Moody: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 10

  Self-preservation mode doesn’t leave much room for the warm and fuzzies.

  But with Moody, those old hopes and dreams come flooding back, and with them all the disappointment that I’ve been suppressing for the past four years.

  “I can hear you thinking.” Moody’s gruff voice warms my cheek, and his arms tighten around me. “I thought you were tired.”

  “I was.” I sigh. “I am.”

  He brushes my hair away from my face, then leans in and rests his lips against mine softly.

  How a man who possesses enough power to destroy most men can be so gentle is beyond me.

  I run my fingers over the ink on his shoulder and chest, and I wonder if I’ll have enough time to memorize the patterns. My throat constricts at the thought. This thing between us has only just started, and yet I’m already preparing myself for it to end.

  “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?” he asks, taking my hand and placing a small kiss on each knuckle.

  His touch sends little sparks of heat shooting up my arm. “No. But we can talk about whatever it was you came here for.”

  In the darkness, I feel him tense. “It can wait.”

  Still so many secrets between us. How can we ever be more if we’re always hiding from each other?

  He rolls on his back, taking me with him, so that my cheek is resting on his chest.

  “You smell good,” he says, nose against my skin, inhaling deeply.

  “I smell like you.” His masculine scent is imprinted on me.

  “Then I smell pretty good.” He chuckles.

  “Yeah, you do,” I admit, because it’s the truth. Musky, with a hint of cologne.

  I love how his arms feel around me. Strong. Powerful. Possessive. He makes me feel like there’s nowhere else in the world that I should be. Which isn’t true, because I have to be at work in less than two hours.

  There are some days when I wish that I had chosen a career that isn’t so demanding. Like right now, when all I want to do is stay in Moody’s arms and let the world solve its own problems.

  I exhale heavily.

  “What’s the sigh for?” His fingers twine with mine.

  “I should get up and shower. I have to be at the hospital soon.”

  He tilts my chin up, and I can see the wicked gleam in his eyes even in the dim light. “I could join you.”

  My core clenches and warmth spreads across my skin. Shower sex is something I’ve always been to terrified to try, which isn’t all that surprising, since most of my sexual encounters aside from Moody have been limited to the missionary position.

  I roll over and climb out of bed, feeling his eyes watching me with heavy appreciation.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  How can I not feel beautiful when he looks at me that way? But I’ve seen the women he’s been with, and I don’t even come close to their airbrushed perfection. I’m just me. Plain, simple, ponytail and scrubs…me.

  “I’m sure you say that to all your girls,” I say half-joking, but I regret the words the moment they’re out.

  Jealousy has never been a vice I’ve struggled with – except with him.

  His expression darkens and his brows furrow. “Izzy–”

  “Are you going to join me?” I ask, changing the subject before the awkward tension grows too heavy between us.

  I hear him mumble something as I make my way down the hall towards the bathroom. But a few minutes into my hot shower, I realize he isn’t coming. By the time I turn the water off, I half expect to find him gone.

  My fears are confirmed when I return to the bedroom and find it empty.

  I grab a pair of fresh scrubs from my dresser and shove my legs in them, irritation and a sliver of anxiety constricting my throat. He left without even saying goodbye. A new low, even for him.

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifts down the hallway, combined with a soft hum of the coffee maker.

  Relief floods through me. I’m so quick to jump to irrational conclusions with him.

  Moody catches me around the waist when I meet him in the kitchen, pulling me against his chest, and kissing me once before releasing me.

  “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assume black since you don’t have any sugar or cream anywhere to be found.” He pours a cup and hands it to me, then leans back on the counter, gaze watchful.

  He’s dressed now, pants and shirt slightly wrinkled from lying on the floor all night. His hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands falling free across his jaw.

  “Thank you.” I take a sip, swallowing past the lump in my throat, and pushing away the small voice inside my head that I’ve crossed some unseen line with him that I can never return from.

  So much for guarding my heart. I’ve practically given it over to him on a silver platter. If I don’t take a few steps back, and quickly, I’m going to end up being one of those women I’ve always hated – weak, insecure, someone who needs a man to validate their self-worth.

  But damn, if I don’t want him – every freaking part of him – to be mine.

  “So much going on in that pretty head of yours,” he says, dark eyes never leaving mine.

  Under his gaze, I feel exposed, like he can read every thought, sense every insecurity.

  “I should go.” I take one last sip from my mug, then grab my cell and keys off the counter.

  He nods, following me to the door, and I realize I’m kicking him out.

  “You can stay…if you want.”

  His lips twitch. “No. I’ve got things I need to do.”

  I glance down. “Right. You have that big fight coming up. In Vegas, right?” A knot of jealousy curls my stomach as I think of the women that will be there, all cheering his name, and throwing their plastic boobs in his face.

  “Yeah.” He leans in, so close I’m forced to look up. “I hope you’ll be able to come.”

  “To Vegas?”

  He smiles. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. It’s still a couple months away.” I don’t say what I’m thinking. That we might not even be together then.

