Not Your Damn Dom (Denial Book 2) Page 2

  I was so tense that every muscle in my body ached, and I put down my glass before I inadvertently crushed it between my fingers. “I can’t see her again.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  The one thing I valued most about my friendship with Callum was that he’d always give me his honest opinion. Unfortunately, it was also the one thing most likely to piss me off.

  “Fuck you, Cal. I can’t stay in the same room as her for hours at a time, watching her get sweaty and out of breath and knowing I can’t have her—”

  “So make a move on her. Sure, it’s unprofessional, but you said she was into you, right? You can help her work off some calories the old-fashioned way and clear the air, and if she really does keep giving you submissive vibes you can take it slow.”

  Just the thought of it made my cock take notice. It had been so long since I’d trained a sub, focused on someone so completely that her every reaction was precious. I fucking missed it.

  But after what I’d done to Kristin, I couldn’t take the risk. Just imagining Alex tear-stained and fearful cooled my ardour abruptly.

  “I’d rather die than break anyone like that again.”

  “Kristin broke herself, Spence. If she’d been my girl, I would have done the same thing with the exact same outcome. You know this, buddy. Deep down, you have to know it.”

  In my head, sure—sometimes. In my heart, I’d never be convinced.

  “I didn’t come here to talk about her.” I gestured for him to pass the bottle of whiskey.

  He took my glass instead. “One more and I’m cutting you off. You see Alex with a hangover tomorrow, and you really will make her cry. You’re a grouchy bastard even when you’re happy.”

  He had a point.

  In the silence that followed, I watched Callum pour my last drink of the night. We spent half the time baiting each other, but I’d never had a better friend. He’d stopped me from going crazy in the days after Kristin’s departure—well, before I’d cut off contact with everyone I knew and headed up to the cabin I’d inherited from my aunt. I’d stayed up in Maine for almost two years, unable to stand living in Los Angeles with so many reminders of her around.

  Even then, Callum had bugged me with phone calls I’d ignored and text messages I’d rarely replied to, until he’d threatened to hire a private detective to find me and then show up on my doorstep. I’d kept in better touch after that, and Callum had respected my need for space.

  I’d been back here less than three months, trying to pick up the threads of my old life. My reputation and connections were good enough that I had no trouble finding new clients, despite my absence. After an initial tough couple of weeks of adjusting to living alone, in the apartment I’d once shared with Kristin, I’d been coping okay. Or at least, that was what I was telling myself.

  Callum handed me my glass. “I ever tell you what happened with Kat that night?”

  I didn’t have to ask when he meant. I’d never seen him as messed up as he’d been the night his sub had tried to leave him. “No.”

  He grimaced. “Worst night of my life. I didn’t want to talk about it. But it really made me understand what you went through with Kristin, on a smaller scale. Kat’s an abuse survivor, and the guy who did it called himself a Dom.”

  “Shit.” I genuinely liked Callum’s spirited sub, and thinking of her in distress made my chest tighten with sympathy and anger. Abusers who called themselves Doms were the lowest of the low. And in my darker moments I felt like I was one of them.

  “No kidding. That equipment I borrowed from you back in New York? I forgot to put it out of sight after you left. The ball gag fell out of the bag and the moment she stepped in the door, she saw it.” Callum stared into his drink, his expression grim. “She had a flashback—really fucking severe. She didn’t recognise me, thought I was him. Locked herself in the bathroom and started hyperventilating, and I couldn’t reach her.”

  I remembered Kristin in a similar circumstance, crouched in the corner of the bedroom like a frightened, wounded animal. Washing the lump in my throat down with more whiskey, I coughed a little at the burn.

  Callum looked over at me, his eyes haunted. “I managed to talk her through breathing until she recognised me and opened the door, thank God. But the guilt… It stayed with me. She safewords sometimes when I accidentally hit one of her triggers. Last time she yelled ‘red’, I wanted to cry harder than she was. Only thing that stopped me was knowing it’d freak her out.”

