Submission Moves: An MMA Romance (6 page)

His lips parted and he sucked in a noisy breath. “You like that, sweetheart? You like how I taste?”

Rose considered the question thoughtfully but found it difficult to sift through all the signals her senses were firing at her brain. Taste, smell, sight…they all melded into one. So she answered as truthfully as she could. “I think I might love it.”

Nick swore softly at that. “Am I the first you’ve tasted?”

She nodded. “That was also my first orgasm.”

His eyes widened and he looked completely taken aback.

“One that wasn’t self-induced, I mean,” she added hastily.

 
Nick only had a split second to process what she said before they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Yo, Nicky! You done in there?”

CHAPTER 6

“Shit,” they said in unison.

Nick rolled off her and pulled on his jeans. “Go to the bathroom for a second. I’ll take care of this.”  

Rose didn’t need to be told twice. She gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind her. As she cleaned herself up, she heard the door of the room being yanked open and Nick letting out a volley of angry curses that made her wince. The walls were paper thin, she realized, suddenly ashamed. The next door neighbors must’ve had quite an earful.

“What the fuck, Angelo? There was a sign on the door!”

She heard the door close again and the second voice, Angelo’s, getting louder as he entered. “You’re usually done around this time. When you didn’t follow us to the club, I thought I’d check on you.”

“Did you not see the body on that chick? I’ll need more than a couple of hours with that!”

Rose frowned, not quite liking what she heard. She caught sight of a large box of condoms sitting on the counter, not liking that even more. It was bigger than the box on the nightstand. Suddenly, she felt as cheap and tacky as Nick’s condom brand of choice, Monster Condoms. It came in a variety of colors and flavors. How fitting, for the variety of women he probably bedded.

The brothers continued talking outside with the drunk-sounding Angelo making lewd comments and Nick telling him to fuck off and leave.

“Dude, this is against a brotherly code of conduct or something. You cannot cock block me. Not with this girl.”

“You mean you haven’t even bagged her?” His voice dropped to a whisper, but Rose still heard it loud and clear.
 

Silence followed and she could only assume they’d resorted to whispering about her. It was now or never. As humiliating as it was to walk out there, she’d rather face that than spend another second locked in the bathroom with the offending box of condoms while they talked about her like some pathetic hook-up who had overstayed her welcome. After straightening her dress and hair as best she could, she emerged from the bathroom spine stiff and with as much dignity as she could muster.

The two men froze in mid-sentence and turned to her.

“Stay in there, Rosie,” Nick said distractedly. “I just need another second.”

This time she did not take kindly to being ordered. Her face was cold and impassive, save for an arched brow directed at Nick.

“Hi, Rose!” Angelo said brightly, as if they weren’t meeting in the most awkward of circumstances.

“Hello,” she said, with a smile dripping with hauteur, something she learned from her mother. “I’m sorry you were put out.”

Angelo blushed scarlet. “No, no!
I’m
sorry. I was about to leave,” he said, shooting Nick a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry I interrupted.”

“Don’t be. We’re quite done here.” Rose had prided herself for not having had to do a walk of shame her whole time in college. It turned out she’d spoken too soon. This was a walk of shame if ever there was one. She picked up her purse and stepped into her shoes. From her peripheral view, she saw Nick glare at Angelo and Angelo replying with a shrug of apology.

“Rosie,” Nick said imploringly at her back as she was about to step out of the room.

She turned around to look him straight in the eyes. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do. “Bye then. Have a good night.”

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times. He looked as if he had a lot more to say but decided against it, what with Angelo still in the room, listening. Instead, he let her go but followed closely as she made her way down the hall.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Nick grasped her by the arm and spun her around. “Shit, Rosie, I’m so sorry. I’ll go book us another room. It’s what I should’ve done in the first place.”

His touch wasn’t rough, but Rose was in no mood to be reasonable. She looked from him to where his hand still gripped her then back, eyes full of silent warning.

He let his hand drop and shoved it through his hair. “Don’t go. This doesn’t have to end yet.” He chewed on his lower lip in distress, eyes earnest and pleading.

Rose nearly folded. Nearly. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? We both did.” Even in irritation, she didn’t forget that the only thing Nick was really been guilty of was being a douchebag. Lots of guys were douchebags. Who the heck said she had to have sex with one? That was all on her. “So, thank you. Let’s call it a night.”

He smiled—small, cautious, and just a touch flirty. “Not yet. I’m not nearly done with you.” His gaze dropped to her chest, and he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close against his beautiful bare torso. “We still have the rest of the night.”

A wave of blind hate seized her. She hated him, but she hated herself more. The whole thing was so sordid and she was so stupid to let it happen—and stupider for
still
wanting him.

“Get your hands off me,” she hissed. “And don’t you look at me with your oppressive male gaze.”

Nick let her go and stepped back so fast, as if he’d been scalded. “What the…? What just happened here?” he asked, putting his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“I know what this is, Nick. I know what this is about. I accept that. But I don’t accept being talked about like a—”

His brows drew together in confusion. “You mean with Angelo? You heard that? That’s nothing, sweetheart. That’s just guy talk. We didn’t mean anything by it.”

