The Fighter's Girl (3 page)

“Go on, Izzy, answer me.” She didn’t answer right away, and he took a step toward her. “You better tell me someone drove you home.”

God, he was so direct, so commanding. He expected to be obeyed in all things, and the very female part of her was so drawn to that fact.

“Nothing to say?”
He took another step forward, and another, until they stood toe-to-toe. He searched her face, and where she was breathing fast and hard, he was calm, steady, and so very in control. “Why don’t you just say it?”

Izzy licked her lips, and Brock lowered his gaze to watch the act. “I didn’t mean to be rude. That wasn’t my intention. And yes, my friend brought me home.”

God, she sounded breathy and aroused. He didn’t respond, but she did see the way a muscle in his jaw ticked right under the scruffy skin. She could push her fear aside, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him like she needed it to breathe, or she could escape like a frightened little rabbit. Wanting to do something was a hell of a lot easier than actually following through with it, so like the coward she was, Izzy whispered goodnight, ducked away, and rushed to her room. Once the door was shut behind her she leaned against it and closed her eyes. The sound of her heart beating fast and wild filled her ears like the sound of the ocean crashing on the shore. Moments later she heard the heavy sounds of Brock making his way down the hallway. Would he stop and knock on her door? Holding her breath as she heard his footsteps cease right on the other side of her bedroom door, she waited to see if he would make a move.
 
A second later he retreated to his room, and she was left feeling depressingly empty, and extremely sexually frustrated, but that was totally her fault.

Chapter Two

Brock shut the door behind him and clenched his hands into fists. Shit, he had been right on the brink of pressing Izzy to the wall, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, and shoving his hand down her pants. She had been drunk though, and no matter how much he wanted her he didn’t fuck
drunk
chicks. He knew she was wet, knew if he would have pressed her a little further she would have bent to him. But he wanted her to come to him, wanted her complete surrender, and there was no doubt he would get it. The only problem was
when
would she come to him willingly?

His cock was annoyingly hard, but it had been for the past six months. All she had to do was walk by and the fucker came to attention. Easing his arousal with random females did nothing but make his desire for her worse, and fighting never fully helped ease the frenzied energy always coursing through him. He wanted Izzy Castle, and soon he’d have her. That wasn’t even a question. When her brother Lane, a guy he had met at a few of the fights he had been involved in, and a mutual friend of the guys he hung out with, had told him his little sister had a room for rent, Brock had been all over that. He had come to Absinthe, Ohio with another fighter, London, knowing that the town wasn’t only named after the illegal alcohol, but also known around the country for their illegal fighting circuit.
 
He now trained with the Harlond McGrieve, a guy that used to fight professionally back in the day, and was an expert in everything MMA. So now here he was, staying with Lane’s little sister, and a walking hard-on ever since. Of course he hadn’t thought living with Lane’s sister would be a problem, but fuck had he been wrong. Lane was a lean guy that had his nose in a book during his free time. In fact, for as straitlaced as Lane was, he was surprised he had seen him at an underground fight at all. Izzy was the total opposite of her brother, with dark red hair instead of blond and blue eyes instead of Lane’s brown. She drove Brock crazy. He wasn’t all about the stick thin females with the fake tits, although that was usually what he went for. It seemed better to be with women that he wouldn’t ever have gone for if he was looking for something meaningful. Besides, the females he was with only wanted sex, same as he did. Izzy was all
woman
with her big real breasts, thighs made to wrap around a man’s waist, and a rounded belly. He had always had a thing for bigger girls, and redheads to boot. She was his ideal girl, but for the longest time he had classified her as unattainable because she was his friend’s sister and his roommate. Getting with that would have just opened a bunch of problems for him in the end.

But with each passing month he had shoved his “rules” about not being able to have her to the side, said fuck it, and started letting himself enjoy the sight of her, and the idea of getting between her thighs. He had never been a guy that wanted more than one night with a girl, but Izzy was different, and he could actually see having so much more with her. Yeah, it was a fucked-up situation, and he made it even more so because he could be a bastard at times. She was a female he should probably stay away from, because having these feelings for her was new and unusual, but dammit he didn’t fucking care anymore. At thirty years old he was sick of the random sex, was sick of the females who clamored toward him right after a fight because they were high on the win. Izzy didn’t look at him as a fighter, but as a man. He could sense her arousal for him, and the saccharine scent of her need was like a fucking icepick right to his cock. He gripped said body part, and the damn thing jerked in his grasp. It would be easy to jack off, to ease the heavy ache that settled in his balls, but he didn’t want to get off that way. Brock wanted to be so deep inside of her sweet pussy that every hard inch of him was incased in her wet heat. He knew she would be wet, fucking soaked for him.