  He studies me hard, and I see by the tension in his face that he understands my unsaid words.

  “You’re pushing me away.”

  “No. I’m just being realistic.”

  He grunts. “Well, get used to the reality of me being in your life.”

  And if I do, and he walks away, what happens to my heart?

  “I have to go to work.”

  He sighs, then wraps his arms around my waist. “I’m not letting you go, Izzy.”

  His mouth crushes mine in one last heated kiss, before he releases me and walks out the door, leaving me trembling and more confused than ever. Because despite my brain’s warning, my heart wants nothing more than to believe him.

  Chapter 22

  Moody

  Izzy’s avoiding me and it’s pissing me off.

  She’s been on call for the last few days, picking up an extra shift and sleeping at the hospital.

  Her walls are back up. I saw it in her eyes the other night. I’m not even sure if she knows she’s doing it, holding onto the resentment and using it as a shield around her heart.

  When she’s in my arms, things are easier. One touch and those walls crumble, but I can’t do anything when she won’t even answer my damn phone calls. Theo’s advice to give her time is gnawing at me. We’ve had too much time already. And the longer she spends evading me, the more concerned I get that she’s building a cement barricade.

  Even if she’s not willing to fight for what we have, I am. And it’ll be one hell of a match, because it’s one I won’t back down from.

  I push those thoughts down, because I have a more current fight I need to focus on.

  One fight. One loss. Then all of Griffin’s debts will be resolved. I know he’ll probably never forgive me. But at least I can make this right.

  Sitting in the makeshift locker room of the run-down warehouse, I can�
�t ignore the pinch in my gut, warning me something bad is going to happen.

  I glance down at my cell phone and hesitate before pressing Griffin’s name, and making the call.

  The phone rings through to his messages, and I curse under my breath. I can’t explain the urgent need to talk to him.

  “It’s me.” I exhale heavily, running a hand over my hair. “I get you don’t want to talk, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. Christ, I doubt I’ll ever forgive myself. But I wanted to let you know that I’ve cut a deal with Jason. After tonight, your debt is erased. I know it doesn’t make up for the things I’ve done, but I hope it helps you move forward.” I pause, wanting to say more, but not finding the words. “I guess that’s it.”

  I press end, then turn my cell off, tucking it into my duffle bag.

  The noise level outside the room is growing. People are starting to pour in and the first fights will be starting soon. A bunch of nobody’s fighting for a chance to move up and fight tougher opponents.

  There was a time when I was just like them. Set on blood. Seeking a chance to make a name for myself. Fame. Fortune. An endless supply of women and booze.

  Now I see it for what it is. Bullshit. A fucking business ready to cut you down and build you up depending on what the crowds want.

  And it’s not just these underground Ma and Pop get-ups. It’s the big ones too. All looking for a way to cash in on you, then tossing you to the curb the minute a newer, shinier version presents itself.

  Theo was smart getting out when he did.

  If only I had the luxury.

  I’ve played with the idea of retiring, but then what the hell am I going to do? I’ve spent most of my savings paying off Griffin’s debt, and what I do have left will barely support me for another year, even after the next scheduled fight.

  What kind of job am I going to get when my life experience consists of punching people out for a living? That combined with the few years I spent serving in the Marines, doesn’t leave me with a hell of a lot of options. Cause I’m sure as hell not getting any stellar references.

  In all fairness, I was lucky to get an honorable discharge for the shit I pulled after I came back from my first tour.

  I’ve done a good job keeping that part of my life hidden. Having a mental breakdown at twenty-two isn’t something I like to brag about. If it hadn’t been for Griffin, I’m not sure I would have pulled through.

  I’d always been a brawler. But Griffin taught me how to use my fists to fight the demons that plagued me. Even though we came from opposite sides of the track as they say, in his own way, Griffin understood me.

  Fists. Sweat. Adrenaline. The rush of the ring. It was in that place where I truly felt alive. Like I had some fucking control over the cataclysm that was my life.

  We started out in a small gym, and soon we were bringing in a fight every two weeks.

  But Griffin didn’t have the same drive I had, or the thirst for the next high.

  Women.

  Booze.

  Gambling.

  I was running wild. Spiralling out of control. Spending more money than I was bringing in. Years of trying to convince myself I was fine, using any means to prove it, in order to avoid the sober truth – I was a fuck up.

  Griffin kept warning me to rein it in, but I didn’t listen.

  I should have fucking listened.

  Rolling my neck, I close my eyes and exhale heavily.

  The screech of the metal door opening makes me open my eyes.

  “Jason,” I growl out, when the man enters the room, followed by two thugs, whom I assume are his bodyguards.

  Fucking coward.

  Jason shoves a hand in his suit pocket, and regards me with a smug expression.

  “Did you bring the contract?”

  His lips twitch, and he nods at one of his goons, who pulls a folded document from his pocket and hands it to me.

  “I’ve outlined the terms that we discussed.”

  What I wouldn’t do to wipe the arrogant smirk from his face.

