The ringing of my phone broke the eerie silence in my home. Across the screen read my father’s phone number. I took note of the time; he was just getting off of work.

With a deep breath, I answered. “Hello, Pop.”

“Tell me it’s not true, son.” My dad’s gruff tone rang through me. No matter how old I was, I would always be put in place by the deep timber in my father’s voice.

“What do you think?” I asked.

My father thought boxing was a waste of my time. He wanted me to work on the factory line just like him, making an honest living. Gaining an education was a waste of time in his mind. Taking the workforce on like a man was what he expected from his only son. Earning a wage and putting in a true day’s work were his expectations even though such ideals had landed him in a beat-up trailer with a belly full of beer and no retirement plan.

“Don’t you play games with me, boy. I told you wanting to be a professional boxer was a waste of your time, that you wouldn’t be good enough to earn a decent living. Now you’ve taken steroids to get to the next level? What for? To prove me wrong?”

“Would you even believe me if I told you the accusations were false?” I said, rubbing my forehead, wishing this day would be over.

“I highly doubt reports from the Anti-Doping Agency are accusations. They don’t take such things lightly. Why on earth would you jeopardize your family’s well-being like this?” My dad’s voice grew tighter as he said, “You should hear what the men down at the warehouse are saying. You have disgraced your family name.”

“Pop, it’s not true,” I defended, trying to think of a way to explain this mess to my dad.

“The least you can do is tell me the truth, Kace.”

Placing my bottle of alcohol on the coffee table, I rested my forearms on my thighs. “It’s true about the steroids in my system but I didn’t take them on purpose. I didn’t know I was taking them. My new trainer laced some supplements with—”

“I don’t need to hear anything else,” my dad said, cutting me off.

“Pop, I didn’t know they were in there.” I pleaded, wishing my dad would understand.

Silence stretched on the phone, letting me know my dad was about to give me one last blow to the gut. It was the typical conversation I received from him when he was disappointed, and according to his standards, he was disappointed a great deal.

“From the moment you were born, I’ve raised you to be a leader, someone who takes pride in their job and receives respect from others for their hard work. I’ve spent countless hours demonstrating the attributes of a real man but instead of taking my lead, you skipped around with that Colby kid, defied my wishes, and cheated the system. It’s a shame you carry the Haywood name and I’m forced to call you my son. Maybe one day you will learn that determination, strong ethics, and that solid, realistic goals will bring you respect. Until then, I pity your soul.”

With that, my dad hung up the phone.

I sat on my couch, lifeless and unable to move.

What little the man knew about my actual life, how much energy I put into proving him wrong, how many countless hours I spent in the gym, throwing punch after punch until I couldn’t feel my knuckles anymore. He refused to acknowledge my efforts and now that my name was tainted, there was no chance he would ever believe what I was able to accomplish.

One of the worst things a man can hear is disappointment in his father’s voice. Not only had I disappointed him, but I’d tarnished our name and casted an air of ugly around my achievements. If I hadn’t already thought my days were over, I would believe it now.

Tossing my phone to the side, I downed a large gulp of Maker’s and headed for my door. It was time to drown my sorrows.

Chapter Seven

My present…

With slow deliverance, I turned around to find Lyla standing behind me, hand on one hip, wearing a pair of shorts cut high on her legs and plastered against her skin. Her shirt was cut short, so from my angle, looking up at her, I could see the underside of her breasts.

I wanted to cover her up so no one else could look at her, but another part of me wanted to rip her shirt off and fuck her right there on stage.

Images of her sultry body writhing beneath me played in my imagination. That one night with her was one I couldn’t get out of my head, I didn’t think I would ever get over the feeling of being buried deep inside of her.

“Hey, I asked you a question,” Lyla said sternly.

“Yeah, the lady asked you a question,” Diego encouraged with a smirk.

He was two seconds from getting a beat-down.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced at her and said, “Looking for some entertainment.” Even though I didn’t want to be sitting in Kitten’s Castle and shouldn’t have been pissing her off any more than I already had, I couldn’t help myself.

I was an asshole. It just came naturally.

Her green eyes flamed with rage. “You’re looking for entertainment?” Lyla asked, anger lacing her voice.

I nodded while looking around the room. Fuck, I wouldn’t let any of these women come near me. Most likely they had some kind of knarly undercarriage. Why Lyla thought she belonged here was something I would never understand.

“Fine,” she said and gestured to the DJ. The song switched immediately, and the steady beat of “Earned It” started to ring through the speakers. With the lift of her foot, Lyla pushed both Diego and Blane away, giving her plenty of space to work my lap.

Fuck me.

Slowly and methodically, she shifted around me, lightly brushing her hand against my skin, sending chills down my spine. Like second nature, my legs spread apart and my hands fell to my side. I bit my bottom lip as she stopped in front of me and started to move with the music while running her hands up her beautiful mocha-colored skin.

She was so fucking gorgeous with those piercing green eyes and soft features. The way her hair fell over her face was mesmerizing. The way she ran her hands over her body was hypnotizing, making me forget I was in the middle of a slummy strip club. Right now, it was just me and Lyla.

Right when I thought she was going to just stand in front of me the whole time, she stepped between my legs and bent over so I could see down her cropped shirt. The heaviness of her breasts peaked through and just like that, I was fucking gone.

Her hands found my thighs and her body made wave-like movements into mine, sending her vanilla-scented lotion into my nose, a smell I now associated with her. Her mouth grew close to my ear and with a light tug, she bit down on my earlobe while her hands ran up my chest.

With each beat of the music, she moved her body seductively. I was hard as a fucking rock from watching her.

Her hands travelled up my chest to my shoulders where she gripped tightly and pulled her body onto mine. Her ass rested on my lap and my head was inches from her breasts that were dangerously close to falling out of her shirt. Her hands wrapped around my neck as an anchor to her hold and her pelvis started to thrust into my lap with each beat of the song.

In fascination, I watched as her body rocked off of mine, how her stomach swayed with her movements, making me harder than I could possibly imagine. She was working me and I enjoyed every last minute of it.

The pressure of her ass on my crotch was almost painful, I was so hard, but I wasn’t about to stop her. My hands went to her thighs where I ran them up to her hips and to her toned stomach.

The intake of air from her chest was unmistakable as I ran my hands up farther where I stopped just before I reached her breasts. Fuck did I want to touch them. I wanted to feel her pebbled nipples between my fingers. I wanted to feel them on my tongue, but I knew my limits in public so I stopped.