Dom: I always make sure you feel it, babe.
With a laugh, I tuck my phone away. His statement is true—he does make me feel it. He makes me feel a whole hell of a lot more than I can afford to.
Dominic
THE MATS ARE COOL AND still a little damp from the cleaning agent Hannah used on them a little while ago. I sit, legs together, and bend forward, loosening my hamstrings.
Hannah’s gaze is heavy on my back as I stretch. She’s the gym equivalent of a lot lizard—the chick that’s ready and willing to give you a whirl. Or a twirl. Hell, she’ll give you whatever you request with an enthusiasm that’s hard to match.
That’s what girls like that do. They know how the game is played and they want their chance, their fifteen minutes of legs spread wide open, to see if they can sink you as you sink into them. This is especially true if you’re the fighter the gym is known for. That either makes you extra special or extra targeted, depending on how you look at it.
It’s easy to be persuaded by how crazy girls like that seem for you. I mean, enthusiasm is fifty-one percent of what makes a good fuck. It’s hard to beat an eagerness to take your cock like it’s her purpose in life. Think about it. A little zest for the best can make up for a lot of the rest. A lot, but not all.
Fifty-one percent might be a majority, but no one ever said that was a passing grade.
As I look over my shoulder and see her watching me from the desk, the conclusion I came to six months ago when she walked in the door is reconfirmed: extra targeted.
“How’s your rib, Dom?” she asks.
“It’s good.”
“Bond was worried he broke it.”
“I’m sure he was,” I say.
Turning away from her, my hands flurry against a heavy bag. With each snap, my muscles ease a little of the tension I seem to have been born with. It’s something I can never totally get rid of. It’s a feeling that something is always either wrong or about to go sideways. The result, I suppose, of growing up with an alcoholic father and a mother too weak to tell him to go fuck himself.
“Yo, Dom!”
Stepping back and sucking in a quick breath of air, I glance towards the locker room.
“Hey, Nate,” I say to my brother. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah, I just stopped to get a quick workout in before I head to the bar. My bartender called off tonight so I got Chrissy to watch Ryder.”
“You still fucking her?”
He grins. “Not on the regular. But she wanted a little last night and I gave it to her like the giver I am. So she owed me one.”
“I love how you convince her that you’re doing her some kind of favor,” I laugh.
“Hey, she likes my cock and my kid. What else could I ask for?”
“I’d put not trying to get herself knocked up on the list.”
“Which is why,” he says, drawing out the last syllable, “I’m not fucking her on the regular.” He taps the side of his head. “I’m the one with the brains. Remember?”
My right hand smacks the side of the bag in a quick jab. “That’s what you keep telling me.”
He stands with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, watching me work. Nate is three years older, a little shorter, and a lot stockier. We look a lot alike besides our build with jet black hair, our mother’s blue eyes, and a musculature that’s proven to be the only good thing our father ever did for us.
“I got a call from the bank today.”
My head snaps to Nate, the weight of those words hitting me like a perfectly delivered one-two. “What’d they say?”
“They said I got the loan.”
Sighing in relief, I wrap an arm around the bag. “That’s good news.”
“It’ll take sixty days or so to get the money, so I gotta figure out how to float until then. But, yeah, man, that has me breathing a little easier.”
“You know it’s bullshit,” I spit. “They triple your property taxes on The Gold Room and expect you to just come up with that while doubling your fucking license fees?”
“I know. But what can I do?”
“Just pisses me off,” I say, slamming a fist into the bag as my blood pressure picks up. “You got some silver-spoon-fed assholes sitting somewhere trying to figure out how they can give themselves a raise. What do they do? They charge you for it while you’re busting ass day in and day out to feed Ryder.”
Nate’s serenity does what it’s done since the day we were at the park and our mom came with tears streaking down her cheeks, telling us our oldest brother got hit by a car—it centers me.
No matter how bad life gets, Nate weathers it. He took the hits from our dad when he was drunk. He kept me calm when our world fell apart and the third piece of our brotherhood was killed. He didn’t completely lose his shit either when Ryder’s mom overdosed on heroin six months after the kid was born.
We’re brothers, as strong as the DNA that binds us. But we’re also completely different, and while he accepts the bureaucrats almost forcing him to close the doors on his bar, I’d be happy rolling some heads.
“It’ll work out,” Nate says, smacking me on the back. “It always does.”
“My offer still stands.”
“What offer is that?”
“You and Ryder move in with me. Just until the loan goes through. Between rent and utilities, man, you’d save a ton.”
He rubs the toe of his shoe over the floor, nudging the edge of the mat.
“It makes sense, Nate.”
“I don’t want to go cramping your style,” he laughs. “You don’t know what it’s like living with a four-year-old.”
“Just don’t bring that purple dinosaur video,” I wince, “and it’ll be fine. It’s just for a few months, right?”
“Yeah.” He looks me in the eye, the start of a smirk on his lips. “What about Cam?”
“She doesn’t live with me.”
“No shit. She wouldn’t be caught dead living in that apartment,” Nate laughs. “But I’m guessing she comes over for booty calls now and then.”
My eyebrows wiggle as I think of her from a couple of hours ago. “God, that ass.”
“You’re gonna have a hard time letting that one go, huh?”
“Nah,” I say, tapping at the bag again. “I know what time it is. I know how this goes.”
“The one time I knew how it went, it almost made it harder not falling for her.” He shoves his hands in his pockets again, watching me throw punches. “Of course, with me it was with a girl that set a new level of crazy. With you, it’s with the princess of Savannah.”
“What can I say?” I laugh.
“As much as I hate her brothers,” he admits, “I kinda like her.”
“You’re just pissed they walked in your bar like they owned the place.”
“Damn right I am. They probably could’ve pulled out their wallets and bought the place with their pocket change, and I find that downright offensive.”
My laughter booms through the gym, getting the attention of the two guys sparring in the ring across the room. “So, you and Ryder gonna move in or what?”
“You sure it won’t fuck up your love life?”
“Love life? Try fuck life, and no, it won’t.”