  I scan the contract, barely understanding half of the words.

  “And if I sign this, Griffin’s debt is taken care of?”

  “As long as you follow through with my other terms.”

  “And remind me again what they are.”

  “I’ve changed them slightly.”

  “You don’t want me to lose now?”

  “No, you’ll lose. After a good fight. I don’t want there to be any hint that you threw it. He hits you, you hit him back. Understood?”

  I give a small grunt. “That won’t be difficult.”

  A vicious smile plays on his lips, sending a cold chill down my spine.

  He’s planning something. But I’ve already come this far. It’s my chance to finally do the right thing.

  Without hesitation, I take the pen Jason holds out and sign the contract, then hand it back to him.

  “I mean it.” Jason clutches the papers as if they’re gold, and there’s a glint of madness in his gaze when he looks at me. “If you hold back, the contract’s void.”

  “You want me to fight, and still lose?” I shake my head, and huff. “One solid hit and I’ll have whatever joker you’ve got me fighting laid out on the mats.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He smiles, then turns his back, motioning to his men. “That’s why we’re going to even the odds a bit. Make things fair.”

  His men swoop in on me before I have time to react. The first fist hits me in the gut, knocking the wind from my lungs.

  Fuck if I don’t want to fight back, but I know the cost of doing so.

  Two more bruising shots to my ribs send a piercing pain through my chest. The men don’t bother to take turns, just continue to use my body as a punching bag.

  “That’s enough,” Jason says casually, making the men withdraw. “We want him to be able to do some damage.”

  I lean over, one hand on my thigh, the other clutching my side, and gasp for breath as the men retreat.

  “Remember, the rules.” Jason waves the contract in the air before disappearing through the door.

  With a heavy clang, I’m alone again, wincing in pain. I’ve got no doubt that at least one of my ribs is broken, maybe two.

  Dirty fucking bastard. If I’ve ever truly hated anyone, it’s Jason Reagan.

  Sweat pouring down my face, I manage to lie down on the cold cement floor.

  One thought makes my skin crawl.

  I never asked him…who the hell am I fighting?

  Chapter 23

  Izzy

  “Have you talked to Moody?” Kate leans against the nurses’ station. Her short dark hair is currently highlighted hot pink. Something only she can get away with and still look professional.

  “No.” Closing the patient report I was working on, I give her a look that says I don’t want to talk about it.

  She doesn’t take the hint, or doesn’t care, because she follows me when I start to walk towards the staff room.

  “I don’t understand you.” Kate gives a flirtatious smile and bats her long eyelashes at the cute twenty-something orderly that passes, then turns her attention back to me. “Four years you wanted this guy and now that you have him, you’re just going to let him slip through your fingers?”

  “I’m not letting him slip through anything. I just need time to think.”

  “Four years,” she repeats, cocking a brow at me.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Mild irritation clips my words.

  “Yes. But first I want to make sure my best friend isn’t running from the first good thing in her life, since God knows when.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not running.”

  She sighs, and I can feel her watching me as I open my locker and grab my jacket and bag.

  “Then call him.” Arms crossed, Kate’s gaze is hard, filled with challenge.

  “I will.” I just don’t know what I’m going to say when I do. Everything’s happened so fast, and I’m
a bit overwhelmed by this new Moody. The one who talks about a future, and feelings and…children.

  Biting my bottom lip, I push down the emotions that stir in my chest.

  “You better.” Kate hooks her arm in mine when I shut my locker. “Oh, and I’m still waiting on those phone numbers. I had this wicked dream the other night about mud wrestling, and the size of the guy’s–”

  “Okay.” I laugh, pulling free. “I’ll set you up as long as you keep your depraved fantasies to yourself.”

  That seems to satisfy her. “Go home and get some sleep. You work too much.”

  I chuckle, knowing she’s put just as many hours in as me, maybe more.

  The sky is dark when I leave the building. I pull out my phone when I get into my car, sighing when I see the multiple unread texts from Moody, and the few from Griffin. There’s also an unknown number that’s called twice in the last hour.

  Call him. Kate’s command screams in my brain.

  Moody’s rugged face flashes in my mind. Just the thought of him warms my skin, sending crackles of heat pulsing through my veins.

  I bite my bottom lip, thumb hovering over his number. Just as I’m about to press call, my phone buzzes in my hand with an incoming call.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s good to hear your voice.” Jason’s voice is laced with counterfeit affection. “I’ve missed you.”

  Fuck.

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Is he serious? If there wasn’t a hint of a threat in his words, I might actually laugh at the absurdity of the statement.

  “You lost that chance when you decided to sleep with another woman.”

  He responds with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t play the victim, Isabelle. It doesn’t suit you. I know about your little indiscretions.”

  My indiscretions.

  “I don’t know what you heard, but–”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “We’re over, Jason. Stop calling.”

  “You may want to reconsider.” This time there’s no denying the warning.

  “If this is about Griffin, he’s made his own choices.”

  “And he’ll pay for them.”

  I suck in a lungful of air. “What does that mean?”