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Authors: Cari Quinn

Tags: #Tapped Out, #Book 3

On The Ropes (4 page)

BOOK: On The Ropes
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“No one’s forcing me to do anything.”

“Play it that way then.” Marco lifted his manicured hands and let them fall. “It’s your choice, but you will make it. Now, Gio, before I run out of patience.” He waited a beat. “And she will pay the price for your hesitation.”

He hauled in a deep breath, and his chest vibrated above my back. He was still draped over me, partially leaning over the table, protecting me as if I was bleeding out and he was saving me from being picked at by circling crows.

It wasn’t that far from the truth.

“You should’ve stayed away.” I could’ve sworn I felt his mouth brush my hair, the movement as light as air. “Why didn’t you just stay away?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and reached back to grasp his hand, needing that tactile link. I didn’t have words left to tell him that I was sorry, not for dancing necessarily, but for putting us in this place. It wasn’t my fault, but my being there tonight had helped the dominoes line up in the way Marco and his cronies wanted. My foolish rebellion had aided them in harming not only me, but Gio too. His restrained anger and pain were palpable, their weight against my spine as heavy as his muscular body.

They were using me against him, and I’d dropped right into their laps.


Doleo
,” I said for his ears only, hoping he knew Latin. There was no reason to expect he would. The chances that he’d taken a class in high school as I had were slim.

But he swore and gathered my hair in his fist, a gentle command to arch my back. I did, because what choice did I have?

Except somehow he made it feel like I still did. That no one was there but us, and if I called a halt to this, begged him to go no further, he would abide my wishes. The risks he faced—
we
faced—wouldn’t be a factor.

No matter what, I wouldn’t allow him to be hurt any more.


Doleo
,” he breathed against my ear, causing a tremor to go through me. He understood, and he was sorry too. Sorry even before he made the first move.

I turned my head and met his fiery, nearly black eyes. And I nodded, offering the permission he wasn’t supposed to need.

His free hand skimmed down the back of my thigh, slipped inward toward the crease between my legs. A part of me had gone distant, cataloguing what was happening like a mildly interested bystander. The rest quivered under his skillful touch, offering wetness where it was required, providing heat to ease the way. My thong offered no resistance and with a few flicks, it was tucked to the side. Then his fingers were there, caressing my flesh, drawing a sound from me that wasn’t quite pleasure and wasn’t yet pain.

That would come. It was a virtual certainty. Now we were caught in the space between, not where we’d been two hours ago but not yet where we were headed either.

Trapped together.

I wasn’t prepared for him to drag me up and turn me around, to push me back onto the table while my eyes were locked on his. There was nowhere else to look. Nothing could hold my attention but him. Not the men who watched us for their own sick amusement or the club that had brought me to this point. I didn’t believe in fairy tales, hadn’t since I was a little girl, but for that instant, I was the princess being carted away from the bleak misery that surrounded us.

There was only him, and his hand clamped around the back of my neck to bring my face close to his. He didn’t kiss me, didn’t nuzzle me, didn’t whisper words of comfort. He only stared in my eyes,
into
me, and erased every other part of our reality but him sliding into me, thick and hot.

What little had passed for foreplay hadn’t even been needed. I’d been waiting for this for what felt like an eternity, and the fact that men with guns loomed behind Gio, crowding us on every side, couldn’t diminish what was happening between us. It was a moment we’d never planned, a step we might never have taken if not for these insane circumstances. But now that I was in his arms, nothing could hurt me.

Absolutely nothing.

While he slowly worked his cock in and out of me, his thumb brushed over the top of my spine. Back and forth, back and forth. How he could settle me in the center of something so much larger than both of us I would never understand. He sped up, his breath stuttering against my lips, making mine unsteady too. Locking my legs around his hips was as natural as breathing, as was dropping my head to his shoulder. I’d barely made contact before his gentle grip led me right back until we were eye-to-eye.

He didn’t need words for me to get his meaning.
Look here. Only here. At me.

