The Client: Short And Steamy (3 page)

M
y pulse was still racing faster
than normal when I reached the locker room, but I chalked that up to the work-out I'd just gotten. I'd stayed in shape when I'd moved to the East Coast, but there was a huge difference between running and lifting some weights, and doing the sort of sparring that Dorian and I had just done. He was a former FFC champ who'd retired a few years back. I'd assumed that meant he'd been injured or had something medically wrong that prevented him from continuing to fight, but all the articles I'd found made it sound like he'd quit to take over running his family's company.

After the match we'd just had, I was glad I'd done my digging because I'd at least been semi-prepared for how good he was. What I hadn't been prepared for was how much I'd enjoyed the session. Part of me had relished the physical and mental activity that came with sparring rather than a workout, but I couldn't deny that I'd enjoyed it more than I ever had with Uncle Takeshi.

I wasn't a doctor or a nurse, but my area of study had focused on exercise and physical therapy, so I knew that vigorous physical activity produced vast amounts of chemical reactions and arousal wasn't an uncommon response. That tended to go up tenfold when the physical activity resulted in close contact with an attractive person.

Not that I was attracted to Dorian Forbes. But, I also couldn't deny that he was good looking. I wasn't blind.

“Sara!”

I turned when someone called my name. It wasn't Dorian, but someone I readily admitted was also attractive. I'd never been into UFC or MMA fighting, but once I'd figured out who Dorian was, I'd looked into the FFC. It hadn't taken me long to see that Tyrell was their newest poster boy.

“Aren't you supposed to be training?” I asked, sending a pointed look toward his annoyed-looking trainer.

He shrugged, his jade eyes sparkling. “Everyone needs a water break.”

I raised an eyebrow, overly conscious of the eyes I could feel on me. I refused to give them the satisfaction of acknowledgment. I'd been around guys like this before. Pretty much every jock I'd ever met had looked at me the same way that the guys here were doing. It usually ended up being an odd mixture of condescension, annoyance and lust. None of which I appreciated.

Tyrell, at least, wasn't acting like I didn't belong here.

“I know you're not a fighter, at least not around here,” he said. “But you know what you're doing.”

“How do you know I'm not a fighter?” I asked, curious to hear his reasoning.

“Because I would've heard of someone as good as you,” he said with an easy smile. “But you were using moves I've never seen before. Where'd you learn to do all that?”

“My uncle.”

He took a step toward me, just enough that I could feel his body heat, but not so much that I felt like he was invading my personal space.

“Maybe you could teach me some of those moves sometimes.”

My stomach clenched at the low tone in his voice, but I still played coy. “You'll at least have to buy me dinner first.”

“I think I could manage that,” he said, a dimple showing with his grin. “How about Friday evening? I'll finish up training around five, so I can pick you up at your place at six, or we can meet here at five-thirty, if that works better for you.”

I had to give him some serious credit for giving me a choice. Not many guys would've taken into consideration that a woman might not want a virtual stranger knowing where she lived.

“I'll come here,” I said and jerked my head toward his trainer. “Now get over there before Mr. Forbes decides to fire me and I have to start looking for yet another job.”

Tyrell gave me another charming smile before trotting back over to his trainer. I let myself have a moment to appreciate the way his muscular body looked as he moved, how his ass flexed under his shorts. Then I turned and headed into the locker room.

I sighed as I stepped under the warm spray. One of the best things about a workout like the one I’d just experienced is that I could eat whatever I wanted and not have to worry about my weight. Which meant I'd be able to indulge in the steak, potatoes, and red wine I was craving.

I frowned. Or I would've been able to indulge if I'd actually been able to afford anything more than the cup of noodles I had sitting in my lone kitchen cabinet. I'd be able to get a few more groceries when I got paid, but definitely no steak, potatoes, or wine. Rent was a little more important.

Although, with as much as Dorian promised to pay me – twice as much as my yoga classes did – I might be able to afford that meal in a couple weeks. Then again, with Tyrell taking me out on Friday, maybe I could get my steak that way. I definitely wasn't one of those women who thought I had to eat a salad in front of a guy. If I wanted a salad, I ate it. If I wanted meat, I ate it.

