On The Ropes (5 page)

“Keep it,” I said gruffly. “You’re going to need something to put on. After.”

After
was such a loaded word. I’d never noticed. Five letters that could change a person forever.

She glanced over her shoulder at the darkened hall. “That way?”

“Second door on the right.”

Nodding, she clutched the shirt between her fists, twisting as if it were rope. Then she disappeared up the hall.

I walked to the counter and picked up her beer. She’d barely taken a few sips.

Shutting my eyes, I gripped the bottle until I was sure I could feel her leftover warmth emanating from the glass. God knows I had none left of my own.

I took the beer into the bedroom and set it on the bedside. She might wake up and need the alcohol. I’d get her water too. And I should change the sheets, though they were fresh yesterday. But she deserved better than this.

Better than me.

Sinking on the edge of the neatly made bed—I was nothing if not Anna Costas’ child—I buried my head in my hands. I pushed my fingers through my hair then just pulled until the relentless churning in my gut started to subside.

Fox was my friend. I didn’t know how it had happened, but it had. How would I ever look him in the eye again, after what I’d done? He deserved to know. And Mia…

Mia would kill me.

I wanted her to. I deserved to die for this. For so much else, and now this too.

My eyes burned as I fumbled through my nightstand. My mamma’s Bible was sitting on top, next to the condoms I’d carelessly thrown in there the last night I’d had a woman over. Months ago now. I grabbed the handful of them and dumped them in the trash, then flipped through the dog-eared Bible my mother had read every day of her life. My father hadn’t wanted it. My older brother, Dante, had scoffed at its contents. But it had mattered to her, so it mattered to me.

Right now, I had nothing else to cling to but the faith I’d abandoned so many years ago. Back when I’d been young and cocky enough to think faith was for the naïve. Now I knew it was the only thing that would get me through this night, and all the ones that came after.

After
.

Job 10:22 was where my finger landed, the spot marked by the prayer card from my mamma’s funeral.

A land of darkness, as darkness
itself
;
and
of the shadow of death, without any order, and
where
the light
is
as darkness.

I read the words with my eyes full. Clutching the pages in stiff fingers, I didn’t look up when a shadow appeared in the doorway.

Shadows everywhere, memories I couldn’t bear, thoughts I couldn’t scrub away. Then there was me. Somehow still breathing, when those I loved were long in the ground.

She walked toward me and knelt at my feet, her expression heartbreakingly understanding. How could she understand me? She didn’t know who I was, what I’d caused. And it was only the beginning.

Now I’d harmed her too. Beautiful, sweet Carly, who had only wanted to get to know me. As if I were an ordinary man, who didn’t have three deaths on his head. That wasn’t even counting tonight, because I couldn’t. I couldn’t add anything else to my tally.

It was only when I let my gaze travel down her body that I realized she wore my shirt over her still damp skin. She’d only buttoned the middle button, and the top couple were open, which left her ample cleavage on the verge of spilling out. I glanced away, but that only brought my gaze to the shirttails hanging down her bare, wet thighs—and the shadowy cleft between her legs.

She wasn’t wearing panties.

I snapped the Bible closed and shoved it in the nightstand drawer, then started to stand up. But her hand on my leg stopped me cold.

“You’ve been running from me for months,” she said softly, without any censure. “Don’t you think maybe it’s time to stop?”

I shut my eyes, because that was the only way I could stop from dragging her up onto the bed. “Staying away from you for your own good doesn’t equate to running.”

“It does in my book. And who’s to say what’s good for me?” Before I could summon a response to that idiotic question, she rose and undid the single button, shrugging the shirt off her shoulders and letting it fall.

And Christ, her body was a masterpiece.

She was all honey and rose gold, small and packed in all the right places. Her tiny waist flared into rounded hips that turned into long, supple legs. Her skin was the color of peaches, especially between her thighs. She was completely smooth, her puffy lower lips on display.

Lips that were already visibly damp.