What a pompous ass. She gave him one last look of disdain before turning to go. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path but careful not to touch her this time.

“Listen Rosie, I know you don’t sleep around. I can tell—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, voice rising an octave. Had he just criticized her performance in bed on top of everything else?

“I mean lots of girls throw their pussy at me, and I know that’s not who you are and—”

Her eyes grew wide with disbelief. “Of all the arrogant—you don’t know anything about me!” she sputtered. He probably thought he was paying her a compliment by differentiating her from the girls who threw their pussies at him, as he so eloquently put it. But he wasn’t. “That’s exactly what I did, Nick, I threw my pussy at you.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head, a gesture of indignation and defiance. “So what? And what if I’ve slept with dozens of guys? Hundreds? What of it?”

Nick hesitated.
I just keep digging myself deeper and deeper every time I open my mouth, don’t I?
He was trapped, caught in a verbal equivalent of a chokehold and no matter what he said or did next, it was going to turn out badly for him.

“It doesn’t matter to me how many guys you’ve been with,” he murmured. He meant it, too. The only recourse he had was to lay it all out there for her and hope she’d hear past the words he bungled.

“Oh, it doesn’t? Thank you, kind sir.”

Or not.
Fuck.

She put one hand on her waist and gestured wildly with the other, looking a bit crazed. “No girl deserves to be treated like a piece of trash because of how many guys she has slept with. And you’re right, it
shouldn’t
matter to you because it’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said in a soothing voice.

“Don’t patronize me, you hypocrite!”

“I wasn’t. I’m not. Please, Rose, let’s just talk about this.” He kept his voice low, but she was practically yelling at him. The corridor was empty but her voice carried, and he was pretty sure she could be heard from inside the rooms.

“Talk about what? Your sexism? Your casual misogyny? Your overblown ego?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m done here. Why don’t you take your male privilege and shove it up your—”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

This girl was batshit crazy, the kind of crazy Nick had always tried to avoid. A part of him couldn’t believe this hysterical harpy in front of him was the same classy chick he met by the pool or the super hot wildcat in bed just minutes ago. He should turn around and run as far the hell away from her as fast as he could. Why the fuck was she so mad? Piece of trash? Really? That was a gross exaggeration. He’d done nothing to make her feel that, had he? He was going to kill his brother. This was all Angelo’s fault.
 

A sudden realization hit him like a bucket of water on the face, dousing his annoyance and replacing it with something more discomfiting. He thought he was a pretty good judge of character, or at least a pretty good judge of body language. He could pick up the subtlest non-verbal cues and micro-expressions. It was one of the skills that made him good as a fighter. But maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Maybe he’d gone too far with this girl. He didn’t really know her after all. Maybe he’d inadvertently crossed a line she didn’t want crossed.

“Was it—was I too rough? Too..?” he trailed off.
 

“No!” Although still visibly angry, she was quick to reassure him.

Okay, so it wasn’t anything he did to her in bed that she had a problem with. He let out a loud sigh of relief. “I still like you and respect you or whatever, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

When her eyes narrowed into angry slits, Nick realized his blunder.
Oh, shit.

“You still like me? You still respect me? How magnanimous of you,” she said, voice laced with scorn and sarcasm.

His words sounded a million times worse when quoted. “All I’m saying is I know you’re not that kind of girl,” he reapeted. “And what happened with us was, like, I dunno, special for you.”

“You’re just so full of yourself, aren’t you?” She eyed him from head to foot, revulsion spoiling her pretty face. “
You’re
that kind of guy. And maybe
I
no longer like or respect
you
, did you ever think of that?”
 

She looked and sounded absolutely disgusted, like he was something dirty that had just crawled out of a swamp, unfit to even talk to her. And damn, those eyes could cut a man to shreds.
 

Rose turned to go. He didn’t stop her this time. With each step she took away from him, he felt more and more like a big dumb Neanderthal. It suddenly seemed very important that when she turned around, she wouldn’t see him there watching her leave.
Like a fucking pussy.
That is, if she even turned around. She might not. Nick watched as she took several more steps and turned a corner, then
he
turned and went back to his room, slamming the door behind him. What a shitty night it turned out to be.  

CHAPTER 7

Four years later.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Not true. Sometimes it followed you home and haunted you and ruined you for every other man that came after. It took four years and many failed relationships for Rose to finally accept it.

Her last boyfriend had been sweet, smart, and loyal. More importantly, he was a good man. He supported himself through college and a master’s degree and was now a community organizer working with inner city kids. He was even cute—blond, blue-eyed, and bedimpled.

When she’d told him “it’s not you, it’s me,” she actually meant it. The break-up took him by surprise but he gave Rose a hug, wished her well, and told her he’d always love her. “I want us to stay friends,” he’d said, “and maybe you’ll decide to give us another chance down the road.”

But Rose
had
given their relationship a chance. They were together officially for six months and three weeks—her longest relationship. You could trick your brain into anything if you tried hard enough, but the body was not so easily deceived.