On The Ropes (6 page)

“I normally carry them,” I began, continuing even when his eyes narrowed on me, “but my purse is still in my locker at the club.”

“I’ll take you to get it tomorrow before I drop you at home.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I leaned forward and brushed a kiss over his chin. I still wanted his mouth, but I wasn’t at all sure he’d let me at it. “Can I?” I asked, circling my hips. Unfairly rubbing against him, making his choice hard.

Harder
, because he was already as stiff as steel.

He speared his fingers through my hair, tipping my head until I was sure he would kiss me. He’d have to, wouldn’t he? Our mouths were so close, perfectly lined up…

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he breathed instead, grabbing my hip and pulling it forward. Stopping just before I slid over his cock.

It would be my choice.

Eyes on his, I brushed over him, once, twice, a dozen times. Getting him wet with my desire, driving him insane until he gritted his teeth. But he slid his hands under the pillows behind him, bracing his shoulders, allowing me the freedom to control the pace.

I’d wanted him before, now I
craved
him.

I bit my lip before I sank down on him, and still wasn’t able to stifle my swift exhale. I tried to make it manageable, to only take a little bit, but my body had other ideas. While my brain was still reeling, my hips drove forward and took him almost to the hilt in one pass.

One of us groaned. It might’ve been him, because I couldn’t breathe. He’d filled me up, every pore. I was steeped in him. Drowning.

Lost
.

“Christ, this body.” He looked me over, swallowing his cock as I rode, and shook his head. “I’d cover you in burlap and never let you leave the house.”

My lips curved, bolstered by his words. Perhaps that had been his intention. I’d been bouncing around on top of him like I’d never had sex before, unsure how to find a rhythm. I was used to being led. The man rutting into me until I finally came as much to get it over with as anything else. I’d never been on top before. Never been in control.

The one thing I’d been searching for above all else, and he’d given it to me. In spite of the price to himself, and the huge amounts of willpower it was taking him to hold back and let me lead, he’d willingly handed over the reins.

So I needed to figure out how to use them.

Gathering my nerve, I locked my arms behind my head and gave into the urge to go faster. To take him deeper. It took me a minute to find my groove. Less for him to swear in Italian again and clutch the pillows beside him with fingers gone white at the knuckles. His gaze was riveted between my legs and I looked too, swallowing at the sight of my wetness smeared all over his length. His skin was so much darker than mine, Mediterranean gold, and the contrast as that thick shaft plunged between my reddened lips was startling.

“I can see every damn thing,” he gritted out. “Even your shiny pink pearl, so swollen. Touch it.”

I did as he said without thought. Shyly, I flicked it once, my eyes going wide and connecting with his at the jolt that sizzled through me. Power, heady and dark.

“Again. Harder.”

Doing what he commanded felt like breathing. My finger sped up, falling into the pattern I used when I was alone. Except there was a thick, throbbing cock inside me, hulling me out, his hips lifting now to do the work while I enjoyed the wonder of my body. Of his, in mine.

I was so wet that my finger slipped again and again. Then I was using two, chasing the pleasure tightening deep inside me. I lifted my face to the light rain, savoring it on my skin as my fingers rotated in mad circles and his hips slammed up into mine. He was so strong, and he was hitting me just where I needed it, far inside in a place that made my knees turn to water on either side of him. I couldn’t stay upright any longer, couldn’t do anything but clench him inside me while the spasms started and spun out.

The first cry left my lips against his throat. I bit him to hold back the next, but it turned into a scream as he took over the task of my hand between my legs. He used both, locking most of his fingers around my quaking thighs. Only his thumbs met over my clit and stroked me like an instrument that had been tuned solely to him.

My second climax started before the first stopped. I buried my face in his hair, my hips pumping frantically, trying to contain the wild pulses of his cock before they vibrated through my body and shattered me. Then he was coming, my name a roar from his throat as the warmth of his release blasted me deep inside. Even that continued my orgasm, making it go on and on until I whimpered and dug my nails into his tensed shoulders.

Spent, blitzed beyond belief, I crumpled on top of him. And he stroked my back as the aftershocks rolled through us both.

It was the rain that brought me back.

Sometime later I lifted my head and studied the splatter of miniscule raindrops on my arm. The rain was falling on an empty bed. Empty of Gio anyway.

There was just me, lying naked in the center of the bed with what appeared to be a handmade throw tossed over my back.

I huddled beneath it, shaking suddenly though the room wasn’t cold. Spying the beer on the nightstand, I crawled across the bed and tipped it back, swallowing the warm liquid so fast that it spilled out of my mouth. I rubbed the moisture away with my wrist and looked around blearily, taking in the room that hadn’t made a dent in my consciousness earlier.

“That’s not milk, you know.”