I dragged my focus upward, desperate to reach her face again and bring this conversation back to a place that felt sane, but her breasts were impossible to ignore. They were large for her frame, the nipples tight and a deeper peach shade than the slit between her legs.

She was like ice cream, and I’d been starving for so fucking long.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I managed, swallowing over the dust in my throat as I searched for something to drive her away. Not the apartment. No, she needed to stay, so I could be sure she was safe.

Because the wolf is always the best choice to protect the lamb.

“Yes, I do. I’ve known since the first time I laid eyes on you.” She sauntered forward and planted a hand on my chest, pushing me backward onto the bed.

And I went. God help me, I went.

She climbed atop me, the wet ropes of her long reddish-gold hair brushing my chest. Even through the wifebeater, my skin responded. She straddled me and rolled up my shirt, her nails and the heels of her hands working magic, and I threw my head back and stared up at the skylight that slanted over the bed. Rain covered it in heavy splotches. The storm still raged outside, and in my head.

Bending, she licked my nipple, and I caught a fistful of her silky hair, bringing her face up to mine. “You’re getting what happened earlier confused with sex,” I said, voice low. As many times as it took, I would repeat this until she understood. “It wasn’t. We were forced to—”

“Yes, finally.
Finally
.” Triumph lit in her summer sky eyes. “
We
were forced. You didn’t force me, goddammit.”

“You’re twisting my words.” I reached up and gripped her shoulders, holding her back from resuming her task. My wet nipple tingled, waiting for her mouth. Every part of me, waiting.

“No, I’m not, and you know it. We were both forced tonight. That wasn’t your choice. But I’ll tell you a secret.” She struggled against my hold and I released her, because I couldn’t risk bruises. Not after all I’d already done.

She dipped her head and licked my ear, and my cock jerked against my boxer briefs. Desperate to be let free. To go right back where I’d been earlier tonight, in that sweet, tight pussy that had gripped me so fiercely. Not letting go for a second.

“If one of us forced the other, it was me forcing you. I’ve been trying to force you for nine months. That I was on my belly in front of you surrounded by guys with guns didn’t change what I wanted.” Her teeth grazed my earlobe and I shuddered, fisting my hands in the spread beneath me. I could grip the mattress coils themselves and it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from taking what she was offering. “What I
want
.”

A handful of her hair brought her mouth to mine again, and her eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to maintain my gaze. She wanted to close her eyes. Wanted me to kiss her.

That’s not the man I was anymore.

“I can’t be gentle. It’s not in me.” I rubbed my whiskered cheek over hers and absorbed another of her little gasps. “If I get my hands on you, I’ll be rough. I won’t be able to help myself.”

“I like rough.” Her eyes glowed into mine. “But I have another solution.” She moved like a blur, yanking at my shirt, tearing it apart. I was still blinking at that—what the hell? She wasn’t a fighter, how could she be so strong?—when she grabbed my arms and dragged them over my head.

Noticing my expression, she smiled faintly, the curve of her luscious mouth turning her from beautiful to unforgettable. “Chef-in-training,” she said, doing a quick knot around my wrists. Flexing her hands meaningfully, she eased back. “I know my way around a knife.”

“I could break that knot in a second,” I said, unsure why my breathing had sped up. Something about giving the power back to her let my desire come to the forefront and nudged aside the guilt.

It wouldn’t go away that easily. Tomorrow morning, I’d pick it up again, and shoulder my burdens. They were my responsibility. And they would be heavier for my momentary escape.

But tonight, she would give me a reprieve.

“You had your way with me earlier tonight.” She ran her tongue up my midsection and eyed me hungrily. “Now I’m going to even the score.”

H
e’d been reading
the Bible.

I was supposed to believe he was the devil incarnate. Supposedly he’d raped me and was capable of so much violence—toward me too, along with those men in that room tonight.

That
I could believe. I’d felt every ounce of his hatred in their direction. If they didn’t, they were fools. Too cocky to realize they were toying with someone as lethal as they were.

