Take Down, page 9
“We appreciate that. But Nick and I are champions. We’d be able to afford training now because of our sponsors. The only sponsors these kids were able to get are now gone thanks to this deal with Mereo. And you’re not inviting them to train here.”
“We can’t pay for everyone’s training.” Darcy gave an exaggerated shrug.
“Of course you can’t,” Gabe said, getting frustrated because it was beginning to feel like they were talking circles around each other. “I understand you can only invite so many fighters to train here. That’s why it’s even more important that the younger guys just starting out are able to secure sponsors. Guys who used to make five grand from a fight are now only getting a thousand. They’re only able to take a fight every couple of months, so that’s a significant drop in pay.”
Darcy raised his hands as if it were out of his control. “It is what it is. I don’t like that the guys are making less, but I pay them fairly. So they have to take extra shifts at their jobs. We all do what we have to do to make ends meet. It’s life.”
Gabe sat back, his body pressing into the soft leather of the couch as he crossed his arms and tried to calm himself. Bringing anger into the conversation wouldn’t help, but Darcy seemed unreachable. “Dropping from thirty grand a year to five can’t be made up with a few extra shifts at work.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes, their blue cooling. “What the hell, Maddox? You taking their side in this?”
“There doesn’t have to be sides. We all want the same thing here. We want the WFC to be successful, and for everyone to be treated fairly along the way.”
“You can’t come in here and tell me that I’m not being fair and then say you’re not taking sides.” Darcy ran his hand through his hair.
Shit. This wasn’t going well. He’d expected a conversation about the pay structure and how to get it realigned more fairly. What he was getting was denial and willful ignorance, both of which Gabe had very little patience for. “I’m here because the fighters came to me. They’re pissed about their loss of income. They want to organize. I told them to let me talk to you first and share their concerns.”
“Organize, huh?” Darcy scoffed. “I picked every damn one of them out of nothing and brought them here to give them a chance at something big. This is how they repay me?”
“They just want their cut.”
“They get a fair cut. It’s on them if they’re not happy with it.”
Gabe shook his head. “Is their cut fair? How much does the WFC keep in profit?”
Darcy took in a breath. “I think we’re done here.”
“Boss, it doesn’t have to go down this way. They just want what they were earning before.”
“And I just want to build this league, and I can’t do it if they’re nickel-and-diming me,” Darcy shot back. “It costs money to put on Fan Day and all the other events we’re doing to raise engagement, print merchandise, build a state-of-the-art training facility. All of this helps to strengthen our brand, which strengthens their brands. They benefit from that money spent.”
“But you won’t have a league without the fighters. We helped you build it. Seems like you’re forgetting that.”
“I’m not forgetting anything,” Darcy said. “It’s the fighters who shouldn’t forget that I got them where they are. Let them organize. I’ll replace every damn one of them.”
Gabe sighed. He could see from the set of Darcy’s jaw that nothing good was going to come from discussing this further right now, and he stood. “Think about it. I don’t think either of us wants that to happen.” He walked to the door and hoped Darcy would see reason before things went from bad to worse.
Gabe took the last bite of his grilled chicken and shoved his plate away. He sat at the small table in his kitchen, eating dinner with his television on as he did most nights, but tonight he couldn’t focus on the sitcom he’d recorded. His gaze kept flicking back to his phone charging on the kitchen counter. Turning off the TV, he took his plate to the sink and rinsed it before placing it in the dishwasher. His gaze jumped back to the phone as he downed the rest of his water, put his glass on the top rack, and closed the dishwasher.
Ever since his talk with Darcy that morning, he hadn’t been able to get Megan out of his head. It was time he dealt with her, and he hoped she’d had enough space to come to terms with their kiss.
He had no doubt that she was inexperienced in what he wanted, and sadly, there was no way one night would get her comfortable enough with him to allow him to do all the things that he fantasized about with her. After the way she’d responded to him—all submissive and eager for more—he suspected that she’d be a willing student. However, they likely wouldn’t get far past him tying her up, because he couldn’t give her more than one night.
She was different. Somehow, she had the power to reach past all the barriers he had erected between himself and other people. As he reached for his phone to call her, he realized that part of his reluctance was that he’d always known that. He wasn’t ready to let anyone see his ugly scars. And she would if he gave her half the chance. That was part of what scared him. He could have her but couldn’t keep her, because keeping her would mean letting her in, and no fucking way was that happening.
It was why one night would have to be enough. One perfect night—to explore her and watch her come apart. To have her and get her out of his system.
He scrolled to the voice mail she’d left him and selected the option to return her call. His heart beat in his ears as it rang. It wasn’t that he thought she might say no. Gabe knew she was curious enough about their connection to say yes to one night. It was that he was concerned about his own level of interest in her, but he wasn’t going to let that keep him from seeing her. Calling her barely even felt like a choice.
“Hello?” His heart shuddered to a stop at the sound of her voice. She’d answered just when he’d started to think he’d get her voice mail. She sounded breathless and he wondered if it was because she’d run to answer the call, or because she was as anxious to talk as him.
