Going the Distance (No Excuses Book 1) (6 page)

When the pleasure subsided and her heartbeat started to slow, she let out a satisfied sigh and he removed his hand.

“Best fucking movie I’ve ever seen,” he said, giving her a smug smile.

She was too exhausted to think clearly, but gave him a punch on the shoulder.

“What’s for dessert?” he teased as she pulled her skirt into place.

The thought of more to come sent shivers through her all over again.

“A ride home,” she got out and collapsed against the back of her seat.

So tonight had gone way beyond what she’d thought would happen. In all honesty, she’d expected some kissing, but this? Good Lord! Right now she didn’t know what to say.

The little girl on the screen turned into a scary, wrinkled old woman again to some ear-piercing music.

Trent jerked in his seat. “Fuck! I’ve had enough of this shit. Let’s go.”

Sam’s legs felt like rubber and all she wanted to do was relax in her seat, scary movie and all, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Come on, pussycat, let’s get outta here.”

She got up in lazy protest, grabbed her purse and jacket, and followed him. A minute later, they were outside, where the fresh air revived her. She didn’t think it a good idea to continue being in his company because then all bets would be off, so she grabbed her keys out of her purse and started walking to the car. She hoped he wouldn’t start talking about what had just happened, because she was mortified at her own behavior. She could barely look him in the eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asked, right behind her.

“Back to the gym. Other than the movie, I didn’t have anything else planned for tonight.”

He grabbed her wrist and spun her around. “It’s still early. I can think of plenty of things to do.”

“Yeah, well, this time, I’ll be the one to turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get home before midnight,” she replied, pulling away.

He growled, but didn’t push the issue further. They walked to the car, got in, and drove off.

“If I would’ve known you’re such a baby, I wouldn’t have taken you to a scary movie,” she joked, needing to fill the silence.

“And if I’d known you’d run off after coming all over my hand, I would’ve taken you straight to bed instead of going to the theater tonight.”

She was too stunned and embarrassed to respond. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, replaying their experience in her head. She’d never think of the theater the same way again.

“So when are we gonna finish what we started?” he asked.

She inhaled deeply and hit the gas. “When you give me an interview, babe.”

He gave a deep, raspy chuckle and she wondered when exactly that was going to be.

***

A couple of days after having Sam melt in his hand, Trent was getting the shit beaten out of him in the ring by his sparring partner.

“What’s the matter with you, Trent?” Ramirez shouted loud enough for everyone in the gym to hear.

Trent was getting more furious by the second. He was trying to dodge Shayne’s jabs, but with people yelling in his ear every fucking moment, he couldn’t focus for shit.

He moved to the left and ducked, barely escaping Shayne’s glove, then swung high to hit him with an uppercut. Shayne saw it coming and moved out of the way.

For fuck’s sake! Throw something worth a damn!

Trent ran a glove over his right eye as sweat started to impair his vision, then circled his opponent in the center of the ring. He was huffing and puffing, feeling like they’d been at it for hours.

Shayne moved in, deflected a few of Trent’s jabs and threw a straight shot right between Trent’s raised hands. It landed perfectly, making Trent’s nose feel like it had just hit a brick wall.

“Alright, break time!” Ramirez called out.

“You cool?” Shayne asked, nodding at Trent.

“Yeah, man.”

Shayne jumped out of the ring and Trent wiped the blood trickling from his nose. At least it wasn’t broken. That would really take the piss out of things.

“So what’s with you?” Ramirez asked, looking gloomier than he had in a long time.

“Nothing’s with me,” Trent said, ducking under the rope to get out of the ring. He needed to wipe his nose and wash his face, not answer Ramirez’s interrogation right now.

“I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours,” Ramirez said, following Trent to the locker room, “but you need to wake the fuck up. You’re fighting like shit out there, man. Shayne just gave you a bloody nose. Shayne, your sparring partner!”

“I know who he is,” Trent shot back over his shoulder. He didn’t need to be reminded that the rookie in the gym was doing a better job than he was.