But hurting me? Not happening. The knot around his wrist was to ease
his
mind, not mine. I wasn’t afraid of him. A man who whispered to me in Italian and carried me through busy New York streets to save my feet wasn’t dangerous.

Something had happened to make him think he was. He obviously had shit in his past I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

It didn’t matter tonight.

Tonight I needed to replace what had happened earlier with a different memory. Not because he’d raped me or because it hadn’t been about him and I, even in the midst of the insanity of that room. But neither of us should have that memory as the only one of us being together. And if tomorrow came and he shut me out again, we’d have this.

We’d have given each other this.

I slid down his body, tracing his intricate tattoos with the tips of my fingers. He was solid muscle, his entire body honed to the maximum. Ink covered most of his skin, colors and shapes and black swirls that brought to mind some kind of Celtic knots. His rosary with the dagger that had cut me hung down his chest, dangling halfway to his bellybutton. But on his ribs there was another, the rosary’s beads a pearlized aqua green that drew my eye, then my mouth.

A woman’s name swirled beside the rosary.
Anna
. I sketched the letters with my nails and he shuddered, his fingers lacing together above his head. I loved that it took so little from me to make this enormously strong man weak. More, that he fought that weakness with everything he had whenever we were together and still succumbed.

For a girl who’d turned to stripping because she felt ignored by the world—oh and to get the money for school, can’t forget the money—this was heady stuff.

I peeled away the tatters of his shirt and cupped his bulging bicep, wishing I could twist his arm around to examine the tattoos there. Curious, I wiggled up, leaning over him to try to see the words imprinted on his skin.

No mercy. June.

What did that mean?

I let out a startled squeak when he lifted up and closed his lips around my nipple. He said something against my flesh, but I couldn’t decipher it through the rolling waves of pleasure. Warm, wet suction surrounded me, his kisses erotic and hard, both. This wasn’t the fumbling breast play I’d experienced in the past.

He switched from one to the other, nipping my skin until it bloomed with the marks from his mouth. I caught my hand in his rain-damp hair, holding me to me, reveling in every rasp of his scruff and every lick. Each time he bit down on the tight peaks, the echo pounded in my clit. I was afraid to move, in case I’d gotten his stomach wet.

My nipples stood out ruby red when he finally eased back to the mattress, and I studied them, fascinated. I reached up to pinch one, and he made a muffled noise in his throat, like he couldn’t breathe.

“No tattoos,” he said, sounding choked. “Your only marks are mine.”

Planting my hands on either side of his head, I searched for my nerve. I wanted him to kiss me. My lips…both sets. But I didn’t know how to ask. So I rubbed against him, fighting the urge to duck my head when he met my gaze, surrounded by the cage of my arms. My hair fell down to shield us, to block out the silvery glow from the rainy skylight. I was all he could see.

He filled my world.

Almost against my will, my hips started moving in slow circles. Dancing was second nature now, especially the provocative kind. Arching, I chased the thrill of grinding against his cock still encased in his jeans. He owed me this orgasm from the rough denim that rubbed between my thighs. I rocked harder, lost to my pursuit, the slapping rain outside the apartment barely matching the endless drumbeat in my head.

“Take me out,” he said, stopping me on the verge.

I panted, staring at him, not understanding.

“Take out my cock,” he said and I shook at the words, somehow realizing then what we were about to do.

I couldn’t use him for a quick hit of release. We’d have all the time to get it right.

This wasn’t just about me, and what I needed. He had needs too, and he’d make sure I would fulfill them.

I wanted to. So fucking badly.

Above his waistband, he had the numbers 5150 in navy ink. I traced those too, raising my eyes to his questioningly.

“Police code for crazy person on the loose.” He didn’t flinch. “Danger to the public, and to myself.”

I nearly laughed but the heaviness in his eyes stopped me. His expression went way past brooding to bruised. I couldn’t begin to guess at what lived behind those gorgeous, changeable eyes. One minute, they were dark blue and sparkling. The next, midnight black. Whatever he’d been through had altered his perception of himself, so I’d just have to show him who he was with me. While I learned too.