His voice sent tingles over my skin as if he’d physically touched me. “It was sitting here.”

“Yeah, I forgot about it. I went to make you…this.”

I turned back, the cover wrapped around me, and frowned at the mug he held out. I clutched my beer closer to my chest. “I like mine better.”

He plucked the bottle out of my hand. “Warm milk will help you sleep.”

“Alcohol will get me drunk. A good drunk also helps me sleep.”

“You have school tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t. Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Fine, you have to study tomorrow.” He dropped the beer bottle in the infamous trashcan and sent me a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk.

Yep, not going after that one.

I sniffed at the milk and took a sip. It was good, just slightly warm, so I took another. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t goad him for acting as if I was too irresponsible to have a drink. “I have to work tomorrow too.”

“No.”

Now it was my turn to smirk, though the gesture was hollow at best. I wasn’t any more eager to return to the club than he was. It just felt like I had to. That if I didn’t, they’d have won.

What, I didn’t even know.

“I meant at the Salad Hut.”

“Oh.” He crossed his insanely tattooed arms, bringing my attention to what he was wearing. Or what he wasn’t, namely anything but his boxer briefs.

Was I seriously supposed to carry on a reasonable conversation with him when he wasn’t dressed?

“I was supposed to work at the club tonight,” I continued, studying the mug. Guess he was a Mets fan. “I swapped with another girl. I’m taking her shift next Thursday.”

“Forget it.”

“Can’t. The Pyramid Club pays my tuition.”

He walked to the desk in the corner and turned back with a checkbook and pen in his hand. “How much do you owe?”

My eyebrows lifted. “Damn, I must be better in bed than I thought.”

“Consider it a loan,” he said, rolling right over my last statement. “We’ll figure out a way for you to pay me back.”

I set the mug on the nightstand. Rising, I let the handmade coverlet fall away. Gio was too busy studying his checkbook to notice me padding soundlessly toward him. He glanced up again as I grabbed the checkbook and tossed it behind me in the direction of the mattress.

“I have an idea,” I said, nudging him back against the desk.

“
T
hree times
,” I said under my breath as I headed into the locker room at The Cage the next morning.

Once would’ve been bad enough. Once beyond the club, which was different for so many reasons.

Even a second time wouldn’t have been hard to believe, considering she was still unsettled and I knew part of her desire to be with me physically was to erase what had come before.

The third time, though, this morning before I drove her to the city—that had been ridiculous.

She wasn’t my girlfriend, and wouldn’t be. That wasn’t possible.

After the last round, we’d gone to the club to get her purse. I’d waited while she got what she needed out of her locker, then drove her home and parked around the block so she could tell her sister and Fox she’d spent the night at Jenna’s, as per the text she’d sent them at some point.

Good thing, because I didn’t think I could face them. Not for a good long while.

What had happened last night with Carly after the club hadn’t diminished what had occurred before. Knowing she didn’t hate me alleviated some of my guilt, but only some. There were debts that went beyond individual circumstance, and the one I’d incurred transcended us.

Her vision toward me wasn’t clear. Had
never
been clear. And vice versa. Having sex with her had only driven home how very wrong we were for each other.

I’d said she would be the death of me, but the truth was I’d be the death of her—unless I pushed her far away.

I tugged open my locker, determined to put all of it away. I had a fight in two weeks that I needed to train for, and Carly Ann Anderson was a distraction I didn’t need.

I also didn’t need Vanity slamming a fist on the locker beside me and sticking her face into mine.

“You fucking that Anderson tramp?”

Rather than getting mad as I normally would have, my default reaction was surprise. How the hell could word have gotten out
that
fast?

Then the rest of what she’d said hit its target. “She’s not a tramp. Watch your mouth.”

“Oh no? Then how come I heard she used to give BJs in the back of Vinnie’s for a discount rate?”

My fist came up before I remembered Vanity was a woman, and therefore I couldn’t clean her clock. I rammed my fist into the nearest locker instead and absorbed the burn up my arm. “You’re on thin ice. You better turn and walk away before you fall through.”

“Defending her too. I know what that means.” She propped a shoulder on the locker and glared at me under the dark fringe of her bangs. Her eyes were heavily rimmed in black, matching her usual mood. “I just wanna know what’s got you and Fox so wrapped. I don’t believe her pussy’s that great. Sorry, just don’t.”

“Me and Fox?” I clenched the strap of my gym bag before I realized she was talking about Mia. Holy shit. Shaking my head, I chuckled as I pulled out my tape and dumped the bag in my locker. “Rich fantasy life you have going there, Vanity.”

“Tell me you weren’t sparring with her day before yesterday. And the day before that.”

“She’s a good fighter. But I don’t poach.”