He walked to the sink and turned on the cold water, then splashed his face several times while Ramirez watched him in the mirror.

“You gonna stand there while I take a piss too?” Trent asked, glaring at Ramirez’s reflection.

“I don’t know. Maybe you need help with that too, cause the way you’re performing out there makes me think you need all the help you can get.”

Trent didn’t bother replying. What the fuck was wrong with people? Kicking him while he was down. He really didn’t need them pointing out how badly he was fucking up since he knew it all too well himself. He was the one getting beat up, after all.

“Ever since that goddamn reporter’s been showing up, your head’s been in the clouds,” Ramirez continued.

Trent leaned against the counter and stared in the mirror. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Bullshit.”

“She doesn’t. Or are you gonna tell me that she’s the reason I lost to Povetkin too?”

Ramirez merely snorted and crossed his arms. “Well, she’s around here too much.”

Trent didn’t bother pointing out that she’d only been inside the gym once. Ramirez seemed to know it all right now.

Trent had been spending more time with Sam than with any other chick before and had noticed that she was on his mind a lot. Maybe she was starting to mess with him, which could spell trouble. But that was over now since their little rendezvous had come to an end. She was expecting an interview, although he didn’t know why after the stuff they’d done together. The closest thing to meeting his requirement for an interview was what they’d done in the movie theater. That shit was at least worth a couple of questions.

But he agreed with Ramirez that Sam was a distraction that he couldn’t afford. He just needed to see her one more time, finish what they’d started, and then he could focus again.

“I don’t need to remind you what’s important,” Ramirez cut into his thoughts.

“Then don’t.”

Ramirez threw up his hands in the air. “Suit yourself, man. It’s your fucking career.”

Trent shot Ramirez a look that said he better stop talking, but Ramirez simply turned and walked out.

“My fucking career,” Trent mumbled to himself, staring at his fists pushing against the counter. “That’s right, it’s my fucking career, so everybody back the fuck off!”

His nose tingled painfully and he squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to take a deep breath. What he needed was a good release, something to make him forget all about his fucking career and the ring. Something that was so sweet and juicy, that his mind would be consumed with nothing else.

Sam made herself comfortable on the couch with a glass of red wine. Aaliyah was playing in the background and the sweat pants and tank top Sam was wearing now were a lot less restrictive than the work clothes she’d just pulled off.

Work had been a pain in the butt as the human interest story she’d been writing sounded like an elementary school kid had come up with it.

She sighed and took a healthy gulp of wine, then grabbed her notepad to look over the interview questions she was finalizing for Trent. After she’d dropped him off at the gym the last time, she’d told him she would follow up for her interview. He hadn’t said anything to that, but she was adamant. She’d explain her reasoning for their activities to him and then he’d surely agree to it.

A knock on the door got her attention and she got up to answer it.

“Who is it?”

“Me.”

“Me, who?” she asked, unable to keep from smiling.

“You know damn well who it is.”

She opened the door just enough to peek out at Trent. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt, dark jeans, sneakers, and the same brooding look he’d had the night he’d approached her in Vegas.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” He looked intently into her eyes.

She breathed a sigh of relief knowing that finally she’d get her interview. She opened the door to let him in, but detected a weird undertone to his mood as he stepped inside. Something about him was different.

“I was just finalizing my questions,” she said, closing the door.

“What questions?”

“The interview, remember?” She tried to move around him, but he blocked her path.

“Who said I’m here for that?”

Her pulse was suddenly racing as he loomed over her. “You’re not here for the interview?”

“Fuck no,” he said, pinning her against the wall and covering her mouth with his.

She was too stunned to think. His fingers wrapped around her wrists and held them over her head as his erection pressed against her. His tongue teased hers and she tasted him greedily. Thank God for small mercies. He was the last thing she needed, but the only thing she’d wanted in a long time.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said against her lips. “Tonight, you’re mine. I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my goddamn name.”

