Moody: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 6

  Jason told me what you did. There’s so much wrong in that single sentence, that I don’t even know how to process it, or where to start.

  Breathe. That’s all I can do. Slowly, I place the milk in the fridge, then turn and meet my brother’s gaze.

  “What I did?” I lower my chin, still not fully grasping the accusation, or at least not understanding why it’s coming from Griffin.

  “Is it true?”

  “If you mean that I broke off our engagement after I found him having sex with another woman, then yeah it’s true.”

  “So you’re not sleeping with someone else?”

  “No.” I grit my back teeth.

  “Good.” Griffin blows out a relieved breath. “So you can still work things out.”

  “He cheated on me. There’s no working things out, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

  “I spoke with Jason and he said he still wants you back–”

  “Why the hell are you speaking with him anyways?”

  “I just don’t want you throwing away your life just because of one minor indiscretion.”

  One minor indiscretion. Is he being serious?

  Suspicion creeps into my chest, but I can’t think of one scenario why my brother would be defending the bastard.

  “I thought you hated him?”

  “I had my doubts about him, but that was before.”

  “Before what? Before he slept with someone else? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Just talk to him.” Desperation taints his words. “Please. Think about what this will do to Mom and Dad.”

  My brother has always been a master manipulator, but this is over the top, even for him.

  “I’m sure they’ll be disappointed.”

  “They’ll be devastated. And what about all the money they’ve already spent on your engagement party?”

  “They’ll get over it.” I turn my back, trying to control the frustration building inside me.

  There was a time when Griffin would have destroyed anyone for saying a bad word about me, but that was before his injury. Now, there are days when I swear I don’t even know him anymore.

  “You can’t do this,” he growls, fingers tightening into fists at his side.

  There’s something in his expression that sends a cold sliver of fear down my spine, and for the first time in my life, I’m actually afraid of what he’ll do.

  Panic fizzes through me.

  “You need to leave.”

  His fingers wrap around my upper arm, twisting me to look at him. “Don’t be so fucking selfish, Izzy.”

  I glance up at him in shock. He’s never put a hand on me. Ever. With Griffin, I’ve always been safe.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  A flicker of something – regret maybe – lashes across his face, but it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by cold desperation. He drops his hand and takes a step backwards.

  “Think about it, Izzy. Before you do anything you’ll regret.”

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is it a threat?

  The door slams hard behind him and I cringe.

  Definitely changing the locks.

  With shaky fingers, I dial Moody’s number.

  “Hey, beautiful. I was hoping to hear your voice.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a quivering breath.

  “Izzy? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Griffin.” My voice quakes with the emotion I’m holding back.

  There’s a small pause, then he exhales roughly. “Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  “I’m coming over.” He hangs up before I have time to argue. Not that I would, because right now he’s the only person I want to see.

  Chapter 14

  Moody

  The second Izzy opens the door, an overwhelming urge to pull her to me, to hold her and protect her, crashes over me.

  It’s always been there. That need. But it’s more intense now, and I can’t shake the feeling that it isn’t just Griffin who’s in trouble. Maybe it’s paranoia, or maybe it’s that I know Jason Reagan, or at least his type – spiteful, merciless, intent on revenge.

  If I’m right, this thing with Griffin is only the start.

  Izzy chews on her bottom lip and breathes out heavily through her nose. “You know something.”

  It isn’t a question, but then she was always good at reading people, especially me.

  “Griffin came to the gym earlier.” I rub the back of my neck, hating what I have to tell her. “He owes money.”

  She narrows her eyes. “To who?”

  “Jason.”

  Silence stretches between us, her gaze locked on me as she tries to understand what I’m telling her.

  She shakes her head in denial. “Why would Griffin owe Jason money?”

  I exhale heavily, then say, “Because the guy’s a money launderer and Griffin was desperate.”

  More silence.

  Emotions flicker across her expressive face like a movie in slow motion. Disbelief. Acceptance. Anger. Fear.

  “I’ll pay it off,” she says quietly.

  “He owes a lot.”

  “How much?” Her lips thin, brows drawing down in a frown.

  “Fifty.”

  “That’s nothing, I’ll–”

  “Thousand.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fifty thousand.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh my God. How?”

  I shrug. “He said it was medical bills, rehab.” Which doesn’t make a lot of sense because I helped pay most of those expenses off. I have my suspicions he’s got himself messed up in something more. And not just bad business deals like he said. “Jason’s calling it in. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” She’s shaking now, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.

  “You marry him.” The words are acid on my tongue.

  “And if I don’t?” Her eyes – swimming with such betrayal – absolutely destroy me. What had Griffin said to her?

  “We’ll figure it out.” I close the space between us, but she holds out a hand to stop me. The need to comfort her is overwhelming. And every second she’s not in my arms is pure torture.

  “What happens if Griffin doesn’t pay back the money?”

  I grimace. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Because nothing is going to happen to him. I’ll make sure of it.” I take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “Trust me.”

