Falling for Tyson Read online

  When Cassie emerged from the dressing rooms, she had a pair of pink gloves in her hands. She passed them to Tyson as they met up. “Thanks for letting me use these,” she said. “I’ll get my own this weekend.” He shook his head.

  “Keep ‘em, they’re yours,” he said. She looked surprised. “I…uh…had a spare pair,” he improvised. “They were just…lying around.” She took a look around the gym. Not a single splash of pink anywhere; he’d never convince her they were his.

  Okay, he’d bought them for her. Almost added a pink mouthguard but thought that might be a step too far.

  “Thanks,” she finally said, tucking them under her arm. “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Stretch and warm-up first,” he said, nodding towards the cardio zone. She pulled a face. “Then, we’re going to try some sparring.” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t object. They made their way past some of the kids grappling on mats, and she watched with curiosity.

  “You mean like that?” she asked.

  “Well, no, I was thinking of stand-up. I can show you some breakfalls too, once we’re done. No groundwork yet,” he answered. On the ground with Cassie? Max would shit his pants. “Sound good?”

  “Umm…yeah, I’d like that,” she said. Was she breathless? He brushed it off, putting her through her paces in the cardio section. After that, she was definitely breathless.

  “Right, Wallstreet, shoes off, gloves on,” he instructed, reaching for his mitts as he toed off his trainers and swung through the ropes of the nearest free ring. She looked around apprehensively, then unlaced her Nikes. Her toes were the same shade of pink as her gloves; the bright color caught his eye, and for the second time since he’d met her, he imagined sucking them into his mouth. ‘Focus, Killoran! What the hell is it with her toes?’

  The raised surface put the pair of them on display, but it was something he was so accustomed to that he never gave it a thought. He cocked his head, and she clambered in behind him, fumbling to get the Velcro fastened on her gloves.

  “Okay, we’ll start with some of the punches and kicks you learned in class yesterday,” he said, and she nodded. She’d loved that. “Then, I’ll teach you some breakfalls before we cool down.” He knew he was fast-forwarding his conventional training process, but it wasn’t as if she was aiming for the pro circuit. Within minutes he’d guided her through a series of basic moves – knees, elbows, fists, footwork. She took to it like a duck to water.

  “Good going, Wallstreet, you’re a natural,” he praised her. She would never win a title, but enthusiasm was worth more.

  She gave him a playful swat on the shoulder then bounced around the ring, little pink gloves waving over her head. “Woohoo! I’m a natural!” she called out. They’d drawn a small gathering of onlookers, but she’d completely lost her self-consciousness. “Right, what next?” She’d bounded back in front of him and was bobbing from toe-to-toe, fists in front of her face.

  “Breakfalls,” Tyson said casually and swept a foot past her ankles. She shrieked and tumbled backward, landing on her ass. He wasn’t concerned. The floor was well-padded.

  “Hey!” she squawked up at him, scowling darkly. “No fair!” A couple of guys at the side were watching and laughing, arms folded across their chests. She didn’t seem to mind.

  “Focus, Wallstreet,” he chuckled at her, reaching a hand down to pull her to her feet. “Don’t get so confident you stop paying attention. And don’t be afraid to take a fall…just be ready for it.”

  She nodded. “Okay, show me,” she said. She was eating this up. He took her through the motions, showing her how to twist and drop, land an arm on the mat. The next time he swiped his leg beneath her, she dropped, rolled, and bounced to her feet in moments. He’d been looking forward to spending time with her but hadn’t expected to be having this much fun.

  “Show me something else!” she said as they wrapped up yet another smooth fall. “I want to try that!” she nodded to where some of the guys were grappling, bodies twisting together.

  ‘Oh, hell no!’

  “You’re not ready for that yet,” he countered.

  “Go on, coach! Take her down,” called one of the guys. They’d caught onto her enthusiasm.

  ‘Screw it!’ He’d trained plenty of female fighters. He could do this. “Fine,” he conceded, taking a breath and squaring up with Cassie, who was channeling her inner Gracie. She might not look much like a Brazilian jiu jitsu champ, but her attitude was right up there. She fixed him with a death-stare and pulled her fists up in front of her face, poking out her tongue before she did it. ‘Minx!’

  “So, let’s say you’re facing your opponent,” he began, positioning her by the shoulders. “Maybe he’s got a good stand-up game, and you know you’re better on the ground. Getting him into a clinch and then down, is going to take his arms and legs away and level the playing field, right?” She nodded. “You’re little, so you’re gonna wanna come in under his guard…” She blinked at the word ‘little’ but he was a head taller than she was; there was no point arguing about it. “Pay attention to my movements,” he instructed.

  He slid both hands under her armpits and locked them behind her shoulder-blades, then turned his hip and slipped an ankle behind her calf, dropping her to the ground. Her breath hissed out, and her eyes widened. He’d taken her by surprise. She was on her back, and he was kneeling between her splayed thighs.

  “Got it?” he asked, maintaining a neutral expression. ‘Keep it together, Killoran.’

  “Yip,” she answered breathlessly. He pulled her to her feet.

  “Good, now try it on me.”

