On The Ropes (23 page)

A smile and he was gone.

And I let him. I let him walk right out the door, and keep going, because I was all too afraid I understood what he’d meant beneath the surface.

He’d ended his diversion. Did that mean he’d simply stopped allowing women to dilute his focus? Or had he had a more particular, sinister meaning?

Your mother diverted me from my path for many years.

I sank to the couch and the poker dropped to the carpet beneath my feet.

She’d died from a strange, lingering illness that had left her bedridden most of the last few months of her life. I’d watched her waste away, and the diagnoses had ranged from neurological to syndromes with fancy names I hadn’t been able to pronounce or understand at that age. All I’d known was my mother was dying before my eyes.

My hand went to the cell in my pocket without conscious thought. And I dialed the number I’d never expected to use again.

“Costas.”

Shutting my eyes, I invoked the one ace-in-the-hole I had left. If it was even that. It might turn out to be the club that finally brought me down. “Do you remember the day before Mamma passed, you told me you would do anything I wished, anything at all?” I asked, voice hollow.

A long pause. “I remember.”

“I told you there was one thing you could do for me, and that was to make her well again. And you told me to pick something else. Any favor I could ask for, you would make it happen. No expiration date.”

He didn’t reply, but from the even pattern of his breathing, I knew he was listening.

“I need your help. This is the only thing I will ever ask you, and beyond that, you will be free of me.”

I waited for his objection, but it never came. “What do you need,
fratello
?”

My gaze drifted to the spotted dog in the corner. “For you to guard the only thing I value in this life.”

H
e didn’t bring
my damn dog.

I rode home with him the next night, and he made no attempt to speak. I almost asked about the Dalmatian, but he seemed so preoccupied that I chose the better part of valor and shut the hell up.

After he dropped me off at the curb, I sneaked a glance over my shoulder and saw him on his phone. He’d been texting a lot that evening. When I came out of the dressing room, when I got in the truck. Since he didn’t have friends like normal people, the sight made my back prickle with nerves.

That sensation only grew as the week wore on, until by Thursday night, the night before Fox and Giovanni’s fight, I was practically incapable of sitting still. I made dinner for Mrs. Knox and Mia and Fox—who was as chill as an ice cube in a tray—and hung out with them for a bit. He’d been training his ass off, spending long hours in the gym, and now he was ready to relax.

Glad he could at least, because me? Not so much.

We played video games and teased each other, and my sister insisted on brushing Fox’s dog, Vey, though that always got him riled up. He then dug through the trash. AKA it was a normal Thursday night. It was weird having a family again that consisted of more than me and my sister. Weird, but nice.

I really hoped I wouldn’t have to give it up.

I went to bed later than usual. I had class in the morning, then a shift at the Salad Hut. By afternoon I planned to be biting my nails off as I watched the clock. I don’t know why I was so nervous. Unlike Mia, I didn’t take fights in stride, but they usually didn’t make me want to hide under the couch either.

Maybe because this one felt bigger somehow. More important. Which made no sense. Fox would win or lose, and he wasn’t going to start fighting again regardless of the result. He might get hurt, as might Giovanni, but it wasn’t like they would die.

I hoped. I seriously fucking hoped.

Curled up on the floor in my sleeping bag, I listened to Mrs. Knox snore and the sound of rain pelting the glass and tried to let them lull me into unconsciousness. It wasn’t working. The sleeping bag situation wasn’t awesome either. Mia had mentioned getting me an air mattress, something I’d resisted before, but now sleeping on the floor was starting to hurt. I didn’t see how having a tadpole in my uterus could be affecting my hip joints, but the miracle of childbirth was beyond my paygrade.

I’d read on my Kindle for a bit, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could do was lay in the darkness and hold my breath, almost as if I was waiting for something.

Then I heard the creak of the fire escape outside the window.

Heart stampeding in my chest, I sat up as soundlessly as possible, though my sleeping bag was old and kind of noisy. The material rubbed together and I gritted my teeth, searching around for a weapon if I needed one. My stupid Pepper Spray was in my bag across the room—

Then my phone—luckily tucked into the pocket of my sleep shorts—vibrated with an incoming text, and my heart started rampaging for a whole new reason.

Giovanni’s name lit up my screen.

I’m on the fire escape. Let me in.

My eyes widened. What the hell? Was he crazy?

I quickly typed back a response.

Hello, Fox’s mother is asleep beside me.

I’ll be quiet. Gently ease up the windowsill & we’ll go to an empty room.

The man was insane. Certifiable. My thumbs flew over the keyboard.

Like where? The bathroom? Because that’s literally the only free spot here.

