BWWM: BEFORE I WAKE: A Bad Boy Billionaire Book Collection (African American Interracial Series) (365 page)

“Aaron this is Stella Simmons. She’s going to be working with us. She’s one of the best trainers around right now, so we’re lucky to have her...”

              Aaron’s eyes never left me as Santos rambled about my background. He pulled of a glove and reached a hand down towards me. I had to swallow hard around the huge lump in my throat before reaching out and taking it. I felt sparks travel from my hand to my chest as our fingers brushed.

“It’s a pleasure Stella.” He has an accent too… He’s from Europe? It just added to his raw sex appeal.

              I smiled, for sure this time. “My pleasure,” I said, honestly. He let go of my hand but gave me another faint smile. I liked the way the light touched his eyes
.
Aw man this was going to be something else.

AARON

              “Okay Aaron, let’s swing the legs.”

“Ay, I hate this one,” I said like an insolent child.

Santos rolled his eyes. “Everyone does. Trust me though; that core of yours is the foundation for all of this. If it’s not solid, it’ll throw off your entire chain.”

“Which chain again?”

Santos gave me a look. I was obviously stalling. “Whit? Shood I speik maer slowly for ye lad?”

              I laughed at his impression of my accent. Not bad.

“Now come on. How about you get your pretty face down on the steps and I’ll have Stella explain it to you.” I grinned and stepped into place as Stella watched from nearby.

No
w
ther
e
was a bonnie face. Even with her t-shirt and track pants I could tell that she was toned in all the right places…but that did nothing to deflect from her femininity. Her golden brown hair was tucked into a bun swirled at the base of her neck. Her bangs brushed across her forehead and rested lightly near her brown eyes. She had rich mocha-colored skin and sweet lips with a fuller upper lid.  My cock was going to have one hell of a time concentrating with this one around.

“So Stella,” I said, “What could h
e
possibl
y
be talking about?”

I wasn’t stalling any longer. Now I wanted to hear the pretty new coach talk.  She nodded with a small smile and it caused my stomach to flutter like when I was a kid.

“Your kinetic chain has to work together in order to make you move. If just one of those things is off, it will throw everything else off… Your core is where your power lies. See here?” She demonstrated with a left jab as she patted her hip bones to illustrate extension.  

I looked at Santos and he looked impressed with that answer. He’s not easy to impress. She was good.

“Raise at twelve, three, six and nine o’clock and hold for thirty seconds. Then swing.” Santos said, looking at his watch. “Okay, now.”

I started the exercises while trying not to stare at Stella. It was hard. She’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I’m definitely not used to anything that pretty hanging around the gym either.  

“Good, you’re doing well,” Santos said. “This will make your foundation solid and keep you on your feet more. Your ground game needs a lot of work. I’d stay on my feet if I were you.”

I grunted out a laugh. “Are you suggesting I spend more time on my ass than I do my feet?”

“If the shoe fits,” Santos said. I finished my four way holds.

“Okay, onto glutes.” He said motioning to the floor mat.

I looked at Santos and grinned. “Aye, you just like looking at my ass don’t you?” Santos rolled his eyes. I could see a hint of a smile playing around the pretty lady’s lips.

Santos trailed after me. “Maybe if you did more squats like I do, you’d have a shelf like mine.”

Stella and I laughed. What a beautiful sound. We moved over to the mat and Santos handed me a long, thick, band.   

“Hip thrust,” He said.

I curled my upper lip and pulled off my shirt before taking the band and wrapping it under my butt. Santos counted as I did my reps. This was great exercise and necessary, I knew. I just loved the fighting and wished I could skip right to the cage. I heard Stella asking Santos about my lifting programming. That part I like too, a lot.

“We’ll do his weight training tomorrow. Today is conditioning.”

“Did you lose count, coach?” I asked, jokingly. I was just jealous that Santos got to talk to her and I didn’t.

Santos gave me a look. He used to intimidate me, but I found out what a nice guy he really is, so I don’t stress any longer.

“That’s enough,” Santos grumbled at me. “Let’s work on those abs.”

As I turned I noticed Stella’s gaze. She glanced at my abs and my heart sped up. It was an appreciative glance. Even through the shirt she was wearing I guessed that her tummy was nice too. I wouldn’t mind a glance without any material in the way.

“Hey! Eyes on the mat, Scotland!” Santos was standing on the mat near the power wheel. I got on my knees and grabbed the handles of the wheel. I rolled it out and back in several times.

“Straight line, Aaron. A tad slower.” Stella’s voice was firm but… nice. A different sound from the usual barking around here.

I did what she told me without looking up at Santos. She said everything so nicely…respectful. She’s hot and sweet…damn! I finished the next round of ab drills and Santos told me to get some water.

While I drank, Stella and Santos were talking. I wondered where she came from and what made a gorgeous woman like her want to work in this kind of place. She was smart and young. She could do anything.  For me, I never had a choice to be anything but a fighter.

My da was a fighter in Scotland. He started coaching me before I could even walk. And he wasn’t nice about it either. As a matter of fact, he was a dictator. It’s surprising that he didn’t ruin me before I actually got old enough to compete with other boys. He put my body through things that most grown men couldn’t handle and then constantly told me what a wimp I was if I complained. It was tough…but not as horrible as when my maw left. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

I was sixteen years old. I’d gotten out of bed early, trying to beat the old man up so I could have some breakfast without having him in my face watching every spoonful. He was insufferable and suffocating but my maw would plaster on a smile like nothing bothered her.

This morning he was already up. Turns out my mother was gone…she’d  left sometime during the night. She’d just left us without a note or anything. The old man never considered it was his rage or his verbal abuse that drove her away. He blamed me for her leaving and that was that.