Mia also wasn’t the Anderson sister who had caught my attention from day one, but I wasn’t about to give Vanity any more ammunition.

“No, you don’t poach, you just stroll away once you’ve gotten your rocks off.” She poked a finger into my chest. “You think you can just use me and toss me aside? It doesn’t work that way, hotshot.”

It took effort for me not to grimace. I never should’ve slept with Vanity. I’d known it at the time, but I’d been horny and she was there. Not my finest moment by far.

Luckily I had so many that were even worse that this one barely ranked.

“It was months ago,” I muttered. “One time.”

“One time we actually did it, but we danced around that shit for a good long time. And you know it.”

I knew that I’d turned toward her when Carly had started swarming too close, which made me six kinds of an asshole. I hadn’t meant to hurt Vanity. Honestly, I’d just figured she was out for a good time like I was.

Not the first time I’d been seriously wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, shoving the tape in the pocket of my track pants and turning toward her. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, or make you think—”

“You didn’t lead me on. I can’t
be
led.” Her brown eyes narrowed to golden slits. “I’m just saying that’s some shady crap you pulled. I know you’re banging other babes, but you’ve avoided me since you got what you wanted.” Her finger found its way into my chest once more. And I allowed it, because she was right.

I
had
been a thoughtless dick.

Though that was the role I’d adopted to play to make my way up the ranks in the Andretti organization, I had no reason to bring that BS into the gym. Vanity was someone I respected as a fighter, and beyond that, she was a woman. I’d been taught how to treat the ladies, even if the teachings I’d also been given toward my fellow man had immediately been thrown out the window. Some guys were decent. Too many weren’t, and it often felt like I knew most of them.

None of that gave me cause to mistreat Vanity.

“I’m sorry,” I began, and she let out a litany of inventive curse words as she turned away. “I never meant to hurt—”

“Hurt?” She gave me an incredulous look over her shoulder. “Dream on, Romeo. Not fucking possible. I hurt other people. I don’t
get
hurt.” She sauntered out, her long dark ponytail swinging.

I blew out a breath and leaned against the bank of lockers. Yeah, that went well.

“Having some romantic trouble, son?”

I looked up as Fox strolled out from the showers into the communal area. He rubbed his wet hair with a towel and cocked a brow in the direction Vanity had just gone. “She’s not a male. The security in this place is seriously lax.”

It made me smile as I turned back to my locker. Fox often had a way of doing that, one of the reasons I liked being around him.

Or I
had
. I had a feeling I’d be avoiding him a lot more often now, for good reason. He was a little too close to Carly for comfort.

“So you and her…really?” He leaned against the locker beside me and waggled his brows. “I heard the talk, and I saw some groping. I know you get around. I just figured you traveled on better streets.”

“She’s not so bad,” I said automatically.

“We talking personality-wise or in the sack? Because either way, I have serious doubts.”

I smiled again and searched through my locker for my spare mouth guard. “Didn’t she have issues with Mia?”

“It’s a shorter list who
doesn’t
have issues with Mia. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only name on it.”

“I don’t have issues with her.”

“So I’ve heard, since you’re sparring with her on the regular. Which I’m not jealous about, because I know my penis is bigger than yours.”

Now I smirked. “Who told you that? They lied, brother.”

“Moving on. So what’s the deal with you and Vanity? Former tappee that wants to be current, or you just trying to shuffle her back into the rotation?”

Jesus, that’s really how he saw me. As a guy who had a “rotation” of women I slept with. Ones I dangled around like puppets on strings.

Worse, that was exactly who I’d been for too much of the time since Emilia’s death.

“It was a one-time thing,” I said, spotting my mouth guard behind a couple of spare T-shirts. “Over and done.”

“Didn’t sound like it from her vantage. You need me to get you a couple extra cup protectors, just in case? As your friend, I’d consider it my civic duty.”

I slammed the locker shut and shoved the mouth guard in my other pocket. “Is that what we are now? Friends?”

I hadn’t had a friend—a real one—in too many years to count.

“Unless you have another word,” he said, still drying his hair.

Nothing ruffled Fox. He was my antithesis in so many ways. The guy had a ready smile and a surprisingly ready fist, but he’d just as easily throw back a beer with you before and after. He didn’t take life too seriously.

So far, I’d seen two things that he was deadly serious about—his family and Mia. And by extension, Carly.

“No,” I said quietly. I wasn’t going to deny one of the small bits of realness I’d found, even if being with Carly had put them in jeopardy.

Any day now she might tell her sister and Fox what had happened at the club. She should. And they’d fully be within their rights to despise me.

What had happened after the club wasn’t any better. I should’ve stayed away from her, no matter what. I was the one who knew better in this situation. I understood what was at risk.