By the time I finished the shower and dressed, at least half of the men who were in the gym when I'd arrived were gone. Dorian was still there, and he'd clearly taken his own shower. For a moment, I couldn't look away. His hair was wet, and he was in a suit, looking like a strange combination of the man I met yesterday, and the man I sparred with just a short while ago.

I forced myself to look away before I could start having inappropriate thoughts about my boss. Then I saw who was sparring in the main ring, and let myself stare. I didn't know the name of the other guy, but it was clear he was no match for Tyrell. It wasn't a real fight, but I could see how good Tyrell was. Light on his feet, with a long reach and a way of putting all of his force behind his hits.

As I watched him, I couldn't help but wonder how all of that power translated into the bedroom. He was the sort of man who oozed sex appeal and confidence. The kind of combination that could either mean he was awful in bed because he didn't bother to learn how to please his partner, or that he'd earned the right to that confidence because he was amazing in bed.

Maybe I'd be lucky enough to find out on Friday after our date.

I
was starting
to really dislike Tyrell.

Every morning for the past week, Sara came into the gym so we could spar and train. And every morning, after we were done, she'd stand around talking to Tyrell. I wanted to yell at him to get his ass back to training, but I knew if I busted his balls too much about her or insisted we change where we trained, the guys would start to wonder why I cared so much.

Hell,
I
wondered why I cared so much.

She was cute, I'd give her that, but it wasn't like I was hurting for sexual partners. I didn't need to be hitting on my trainer.

Okay, granted, I'd been fucking my previous trainer, but that wasn't the point. The point was, I hired her because she saved my father's life, kicked Reggie's ass, and I needed a new trainer. She piqued my curiosity.

That was all.

It didn't matter if I enjoyed the physical contact a bit more than I should have. I was used to having sex three, four times a week. I hadn't had it since the show girl the previous week. I'd been too busy with work.

At least that's what I kept telling myself. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that I couldn't get Sara out of my mind.

Damn if I hadn't come just last night picturing Sara's lips around my cock.

“Dorian, you thinking about getting back into the ring?”

A voice from my left drew my attention away from where I was pretending to watch Chris and Jon spar. They were as good an excuse as any to keep my gaze in that direction.

“What was that, Paul?” I asked.

He grinned at me, flashing the three gold teeth he earned before retiring himself. “I asked if you were thinking about coming back to the ring.”

“I like my face the way it is, thank you.”

He shrugged. “Just thought that might be why you're coming in here every morning.”

“Figured since I finally had a trainer who could challenge me, might as well enjoy it.” I shot a glance toward Sara and Tyrell again.

“You think we could get her to fight for us?” Paul asked, following my gaze.

I shook my head before even considering the question. FFC mainly ran men's fights, but there were a couple up-and-comers who were starting to make a name for themselves in the women's leagues. While I didn't have anything against the idea of women fighting, I knew I'd never be able to watch Sara go through that.

“Better go get the boy back to work,” Paul said. “It's gonna be hell getting him to focus the rest of the day.”

It was an innocuous comment, but something about it made me tense. “What do you mean?”

I hoped it sounded as nonchalant as I wanted it to be.

Paul rolled his eyes and grinned at me. “Lover boy's got a date with your girl. Guess we know who's the champ after all.”

I flipped him off, but I was only half-joking. I told myself that the knot in my stomach was because I didn't like the idea of anyone thinking Tyrell could've beaten me at my peak.

Except a part of me knew that wasn't the case at all.

I didn't like the idea of Tyrell and Sara going on a date, and I sure as hell didn't like the thought of them sleeping together.

I didn't want to sleep with her. Not at all. It was just that she was my trainer, better than Jelani had ever been. I didn't want some fling with Tyrell to fuck things up.

That's all there was to it.

And I kept telling myself that even as I tried to figure out a way to learn where Tyrell intended to take Sara tonight. I was just looking after her well-being.

W
hen I decided
I wanted to go out tonight, it had nothing to do with the fact that I knew Sara and Tyrell were out. When I chose to get pizza at Tribeca instead of one of the pricey restaurants where I usually dined, it wasn't because I knew that's where Sara would be. I was just in the mood for pizza. It happened...on occasion.