His forehead rested against mine and I bit my lip, wanting so badly to taste his lips. But the taste of his urgent breaths was the only hint he gave me, flavored with something sweet and fruity. He’d had some kind of mixed drink. Pineapple.

Inexplicably, Kizzy popped in my head.

Make your guy drink pineapple juice. Flavor his jizz and you’ll both be happy.

His next thrust stole the smile that hadn’t even had a chance to fully form. I gasped and clung to his rippling biceps through his cotton button-down shirt, wishing he was naked. That I was naked. Not here, but someplace where we could be alone.

Where this would be
right
.

Another thrust followed the last, deeper, harder. As if he were driving a point home, one I hadn’t been told. He said nothing, and didn’t touch me beyond his hand on my neck, that thumb still sweeping like a metronome.

Until something snapped inside him and he swore, dragging me closer, pinching my hip in his calloused fingers. His other hand disappeared under my skirt, and then he was working me, rough and demanding, his blue-black eyes blazing into mine while we both neared an orgasm that was more freight train than a spasm of pleasure. It would flatten me, leave me broken and ruined.

At the last second, I tried to wiggle back, to stop the ferocity of it from claiming me. I didn’t want to come like this, not here. My climax wasn’t meant for them to see. Even if I was giving it only to him, to Giovanni, they would know what I was.

I wouldn’t be able to hide anymore.

He cursed and hauled me right back, drawing a sharp cry from my throat as he nearly tipped me off the table to slam his cock deeper. It sent me soaring, and I let out a scream of fury, of terror, of sheer, overpowering relief. All the while, he continued to fuck me in precise, churning strokes, his eyes burning on the verge of madness.

A vein throbbed crazily in his temple, warning me. Then he exploded inside me, so deep that I jerked back to try to escape. He dragged me in again and buried his face in my hair, sucking in long draughts of air that didn’t seem to fill his lungs.

Somehow I found myself patting his back, holding him to me through his endless shudders. I was still trembling too, but I didn’t think it was for the same reason.

Almost on accident, I glanced over Gio’s heaving shoulders straight into the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen.
Marco
. How had I missed the meanness in them before?

I’d missed so much.

He started to slow clap, and in my arms, Gio shuddered one more time. I stroked his hair and set my jaw. “We’re leaving,” I said, setting my bare feet firmly on the grimy floor. The movement forced Gio to leave my body. He stumbled back, wiping his mouth though he hadn’t kissed me. I’d begged for that kiss wordlessly, and he’d held it back.

This wasn’t real lovemaking. Just a hard, fast fuck to slake a need and fulfill an unholy obligation.

I held my hand out to Gio and he stared at it as if he didn’t recognize the gesture. I took an unsteady step toward him, and when I tried to right myself, my knees simply buckled.

All at once, he seemed to snap back into himself. In one smooth move, he caught me and tucked himself back into his pants. Hiding away the evidence of what we’d irrevocably changed.

How
we’d
been irrevocably been changed.

“We’re done here,” he said, and his voice was every bit as cold as Marco’s eyes. A new round of shivers seized me and I clung to him, my weakness emerging in the face of his strength.

Then he swept me up in his arms and carted me out of the room where I’d been broken and reborn in one night.

4
Giovanni

I
gnoring the stares
, I carried her down the stairs and out the front door of the club. People called out to me and I paid them no mind. They didn’t exist.

There was only the woman in my arms.

God, the girl. Not even a woman. She was a baby. Only eighteen.

Eighteen
.

Outside the door of the club, I stopped just beyond the awning and lifted my face to the rain. It washed away some of the heat from my skin, but not nearly enough. I was on fire inside. For her. Always for her.

Tonight, I’d burned her. I’d taken her choice away. I’d…violated her.

“Let me down.” Her voice intruded in the world I’d disappeared into, and I blinked away the rain, surprised to see her face so close to mine.

In a fingersnap, I’d gone somewhere else. A place where I didn’t even register the insubstantial weight of her in my arms.

