more seclusion. Right now, I want it to be just her and me.

  The waitress, dressed in a white button down and black tie, smiles as she approaches us and asks what we’d like to drink. Whitney orders a glass of red wine, and I get a beer in one of their snazzy mugs. Wine isn’t my thing.

  “Ever been here?” I ask just as the waitress rushes off to grab our drinks.

  Whitney looks around, taking in the place before answering. “No. It’s really pretty. I’ve heard of this place. A few of my clients have raved about it.”

  “You enjoy event planning?”

  Her eyes light up and my chest squeezes. What the hell is that?

  “I do.”

  The waitress brings our drinks and we order our meals. This time Whitney’s is much smaller than the huge wrap she ordered for lunch the other day.

  “I assumed being a fighter you’d be more…” she twirls her hand trying to find the right word.

  “Busted up?” I offer with a chuckle.

  “Scarred, I guess would be the right word.”

  “I’m good at what I do,” I boast. “And the fact I tend to my wounds meticulously when I do get them.”

  “How’d you get the one above your eye?” she asks, tipping her chin. “Was that from fighting?”

  “Yeah. It’s from fighting.” My answer comes out a bit more irked than I mean. “Let’s just say I fucked around and let my feelings get the best of me.”

  Her eyebrows draw together. “May I ask what you mean?”

  I take a swig of my beer before answering. “My opponent and I have an ugly past. Both of us were gearing toward the same goal, a championship that would allow the winner entrance into the pros. Everything was already heightened.”

  I purposely leave out the part of exactly how my feelings interfered. I’m not sure she’d be too impressed over my dumb damn ignorance.

  “Did you win?”

  Her optimism tugs the corner of my lips. “No. My first loss.”

  She straightens, leaning up. “Wait. You were undefeated before that?”

  I cock my brow. “Told you I was good.” It makes her smile and something in my chest cramps again. “We both were. He was good and I knew he was going to be tough to beat. I always welcome a good challenge. What I didn’t think was he was going to win and I’d lose it. I thought for sure I had that fight.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says softly.

  “I’ll have another shot into the pros soon. I’m better prepared for it. You’re not supposed to bring emotions to a fight. I’m trained to drop them at the door and continue them after walking back out. It was a good lesson. As much as it pissed me off, it also restored me. My feet weren’t quite planted on the ground. I was brash and it took me losing pretty fucking hard for me to see where I was headed wasn’t quite the place I desired.”

  “As if you lost yourself?”

  “You can call it that.”

  The waitress returns with our food and sets our plates down before asking
if everything looks good and hurrying back off.

  Whitney tucks her napkin in her lap and grabs her silverware. “I lost myself once. Thought I was fine until I wasn’t.”

  My jaw ticks. I consider if I want to know why, but I ask anyway. “What happened?”

  “Dated a guy all through high school and he went off to college. We did the long-distance relationship, but it started going sour really quickly. His calls became less and less and when we did find the time to talk, it was always an ugly argument. He consistently blamed it all on me too. On a whim, I flew out there to surprise him for his birthday only to find out his girlfriend had a better surprise for me. She was six months pregnant.”

  She laughs. Actually fucking laughs at her memory of some dickhead hurting her. I feel like snapping the guy’s neck.

  I grunt peeved at the prick. “Find your way back?”

  Her eyes flicker. “I did.”

  “And it’s ruined you for all other men?”

  She titters. “No. Not at all. You’re not all the same. You all have different characteristics and flaws. Just because one asshole broke my heart doesn’t mean the next man I hand it to will. I’m just more careful who I give it to now.”

  I think my mouth drops. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything sexier come from your mouth.”

  Other than the little moan that dazed my dick, but I leave that thought to myself.

  She laughs.

  “Except for that.” I bounce my fork at her. “Your laugh conquers all things beautiful.”

  Her cheeks rosy up and she looks away as she takes a sip from her wine. “What about you?” She dismisses the compliment. “Ever had your heart broken?”

  I ponder answering her, taking my sweet ass time chewing the food in my mouth. The conversation has taken a turn to the ledge of the awkward building and I don’t feel like leaping. “Yeah. Once.” I don’t look up, cramming another bite of food into my mouth, not giving a damn to touch any further on the subject. Too much more of this delicate shit and my head is going to explode.

  “When’s your next fight?”

  I raise my gaze to her. “Why? You plan on coming with me?”

  She purses her sexy full lips and tilts her head in such a sassy way, my dick twitches.

  “In two weekends,” I answer her.

  “How long are you normally gone?” she asks.

  “Are you already missing me?” I lace my tone with a flirtatiousness just to see her cheeks flare again. She’s easily riled and it’s fucking cute.

  She twists her mouth, trying to hide the smile, but I can see the hint of one. “Of course not. I’m interested in how long I’ll have peace and quiet.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll leave next Thursday and come back either Sunday or Monday. Depends on what’s scheduled.”

  “Sounds like a great deal. Travel the world doing the job you enjoy.”

  “What’s the saying? Choose the job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

  “There’s a lot of truth to that,” she says wiping her mouth and for a moment, I’m pulled into a fantasy of licking the pasta sauce off her lips.

  Silverware clanks in the distance and I blink, peering into a set of eyes that seem to know exactly what thoughts I was having. I’m not ashamed. Not one fucking bit.

  After settling the check, I take her home. Look, I have a plan. She’s skittish. Her friends have told me and I see it written all over her face. I have a lot of will power, self-discipline, and a lot of motherfucking time to inject myself into her thoughts.

  “Thank you for tonight,” she says all sweet and shit, turning to face me on her porch.