But those rare glimpses of realness in the center of all my lies were my downfall, every damn time.

“I have some time before my ten o’clock. Wanna hit the machines?”

I frowned, dragging myself out of my thoughts. “You just showered. Thought you were hitting the road.”

“Ah, yeah, well, that’s not because I worked out. Mia had an early session too, and you know, my mom’s still staying with us. We gotta take advantage of other locations now and then.” Walking backward, he waggled his brows again. “Gimme two and we’ll do this.”

I didn’t really want company today. I wanted to be alone to brood and work out my aggression the old-fashioned way—with my fists on a heavy bag. All I wanted to do was fucking punch the shit out of anything that moved.

The heavy bag would suffice.

We ended up on weight benches, doing the kind of reps that precluded conversation. I was grateful for that. But pumping iron for thirty minutes straight led to the need for a break. And ours started with him leaping onto the topic I most did
not
want to discuss.

He started off talking about the cramped apartment, and Mia not wanting to spend her recently acquired settlement millions on anything but her shelter—some of the details were fuzzy there, because Fox tended to have diarrhea of the mouth—and Carly’s education. But Carly was arguing about taking the money, though she was still working part-time at the Salad Hut so there was no way she was making enough to get by.

If only he knew. Just thinking about Carly dancing for dollars while men leered at her made my recently lowering blood pressure shoot right back into the stratosphere.

“I mean, she’s eighteen, so I’m sure she’s not that worried about it. She’ll graduate with loans and deal. She’s too busy with her social life to—”

“What social life?” Hearing my tone, I tried to smile, though I was reasonably certain the expression resembled one on a guy who was in a hurry to get to the john. “Uh, you know. Friends and shit?”

Fox’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t call me out on my odd behavior. Yet. “Yeah. The girl makes friends everywhere she goes. Last week she brought home a chick she met at the hair salon.”

A chick. Nothing to think about there.

I tried another smile, found it felt as foreign as the first. “Good for a young girl to have friends.”

Very young. Too young. A hair over jailbait.

I’d keep telling myself any and all variations of that if it helped.

“There’s some guy she’s seeing off and on too. A dude from the Salad Hut. Seems really clean cut.”

Somehow I resisted glancing at my tattooed arms, currently dripping with sweat. “Clean cut, huh?” I asked, gulping water.

“Yeah, a decent kid. Almost wholesome.” Fox bent to pick up the water bottle he’d stashed beside the bench. “Though we know that’s only a front so he can fuck her brains out the minute we turn our backs.”

I choked. Like see-stars-and-watch-the-little-birdies-circle choked on my water until Fox started to rise from his bench to offer me assistance. Maybe the Heimlich or some shit.

“You okay, man?”

“Fine,” I wheezed. I tossed my empty water bottle on the ground and resumed my position on the bench. “Twenty more reps.”

“Jesus, I thought we were done.” Dutifully, Fox stretched out on the bench.

“Pussy. Want me to bust your other eyesocket next time we spar?” It was a low blow, bringing up the last fight of Fox’s career where I’d taken advantage of his distraction and fractured his eyesocket. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, though I’d hated the dude on sight thanks to his cocky grin and rich boy attitude.

Funny how a few months could change things.

Sometimes it only took a minute. Less.

“You wish,” Fox replied, not sounding the least bit offended. “I know your moves now, Costas. You wouldn’t take me twice.”

“So fight me again.”

I don’t know what made me say it, other than a stupid, egotistical need to get my mind off Carly and wholesome boys who wanted to fuck her. I would’ve rather thought about just about anything but that.

As the silence lengthened, I realized what a genius idea it was. Not for Fox necessarily, and not for that supposed realness I’d found in our friendship, since I wouldn’t be clueing him into the real story behind the fight. But it wouldn’t cause him any harm to come out of retirement for one night, and it would look good in the eyes of the Andrettis and their associates. They’d been wanting Fox to get back in the ring for months, since he’d been as big of a draw as I was. Big draws at the matches meant more money flowing for their illegal betting schemes.

The only problem with Fox fighting again was convincing him. Marco and Lo had met with him once and swiftly realized they could more easily budge Mt. Everest than Fox when he’d made up his mind, so they hadn’t even gone as far as making an offer.

Or putting out a threat, which sometimes was as close to an
offer
as they got.

Fox sat up again. “Now why would I do that?”

I sat up too, after one more longing glance at the weight bar. More talking, but this time it would be worth it. “Because you want to show me you know my moves, and can best them.”

“I already know that. Don’t need to show squat.”

Sometimes Fox’s easygoing nature was a pleasure to be around, and a nice contrast to the shitstorm swirling through my head on any given day.

Other times it was fucking annoying.

“So it’s a personal thing then. Prove it yourself, not to me.”