  “’Kay…” she breathed, and ran her hands beneath his armpits, clasping them behind his shoulders. His chest was broader than hers, and she stretched to reach round. Her nose was up against his throat. He felt her foot behind his calf and allowed himself to be dropped backward, landing on his back on the mat. There was a whoop from the guys ringside. More had gathered to watch.

  “Yo, coach! You goin’ down!” someone shouted. There was laughter.

  Cassie had landed flat on his chest, her arms still trapped behind his back. Those fucking incredible breasts were flattened against him, and she was resting between his thighs. ‘Shit…’

  “I…I…I can’t…” she stammered, breathless, trying to tug her hands free from the weight of him. Damp curls clung to her flushed cheeks, and he inhaled the sweet fragrance of perspiration and roses. She wriggled, twisting her wrists beneath him. Roses…breasts…wriggling…

  ‘Stop wriggling… Fuck…’ He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, hers were boring down into his. Deep, chocolate eyes. Soft, plump lips parted. She was still trying to pull free. ‘Fuck!’ Without thinking, he slapped a hand on the mat three times. Tapping out…

  Like that was going to help.

  “Off,” he hissed out between clenched teeth. She looked startled. “Get off! Get! Off!” he bit out, lifting himself and her along with him. She rolled off abruptly, settling to her knees. He was on his feet and heading to the ropes, glancing around. His sweats weren’t tight, but dammit, they weren’t loose enough to hide— ‘Shit!’

  “Crank!” he said to the youngster loitering at the corner, smirking. “Help her with her cooldown session.” The kid nodded and climbed through the ropes. Cassie was still sitting on the mat; her features marred with confusion.

  ✽✽✽

  ‘Shower,’ Tyson thought, glad he’d made it into the locker rooms without interruption. ‘Cold. Fucking. Shower.’ He peeled off his tank-top, pulled off his sweatpants, took a stride toward a shower cubicle.

  “Yo, Ty!” a voice stopped him mid-stride. He looked up into Maxwell’s eyes. Max had stopped too. Glanced down to waist-height. Blinked. “Uhhh…” The man had the good grace to look away. He raised both hands. “Not important…I’ll, ahh…catch you…ahh…when you got a sec.” He backed out with his head down, eyes averted.

  ‘Geez,’ thought Tyson, ‘what was he thi
nking? That I’d jump him from behind if he turned?’ He switched the cold faucet to full and let the icy water blast his steaming body.

  He lingered in the locker rooms for as long as he could, hoping that Cassie would be gone by the time he got out. As he returned to the studio, he was greeted by a mocking ‘slow clap’ and a flurry of wolf whistles.

  “Alright, alright, get back to business, gentlemen,” he kept his voice steady. ‘Ah, nuts…’ He’d never live this down.

  “Yo, coach!” someone shouted out, “need any help…uh…scrubbing your back?” The comment sparked a wave of raucous laughter.

  “That’s enough, already!” he barked out. “Next wise-crack earns you five rounds in the ring with me.”

  “Go easy on me, Coach, I’m still a virgin!” the kid called out.

  “I’ll do it, but I want to be on top!” someone else yelled.

  “I like it if you kiss me first!”

  That was it. He wasn’t going to make any headway here. Tyson turned and stalked to the office.

  “Cut it out, guys,” Maxwell broke in. “Get back to training.” The muffled laughter died down as Tyson shut the door behind him. Maxwell didn’t have to say a word when he joined him.

  “I know what you’re gonna say, alright?” he said to Maxwell. “No more grappling with the new client, I swear!” His friend narrowed his eyes on him. “Alright, alright, I’ll step out and get someone else on it.” He didn’t want to do that. The only other trainer qualified to step in was Clint. The kid they called Crank – after his signature move. And he was… Well, he was…

  Young and in great shape.

  No, that wasn’t it. Or maybe it was. Just a bit.

  Not that Tyson was old, by any stretch. But his thirtieth birthday had come and gone, and fighters’ lifespans were much the same as dog years. Multiply them by seven.

  That was probably an exaggeration. Yet, he was always aware that he had a fairly unforgiving shelf-life. The cage was a tough place to survive. There was always someone younger and meaner just looking for a gap. And it was only a matter of time before all the training in the world wouldn’t keep his reflexes as fast as the ‘next big thing’.

  He knew it shouldn’t affect how he dealt with women. Women like Cassie. But maybe it did. Just a bit.

  He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side as if stretching before a big fight.

  “You okay, Ty?” Maxwell asked, aware of his warring emotions but not entirely sure of what had sparked them. Tyson knew his friend would understand if he explained. If he could just figure out how to explain something that he didn’t understand himself yet.

  “Do you ever wonder what we’re working for, Max?” he said. Maxwell cocked a brow. “You know…do you wonder what it’s all about?”

  “Uhhh…is this some of that existential crisis shit?” the big guy asked.

  “Nah…Yeah…I dunno.” Tyson shrugged. “I don’t know what it is. It’s just that…we got everything we wanted, right? All that shit we laid out in the game plan when we started out? The business…the franchises. The cars. The properties. Even the women, when we want them.” He wanted one in particular, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t for sale.