It was after midnight and he had to be up in just a few short hours for training, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any rest, not when every time he closed his eyes he saw the hard points of her nipples pressing against her shirt, or the way her pupils dilated as she took in his bare torso. It was going to be one hell of a sleepless night.

****

The next morning Izzy lay in the center of her bed and stared at the ceiling. It was only six, and she was exhausted. Sleep had been impossible last night, and never had she thought insomnia could be so very real because of not getting laid. Masturbating had only seemed to make it worse, especially when she knew Brock was just right down the hall.

She crawled out of bed and headed into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Even though it was an ungodly early hour, she knew Brock wouldn’t be home. He was up and gone by five at the latest. His strict training schedule left little time for recreational activities, but he sure as hell made the time to fuck. She groaned and rested her forehead on the tile. The water was hot as she could stand, but the steady beating of the droplets on her flesh, and the thoughts of Brock and fucking, had her slipping her hand between her thighs to try to relieve the annoying ache. Deciding not to bring herself to completion because it only seemed to make matters worse, she finished washing, got out and dried herself off, and put on an old pair of sweats and a holey shirt. Staying in while she was overly sexually frustrated sounded like a good idea, at least for right now.

After a morning of eating Lucky Charms and watching reruns of
Roseanne
, Izzy started to get restless. The smell of Brock took up every inch of the house, or maybe it was just she was extremely sensitive and picked up on it? Either way, staying home didn’t really sound like that much fun anymore. Maybe Caleb and Maria would want to go out tonight, and help her let loose, maybe even find a safe, normal guy to flirt with? If Brock was anything, it certainly wasn’t normal, but that was said in the best possible of ways.

She picked up her phone and called Caleb and Maria. Maria answered on the third ring. In all honesty Maria and Caleb were the only ones she trusted, and they didn’t judge her in any way.

“Hey.” Izzy leaned back on the couch and reached for the remote to mute the television.

“Hey, girl.
What’s up?”
 
The sound of Caleb talking in the background came through the receiver. “Would you shut the hell up for a minute?” There was no heat behind Maria’s words as she shouted at Caleb. He muttered something else before his voice finally disappeared. “Sorry about that. He’s having his man-period today, and has been bitching about everything and anything.”

Izzy laughed. “Hey, what are you guys doing tonight?”

“Nothing, why?”

“Well, I wanted to know if you wanted to keep a lonely and pathetic girl company tonight. Maybe hit up The Rhino Room?” The newly built club on the edge of Absinthe was busy every day of the week. It had a retro/modern feel to it with cages hanging from the ceiling, and Go-Go dancers writhing away inside of them. It was also a club she hadn’t been to yet because she had been too afraid to go by herself. Well now she wanted to let loose, wanted to shake her ass like everyone else, and not worry about anything but having a good time.

“Seriously?”

Izzy clamped her lips together even though Maria couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I know, pretty hard to believe.” Maria started laughing, which had Izzy doing the same thing. “But seriously, I’m sick of being cooped up in the house—”

“You mean you’re sick of wanting that bad boy fighter Brock?”

She sighed and said, “Yeah, and that, too.”

“Listen, you don’t need to convince me to go out and get drunk. I don’t think Caleb’s picking up an extra shift tonight at the nasty store, so you know we are game.” Why Maria insisted on calling the sex shop by that name was beyond her, but it always had Izzy smiling. “How about we pick you up at like nine? Caleb can be our DD and drag our
drunk
asses home.”

It sounded like a plan. Izzy just hoped she didn’t regret it in the morning by bringing some Coyote Ugly home with her.