He answered right away.

Works for me.

Yeah, my heart was on overdrive. From fear and excitement and a double scoop portion of what the fuck.

Whatever his reasons were showing up, they must be urgent, because I was pretty sure he was no more eager to get into fisticuffs with Mia and Fox than I was for him to be caught in my bedroom.

We’d have to pin-quiet. Between the other occupants of the place, and the sleeping dog in the front room, we were taking a big risk. Huge. The only saving grace was that Fox had taken to putting up a doggy gate to block the hallway, so Vey usually was quarantined to the front of the apartment at night. But if he started barking, all bets were off.

I rose and crept over to the window, thanking the heavens above that Mrs. Knox was a heavy sleeper. Hopefully she would remain so. I pushed up the windowsill and the screen and blinked at the rain slapping against the ancient fire escape. I wouldn’t even trust walking on that old rusty thing, and Giovanni was out there, like a fucking maniac, climbing up the stairs, tiptoeing really, with his dark hair plastered to his head and a gigantic dog in his arms.

Just like that, I melted. Puddled into the very floor where I stood.

God, I loved him. Why it had to be him, of all people, and now of all times of my life, I didn’t know.

Oh, and the hormones swirling through my system? Yeah, apparently they were also activated by my baby daddy hunting and gathering big stuffed animals, because holy clench between my thighs, Batman.

I pointed to the fire escape landing for the dog, though I was pretty sure leaving a giant stuffed dog out there was a fire hazard. Plus, he was getting all wet. But it would be hard enough for Gio to climb in through the window undetected. Him and a ginormous, dripping pooch? Forget it.

After pushing the sill up as high as it would go, I stepped back and bit my lip as he maneuvered his way inside. One eye stayed on him, the other on the bed. Luckily Mrs. Knox was sawing them off like she’d gotten lost in the hardware store.

May it please continue.

Somehow he got inside without breaking the window frame apart or making more noise than a mouse in church. Considering the size of him, it was a minor miracle.

I tugged down the screen and window and moved back, holding my finger up to my mouth. He nodded and I gestured for him to follow me out of the room and into the hallway. On my tiptoes, I crept down it, avoiding the creaky spots in the floor, and eased open the bathroom door.

He trailed me inside and shut the door quietly at his back. I’d neglected to flip on the light in my haste, so we were closed in the dark, humid closet-sized room. My sister had taken a flay-your-skin off hot shower an hour before, and the steam was still trapped inside. Within a moment of shutting the door, sweat was slipping down between my shoulder blades.

Or that could’ve been from the fact that he was standing so close, his uneven breaths wafting through my hair, bringing my nipples to points and setting my clit on throb.

I opened my mouth, needing to say something—anything—to alleviate the oppressive silence, but he moved forward and caught my hips in his big hands. I barely had a second to register the thrill of his hands on my body before he lifted me onto the sink, and my flying elbow sent the toothbrush holder tumbling into the sink.

We both stilled, breathing heavy, mouths close. So close. I motioned to the door, hoping he could see my gesture in the faint light from the streetlight coming in through the narrow window over the tub. A moment later, the lock clicked into place.

Anticipation and anxiety coiled in my belly, twin snakes. I shifted on the thin lip of the sink, restless. Needy. So damn needy.

He turned back to me and reached up to undo my messy sleep braids. His fingers streaked through the long waves, separating them, causing the ends of my hair to tickle my neck and arms outside the straps of my tank. I squeezed my thighs on either side of his hips, hoping he’d get the hint and move things along.

Wait, what? Move what along? He’s the enemy, remember?

The enemy whose mouth was on my neck, sucking so strongly that I was quaking inside, already begging him to fill me up. The way it should be. Always.

He toyed with the bottom of my shirt, almost asking permission. I gave it to him by shoving it up above my swollen, aching breasts, and nearly climaxed when he moved his oral attentions to my nipples. Damn, preggo sex was something. I now had nerve endings on top of nerve endings, and it seemed like seventy-percent of them were clustered in my tits.

Then he rubbed a knuckle along the seam of my shorts, and I had to re-evaluate. There were definitely extra nerves down there too. I felt like I was vibrating, so sensitive that even the slight breeze from his mouth over the paths he’d made on my skin nearly sent me into convulsions.

I tried not to gasp, tried not to even breathe. That made the stars pinwheeling behind my closed eyes whirl even harder. I gripped the sides of the sink in both hands, on the verge of breaking the porcelain from my desperate effort not to come from damn near no provocation at all.

“On me,” he growled against my neck, and yanked up my hands, slapping them against his chest.