  “Yup,” said Maxwell. He had a Maybach parked out in the lot, and the parties at his beachfront property were legendary. Hennessy whiskey probably had his portrait on the wall at their Head Office. The man lived like a gangster – without the police intervention. “So, what’s your point?”

  “When is it all enough?” asked Tyson. “We have more than we could ever spend in our lifetimes. Hell, two…three. Why are we still busting our asses? Who is it all for?”

  Maxwell thought for a moment, then replied. “It’s what we leave behind when we go, man. It’s our legacy!”

  “Yeah? For who?” Tyson pressed. “Who’ll be there when we’re gone?”

  Maxwell seemed nonplussed for a minute. “I guess I haven’t given it much thought,” he mused. “But what’s it matter? We got plenty of time. And we’re havin’ fun, right?”

  Tyson looked at him. “Not really.” Maxwell had eased out of the circuit a couple of years before. His value lay as a coach. Tyson had loved the rush of the ring. It was a passion that had started when he was just a screwed up kid. The conflict with his stepfather had driven him to vent his rage elsewhere. Street-fighting had been an outlet, but ultimately that was going to get him killed. Finding his first pro gym had probably saved his life. Finally, he owned a string of them.

  But now…

  He’d be lying if he said that drive was still there. The killer instinct. He’d proved everything he needed to. His asshole stepfather didn’t try to rub his nose in his indebtedness as much anymore. He’d paid the man back with interest for the years he’d supposedly freeloaded off of him. He’d barely been ten when he got his first reminder of what a burden he was. The day he’d arrived with the check to pay it all back had been the first ‘big day’ of his life. And he’d had so many ‘big days’ since then. What the hell else did he need?

  “No…I’m not having fun,” he sighed. Maxwell looked like he wanted to take a step back.

  “You’re not bailing on me, brother?” he asked.

  “Of course not!” Tyson reassured him. He was getting too serious. And the whole damn conversation had started over training a woman. He gave Max a tight smile. “I think I need to add some new interests to my portfolio,” he winked. He didn’t want to give his friend sleepless nights.

  “You mean bae-shaped interests?” Maxwell bobbed his eyebrows.

  “Yeah…a bae might be good,” Tyson chuckled. He couldn’t remember when last he’d dated. It was easier to keep things casual.

  “I gave some thought to your new project,” Max said. “The Inner Beauty campaign?” Tyson nodded. He hadn’t expected the man to give his doodling much weight. “I can see where you’re going with that,” he continued. “It could work for us. I’m gonna run it past a couple of the pencil pushers and see if we can swing something. Sound good?” Tyson shot him a smile.

  “Yeah…sounds good,” he said. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  “Meanwhile,” Max added, “you know we can’t be havin’ this shit at the gym. If word gets out you’re gettin’ handsy with the clients—”

  “I am not getting handsy with the clients, Max!” Tyson objected. The man was right, though. Reputations could be shattered with shit like this. He’d brought her in here for all the wrong reasons. He needed to handle things differently. He rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled.

  “I’ll fix it,” he said.

  “Damn straight,” Max said drily. “Coz if you go bustin’ a nut on the mat, don’t call me to clean up.”

  ✽✽✽

  “So, not only did I kick him in the stomach yesterday, but tonight I think I ruptured his spleen!” Cassie wailed over a martini with Nat that evening. Tyson had left the ring like his ass was on fire. She hadn’t seen him again before she left, even though she hung around longer than she usually would have.

  “Don’t be silly, darling,” Nat said, spearing a green olive and biting into it. “You can’t just rupture someone’s spleen. Besides, he’s a freaking cage fighter, for heaven’s sake, big sweaty men fall on him all the time. I’m sure it was nothing. Maybe something came up.”

  “Yeah…me…and my fat ass,” groused Cassie. “Maybe it’s my breath,” she changed tack, exhaling into her palm and sniffing.

  “Stop reading so much into this, sweetie,” Nat counseled. “If you enjoy the training, focus on that. Everything else will fall into place.” She took a mouthful from her glass. The v-shaped vessels didn’t hold much liquid, and just a couple of sips left them looking bare.

  Cassie sighed and took a sip from her own martini. She’d met Nat at a small pub in the same block as Tyson’s gym. Friday nights were generally ‘Tini Time’ for her and Natalie, and they’d done a tour of the city looking for the best sources of the heady concoction. Although
the bar wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination, they mixed a pretty good martini.

  “I dunno, Nat,” she said, “I think I’m getting in over my head here. But I have to admit, I’m loving the training. It’s such a rush!” She’d been on treadmills and stationary bikes for months at her regular gym, but it always felt like a chore. For the first time ever, she was excited about using her body. “I guess I need to focus on the work and let go of the dirty thoughts I’m having about my trainer.” She gave a chuckle that didn’t ring true.

  “A tall order, perhaps, but you’re right, darling,” said Natalie. “Although there’s no reason he isn’t feeling the same way about you.”

  “Nah,” countered Cassie. “Not me. You gotta see this guy in the flesh. He’s… Hell, he’s next level.” She curled her tongue around an olive and bit down.