“It’s Gabe.” His voice came out gruffer than he’d meant it to.
“I-I know . . . I mean, hi.” She sounded a little unsure of herself, almost shy. It was endearing, and he realized that he wanted to learn all the different sides of her.
“I want to see you.” He grimaced when he realized how that must sound. She kept him off balance. “I don’t mean . . . I don’t date. Ever. It’s not what I do.”
She took in a breath, but her next words surprised him. “I know. That’s what Nick said.”
So she’d asked Nick about him. He didn’t know why, but that pleased him. It shouldn’t, but maybe it meant she understood what she’d be getting into with him. Just to be sure, he laid it out so there’d be no misunderstanding. “I want to fuck you, Megan. I want to tie you up and make you come so hard you scream.”
The sound of her breathing, nearly panting, made him close his eyes. He clenched his hand into a fist. “You want it too,” he added over the sound of her breath, his voice hoarse now that his erection was straining against his zipper.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” She said it not with a challenge, but with a smile and a little waver in her voice. It was her way of lightening the mood. Even though he barely knew her, he recognized it as a move that was distinctly Megan. He couldn’t help but smile.
“I am,” he said. “You’re already wet just thinking about it.”
Her breath hitched, and he knew he was right.
“Tomorrow night at eight. The Palms. I’ll leave a key at the front desk for you.” He paused before adding, “One night only.”
“One night only? That’s a lot of pressure.” He could hear the smile come back into her voice. “Why only one night?”
“I don’t date. You’re friends with Jules. It could get complicated. Maybe even once is a bad idea, but I can’t get you out of my mind.”
She took in a deep, wavering breath before asking, “What if I don’t want to be tied up?”
His smile widened. Maybe she didn’t know it yet, but he knew she’d love it. She’d responded so well to him on Friday night that there was no doubt in his mind that she’d like being restrained. “You’ll like it, but you say stop, I stop.”
She waited a heartbeat before saying, “Okay. I’ll be there.”
Warmth spread through his chest, as if she’d given him a dose of her sunshine. He had to remind himself that this was only about sex, one chance to taste her sweetness before he pushed her out of his mind for good. “Good night, Megan.”
9
“UH, HI. I think there’s a key for me? Megan Sinclair?” Megan took a fortifying breath and fought the urge to fidget as the front desk clerk smiled at her and typed a few words into her computer.
Megan licked her lips, wondering if anyone could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest. She’d never done anything like this before, ever. But something about Gabe—God, the way he’d said I want to fuck you still sent her stomach into a swirling frenzy—made her want to take a risk. A leap into the unknown. It was thrilling and scary and exciting, and even though she knew it was dangerous, he made her want all of that.
She adjusted her purse, then smoothed her hands down the front of her denim shirtdress. She’d agonized over what to wear, trying on dress after dress, but all of them had felt too fancy. Besides, the entire point was to get naked, so she’d eventually chosen something simple and comfortable.
The woman held up a manicured finger and stepped away from the desk. Megan waited, barely registering the sounds of the casino, barely taking in the lobby’s décor. All day she’d struggled to focus, and she’d given up trying to write, instead going to La Perla and picking out a red bra and panty set, lacy and sheer. She’d taken her time pampering herself that afternoon, shaving her legs—shaving everything—painting her nails, rubbing lotion into her skin.
She wanted to please him, and knowing that she could—that he wanted her as much as she wanted him—made her feel indescribably sexy. The idea that she was getting herself not just ready for sex, but ready for Gabe, had turned her on, and she’d spent the afternoon aroused, fully aware of her body in ways she usually wasn’t, especially after the cancer had left her feeling so alienated from it.
She’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Gabe. Although she was wary about the whole one night only condition of their hookup, she was too intrigued, too curious, too attracted to him to stay away. The night of the party, he’d done something to her, and while she didn’t fully understand it, she did have the sense that she needed what Gabe had to offer. He’d shut her brain off and made her greedy for him, so much so that she hadn’t even contemplated saying no to his offer.
“Miss?” The clerk’s voice brought her back to the present. “Sorry about that. Here’s your key,” she said, sliding a card across the desk. “Room 16106. Elevators are just over there.” She pointed somewhere behind Megan. Squashing down the small flicker of embarrassment—after all, there was pretty much only one reason someone would’ve left her a key at the front desk—she smiled her thanks and strode through the busy lobby.
Adrenaline coursed through her and her mind raced as she stepped into the elevator with several other guests, and then pressed the button for the sixteenth floor. Thoughts flew by so fast she could barely latch on to them. Would she be good for him? Would she know what to do? Would he regret this? Would she? What if her lack of experience was a turnoff for him? What if she couldn’t come, despite what he’d promised on the phone? What if she couldn’t get out of her head and the emotional scars from the cancer surfaced? Would he get frustrated with her? Annoyed, like others had?
What if having sex with a man she was both attracted to and intrigued by, a man who was so emotionally guarded she could practically see his walls, was a huge mistake?
