Game On (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) (32 page)

              And with that, she stormed right out, slamming the door behind her. I sank to the floor, pulling my knees close to my chest and trying to hold back the inevitable wave of tears. I glanced at the clock, blinking back the blur in my eyes, to see that I had thirty minutes before Marc would show up for his appointment.

              The door opened again and I looked up in fear, terrified that Selena would be there again. But instead, it was Trina, looking very wide-eyed and concerned.

              “Who the hell was that?” she asked, rushing over to me. “How did she get in here? Are you okay? What did she say to you, honey?”

              I lurched into Trina’s open arms and let her hold me while I told her the whole story.

              It was the last day of my physio session, and I was walking to the gym with purpose in every step. My heart was pounding in my chest with a mixture of feelings.

              The past five and a half weeks had been something else. How the hell would I have prepared for everything that was going to happen? Between the breakup and the contract offer and, most importantly, Gemma, it was bizarre to think that the Marc Montoya of a few weeks ago never would have known that one injury in the ring could have possibly sent him on the journey he found himself ending today.

             
But this isn’t really the ending, is it?

              The flutter in my heart was unusual for me. In the past, when I knew I wanted to fuck a woman, I felt very differently. I was aggressive, decisive, and I had no hesitation in my body. And to some extent, I felt all that now, but there was something more than that with how I felt about Gemma. Something much deeper.

              Was I afraid of screwing something up?

             
No,
I dismissed,
Marc Montoya is never afraid of anything.

              I might have been going in to meet with Gemma for the last time, but this wasn’t going to be the last time I spent time with her. That much, I’d decided on my own. Today, though, I wanted to show her my appreciation for all the work she’d put into my body over the past few weeks by showing her what my body was capable of.

              In truth, I felt fantastic. Better than before, even. Under Gemma’s training, I was able to stretch and exercise parts of me I never knew existed. I found myself eating my words - well, thoughts - about her college education, and I really came to appreciate all her expertise.

              At this point, my body was virtually ready to handle anything again. In fact, I had a fight coming up in a few weeks, and my debut in the ring post-injury was going to be something to be remembered for years to come. I was going to make sure of that.

              And in large part, I had Gemma to thank.

              At least, I would, if I didn’t drown on the way to the gym. It was pouring down rain, and lightning was crashing in the distance. Having moved from New Mexico to Nevada, storms weren’t something that were a part of everyday life. Had I not had my plans for Gemma occupying my mind, I would have been in a foul mood, drenched to the bone on my way in. But there wasn’t much that could deter me from what I wanted--what my body had been demanding for weeks since the first time I tasted it.

              I strode into the gym with a confident smile on my face, hit the changing rooms to put on a dry set of clothes, and headed back to where Gemma and I met without stopping to chat with anyone. As I entered the room, the sight of Gemma’s smile filled me with desire. I wanted to drop my bag and take her over the massage table right then and there. There was already a little fluster in her face, I noticed, and I wondered if she’d been thinking about this as much as I had.

              “It’s been quite a few weeks, Marc,” she said as she looked up from her clipboard while I entered, “but here we are, last session. I have to say, I’m impressed with your progress.”

              “Like I said,” I remarked after dropping my bag and walking over to peer at her charts, “my body recovers fast. But you’ve been part of that. A big part.”

              She glanced at me and smiled, but she quickly diverted her eyes as she stepped across the room to some exercise equipment. I frowned a little. I had moved to stand close to her, but her reaction had been instinctive.

              “As you’re probably feeling at this point,” she went on, “your body is essentially in tip-top shape already. Think of today as a follow-up to make sure everything is acting the way it should be before I sign your papers as ‘officially healed.’ ”

              “Glad to hear it,” I said, cracking my neck and following her. “There are a lot of things I’ve been missing out on to their full potential since the injury.” I smiled as our eyes met. “I’ll look forward to getting right back to them. Immediately.”

              I noticed her chew on her lip a moment, but to my surprise, she simply gestured towards some of the exercise equipment without batting an eye. “I imagine so. I hear you’ve got a fight coming up before too much longer. Provided everything goes well today, there shouldn’t be an issue with you getting back into the ring and, well, doing what you do best. But for now, follow me. We’re going to be briefly tracing your steps from the past few weeks.”

              Now her eyes weren’t on me as much as they had been before, and I noticed she was deliberately avoiding contact. Even when she was helping me with the exercise equipment, positioning me just the way she needed for her charts’ requirements, she seemed to subtly but noticeably avoid physical contact with me.

              We went through the basics--some of the rubber band exercises and stretches, some calisthenics that worked out the muscles in my sides, and even some basic weightlifting. All the while, the more I tried to interject some small talk, the more focused on the training she seemed to become.

              “How’s your sister been doing?”

              “Oh, you know, busy with this and that. Now if you’ll just flex your pecs while you pull this back…”

              As I lifted weights that got progressively heavier, while I pumped iron with ease, her eyes were fixated on her charts. It was infuriating and frustrating all at once, and I wanted to just ask what the fuck was going through her mind. After the last session, I really thought we were on the same page.