  Her eyes squeeze shut like she’s in pain, and my chest constricts, because I know I’m the source of it. A fucking domino effect of one stupid decision.

  Her shoulders slump as if the weight of what I’ve told her is too much.

  “You’ve always been such a good friend to Griffin. But this isn’t your responsibility.”

  I don’t argue, because I know she’ll never understand unless I tell her the whole truth. That I made a bargain with the devil, and Griffin paid the price.

  Four years I’ve kept the truth from both of them, unable to see the ultimate betrayal in either of their eyes.

  “This isn’t just about him. I won’t let anyone hurt you either.”

  “Me?” She pulls back.

  “How much do you know about Jason and his family?”

  “Obviously not much.” A small humorless laugh escapes her lips and she starts to pace the small room. “God, this is all my fault. I should never have agreed to marry him. We barely knew each other...but…” She stops abruptly and places her palms on the counter. “I just wanted something…real.”

  Her words crush my chest, because I want the only real thing she’ll ever have to be with me.

  “You didn’t know. And I’m fucking pissed at Griffin that he didn’t tell you. He knew what you were getting into with that bastard. Knew the consequences if it went south.”

  Izzy shakes her head. “You’re making Jason sound like he’s part of the mob or something.”

&n
bsp; “Or something,” I mutter, and I see her pale.

  “Shit.” Her fingers rub the side of her face. “This can’t be happening.”

  “I told you, I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “And I should trust you because you’ve been so dependable in the past.” Sarcasm laces her words, and there’s a note of hysteria in her voice. “God, why are all men such fucking bastards?”

  My lips twitch slightly because I’m not used to hearing her use that language. From her pretty little mouth, it’s almost cute.

  “This isn’t funny.” She glares at me.

  “No, it’s not. It’s damn serious.” I stalk towards her. “But whether you like it or not, you’ve got me on your side.”

  Despite her protest, I pull her into my arms and hold her, until I feel some of her anxiety subside, her breathing return to normal. Well not normal, because now it’s heavier and thick with the heat that simmers between us.

  I run my hand up her back and under her hair, cupping the back of her neck.

  “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”

  My mouth twitches, because I feel the same way.

  “How do I know I can trust you? That you won’t walk away again, the minute….” Her lips draw in a tight line, and her eyes cloud over like she’s reliving some horrible memory.

  “Never again, Izzy. I’d rather cut out my own heart.”

  “That’s a little dramatic.” A half grin softens her features.

  “I’m serious.”

  Her eyes pinch close and she shakes her head.

  “I can’t let you take on Griffin’s debt. I’ve got some money in savings and I’m sure my parents can help. They won’t be happy about it, but–”

  “No. I’ll cover it.” My throat tightens at the mention of her parents. They never did forgive me for what happened. But I wonder how her father would feel if he knew the part Jason Reagan had in his son’s injury.

  She studies me for a long moment, then gives a small nod. “Claire was right. What she said about you.”

  “Claire?”

  “Theo’s mom.”

  “Oh.” I frown. I wasn’t aware that they had spoken, but I guess it makes sense, since they work together. “What did she say?”

  Izzy shrugs, a small smile curving her lips. “That you might be the most frustrating, arrogant, reckless–”

  “Don’t forget incredibly sexy.”

  She laughs. “And cocky.” Her gaze lowers to my lips, and I see it – the spark igniting her eyes. Her palm rests on my cheek and I can’t help the rough breath that leaves me. “You’re a good man, Moody.”

  Of all the things she could say to me, I wasn’t prepared for that, and I feel my cheeks warm.

  “Are you blushing? Oh my God, did I make Moody Brock blush?” She pushes on my chest and I catch her hand before she pulls away, then wrap my arm around her waist so that she’s flush against me.

  “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. But blushing is the least of it.”

  Her lips part, eyes widen.

  “Moody, I can’t–”

  “Don’t tell me you can’t. Because you and I both know it’s a lie. I will have you.” I touch my lips against the delicate shell of her ear, and murmur, “Tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. It doesn’t matter when. But it’ll happen. And when it does, you’ll remember who you belong to.”

  A soft moan is her only response, and I can feel her fighting with her own desires.

  “Tell me you don’t fantasize about me. That you don’t want me buried so deep inside you, stretching you to the point where you don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.”

  Eyes closed, she lets out a little whimper. Her hand flattens against my stomach, then curls in the fabric of my shirt.

  “Moody.” The sound of my name on her lips has the power to undo me.

  “Look at me, beautiful.” I brush my thumb across her cheek, waiting until those vibrant blue eyes open and look at me. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You.”

  That one single word has my cock harder, thicker than I ever thought possible. It’s all I need to finally take what I’ve been craving for the past four years.

  Chapter 15

  Izzy

  Why does he do this to me?

  What is it about his touch that makes him so different from other men? And why God, do I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to him?

  Moody moves in closer, his fingers tightening on my hips, and I can feel the hard, delicious length of him pressed against me.