Bending my head, I pressed a kiss to the numbers, each one in turn. He hissed out a breath the lower I traveled on his body, finally unhitching his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. I tugged them and his boxer briefs down, helpless to mask my gasp at the sight of him bobbing free, slapping against his abs.

“Don’t look so shocked.” For the first time tonight, I heard amusement in his voice. Just a lazy hint of it. “You’ve had it inside you.”

Oh shit, now I was blushing. Fire engine red, probably, to go with my hair. “It’s no big deal,” I said, shrugging as if I saw enormous cocks every day of my life.

Hard-boiled eggs, chopped carrots and penises. All good.

As soon as he spoke, the humor fell away. The mere mention reminded him all over again of what we’d been through.

We
, not just me.

Throat tight, I stroked my finger up the center of his length, watching the veins ripple and bulge. At the head, I touched the bead of pre-cum forming there, catching the next before it trickled down. His breathing sped up, his massive chest lifting and falling while I followed the same path with my tongue, all the way down until I could hesitantly flick it over his sensitive sac. He hissed and his powerful arms flexed, reminding me I’d leashed the beast for now but it wouldn’t last for long.

I licked my way back up, taking just the head in my mouth while my hands learned him. Hot skin pulled tight over his thick shaft, and the slightest attention paid to the tip caused him to swell and shift in my grip. I had small hands, and he seemed to dwarf them, barely able to be contained. Just like the corded arms that bunched and twisted as he fought to remain still for my torture.

The heat in my core caused me to press my legs together, and he must’ve saw me because he swore. “If you’re going to torment me, you better get your ass up here so I can do the same.”

“What?” I asked, licking my lips.

My hearing was shorting out. It was as if steel wool had been pushed between my ears, cushioning everything but the manic beat of my heart.

He swore again. “Give me your pussy.”

I gasped. Not because he’d asked—well, sort of—and not because I was some newb who wouldn’t do that. Hell, I’d wanted that very thing, hadn’t I? But he wasn’t a boy who would stumble through a couple quick tongue stabs and finish up by trying to rub off my clit as if it were a magic button.

Odds were good he knew what to do to not just get me off, but spectacularly.

“You gotta stop doing that,” he muttered, and I blinked, looking down at my lax hands. “Not that, the gasping thing. You do it all the time.”

Narrowing my eyes, I lapped at his cock. Mouth wide open, tongue flat. Deliberately, I brushed my breasts up his tensed thighs, waiting for him to gasp himself. When it didn’t work, I took him between my lips, forcing back my gag reflex as I tried to accept more of him. I hadn’t given a ton of blowjobs, and he wasn’t the best practice dummy.

Head pressed to his groin, eyes shut tight and watering, I started to choke. My lungs seized up, the memories from earlier swirling behind my eyes. I heard Marco’s voice, felt his fingers on my leg as he pulled off my shoe.

“No fucking Cinderella here,” he said with a sneer, dumping the shoe in a garbage can.

“Carly.”

My hands shook and I fought to steady them while I struggled to breathe through my nose.

“Carly,” he said again, and my head came up, my eyes fastening on his.

This time when he cursed, low and in Italian, he also undid his hands. Two twists of his wrists, and my skillful knot came apart as if he were freaking David Copperfield. “See, this is why I didn’t want to do this. Not like this. You’re still reliving—”

“No.” The last of my bravado slipped and tears popped into my eyes. I’d done so well all night. I hadn’t cried at the club, hadn’t cried on the way home, hadn’t even cried in Gio’s shower. I hadn’t been raped, not technically. Not the way my sister had been. This was different.

So why were my eyes stinging and my hands shaking and my stomach pitching so hard that I was afraid I might be sick?

“Come here,” he said, and all of the anger had disappeared from his voice. He sat up and opened up his arms and I lurched into them, mindlessly seeking the comfort I’d found there earlier in the midst of our shared hell.