  “That’s rough, man. I’m sorry.”

  Callum sighed and set down his glass. “I know how hard it is to screw up with a sub. I get it now, in a way I didn’t back when Kristin went off the rails. And God knows I wish that shit had never happened. But Spence, it’s worth the risk. Learn from what happened back then, keep the channels of communication open and try again. You’re one of the good guys, and by running from you Kristin fucked you both up. Alex… I don’t think it’s in her nature to run from anything. You’ll see.”

  I put down my own glass with a hand that shook a little, hoping Callum wouldn’t notice. “I’m gonna get home.”

  For a moment, Callum looked as though he’d protest, but then he nodded. “Gimme your keys. I’ll call you a cab.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alex

  I paused outside the small building that housed Spencer’s gym and the hall where he apparently taught martial arts.

  Was I nervous? Me? Over a guy? I’d always been so confident with them, but something about Spencer both fascinated me and kept me off balance. I’d had huge crushes on men before without knowing if my feelings would be returned or not, but this was different somehow.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

  Spencer was standing with his back to me, checking the rack full of hand-held weights. He didn’t seem to have noticed me come in, so I took a good, long look at him. His sweatpants were regrettably loose, so I didn’t get much of a view of his ass, but he was in a navy blue tank top today. His biceps and what I could see of his shoulder muscles were well developed, and I longed to run my fingers over the tattoo that started at his shoulder and wound all the way down to his elbow. From this distance it was difficult to tell what it was.

  “Morning,” he said without turning around.

  Mortified that I’d been caught staring, I dragged a veneer of casualness over myself and walked across the gym. “Hey. I didn’t want to startle you while you were handling heavy stuff.”

  Spencer set a weight down before glancing at me. “How you feeling today? Anywhere hurting?”

  I snorted. “Only everywhere. I think I was kind of showing off a bit yesterday and I’m paying for it now.”

  He switched from barely interested in me to intently focused, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe. “Any bruises, numbness or tingling anywhere?”

  There was something tingling, all right, but I was pretty sure he didn’t mean my clit. “Not that I’ve noticed. Just muscle aches, like when you go back to exercising after letting yourself go for a while. I’m okay, really.”

  He gave me a long look, as though trying to figure out if I was downplaying it. Then, his voice stern, he told me, “No more showing off, understand? If you don’t level with me I can’t do my job properly. Anything feels like it’s too much, you tell me right away.”

  Why did it feel so good to have him tell me, in no uncertain terms, what he wanted from me? Was it because I couldn’t get a read on why he was so resistant to my attempts to be friendly?

  Holding up my hands as if to show him I was unarmed, I nodded. “You’re the boss.”

  Spencer turned from me immediately and gestured for me to follow him. “Okay, warm up and do a little cardio—your choice what you want to pick. Then I want to try sparring with you.”

  I stopped dead, and he must have seen it in his peripheral vision. Turning, he raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

  “You want me to spar. With you.”

  “I
need to see what you already know and what we need to work on.” He was looking at me as if he didn’t see the obvious problem.

  “You’re like twice as big as I am, and a million times more used to this stuff. I’ll end up on my ass within ten seconds.”

  His lips twitched as though he was holding back a smile. I wished he’d let it out, but it was gone again before I could provoke him further. “You’re not aiming to beat me, Alex.”

  Oooh, say my name again.

  Wow. I really had to keep my head in the game. Where had that come from?

  “I’ll just block your attacks and make sure you see mine coming,” Spencer continued. “I won’t even hit you. Most fight scenes are just faked reactions and good camera angles anyway.”

  He was speaking as though I wouldn’t even get through his defences. Which I probably wouldn’t, but it was a little insulting that he was so confident. If I took him by surprise it might just be possible. “And what about if I knock you on your ass?”

  Now he really did smile, though he turned his head so I couldn’t appreciate it properly. “If that happens, you can pick your prize. But it won’t.”