The declaration should have alarmed her, but instead, she pressed her hips against him eagerly, wanting so badly what he promised.

“We’ll see if you live up to your name,” she said, surprising herself at her boldness.

He looked into her eyes and gave her a smug smile. “Oh, you’re asking for it.”

Before she could respond, he spun her around to face the wall and pulled down her pants and underwear. She kicked them off and he reached around, yanked her tank top down to expose her breasts and grabbed one of them. His other hand dug into her butt cheeks, squeezing and touching as though memorizing the feel of her. She tried to turn, but he pinned her with his body.

“Don’t fucking move,” he ordered, running his hand down her stomach, then lower, until she felt him between her legs.

“So goddamn wet for me,” he said against her ear.

She threw back her head to rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his fingers. The sensation was short-lived, however, as he pulled away and she heard him fumble with something that sounded like a wrapper. Suddenly he was up against her again, spreading her legs apart with his knee. He didn’t waste any time and pushed into her, quick and hard. The invasion made her gasp, but just as quickly, he pulled out. She waited for him to enter her again, but he didn’t, much to her frustration. She placed her hands on the wall, hung her head, and backed her butt up until she felt him poking her.

He grabbed her chin and tilted it up. “You want more?”

She nodded. He drove into her again and she cried out with pleasure. He went deep and hard, making her feel like all the other times she’d had sex were foreplay to what he was doing to her now.

When the pleasure started building until she was sure she’d have an orgasm right then on the spot, he pulled out, spun her around and lifted her leg to wrap around him, then pushed into her again.

“Fuck, you feel so much better than I imagined,” he said hoarsely, wrapping one hand around her throat while the other held her hips in place.

She leaned her head against the wall as he thrust into her repeatedly, making her breath come out in ragged gasps. She became consumed with the feeling of him inside her, panting as though all air had been sucked out of the room, and grinding up against him in search for more. He leaned forward and stuck his tongue in her mouth, pushing just as hard into her. That feeling that had been building inside her exploded and she screamed against his mouth.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, not stopping. The ripples of pleasure continued until she thought she’d collapse in a heap on the floor. When her body started to relax against him, he pulled out, picked her up in his arms and carried her down the hall into the living room.

“What are you doing?” she asked, holding on to his neck.

“What I came here to do.”

He dropped her onto the couch and quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head, giving her a moment to stare at his naked body. Her eyebrows shot up at the condom still covering his erection. Jesus, the man was a machine.

“Take your shirt off,” he said, watching her.

She removed her tank top and felt suddenly self-conscious being on display for him. Her knees clenched together in an attempt to cover up, but he grabbed her legs and flipped her onto her stomach.

“Stick your ass up for me,” he said, watching her.

She deliberated how much more she could take, wanting him all over again but feeling like she’d already turned to melted butter.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her butt up himself, then quickly pushed inside her again, holding on to her hips as he thrust hard and fast. Her mouth dropped and her eyes squeezed shut at the deep penetration. She pressed against his thrusts, feeling that familiar sensation stir inside her again, and she dug her fingers into the couch in anticipation.

When he reached forward and pulled her by her hair, she cried out as another orgasm crashed over her, making her throb all over. He slowed down, digging his fingers into her hips while he pushed deep into her, letting out a growl that was more satisfying than anything she’d ever heard.

She released her grip on the couch and buried her face in the cushions once he finally pulled out. A moment later, she heard him walk past her and open a couple of doors.

“The bathroom’s the second door on the left,” she mumbled sleepily. She hadn’t felt this good in probably forever and couldn’t keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried.

A few moments later, she heard his approach, but didn’t bother moving. He came to stand beside her and she felt his hands slide under her to pick her up, then he started walking.

“Where are we going now?” she asked, pressing her face against his chest.

“To bed.”

“I need a break,” she mumbled, feeling delirious.

He chuckled and set her down gently, then pulled the covers over her. She curled up in a fetal position and relished the cool feel of the bedsheets against her skin.