She was so small. So easily broken.

“Gio.” Her fist met my chest, cracking open another layer of the ice that encased me. “Put me down. Now.”

I started to obey her, then noticed her bare feet with their sparkly toenails. Somehow the sight sent rage careening through my veins all over again. “Where are your shoes?”

She ducked her head, her damp hair falling down like a curtain to hide her face. “My shoe broke. The heel, I mean. That’s how he got my attention.” She took a quick inhalation of breath. “He took the other…off before we got to the room. Said I’d attract too much attention in only one.”

I faced straight ahead, barely registering the passing people and cars. Rain slanted down, obscuring a lot of the activity. A cab stopped at the curb and a bunch of giggling girls poured out of the back. My gaze dropped to their candy-colored shoes, a fucking rainbow of them.

“Did he touch you?” I wasn’t sure she could even hear me. The question was little more than a rumble of sound.

“He took off my…no,” she said finally, lifting her head again. “No, not like you mean.” Another of those quick, halting breaths. “You were the only one who—”

“Did you come in a car?” I couldn’t bear to hear her describe it. Not even in general terms. I needed to get her home, and safe.

Far away from those men…and me.

“I took the subway.” As I tensed, she sighed. “It’s perfectly safe. I do it twice a week.”

The lecture was right there on the tip of my tongue. Forget a lecture. I wanted to rage at her, to tell her she was insane for taking those kind of chances so late at night in the city. Safe, my ass.

Safe had gotten her what happened tonight. There was no fucking safety to be had in this world, especially when you were beautiful and pure and sweet.

“Is Fox at home?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice even as I started to walk up the street with her in my arms. Weaving through the foot traffic, careful that no one bumped her legs.

I’d kill anyone who even looked at them.

“Gio, put me down. Gio.” Her small fists pummeled my arms and shoulders. “You’re scaring me.”

I regretted that, but it couldn’t be helped. If I’d had any sanity left, I would’ve scared myself. “I’m calling Fox to come get you. I’ll wait with you.”

“No, no, you can’t.” Real panic flashed over her face, more than she’d shown in that horrible back room. Miles more. “He can’t know I come down here. I have no reason to be in the city this late. He’ll flip out.”

I moved to the side of the sidewalk and stopped momentarily. “He should flip out.”

“No, God, please. My sister can’t find out. It’ll kill her.” She gripped the collar of my shirt and pulled with her surprisingly strong hands until I had no choice but to meet her gaze.

Oh, I had a choice. But I needed that quick glimpse into those beautiful, kind eyes. I needed to see there was still gentleness in the world.

That I hadn’t obliterated the gentleness in her tonight.

“It could’ve killed you,” I said, giving in to the urge to touch her eyelashes, starred with rain. The fringed line of them came off on my fingertips and I stared at them, wishing I could wash her face clean off all that gunk and artifice.

She wasn’t meant for this. This was all my fault.

“You saved me,” she began.

My stare made her fall silent. “I didn’t save you. I fucked you,” I said harshly, continuing even when she flinched. She needed to understand. I couldn’t allow her to romanticize a moment of this night, even if it would allow my damaged soul a respite. I didn’t deserve it. “That’s not saving. I hurt you.”

“You didn’t. Goddammit, no, you listen to me—”

Ignoring her, I started walking again. I jostled her against my chest and grabbed her feet, tugging them closer to my body. “I’ll drive you home then.”

“No. I can’t go home dressed like this. My street clothes are in my locker. If my sister sees me made up like this, wearing this,” she fingered her obscenely short skirt, “she’ll go postal.”

“You’re a grown woman. You can wear what you want.”
Obviously
, I added in my head. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been stripping, putting her beautiful body on display for all those leering, jeering assholes.

I hadn’t even seen all of her body. I didn’t have the right to. But so many of them had.