He was finished with me then. He stopped training me completely. He stopped doing anything for himself. He fell into a deep depression and although I should have been grateful that he no longer had the energy to rage at me, it was a miserable life still. I did my best to stay as far away from him and home as I could. That was when I discovered underground fighting. Thanks to, or in spite of the old man’s ridiculous expectations, I was good.

I loved the fight clubs. No rules, no judgement. I made a name for myself as a teenager and by the time I hit 21 I could bring grown men to their knees in the cage or the ring. Somehow, Santos heard about me from across the States and he came to see me at a warehouse fight in Glasgow. He told me he sa
w
rea
l
potential in me. I had the skills and the determination but I needed to learn the basics and most of all defense.

I took Santos to meet my father. That there was a real joy. The old man barely looked at Santos as he talked. Santos told him what talent he thought I had and that he thought I had to potential to go pro.

My dad didn’t get excited about anything anymore. Some days I had even tried to elicit that rage he used to have…without any luck. That day he’d just sat there, looking at us with empty eyes. When Santos finished talking my dad turned to me in disgust.

“If you want to go…then just go.” I left with no hugs, no wishes of luck…no nothing. I haven’t seen the old man since. When I call him, he barely speaks. He’s the monster in my chest -  if not for fighting and people like Santos, I would still be a street fighter. In jail, disabled or worse.

***

I’d just dressed for my training session and was leaning against the open door of the locker room watching Stella. She leaned casually on the side of the ring watching the fighting. I noticed how her athletic shorts and v-neck clung loosely to her. I licked my lips. She had hidden that curved ass well when we’d met but now that I could see her shape, I felt my blood rush through me. She’s been here a few days now. I’ve had the opportunity to watch her a lot, but not really talk to her. I was dying to talk to her…among other things.

“Charlie don’t lean in like that bub. You’re opening up your entire left side,” she told him. I watched as Charlie stood up as tall as he could, looking to Stella for approval.

“Yep, right there. That’s it, good job. Maintain that position when he lunges for you.”

She was always encouraging, always polite and from what I’ve seen the past few days, always right. She definitely knew what she was doing. I looked around at the other guys working out in the gym. Even the usuals angled themselves so they could watch her. I didn’t fault them. She’s gorgeous. With a sinking feeling in my chest I tell myself the chances of a woman like that being single were slim to none.

I walked over next to her just as she was saying, “That’s it right there, Charlie. Watch that weaker side for your opening...”

“I don’t have any weaknesses,” I said. I was smiling when she turned to look at me. She looked amused but unimpressed.

“Right,” she said, turning back towards the ring. She threw her small hands up. “There it was! Missed your shot to take him.”

“What? You’ve already seen a weakness?” It would have to be concentrating when she’s around. I wondered if she knew the effect she had on me.

She glanced at me sideways with those gorgeous eyes. “Oh I’ve watched the footage.”

I raised an eyebrow. “All of them?”

She nodded. “I watched everyone else’s too. If I’m going to help out here I need to know what I’m working with.”

I was impressed. That was a lot of footage. “So, what did you think?”

I still held my grin, hoping she would shower me with compliments. When she looked at me I could see in her eyes that there was something she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure about saying it. I lost the cocky grin, trying to put her more at ease.

“It’s alright. Speak your truth.”

She turned completely towards me. When she speaks she makes direct eye contact. It’s sexy and unnerving at the same time.

“Your rage is not a strength but a weakness.”

I blinked. “My rage?”

She held her gaze. She knew that I wasn’t as unaware of it as I’d like to pretend.  

“There’s an old saying Aaron,” she said, watching me. “In almost every case of rage, there is actually fear. Other fighters will see that rage and the ones who have their heads screwed on tight will sense the fear and take advantage of you.”

Holy shit.  

Santos stepped up next to me and handed Stella my wraps. “Will you wrap him up for me? I’m going to set Charlie up now.”

Thoughts scrambled in my mind as I held out my hands. She averted my eyes as she pulled on the tape. Who was this woman? She had totally disarmed me. How did she see me so clearly?

We stood silently and I noticed a slight tremor in her hands as she began to wrap my wrist. Hmm…

“So where are you from Stella?”

“Originally from Reno. My... brother is Wayne Simmons. We’ve moved around a bit depending on where the circuit was going. Most recently we’ve been in Vegas.”

“Wayne’s a tough dude.” She didn’t say anything and her face didn’t change…except for the flicker of pain she blinked away. I wonder what that’s about.

“So why are you here and not helping him?” She still didn’t answer me, but this time a full wave of sorrow over her face. Shit, me and my big mouth.

Before I could apologize to her for not minding my own business, Santos was calling me over. “Let’s go Aaron!”

I climbed into the ring where Santos and Charlie already were. I glanced over at Stella as I pulled on the rest of my gear. Her eyes admired me but she glanced away as soon as I looked at her. I smiled. I’m sure she’s feeling it.

              Charlie liked to spar to music. He was one of the most laid back guys I’ve ever known. It was actually hard to imagine how he could get in the cage and do the kind of damage that he does if you’ve never seen him fight. He turns up the music and he dances and he moves like a fucking gazelle. What was it I’d heard Stella call fighting
?
“A beautiful, choreographed dance.”

I decided to try it. I started moving to the music as I ducked and dodged Charlie’s blows. Several of them landed on my headgear, so I just moved faster, throwing a punch back when I saw an opening or throwing out a kick.

“Aaron, your hips are too low.”

“Too low?” That confused me. I was keeping them low on purpose both to plant my feet and to dip underneath Charlie’s punches.