  “I know,” I mumbled, putting on an air of resignation. “I’ll go warm up.”

  What prize would I pick? Oh, I had a few ideas I could choose from. Right now I couldn’t decide whether my favourite was for him to slam me up against the wall and fuck me hard and fast, or for him to join me in the locker room showers so I could soap him down and take my time exploring that hard, inked body.

  “Any requests for music today?” I called over my shoulder, taking out my iPod and scanning my playlists.

  “Lady’s choice.”

  I glanced behind me to see him disappearing into his office again. Either running a personal training business took more administrating than I’d thought, or he was avoiding me whenever he could.

  What was his problem? Maybe I should ask Callum.

  Spencer

  I headed into my office as Alex set up her playlist for the morning. I’d been fighting a hard-on since she’d stopped to watch me in the doorway. I’d lost the battle when she’d said, “You’re the boss.”

  Thank God for loose sweatpants. Whoever had invented them had probably had situations like this one in mind. There was no way I could keep myself calm around this woman.

  Out in the gym, the music started. More industrial rock with a pounding beat—perfect workout music.

  Perfect music to fuck to, too.

  I groaned under my breath and gave my cock a harsh squeeze, trying to bring myself under control. Callum’s completely unhelpful advice about ‘clearing the air’ came back to me, and I swore to myself that if I managed to get through today without pinning Alex to the sparring mat and fucking her, I’d…probably be in the same state tomorrow. Damn it.

  A couple of songs later, I’d managed to get myself under control. Thinking about why this was a bad idea—and Kristin—had helped. At least there was some benefit to the memories I carried around with me.

  I returned to the gym just as Alex stepped off the treadmill. “Good timing. I think I’m about ready for you.”

  Trying not to think about that statement too much, I beckoned for her to follow me into the adjoining room, where a large section of the floor was covered with spongy, shock-absorbent matting. Though I wouldn’t really need them, I grabbed my focus mitts and slid them onto my hands. The padded ovals with gloves fitted into them would make good targets for her to aim for.

  Once we were standing a few feet apart, facing each other, I asked, “Done any martial arts before?”

  “Got my green belt in kickboxing back when I was a kid, but it’s been nine years since I did any of that stuff. To say I’m rusty would be an understatement.”

  She just kept on surprising me. “Okay. Show me what you remember.”

  Alex tentatively slid her left foot forward and bent her knees slightly, bringing up her fists. Her centre of gravity was a little too far back, but other than that, she was perfect. I dropped into a similar stance and bounced slightly on the balls of my feet.

  “Right-handed?” If she wasn’t, she had her footing wrong.

  She nodded, shifting her weight from foot to foot, focusing on my fists.

  “I’ll just be blocking for now. Come at me.”

  Alex grinned, bringing her attention up to my face. “Did you seriously just use the phrase ‘come at me’?”

  I scowled to hide the urge to laugh. “I’m a third dan black belt; means I get to use the clichés.”

  “Ahh.” She schooled her expression back to seriousness, but her eyes were still smiling. “That’s how it works, huh?”

  “If you don’t do something soon, I might change my mind about just blocking…”

  Alex struck without any force, her posture shifting as she leaned into the right-handed cross. It grazed the pad I was blocking with, and I wanted to laugh at the light brush of her knuckles.

  “You can hit harder than that. I don’t bruise easily.”

  “Wish I could say the same. I bruise easier than a banana.”

  Oh, sweet Jesus. That was the last thing I needed to know about her. I already had more than enough fantasy-fodder where she was concerned.

  She tried a few more jabs and cross punches, gaining confidence and hitting a little harder, chaining two hits together every now and then. For someone who hadn’t boxed since she was a teenager, she wasn’t doing too badly. Focusing on her form, I verbally corrected her a couple of times until I had nothing to critique. “Okay, try some kicks.”