Her choice, her right.
Even as my mamma’s teachings echoed in my head, I fought them. I didn’t want her stripping for my own selfish reasons. She was too perfect, too precious. They didn’t deserve to see those secret parts of her. None of them did.

“It’s different with Mia. She has her reasons.” She swiped rain off her cheeks, but the thick makeup remained. “Please put me down. I can walk.”

“It’s not far. I don’t want you to injure your feet.” Even as I said it, I wanted to laugh at my own ridiculousness.

You just fucked her senseless, but God forbid she get a pebble between her toes.

She didn’t speak again until we reached my Escalade in the parking garage up the block. I finally set her down beside the truck and she took that opportunity to grab both of my cheeks and drag my face down to hers.

“Don’t—”

“I liked it. I wanted it,” she said over my objections. “I came for you,” she whispered, and every part of me went still and hard. Even my cock. I hated that it took so little from her to affect me, but she was worse than my Achilles’ heel. She got to me on a level no one had since Em—

Cutting my thoughts off, I pulled away from her and unlocked the doors. I yanked the passenger one open and gestured. “Get inside.”

“Gio, you can’t avoid this forever.”

“Forever?” I barked out a laugh and rounded the hood. “It’s been fifteen fucking minutes.”

Fifteen minutes since I was inside you. Fifteen minutes since I emptied myself—

Oh shit.

I climbed inside and waited, breath backing up in my chest, until she climbed in and shut the door. “We didn’t use protection.” I swallowed and stared straight ahead. “You have to get the morning after pill.”

She couldn’t get pregnant.

Even without looking, I could feel her gaze on the side of my face. Silent and judgmental. “I’m on the pill. No worries there, stud.”

Incredulous, I glanced at her. “We can’t take any chances. This isn’t a joke.”

“No kidding. I said I was protected. End of story.” She folded her arms across her chest, the movement unintentionally plumping her breasts over her arms. The bra she was wearing made her cleavage practically spill out, and my already hard cock responded, twitching in my boxer briefs.

Goddammit.

I put the truck into gear and pulled out into traffic. “We can stop, get you some other clothes to put on—”

“At ten-thirty at night? I don’t think so.”

Trying to maintain my patience, I wrapped my fingers around the wheel. “You can sneak in then. Girls have been doing it for decades.”

“I live in an apartment with three other people. Two of whom sleep on the living room floor, and usually screw half the night.”

I remained silent.

“Fox’s mother sleeps in the bedroom with me. Short of climbing up the fire escape, there is no sneaking.”

“You share a bedroom with Fox’s mom?”

“I sleep on the floor,” she said curtly, not sparing me a glance.

I swore under my breath. “That’s not right. You should have a bed. You’re a growing girl—”

“I think you felt for yourself that I’m plenty grown already.”

My fingers tightened around the wheel. “It’s not funny. None of this is fucking funny.”

“Do you hear me laughing?” she asked quietly. “I was the one spread out on that table, so don’t you dare act like I’m not smart enough to know how to feel.”

Jerkily, I flipped on the windshield wipers. The fastest speed didn’t touch the rain coming down in heavy sheets. “If you come home with me, you’ll be staying in the bed. And I’ll be out on the couch.”

I hated the paternalistic tone I adopted so easily with her—it made no sense, all things considered—but I had to keep it up or else I would crumble. I would bring her to my bed, and show her what I wished our first time had been like.

But I didn’t have room for wishes. Didn’t have room for anything except training to kill.

She didn’t reply, just stared silently out the rain-splattered side window.

There were so many things I wanted to say. So many questions I wanted to ask.

Are you okay? Did I hurt you, physically? What can I do to make this better?

And most of all…
I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry.

I would never be able to apologize enough.

Every time I tried to speak, the words got stuck behind the lump in my throat. And then I’d make the mistake of glancing at her and my gaze would snag on her long, shapely legs revealed by that impossibly short plaid skirt. As many times as I cursed myself, my cock stirred each damn time.