  The innocence in her eyes is killing me, completely fucking me up and demolishing my game. I tug her into me by her hand and then wrap an arm around her waist as her sexy frame rests against my chest.

  She peers up at me with so much uncertainty and fear swirling behind the yellow flecks that it pangs something deep in my chest.

  “I hate you look at me like you’re scared of me,” I murmur.

  I watch her jaw tense and loosen as she swallows. “It’s not you that scares me.”

  The breathy pant proves how attracted she is. I know we both feel it, the surge of sexual intensity. The hint’s fair game. I run my nose along hers and her breath skips. She’s clinging to my biceps looking at me with so much lust…I grin and do the very thing I’ve been dying to since first laying eyes on her—take to her lips.

  Gently, I kiss her, exploring her mouth. Her body reacts and all but liquefies in my hands. I’m buzzing with energy, and a zest of eagerness builds deep in my stomach. I dig my fingers into her hip to steady her…or maybe it’s for me. The kiss is slow, our tongues dragging across one another’s. My pulse kicks up as I beckon the strength to keep it slow. I groan against her skin. She moans, sliding her hands up my arms and over my shoulders. My restraint snaps and I squeeze her hips, reluctantly pulling back, but not before I suck on her bottom lip for added titillation.

  It takes her a minute to find her bearings, but when she finally opens her golden-brown eyes, I swear I fall head first into them.

  Contentment. It’s the unwanted bastard feeling swelling in my chest.

  “I want another date,” I rasp.

  “Okay,” she sighs breathless.

  I have a deep seeded need to see her soon. “Lunch tomorrow?”

  She frowns. “I can’t.”

  I study her. “Will you be running?”

  She smiles a little silly and it causes my heart to slap my chest. “You don’t like to run.”

  “I’ll like anything as long as I’m doing it with you.”

  I catch the way her eyes glaze over just before she blinks it away. “I take Sundays to myself. It’s my recharge day. But if you’d like to come Monday—”

  “I’ll be here,” rumbles out of my chest in a rush.

  I kiss her forehead and release my grip on her waist. She takes a step back and it is worth noticing she just licked my taste off her lips. I wink and leave.

  If I don’t, I’m going to fuck her against the door.

  Chapter 8

  Last night, Ryker completely infused himself into my mind and wreaked havoc on my dreams. I wasn’t on this planet when his lips departed from mine. I have no idea where I floated off to. The sensations started in my toes, warmth traveling my entire body. The world around me fell silent and all I heard was his breath, my heartbeat, and a throb of desire I didn’t know I craved until it was there. He was overwhelmingly mind-blowing.

  I was so anxious all day about the date, scared it would end in an awkward predicament. I expected him to push me past the limits I allow on the first date, but surprisingly, and very painfully, he didn’t. Gentleman seems weird dressed upon him.

  There’s something about him that makes me feel safe and extremely comfortable, as if I shouldn’t worry about a single piece of the world as long as he’s around me. I wonder if all the other girls he’s around experience the same feelings?

  All the other girls?

  The statement swirls in my brain and causes a heaping pile of destruction. I don’t want to split my time with him. I don’t date casually because the thought of the guy I’m interested in having to divide his attention doesn’t appeal to me. I’m a one-man woman and I expect the same in the guy I date. Going out with my guy on Friday and him having another date with someone else on Saturday makes me nauseated.

  Exclusivity—it’s important to me. You can thank my momma and my past for that.

  Maybe that’s the reason he didn’t take it further? Maybe he had another woman’s scent on him? Could he go from one woman to the next in the very same day? It’s not unheard of.

  My heart aches.

  I’m screwed. I need to get a handle on this.

  I grab my phone and call the one person I know can talk my sense straight—Candice.

  “I was wondering how long you were going to keep me in the dark before you filled me in,” she gi
ggles answering the phone.

  “I need help. I need someone to sort out my thoughts. Straighten them out. I need someone to tell me I’m overreacting. I need som—”

  “Slow down!” she snickers. “I’m assuming it was a damn good date?”

  I sigh dreamily. “It was sweet. He took me to Mercy’s, a really nice restaurant.”

  She hums. “And then he brought you home and had you in his bed all night?” Her tone is sing-songy.

  “No. He kissed me at the end of the date and left.”

  “You didn’t make out at all? Let him feel your tits? Did you let him inside your house?”

  “No.” I frown knowing what’s about to come out of her mouth.

  She groans. “You and your first date rules bullshit. No making out. No sex. This sounds like a middle school date. What the hell is wrong with you? How are we even friends?”

  “I really enjoyed it,” I tell her.

  “Then I know it was super boring. You don’t enjoy the fun things in life. You’re way too safe.”

  I laugh. “I like being safe. One day you’ll wish you listened to me when your va-jay-jay has to be sewn shut indefinitely due to a flesh-eating amoeba.”

  She bursts out in a hyena laugh. “Fun doesn’t mean I’m not safe.”

  “Well, I like to be seen as a person and not an object.”

  “I’ll be any object he wants as long as he knows what he’s doing.” I can picture her twirling her hair around her finger.

  “God, Candice.” I drop my head into my hand.

  She hasn’t stopped laughing. “Tell me about this kiss. Please tell me it was as great as you’ve described his looks.”

  “Impeccable.”

  “When are you seeing him again?”

  “Monday. He wants to go running again,” I tell her.

  “If he’s willing to put himself through the dullness of your boring run, I believe you have yourself a winner. You have to promise me you’ll thank him properly with a wild night in the sack and very soon.”

  “Talking to you is arduous,” I tease.

  “Yet, you can’t live without me.”