“You’re fine. You’re safe.” His hand stroked my hair, up and down, up and down. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

I pressed my damp eyes to his neck and breathed him in—expensive cologne, the faint tang of sweat and rain. Cleansing rain.

“We should’ve done this outside,” I said, clutching his ropey arms as if he might vanish. And he just might.

He’d never stuck around long before.

“What?” Something that might’ve been a laugh rumbled through his chest. “Why?”

“Rain makes everything clean.” I looked up at him, my lower lip quivering. “Even me.”

“You listen to me.” He cupped my cheeks in his big hands, his thumbs catching my tears. “You aren’t dirty. You’re perfect. What happened tonight wasn’t your fault. You were caught in something bigger than you—”

“Don’t you mean caught
by
something bigger than me?” When I glanced between us, he jerked my face up again. “Sorry. It’s not the time for jokes. I just…I don’t want it to be the only time we have. I want to stamp it out with a better memory.”

His throat moved. “You’ll regret it in the morning. After you sleep…”

I reached up to trace his lips. So wide and sensual, so reluctant to smile. “I could never regret you, Giovanni Costas.”

He shut his eyes. Then he opened them again and smoothed away the last of my tears. “See that lock right there?” He indicated the skylight slanted over the bed. “Go ahead and open it up.”

It took me a moment to understand. Rain. He was giving me—
us
—the rain.

I went to my knees, and he gave me a boost with his arm around my waist. Supporting me while I fumbled with the lever and slid away the glass. Behind it was only screen, and a fine mist of rain squeezed through the specially reinforced weave.

“The bed,” I asked, looking behind me.

“It’s fine. The sheets can use a wash.”

His soothing voice made me laugh, then I stopped, suddenly embarrassed. Though I showed off most of my body nightly, I hadn’t shown him before a little while ago, when I’d been riding the high of adrenaline and the need for distraction. I could pretend with the best of them, but right now, with his thickly muscled arm clasping me close and the rain spritzing down on my bare skin, I felt more exposed than I’d ever been in my life.

Even earlier tonight couldn’t compare, because they hadn’t seen most of me. Besides, they hadn’t really been paying attention to the details.

Gio was.

“Are you sure?” he asked me, brushing a kiss over my hip.

“Yes. I need it. I need to think about this instead.” I slipped my fingers through his silky, shoulder-length hair. “Give me a better memory. Please.”

He eased me down to the bed, shifting me on top of him so smoothly I almost wasn’t aware of the movement. His cock pressed against me intimately, reminding me that what I’d taken with haste sure as heck could give me a panic attack if I actually thought about it.

“I have a condom.” He stuck an arm out, started to drag over the trashcan.

“You’re not serious. You’re going to use one from the
garbage
?”

“It’s fine,” he snapped. “Not expired or anything. I just threw them out because I wouldn’t be needing them anymore…” He trailed off at my pursed lips. “What?”

“Miscalculated there, didn’t you?”

Again, that slight twitch of his mouth. I so wanted to make him smile, almost as much as I wanted to make him come.

Inside me, with nothing between us. Just like before. I’d already been spoiled by that feeling, only having had it once.

“Barn door’s already open,” I reminded him softly. “Horse nearly broke the fence, but the fence is willing to try again.” As he started to object, I placed my finger over his lips. “I’m clean. I’m assuming you are too. With fighting, you’d be tested often. Blood and all.”

“This is underground fighting. Not exactly the same stringent requirements.”

“So you’re not clean? What did you give me earlier tonight then?”

“Nothing.” He bit off the word. “Of course I’m clean. It’s just not safe.”

“We’re covered. I’ve never missed a single pill in three years.”

“Three years? Did you start having sex in junior high?”

Ignoring him, I peered in the garbage can. “But if you’d rather me dig through that rotten banana peel and other things I can’t identify—”

“Never mind.”

“No, really, I’m sure I can wash off one of the packages—”

“Shut up.” He was actually flushing a little. Mister Suave being thrown off his game would’ve absolutely delighted me, if I wasn’t still so unsteady.

Teasing him helped.