Falling for Tyson Read online

  “Hey, Wallstreet, glad you could make it,” he called out to her with a grin. She cocked her head at him. No answering grin.

  “Hi,” she answered. “Thanks. Um…Wallstreet?” Now he was feeling uncomfortable. Too soon for nicknames? Maybe.

  “I meant the outfit,” he said, glancing up and down her suit-clad frame. It was a pantsuit this time, pinstriped again. Charcoal grey over a burgundy silk shirt. The color was rich against her olive skin. It almost seemed a shame to ask her to change. But he did. “Change-rooms are through there,” he jerked his head towards a doorway. “Not fancy, but they get the job done,” he added, glad he’d had the foresight to include women’s facilities when he remodeled the place. The recent popularity of women’s matches had seen an upswing in his female fighters. Nobody like Cassie, though. Women like her never came into places like this.

  He tried not to pace while he waited for her to come out. Maxwell shot him another sharp look.

  “Ty! For fuck’s sake, man, what’s up with you?” he asked. Cassie was coming out of the change rooms, and Tyson exhaled. Maxwell’s eyebrows shot up. “Killoran... You dog!”

  “Piss off,” Tyson muttered under his breath before quickly heading over to join her. She was dressed in black Lycra leggings, black trainers, and an oversized t-shirt that did little to disguise the full curves of her breasts. She was holding a sweat towel in front of her in that way women did when they were trying to cover their bodies. All it did was draw his eyes to the neat ‘V’ of her crotch in those skintight leggings. He yanked his focus away.

  “Right,” he said briskly, “let’s show you around.” She fell into step beside him as he gave her a brief tour of the gym.

  There wasn’t much to show, to be honest. He liked to keep things simple. The place was a converted warehouse he’d bought a few years back. He’d kitted it out with a couple of boxing rings, which dominated the space, surrounded by various areas focused on different types of exercise. A row of boxing bags took up one wall. Another wall held a series of pear balls. Several areas were taken up by mats for different types of activities such as grappling or stretching. The weights section was filled with neat racks of barbells and weights. There were no stationary bicycles, treadmills, or rowing machines. Anyone who needed to run could get out and tread tar. The mirrors around the place were there to check good form, not for snapping off selfies.

  Cassie remained silent during the tour, nodding as he pointed out each item and briefly explained its purpose. The sight of the grunting, sweating men didn’t seem to trouble her too much, though she drew a few curious stares as he walked her through. He had no doubt he was going to be fielding some interesting questions later, but he’d nip that in the bud. This place was for training, not gawping at women. And yeah…he wasn’t missing the irony of that thought.

  Finally, they stopped at the zone he’d reserved for cardio work. “We’re going to begin here today,” he told her, taking her towel and water bottle from her. “I’ll to start you off with some stretching to warm up, and then we’ll get your heart-rate up a bit.” She nodded. He had a suspicion that watching her stretch was going to get his heart-rate up too. He’d directed her to a padded mat, and she stood waiting for him to give his next instruction. At this point, his training finally kicked in, and within minutes he was guiding her through a series of stretches.

  “Not too fast,” he cautioned, as she reached forward with both hands and then bent over from her waist, feet apart, touching the floor between her toes. “Here, I’ll show you. Stand back up.” Taking a position behind her, he put one hand on her hip and curled the other to her belly. He felt her suck it in but ignored it. “Okay, now ease down again; imagine you’re curling one vertebra at a time.” His hand slowed her descent as she rolled slowly down until her hands brushed the floor again.

  “That’s great,” said Tyson. “Keep that pace.” He glanced up and caught a glimpse of the pair of them in the mirror nearby. It was a sight that might keep him from sleeping that night. What was that about not gawping at women? Her head was dangling down towards her knees, and he was standing directly behind her hips, her ass almost brushing up against his crotch. He glanced down, tightened his fingers on her hip, and licked his lips.