“Are you leaving now?” she asked, yawning.

He walked around the other side of the bed and got in. “Not yet, babe. I’m not done with you.”

His words made her groan and he laughed as he pulled her against him. “We got all night,” he promised, resting his chin against the top of her head.

“Speak for yourself,” she said against his chest. “I’m done.”

His body jerked as he chuckled again, but she didn’t mind. The sound was deeply satisfying and she decided that right now, the only thing she wanted to do was close her eyes and enjoy the beat of his heart against her ear. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

***

It was six in the morning and Trent was jogging on the beach in front of his house. The sun had just come up, and the air was cold and refreshing. Just what he needed after his visit to Sam’s place.

He’d snuck out of her apartment an hour ago, not bothering to wake her since she’d been wrapped up in the covers looking like the most delicious thing on the planet. He’d hoped to plunge inside her some more throughout the night, but she really had been passed out and not woken up for another round. He’d been disappointed since that was the only reason he’d stuck around, but then she’d curled up against him and he hadn’t been able to tear himself away from her. Something he never did with the women he was with.

She’d felt fucking phenomenal and he wondered just how much of a mistake he’d made. Sleeping with her once wasn’t going to be enough. Twice? Who knew. All he was sure of was that whenever he thought of her now, he got hard. Fast.

He dug his feet into the sand and ran faster. The cold mist sprayed him in the face and he wiped it away, feeling that much more alert. The little sleep he’d gotten wasn’t nearly enough, but he didn’t mind. Last night had been worth his time, unlike her weird activities that he was still confused about.

He’d consider giving her an interview if she gave him more of what he wanted. The thought made him clench his jaw. Now he was willing to break his own rules for her.

This was dangerous business. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, especially not by her. She’d been messing with him since the day they met, and he couldn’t let her continue to do so. He’d fucked her, just like he promised himself he would, so now it was time to put her out of his mind and move on. Focus on his training, his next fight, and his career. Ramirez and his team were counting on him, as was Emmanuel. Hell, the whole fucking world was counting on him to come back stronger, win his next fight and prove that he wasn’t washed up yet. He could win again.

He picked up his pace until his calves almost cramped up. His determination had gotten him far, but could he talk himself into going even further? Could he lie to himself and pretend that he could win again, then tell all those haters who were hoping for another loss to go to hell? He realized that he wasn’t sure.

The pressure was slowly starting to choke him. His fall from the top had been a long one. How the hell was he going to climb back up? His training sessions were shit, his technique seemed to be off, his timing wasn’t right, and his head was on anything but boxing. Instead, it was on Sam, the hard-ass girl who slapped him one minute, then melted in his hands the next. He’d never met a bigger contradiction, which was probably the only reason he kept thinking about her.

Another jogger passed by and nodded in greeting. Trent gave a brief nod and kept going.

The sun reflected off the calm waves and he breathed in the salty ocean air. Running on the beach usually calmed him down and allowed him to sort out his thoughts, but today, even that wasn’t helping.

He wondered what Sam did to relax. As he’d gotten dressed in her living room, he’d taken a look around. The apartment had the bare essentials in it, but what stood out was the fact that not a single picture of Sam or anybody else decorated the place. That made him wonder. He had pictures all over his beach house, of him holding up his championship belts, celebrating with Emmanuel, or posing with the guys. What kind of person didn’t have any pictures up? What was she trying to hide?

He’d come to the realization that he knew nothing about her. Other than the fact that she liked her neighbors, was a pretty good ice skater, and partied in Vegas. She never talked about herself and he wondered if that’s because she was trying to keep their relationship professional. Then again, he’d fucked her until she passed out exhausted. How professional was that?

The image of her ass sticking up in the air popped into his mind and he groaned at his reaction. God damn, this was gonna be a pain in the ass to control. After last night, her naked body was branded into his memory. How was he going to focus on his training with her haunting his every waking moment?

He had to do something about that and he already knew what.