  I take him in. Every small detail. The dark stubble on his jaw. The small, white scar above his brow. The way his nose bends just slightly to the left. Soft lips that beg to be kissed. Expression tight with lust.

  I want him so bad that I literally ache inside.

  This is what I’ve hungered for. And as his lips lower to mine, I know I’m a goner.

  Gentle.

  Soft.

  His mouth slants over mine. Fingers thread in my hair, tilting my head back and making my lips part for his.

  Years of need explode inside of me. So many sensations. They sear my insides. Burn my flesh. Make me dazed and weak, and yet so full of life that I don’t know how I’ve ever lived without this.

  Passion. Lust. Desire. His lips ground against mine. Taking and giving in equal abandon, until nothing matters but this wild swelling of pleasure building inside me.

  “You’re going to destroy me,” I whisper against his lips, fingers tightening in his hair.

  I feel him flinch slightly. He doesn’t pull back, just places his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

  “Give me a chance to prove myself. Let me love you.”

  Love. It’s a word I’ve never heard Moody use. With anyone.

  I blink up at him.

  Whatever I was going to say, the words dry up in my throat when I catch his gaze and see the emotion swirling there.

  Damn him. He will destroy me – with just that one look.

  My head is spinning.

  This is Moody. Powerful. Arrogant. Larger than life, Moody Brock. A man who knows exactly how to use that perfect body of his both in and out of the ring.

  How can I deny him?

  “Okay,” I whisper, throat tight.

  His brows quirk up. “Okay?”

  “Let’s do this.” I straighten my shoulders and look at him with pointed determination. “It’s just sex, right?”

  I use Kate’s words like a shield.

  He chuckles.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I smack his chest, and start to pull back, but he holds me tight.

  “No.” He kisses the tip of my nose, still smiling. “But I want to make it clear what I want. If I take you into that bedroom, it’ll be more than just sex.”

  More. My chest clenches, but I push back the hope that rises within me.

  I scrunch my brows at him. “And what if I don’t want more?”

  A smirk plays on his lips. “Don’t you?”

  Of course, I want more. But to tell him, to actually admit it. I don’t know if I could survive the disappointment, or the humiliation when he walks away. Because he will walk away. It’s what he does.

  I shake my head, confused, uncertain. He catches my chin between his fingers and forces me to look at him. There’s a dark edge in his gaze. More than confidence. More than the arrogance that’s usually there. A look that tells me he’ll stop at nothing until he has me. Demand more than I’d ever been able to give.

  I swallow hard, trying as hard as I can to rebuild the wall that I’ve let crumple around me, and knowing it’s already too late.

  “I know the truth, even if you’re too scared to admit it.”

  “I’m not scared.” Lie. My heart thuds with a mix of wariness and anticipation.

  “You can try all you want to keep your heart shielded from me.” He cups my jaw, and leans in. “But it will be mine.”

  God his words. I’m going to melt into a puddle
at his feet if he keeps saying these things. Maybe I already have, because I can’t think of any excuse not to give it to him.

  I lick my lips and his gaze immediately latches onto the action, and his eyes go dark, like a wolf ready to consume its prey.

  And that’s what I am – prey. Because I don’t have a chance against his antics.

  “So beautiful.” He leans closer, mouth gently caressing my jaw with the warmth of his breath. His hands move under my shirt, over the swelling of my breasts. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “You will.” My voice is a raspy whisper. “You won’t be able to help it.”

  His thumb brushes over my nipple and I shudder. I can’t help my response. I’m totally and completely his, and my body knows it.

  When his mouth touches mine again, all hesitation leaves me. I want – no need – to feel him around me, surrounding me – inside of me.

  A moan slips past my parted lips as he deepens the kiss. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hands running along the hard muscles that bunch and flex beneath my touch.

  Powerful. That’s the single word that describes him.

  “God, I love your lips, Izzy.” He nips at them. Licks. Sucks. Gentle, yet firm caresses that drive me over the edge.

  Calloused fingers rasp against my flesh, pulling my shirt over my head, then drawing the straps of my bra from my shoulders so that my breasts push above the cups, nipples hard and exposed, aching for his touch, the warmth of his mouth.

  I tear at his t-shirt, needing to feel the heat of his flesh.

  Once his shirt is lying discarded on the kitchen floor with mine, his head lowers to my breasts.

  At the first touch of his lips, my core clenches and I swear I nearly orgasm.

  That’s what he does to me. It isn’t fair. And it’s far from right.

  He kisses the tip, then sucks it slow and easy, each lick, each stroke like tiny explosions beneath my skin.

  My thighs clench and I try desperately to hold onto my senses. I know there’s a reason I should be protesting, but for the life of me I can’t think of one now.

  All I know is I want this. Want him.

  I grip his shoulders, fingers trailing across the ink that demands to be kissed and licked.

  “Bedroom,” I whimper, when his mouth travels to my other breast.