  A crash drew his attention, and his head snapped round in the direction of the sound. Maxwell had dropped a barbell in the weight section. The man caught his eye and then wagged his finger in warning. Tyson frowned at him, and Maxwell glared back, shaking his head slightly. He mimed a discrete throat-cutting gesture. ‘Dammit, quit bustin’ my balls,’ thought Tyson, stepping away from Cassie.

  “Fine, let’s get you moving,” he said abruptly, reaching for a skipping rope.

  “You want me to skip rope?” she asked. “Couldn’t I just do that at home?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “And I expect you to. But this is a little different.” He turned and hauled a nearby mini-trampoline closer. Her eyes widened. “Hop on board,” he said.

  “You want me to skip rope on a trampoline?” she asked, disbelieving. “What if I fall off?”

  “I’ll catch you,” he reassured her. “Now, get going.”

  For a few minutes, she bobbed awkwardly, trying to find her balance. The trampoline sprang and jostled beneath her feet, and it was all she could do to stop herself from toppling sideways. He hovered nearby, a hand out to steady her, trying not to let his fingers linger when he touched her. Max would have a shit-fit. Despite her reservations, she picked it up pretty quickly, working up to brief stints of ten and even twenty seconds before fumbling with the rope.

  “Damn, this is hard!” she laughed, her cheeks flushed, as she stopped yet again.

  “You’re doing great,” he encouraged. “It takes a while to get it right – some of my guys still don’t get it.” He glanced around and winked. Some of her hair had come loose from where she’d tied it into a ponytail, and stray tendrils clung to her skin. She’d worked up a light sweat, and her cheeks were rosy. “Let’s try again, I’ll step away this time, and you can fly solo.”

  He moved to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, one hand up beneath his chin as he watched. “Okay, ready, and…three…two…one…go!” She swung the rope and hopped over it cautiously, slowly building up speed.

  ‘Oh, boy…I shouldn’t be standing here,’ he groaned inwardly. Her t-shirt had pulled snugly across her chest, and her breasts bounced voluptuously as she moved. He watched, mesmerized by the motion. So lush and full as they swayed. He was sure that if he buried his face between them, he’d be lost forever. Her breath was coming in short sharp gasps that made his stomach muscles tighten.

  “Ty…Tyson…should…should I stop…now?” she was gasping.

  ‘What? No! Never stop!’

  “Keep going, Wallstreet, you’re doing great,” he encouraged.

  Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. ‘Thank you, Jesus.’

  “Tyson…Ty? I—” She gave a little shriek and tumbled over. Pure instinct shot him forward to catch her, and she crashed down against his chest. For a second, all he could think about were sweet womanly curves. ‘Killoran, you’re going straight to hell,’ he thought.

  He looked down into her flushed face. “Let’s give you a break,” he said, as if there was an alternative. She was plastered against him, those glorious soft mounds mashed against his torso. He tightened his arms around her for the tiniest fraction of a second… ‘Just a little closer.’ Stopped himself abruptly before he looked down at all that lushness. He wanted to bury his face there.

  ‘It’s not my fault! I wasn’t breastfed!’ that damn hound-dog inside him howled.

  Reluctantly he peeled her away from him. “You okay?” he asked. She was still trying to catch her breath. ‘Next round, I’ll remind her to breathe correctly,’ he thought. But those little gasping breaths did something to his insides that just felt so good. He hadn’t let go of her yet. While she was this close, her little gasps were still audible.

  “Ty!” a vo
ice broke into his rambling mind, and he looked up reluctantly. Maxwell was drawing his attention again.

  “Yo!” he shot back.

  “Can you spare a minute? I need to check something with you,” Maxwell said, then addressed Cassie. “Pardon me, ma’am. I won’t interrupt your session for too long.” She nodded, clearly glad to have a chance to get her breath back.