I guess he liked it when I roughed him up during sex. I hoped so, because I had a feeling tonight would be a banner night.

In no time, he’d stripped off my shorts and dropped to his knees. I tried to grunt out a warning that was halfhearted at best. He had no idea what—

His mouth touched me and I shot upright, incapable of dialing back the orgasm that hovered just outside my reach. His lips sealed around my clit and his finger parted my soaked flesh, slipping into me with an ease that might’ve embarrassed me if I hadn’t been so grateful for the friction just where I needed it. It had only been weeks since we’d been together, but God,
God
, it had been too long. His hands and mouth and cock were all I craved.

Especially now, with a baby inside me.

Not just a baby. A baby
we’d
made.

One finger turned into two and two became three. And I took them all, flexing wildly against his thrusting hand, scraping my nails through his drenched hair to his scalp. Just when the heat inside me peaked, about to boil over, he stood. Waiting.

I knew what he wanted.

Panting, I undid his jeans and took him out, running my thumb over the fluid beaded at the tip of his erection. All for me. Tasting me was enough to get him this hard, this needy that the touch of my hand had him rocking forward, eager for me to give him the same friction I’d just given him. I wanted to fall to my knees and get him off that way, but I couldn’t spare it. I had to feel him let go inside me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, nearly incoherent as I grasped him in greedy hands. “Gotta have it in me.
Please
.”

He fisted a handful of my hair and pressed his lips to mine. Not a kiss, but sharing air. Letting me smell and taste what he’d done between my thighs. “Never apologize for giving me this,” he breathed, rubbing the heel of his hand over my pulsing slit. “I’d live in this goddamn beautiful pussy.”

“Please,” I whimpered, not sure how much I could take. I gripped more of his shaft, pulling him toward me, about to put it inside where I was quaking and empty. So empty for so long.

At the last second, I remembered a condom. How we needed one, because he wasn’t supposed to know we didn’t. But when I opened my mouth, his came down hard on mine, clinking teeth in his urgency to get inside. Above the waist,
and
below.

A nudge between my wet lips and he was pushing inside, stretching me open and causing that burn that always came with his invasion. No matter how many times I took him, the first few seconds hurt until the prickle of pain turned into overwhelming warmth.

His mouth gentled on mine and his cock slid deeper, taking the moment from frantic to…necessary.

He was my air, and I couldn’t get enough.

Scooping me against him, he hoisted me up and pressed my back to the door, using the force of his hips to hold me up. He was literally driving me upward, his rough thrusts making my breasts bounce. His damp clothes provided additional friction against my sensitized skin, setting off blasts of heat everywhere they touched. He kissed me with every stroke, his big hands holding me open so he could drag his length over each centimeter of my inner walls. I was already contracting around him, not climaxing but so damn close, when he shifted just enough to rub the base of his dick against my stiff clit.

And I went soaring.

I sank my teeth into the side of his neck like a wild animal, pulling until the bitter tang on my tongue told me I gone too far. But it wasn’t far enough. His cock was still hammering into me, and I couldn’t stop coming. He’d flipped a lever inside me, and my body was primed to respond to his. The roll of his hips prolonged the pleasure-pain and had me writhing as I gushed over him. Helpless to temper my reaction, I gave him everything, exposing myself in every way. I couldn’t hide from this man.

Not anymore.

He reached up to gather my hair in his hand and he tugged my head back, feasting on my neck and the tops of my breasts while his other hand pinned me against the door. It rattled in the hinges as he drove me up again. One orgasm was never enough. I arched into his strokes, squeezing him inside and out, racing my fingers over his muscled biceps. Even under his shirt, I knew his body. Knew what ink was where, what muscles would tighten when he was on the edge. How he looked as he was ranging over me, slamming into me again and again.

I broke around him again as he found his own climax, burying his face between my neck and shoulder as his body heaved into mine. Flesh on flesh, the sensation was exquisite. His hot release filled me up like his cock had, adding one more layer to the aftershocks still sparking through me.

Before I’d even recovered, he carted me back to the sink and set me down so carefully, shifting his still-pulsing cock over my sensitive nerves. I moaned and he quieted me with a kiss. A dozen kisses. He ran his hands up my back, comforting me without words.

When he pulled back, my eyes were wet, as wet as his shirt and skin. He’d gotten drenched outside, just so he could bring me a stuffed dog and stuff me with his cock.

The thought made me giggle, and I smothered it against his chest. All too soon the laughter turned to tears, and my shoulders shook from the force of what I was holding back.

All I wanted was to love him, and have him love me back. Just like this. No guns, no drama. Why was that so impossible?