Once seated at the place with the best view of the restaurant, I perused the menu and pretended not to look for Sara.

I spotted Tyrell first, which wasn't a surprise considering how tall he was. He and Sara took a table directly in my line of sight but angled in such a way that, unless either one turned toward me, they wouldn't know I was there. Which was good, because I didn't want them thinking that I was following them.

Because I wasn't.

“Is that seat taken?”

I looked up at the woman I hadn't noticed approach. She was gorgeous. Tall, with long legs and great curves. A mass of blonde curls piled on the top of her head and big brown eyes.

“No,” I answered honestly, then quickly added, “but I'm not looking for company this evening.”

Her eyebrows went up and she stared at me for a moment, her hand still on the back of the chair she'd started to pull out. It was clear that she wasn't used to being refused.

“Sorry.” I gave a half-hearted shrug as I apologized. I hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings, but I meant what I said. I didn't want company.

“Your loss,” she said as she turned and walked away, putting a little extra swing into her hips to show me what I was missing.

I barely noticed. Instead, I was focusing on the way Sara had dressed for tonight. This wasn't a cheap pizza place, but it also wasn't some five-star restaurant where the food was more fancy than filling. The simple skirt and blouse was perfect first date material. Cute and a bit flirty, but not too revealing. Nice enough for something like this, but not so fancy that she couldn't have worn it to go to a club or ice skating, or whatever normal people did on dates.

Women I took out never dressed like that, first date or not, and we always went somewhere expensive. Because of who I was, they expected it, but I never minded paying because they always knew upfront that they wouldn’t be around for long. I wanted sex without strings and they wanted to be seen with me. We both won.

When the waiter returned with my food, I was pleasantly surprised to find it delicious. Having been raised in a family who came from old money, I'd been taught that paying more for something made it innately better. While I'd never said out loud that I felt this way, I realized now that I'd been following that school of thought all along.

I frowned as I ate my pizza. I didn't like how that made me feel. I enjoyed having money, but I'd never considered myself a snob. Now, however, I was starting to think that I'd been mistaken all along.

Someone stepped into my line of sight. “Excuse me, aren't you Dorian Forbes?” A pretty redhead gave me a sweet, charming smile.

“I am.” I leaned back slightly in my seat.

“I saw your last fight,” she said. “You were so good. My brothers were all mad when you decided to retire.”

“It's always nice to meet a fan.” My smile was genuine, and I meant what I said, but hoped she'd move along so I could get back to...observing.

“My friend and I were wondering if we could buy you a drink.” She motioned to her left and I looked over to see a petite brunette waving at us.

Last week, I would've had both girls naked in a hotel room within the hour. I wasn't the kind of man who was accustomed to threesomes, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't had one before either. At the moment, however, the thought of these two women in my bed at the same time wasn't as appealing as it should have been.

“Thank you,” I said. “But I'll be leaving shortly.”

She looked disappointed as she left, but didn't press the subject, which I was grateful for. Tonight had ended up making me much more introspective than usual, and I tried to avoid that sort of thing at all cost. I didn't want to be thoughtful and kind. I enjoyed being shallow, enjoyed making the most of the pleasures in life and not giving a damn about anyone else. I wasn't cruel, but I always put myself first. I didn't know any other way to be.

I glanced at Sara and found her laughing. Even from a distance, I could tell there was no pretense in her. While she wasn't naive, she also wasn't fake. She made no apologies for who she was, and she behaved how she wanted, regardless of how it looked to those around her.

For me, there'd always been two types of women. The classy ones who occasionally slept with me after whatever function I escorted them to, and the ones like Jelani, who would never fit into my world. They were fun, great in bed, but that was all.

The women who moved in my social circles – the ones I took to events rather than just to bed – they knew exactly how they were supposed to behave, what they should say and what they should avoid.

Sara didn't fit either of those molds, and that confused the hell out of me. I liked things simple, but she complicated everything. I knew the smartest thing to do would be to walk out and never look back. Treat her as an employee only. Insist on training in ways that minimized the physical contact between us.

Forget about her and find someone for hot, sweaty sex.

That would be the smart thing to do.

Instead, I paid my bill and went straight home, unable to get the image of her out of my mind.