  “Ty!” Maxwell whispered sharply when Tyson reached his side. His eyes were still glued to where Cassie stood, brushing damp tendrils from her face. Her shirt was clinging to her chest as it heaved. Perspiration had darkened the neckline and down her back. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

  “I’m training a client,” Tyson replied, still staring.

  “Oh, is that what you call it?” Maxwell snapped. “Because I was thinking maybe you should get a room!”

  “What are you talking about?” Tyson snapped back. “It’s just standard stuff. Stretching. Cardio…” Cassie was reaching up, flexing and twisting at the waist. He sighed.

  “Bullshit,” barked Maxwell. “I don’t care if you’re the boss. If you can’t keep your hands off ‘your client’ in front of the guys, I’m going to find her another trainer. Crank’s getting real good.” He was talking about one of the youngsters who’d earned his name from a signature move. Tyson set his jaw bullishly. A small swirl of aggression unfurled inexplicably. “Are you hearing me, Killoran?” Maxwell’s words cut in sharply.

  “No! I mean, yes. She doesn’t need Crank.” Little shit would get ideas. “I got this.”

  “Good,” said Maxwell, his arms folded across his chest. “Now, get back there, and behave like a professional.”

  Tyson spun on his heel and stalked back, grumbling inwardly. For the rest of the hour-long session, he was the picture of decorum. Fortunately, Cassie’s new routine had her so engrossed that she didn’t seem aware of the undercurrents. He hoped.

  “Good job, Wallstreet,” he finally said as they eased through the last of her cooling down stretches – with no tantalizing bending this time. “You good?” She nodded, taking a long drink from her water bottle.

  “That was awesome,” she beamed at him, her face alight. His heart clenched a little. It was probably the first time she’d relaxed around him. It seemed a shame to let her go now, but Maxwell had his eagle eye trained on him. “When can I do it again?”

  “Easy, tiger,” he laughed. “You don’t want to overdo it. Take a break tomorrow – you can fit in a swimming session if you feel like you need to do something. Or take a Pilates class. They’re great for core strength, and it’ll help your back.” She nodded, taking another pull at the bottle.

  “I feel fantastic!” she laughed, doing a small dance on the spot. He kept his eyes trained above chin-height. ‘Not looking! Not looking!’

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he smiled back at her. “You’ll find that you’re a bit sore tomorrow, which is why I want you to switch it up a bit. From next week, I want you to come on Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Good for you?”

  “Yip!” she said, still upbeat and doing another little dance. He loved this side of her. “So, this week, I’ll come back Thursday?”

  He shook his head. “Why not join my fight class at your health club on Thursday? Then you can come back here on Friday, and I can run through some new stuff with you.”

  “Sure thing!” she grinned, completely undeterred at the thought of joining the class. This definitely wasn’t the woman who’d tiptoed into the consultation office the day before. “Should I speak to Maxwell now?” she asked. For a moment, he was confused. “To arrange the fees?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “I’ll introduce you.”

  ✽✽✽

  Maxwell Johnson was tall and lean and carried himself with the same casual confidence that Tyson did. Another fighter. It was written all over him. Hardly surprising, considering she was in a fighting gym.

  “Max, this is my new student, Cassie Cataldi,” Tyson was introducing them. “Cassie, this is Maxwell Johnson, my manager. He runs the gym…and pretty much the rest of my life too.” Maxwell’s face might have been intimidating if his smile hadn’t come so easily. His ebony features lit up with a flash of brilliant white teeth as he grinned at her. ‘All the better to eat you with, my dear,’ Cassie thought. She knew that this was not a man to get on the wrong side of.

  “Good to meet you, Cassie,” he said, extending a hand. His forearm was marred by a crisscross of raised scars. She tried not to look at them and decided that she’d make a point of keeping in his good graces.

  “Hi, Maxwell,” she replied, taking his hand. It was warm and strong. He held hers just long enough to shake it, then released. All business. She liked that.