  “No grabbing my foot,” she warned good-naturedly, and aimed a push kick at my midsection. I defended with the pad and she regained her footing quickly, then tried a roundhouse.

  “Not bad. Pivot back as soon as you can; don’t put all your weight into it or you’ll end up on the floor.”

  She tried again, improving the stance.

  “Atta girl.”

  “Wow, was that a compliment? I might just faint.” She kept attacking, gaining confidence, varying kicks and punches now.

  “I give credit where it’s due.” Something about her tone made me defensive.

  “You gotta admit, though, you are kinda grumpy.” She grinned at me over her raised fists.

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Maybe I’m just not a morning person.”

  “If that were true, Callum wouldn’t have told me, ‘Don’t let him scare you. His bark is way worse than his bite.’”

  I scowled. “Callum needs to mind his own damn business.”

  She fell silent, trying a couple more kicks.

  After a few moments, I couldn’t resist asking. “So do I?”

  She shifted from foot to foot. “Do you what?”

  “Scare you.”

  Alex

  I blinked. It seemed like an odd question for him to ask. Spencer didn’t look the type to care what anyone thought of him. “No. You’re bigger than me and stronger than me, but you don’t use it against me.”

  He didn’t meet my eyes. “Remember how to block?” Drawing the pads off his hands, he set them aside and offered a pair of forearm strike pads to me. “Put these on; I don’t wanna hurt you.”

  I took the protective gear and fastened it around my forearms, joking, “Do I get a helmet, too?”

  He didn’t bother to reply. If I’d actually thought he’d hit me in the head, I might have been scared.

  “Okay. I’m ready.”

  He aimed an easy jab at chest height, and I raised my forearms instinctively. I’d expected the impact to be more powerful than it was. “Wow. Your bark really is worse than your bite.”

  Amusement crossed his face for a moment. I almost forgot to block his next punch. “If I decide to bite you, you’ll feel it.”

  Why did that give me a tiny, secret thrill, a vivid mental image of him nipping my earlobe? I tried not to let it show, shifting my weight. “Am I blocking right?”

  He threw a couple more punches, his focus
on my defensive manoeuvres. “Not bad. Ready to block some kicks?”

  “Sure.”

  He tossed a shin pad at me, then a second. I wasn’t sure I liked being this protected from his attacks—I wouldn’t have this stuff in the fight sequences for the movie, though then again, most of the punches and kicks wouldn’t actually be connecting. Anyway, he was the expert. I put on the pads without complaint.

  Fifteen minutes later I was out of breath. He’d stopped pulling his attacks quite as much, and blocking took a little more effort. And when he got going, he was fast.

  “Whoa. Okay, you win.” I stepped back, holding up my hands in submission. “Time out?”

  He actually smiled a little. “Sorry. I probably went a little hard on you there.”

  “My fault for baiting you.” Too tired to remain standing, I dropped into a sitting position on the mat where I was.

  Spencer looked down at me, an odd expression on his face. Then he turned away. “I’ll grab you some water.”

  I watched him walk off, shaking my head. A moment ago he’d been smiling, albeit guardedly. Now he was closed to me again.

  I lay back on the mat, stripping off the pads one by one from a horizontal position, and tried to catch my breath. I’d only known Spencer a couple of days, but I didn’t know if I’d ever understand him.

  After a few moments he returned, surprising me by sitting on the ground nearby before holding out a bottle of water. “You hurting anywhere?”

  I took the water gratefully, then shook out my arms and legs, checking for pain. “Just out of breath, I think.”

  He nodded as I twisted off the cap. “Tomorrow I think we should spar properly. Let me get an idea of where your limits are so I can choreograph the fight scenes around your abilities.”

  The water I was gulping down sloshed over the butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but did nothing to calm them. “Okay. If you think I can handle it.”

  Spencer gave me a sharp glance. “You don’t?”

  “I haven’t sparred since I was fifteen. And you’re… Well, you’re huge!” Hopefully in more ways than one.