She stepped off the elevator and started down the hallway, toward the room where Gabe was waiting. Her stomach quivered, and she took a deep breath. Even though they’d agreed that they’d only spend tonight together, she wasn’t naïve enough to pretend that it wouldn’t change things between them. Once she crossed that threshold, there was no going back.
She tapped the key against the pad, and opened the door.
Gabe sat in an armchair by the window, and her heart caught in her chest at the sight of him. His long hair was down, falling in golden waves around his shoulders, and he wore a plain white T-shirt and worn jeans. He’d shaved, leaving his chiseled jaw smooth. His feet were bare, his legs sprawled casually in front of him. He held a glass in one hand, a small amount of amber liquid in it. He didn’t react as she stepped into the room, only cocked his head and studied her in silence. She could feel his eyes on her, almost like a caress, and something about his quiet yet commanding presence was reassuring, calming her nerves a little.
He took a sip of his drink, his throat working as he swallowed. Her eyes darted to the king-size bed in the center of the room, the white duvet undisturbed. The carpet was thick and plush under her feet. The room was all dark wood and luxe fabrics, with a massive window that looked out over the city. A large flat-screen TV hung from the wall opposite the bed, and as she moved farther into the room, she caught a glimpse of gleaming white marble in the bathroom.
He’d gotten them a nice room, and although she wasn’t sure he meant anything by it, it made her feel special. Like this one night was important to him too.
A gray-and-black backpack sat on the floor near Gabe’s feet, and she swallowed, wondering what was inside. She set her purse on the dresser, and Gabe still didn’t move, just studied her appraisingly, his gaze roving over her body in a way that warmed her from the inside out.
“Tell me why you came.” His deep voice rumbled over her skin, raising goose bumps on her arms.
She knew she owed him an explanation after the way she’d run at the party, and if they were going to do this, she might as well be honest. She licked her lips, wondering if he could see her pulse jumping in her throat. “Because I want this as much as you do.”
He took another sip of his drink before answering. They were on his schedule now, and for some reason, that relaxed her. She liked letting him take over. It made her feel safe and secure in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
“And do you know what I want from you, Megan?”
The sound of her name in his deep baritone made her shiver. She nodded. They hadn’t discussed it explicitly, but she knew the answer he wanted, because it was the answer she wanted to give. “My submission.”
“Mmm.” It was an approving sound, one that spread over her like sunshine. “And you can give that to me? Just for tonight?”
Her breath hitched as a warm throb settled between her legs. “Y-yes. I’m yours, Gabe.”
Something flickered across his face, a raw, primal emotion she didn’t quite have a name for, but then he drained the rest of his drink. He set the glass down on the table beside him and leaned back in his chair, his T-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest. “Take your dress off.”
She nodded again, surprised at how much she liked obeying him, and slipped out of her brown ankle boots before starting in on the buttons of her shirtdress, letting them fall open, one by one. Her fingers started to shake, and she fumbled with the last couple of buttons. Some of her usual doubts and insecurities about her ability to satisfy a man in bed returned, but she tried to brush them away. She wouldn’t be here if Gabe didn’t want her. She managed to slip the last button free, and her dress gaped open. She pushed it down her shoulders, feeling vulnerable, but also trusting him to care for her. She was surprised at how easy it was for her to give him that trust, given the relatively short time she’d known him. But it felt . . . natural. Right, and startlingly easy.
A low rumbling came from Gabe as her dress hit the floor, heat and hunger blazing from his eyes. With the grace of a predator, he rose from his chair and closed the distance between them in a few strides. The bulge in his jeans was noticeable, sending excitement spiraling through her. He reached out and trailed his fingers down her arm, eliciting a small shiver.
“Did you buy this for me?” he asked, toying with the strap of her bra. His fingers dipped lower, tracing the curve of her breast over the top of the lace. Her nipples beaded and his eyes darkened. She knew he could see them through the sheer fabric, and a thrill worked its way through her at the idea of being on display for Gabe.
“Yes. I wanted to—to . . .” She trailed off as he dragged his knuckles over her nipples, teasing her through her bra. They tightened to the point of aching, and she bit her lip, holding in a moan.
Walking in a slow circle around her, he studied her from every angle. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder from behind. “You’re so fucking sexy, Megan.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she basked in his approval. His big hands moved down her back, tracing her spine, before firmly palming her ass and squeezing her cheeks. He let out a low groan. “If you had any idea how many fantasies I’ve had about this ass,” he said, his grip tightening. He gave it a slap, not hard enough to sting, just enough to warm her skin. She whimpered and instinctively tried to push her hips back toward him.
“No. Only I get to touch right now,” he said, his grip rough on her hips. Once she stilled, his hands moved up her back, and he released the clasp of her bra. She let it fall to the floor without a fight.
He trailed a series of biting kisses down her bare back, hooking his fingers into her panties and pulling them down her legs as he kissed and nipped his way across her lower back. Her panties fell around her ankles just as his teeth sank into one of her ass cheeks, as though he was marking her. She gasped at the sting of pain, her insides softening as that sting warmed into something more, something hotter and more urgent.
“I can smell how turned on you are, baby. You smell so goddamn good.”