  Or did she? Tyson hadn’t been shy about touching her at all for the first half of her session; then, he’d backed off like she had leprosy. By that stage, she didn’t care. The exercise endorphins were flowing, and she was having a blast. She still wasn’t down from her high.

  “Tyson said I need to speak to you about training fees,” she said, taking another drink from her bottle. It was almost empty. Her blood felt like it was rushing through her veins at high speed.

  Max shot a look at Tyson and then nodded. “Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll just need to get your details, and then I can email everything through. I’m assuming you’ve signed an indemnity form?” Cassie shook her head, and Max shot another look at Tyson, who shrugged. “Okay, I’ll get one for you now. Ty, is there anything else? I think you’ve got a class waiting.” Tyson frowned, showing no signs of leaving. “Tyson?”

  “Sure, all done,” Tyson said, then addressed her. “I’ll see you Thursday. You did good work tonight, Wallstreet,” he said. She liked the way he said it.

  “Thanks,” she replied, trying not to gaze longingly after him as he left.

  With the admin done, Cassie headed for home on a cloud. Her limbs were beginning to feel heavy, and her eyelids were following suit. She was going to sleep like a baby – after a hot bath. She suspected her dreams were going to be filled with the thought of strong hands on her hips and a hard body pressed up behind her.

  Chapter 5

  It was 8.30 am, and her phone was ringing where she’d left it on her desk. Nat. Cassie grinned and set her mug of tea back down. She’d expected the call to come earlier.

  “And?” Natalie demanded as soon as Cassie answered the call. “How did it go?”

  “Ermigawd, I am SO sore!” Cassie laughed. She’d had to roll herself out of bed. “But good sore, you know? Like I could totally do it again.”

  “Sore? What did he make you do, darling? Was it dirty?”

  Cassie gave a quick snort of laughter that almost sprayed tea across the marketing proposal she’d been about to start working on. “Of course not! We were training!” she answered. Oh, it was dirty, all right. Well, her thoughts were, at any rate. And so were her dreams. So dirty.

  “So that was it? Nothing else? Nothing juicy for my torrid little mind? Come on, sweetie, dish!”

  “That was it. Nothing else.” Cassie wasn’t bending. And there was no way she was going to mention the dreams.

  “Casssss,” Nat was whining, “you’re getting special attention from a hot celebrity billionaire. It is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened in our lives in months. You can’t just brush it off like that!”

  “He’s not a celebrity billionaire,” Cassie frowned. “And I’m not getting special attention. He’s my trainer.”

  “Cassie! Dearest, darling Cassie,” Nat sighed. “Do you know when last Tyson Killoran took on a private client? One who’s not in the fight circle?”

  “I dunno, Nat, I haven’t thought about it.” Cassie was stretching her toes out, feeling the tense muscles in her thighs burning. It was a sensation she enjoyed.

  “Never, Cass, never! Andy looked it up. The man doesn’t do one-on-one training like you’re doing now. And you know what else? His last endorsement contract put him on the list of hi
ghest-paid sports professionals in the world. In the world, Cassie! We’re talking basketball money. Hell, soccer money!”

  “Cut it out, Nat, you’re making a big deal of it,” Cassie said. But her friend’s words were sinking in. She brushed it off. “What actually is a big deal is the topic of you and Andy, my sneaky little friend.”

  Nat chuckled. “Touché, darling, we both have news to share. Shall we get together for drinks this week? I have a course out of town till Thursday, but I’d love to hook up on Friday if you’re free.”

  “I’d like that too,” Cassie replied, then remembered she was working out Friday evening. “Should I find us someplace near my new gym? I can come through straight after training, so we don’t make it too much of a late night.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know where,” Nat said before ringing off. Cassie turned back to the stack of paperwork on her desk, eager to sink her teeth into the assignment. Her recent cosmetics campaign had won the firm a long-term contract with the company, and she’d been tasked with managing the international roll-out. There was a flood of information to process, but it was the sort of thing she thrived on.