              Finally, we reached the point at which I had to be physically inspected one last time, meaning that she had to check for pressure points and sources of tension all over my sides--the same points she’d used to retaliate against me during our first few sessions.

              She seemed visibly stiff as her hands moved around my body, pushing and stroking different muscles, but even I couldn’t deny the look of desire in her eyes as she did.

              “You know,” I said, “I gave you a hard time when we first started this, but I’ve got to say, Gemma, I’ve been impressed with how things have been going.”

              She afforded me a quick smile, but otherwise kept her nose to the grindstone inspecting me. Nevertheless, I went on.

              “My body is something that’s personal to me in a way most people don’t understand. It’s everything, and perfecting it has always been my life’s goal. The fact that you could step in and do what you could to it the way you did has been...well, it’s something not many people in the world could boast.”

              When she didn’t respond, I looked down on her, watching her movements. She was as gorgeous as ever, even when she was icy towards me. Her bright eyes roved over my body, and the excitement being restrained in them was palpable. I knew what my body wanted. Why couldn’t she let hers have the same privileges?

              “So how does it feel,” I finally asked, “going over all those muscles you were able to manipulate on me a few weeks ago, finding them in shape again? You used to be able to restrain me however you liked. Now, though…”

              As she ran her hand up my side, I reached over and put my fingers under her chin, lifting her eyes to mine as my other hand took a gentle hold of her wrist. “There’s nothing stopping me from letting you see everything my body can do, unrestrained. It’s been in your eyes from the second I walked in, and fuck, Gemma, I want to take you right now, right here. Do you want that?”

              There was a golden moment of silence between us as our eyes locked, but my heart roared inside me as she turned her head away, slipping out of my grasp as she clicked her pen and jotted a few things down in her charts. “We can’t do this, Marc,” she said softly, simply, and no amount of twisting or pulling she’d inflicted on me struck as hard as those words.

              “Your physical checks out, Mr. Montoya,” she said immediately afterwards, her tone as professional and clear as the day I’d first walked in. “I’m happy to sign your papers stating you’re in peak physical condition once again.”

              She tore the papers out of her clipboard and handed them to me. I just stared into her eyes a few moments, but they were unsearchable.

             
What the fuck happened, Gemma?
was all that mine spoke back to her.

              After a few long moments, I took the papers and nodded, flexing my other hand as I rolled my officially healed shoulder. “Thanks,” I said curtly. I wanted to say more, so much more, but I didn’t trust my mind not to speak itself too harshly, and I decided to head for the door, grabbing my bags along the way.

              I turned my head, casting a final look at Gemma, and I caught her glancing up at me from her clipboard, a light blush on her face. Letting out a breath, I shook my head and pushed the door open, leaving her behind me.

              There were storm clouds around my head as I made my way down the hallway, and I wanted to punch a wall as I went. Fuck, I almost wished I could run into Dante again and finish what we’d started earlier. No, I
did
wish that. I owed the guy a black eye from last time.

              A voice called out to me as I made my way across the lobby, but it wasn’t his, to my disappointment. I looked over and saw the face of Trina sitting at one of the tables by the reception desk.

              “Marc, hey,” she called, and her tone told me she could read my emotions as plain as day. That didn’t surprise me. I wasn’t the kind of person to be guarded - when I was happy, it was clear, and when I was pissed, the storm around me was as obvious as the one raging outside.

              “Uh, hey,” I replied, a little confused. Trina and I knew each other vaguely, but we rarely talked. She nodded for me to come over, and I did so.

              “You just got out of physio, yeah?” she asked, and I frowned, looking away as I crossed my arms.

              “What about it?”

              She held up her hands. “Hey, you’re a little on edge, I get that. Look, Marc, I just wanted to catch you before you headed out. Gemma, she…”

              I looked at her with a careful eye as she thought about her words carefully. “I don’t know if she mentioned it, but Gemma and I talk, a lot. She’s kind of like my little sister in the way she is with her
real
little sister, you know? Look, I don’t know what went on in there, but I can take a few good guesses,” she said, looking me up and down, and I rolled my eyes.

              “So what’s your point?” I asked, impatient.

              She frowned. “Take it easy, I’m on your side, Marc. Or at least, I’m looking out for Gemma. I just want you to know that whatever happened in there wasn’t exactly out of the blue. She got a lot put on her plate just before you got here.”

              I cocked my head, interested and concerned now. “What are you talking about?”

              She gave me a meaningful look. “I mean you weren’t the only one to pay Gemma a visit this morning, Marc. And the last visitor wasn’t nearly as friendly as you.”

              It took me a few moments as we stared at each other, then realization dawned, and I ran a hand through my hair as I sank into a chair next to Trina. “Fuck, Selena,” I said, and Trina’s face confirmed my suspicion.

              “How bad was it?” I asked, and Trina just shook her head.

              “Man, I don’t know what the two of you went through, but she’s on the warpath.”

              “I know what it’s about,” I said through a groan, “her career means everything to her, and this doesn’t look good.” I looked back at Trina and added suddenly, “she didn’t threaten her or anything, did she?”

              Trina was quick to quench that fire building up inside me. “Marc, whatever was said, going after her isn’t going to help it. It’s Gemma who’s going to need a little time to process all this.”