We pulled up at my apartment building and I led the way through the gates outside to the side vestibule. I tapped in a code on the keypad and held open the door, then gestured for her to get into the elevator. “Fourth floor,” I said, looking away from her as fast as humanly possible once I’d joined her inside that tiny box.

It wasn’t fast enough to miss that she was shaking.

“You’re cold.” Dammit, I should’ve thought of that. She would probably get pneumonia and catch her death.

Christ, I sounded just like my mamma, even after all these years without her.

She gripped her arms in tense fingers and watched the numbers rise above the door, saying nothing.

Swearing under my breath, I unbuttoned my shirt and draped it over her shoulders. She shot me a surprised glance before nodding her thanks and reaching up to grab the lapels. Then her gaze drifted over my bare, tattooed arms, slowly enough that my skin grew hot and tight.

Everywhere.

I wore just a white wifebeater underneath the button-down, and my rosary. It dangled free over the shirt though I always kept it tucked beneath. Before I could put it back where it belonged, she grabbed it, and touched the sharp piece of silver at the end. “A dagger,” she said, lifting her head until our eyes met. “Your rosary has a dagger instead of a cross.” She ran her fingertip over the blade and gasped as a drop of blood bloomed.

“Jesus,
tesoro
, take care.” She dropped the rosary and I gripped her wrist in both of mine. Without thinking, I brought her hand to my mouth and sucked away the blood, as my mother had always done with every hurt.

She gasped again, lower now, and the sound traveled straight into my bloodstream like a hit of cocaine. Lighting me up everywhere at once. My fingers gentled on her wrist and I allowed myself one more illicit kiss, fighting every urge that demanded I push her back against the wall, shove up that tiny skirt and show her what she’d made of me. I’d turned into an animal.

The elevator dinged as we arrived at my floor and somehow I managed to let her go. She stumbled back, her shoulders colliding with the wall, and I looked down to see her bare, wet feet curling over each other as a child’s might. That thought cooled my libido in a flash.

I walked out of the elevator and down the carpeted hallway, my footsteps soundless. Hers weren’t. The slight slapping of her feet went off in my head like gunshots.

Taking her inside with me would test me in ways I didn’t think I was strong enough to survive, but I had no choice. I wouldn’t send her home to sleep on the floor. Not after tonight. She needed to be taken care of. I was the worst possible option for that, but there weren’t any others.

Not for either of us.

After opening the door, I flipped on the lights. She followed me in and gasped again.

“You need to stop doing that,” I said before striding across the hardwood floor to the galley kitchen. I pried open the refrigerator door and took out an ice-cold bottle of Harp. After thumbing it open, I poured it down my throat in about six swallows.

I rarely drank, but tonight it was a necessary evil. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stand myself. And I had to. For her. She needed someone to watch over her while she slept.

Her bad luck that person happened to be me.

When I finished one, I went right back to the source for a second. I stepped back to pop the top and she appeared at my side, holding out her hand. “May I have one?”

“Proper fucking English and all,” I muttered, pressing it into her hand. I’d grabbed another one for me when I realized what I’d done. “You’re too young,” I began, reaching for it.

She hiccupped out a laugh and moved just out of reach. “After tonight, you’re really going to pull the age card on me?”

Who was I to be the moral or legal police? I was the worst kind of thug, one who told himself he wasn’t. Because I had
reasons
for what I did. Reasons that had changed Carly’s life.

I grabbed my beer and shut the door.

We stood there drinking silently, feet apart, not speaking. I finished my second beer and tossed it in the sink, hoping the bottle would shatter. It just clinked around in the bowl until it came to a stop.

She set hers on the counter and turned back, wiping her hand over her mouth. “May I take a shower?”

My horror must’ve shown on my face because she quickly shook her head and stepped forward. She stopped right in front of me but didn’t reach out. “No, no, not that. I wasn’t raped. Jesus, I wasn’t. I’m just cold, and the rain made me all sticky…” She stopped and flushed briefly before shrugging off my shirt and handing it over. “Thank you.”

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