****

Izzy pushed the front door open and shut it behind her with her foot. With both hands filled with shopping bags, that small task had been a bitch. She carried the bags into the kitchen and set them on the counter. A blast of body heat slammed into her back, and she looked over her shoulder. A gasp left her when she saw Brock standing right behind her.

“Hey.” Griping onto the counter she waited for him to reply, but all he did was stare at her.
“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He looked at the bags and then back at her. “Need help?”

She turned around, but regretted it instantly when he took a step closer. Was he drunk? He smelled like he had been drinking, but it wasn’t overly strong and disgusting. It was a sweet aroma, but she couldn’t place what type of liquor it was. “You really want to help?”

“Of course.”

He leaned forward, and just as their chests brushed and an insane idea that he might kiss her crossed her mind, he grabbed one of the bags and stepped back. Letting out a deep breath, she turned back around and finished putting things away. When the last can was put on the shelf, she turned around to say thank you, but nothing came out when Brock stood in front of her so fast she was forced to lean back and grip the counter again.

“Brock?”
He looked at her mouth and instinctively she licked her lips. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he braced his hands beside her, leaned forward, and pressed his mouth to hers.

Firm.
Warm.
Soft.
Brock’s lips were all those things and more. She realized what alcohol he had drank, whiskey, and it was a tantalizing flavor that heated her further. Before the kiss could get too in-depth, he pulled away. The strange look on his face didn’t make her feel any better, but when he glanced down at her mouth again her heart sped up. It was clear that he wanted this just as much as she did, but he was holding back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Even as he said this he was slowly moving toward her. Their lips were an inch away, their breath mingling, teasing.

“Why?” It was a bad idea because things could get hairy afterward, but at the moment she really didn’t care. This seemed like the most logical thing for her to do at the moment. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of doing this a thousand times before because she had. Those feelings had created a plethora of mixed emotions inside of her. This situation should have felt wrong on so many levels, but it didn’t, and that was what scared her.

Over the last six months she had been able to bury them deep enough that although she still felt them, she was able to hide them around Brock. At least she had thought she did. There had been so many more erotic images that had played in her mind, but even thinking about them caused her to feel overwhelming embarrassment.

“We shouldn’t do this, but I don’t want to stop.” The kiss hadn’t been what she expected. It was slow and almost tentative, but she wasn’t going to complain. It just went against how she had seen him over the last half year. His kiss made him almost seem … soft, and that was how she knew he was holding back from her. Pulling away, she looked into his face. Was he too drunk to know what he was doing? She knew he stuck to a rigorous training schedule, but she also knew some of the fighters indulged in small amounts of alcohol. He looked sober, and she knew enough from living with him that his diet and routine were strict. That was another reason she wanted him so bad, because his self-control was such a turn-on.

Their lips were still so close that if she just leaned in that last inch they would be fused together once more, but she didn’t do that, and instead moved her head away from him another inch. They stared at each other for a second before Brock groaned and closed the gap that separated them, capturing her mouth with his. With his lips on hers again, Izzy closed her eyes and tilted her head, letting herself surrender to him. She put her hands on his biceps, and all that hard muscle tensed right under her fingertips.

His groan of approval sent her senses on fire, and she moved closer, so close that she was no longer leaning against the counter. Their mouths opened almost at the same time, and when her tongue touched his she moaned herself. He speared his hand in her hair and gripped a chunk. There was a sting of pain that heightened her arousal. Tongues pressed against each other, and it was like he was fucking her with his mouth. His heavy panting and her hands on his hard arms were a sensory overload, but before they could take it to the next level Brock pulled away and moved away so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. He started pacing, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say that would smooth out this situation. A twinge of disappointment and embarrassment filled her.

He stopped and looked at her, letting out a deep breath, and then running a hand through his short hair. “Izzy, I’m…” He went back to pacing, and the awkwardness intensified. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Izzy held her hand up. She sure as hell didn’t want to hear him say what they had just done was a mistake. Maybe it had been wrong, but she didn’t want to hear it. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.” Plastering on a big, fake-ass smile, Izzy said, “Listen, you had some alcohol, I’m stressed, so let’s just forget it all happened, okay?” She turned and started messing with the paper bag, hoping he left and didn’t make this situation even more uncomfortable. The sound of his retreating footsteps had her closing her eyes and feeling like a fool. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.