In the Ring (BOXER Book 1)

by Rie Warren

  Michael refused to look at me.

  “Look, I’m sorry that thing”—that hot, raw, awesome thing—“happened in the shower. And I’m sorry you had to pack up my shit—”

  “You think I’m pissed about that?” He jerked his head up, hitting me with a stormy glare. “I didn’t know where you were, after we . . . after I—”

  Kissed you.

  Christ, he couldn’t even say it out loud.

  “Dev knew where I was.” I walked into the living room.

  Michael paced after me. “Not good enough.”

  “I had to go home. Had to get away. If you knew how much I . . .” I shook my head, sitting down on the couch.

  “How much you what?”

  How much I want you.

  It was on the tip of my tongue. It should’ve been the easiest thing to say.

  I couldn’t do it.

  “How much my brother and sisters need me.” I managed to get it out.

  Michael sat beside me. “What?”

  I slumped back.

  Curling my arms over my face, I hid, just like I always did. “My da’s a dick. My ma works too much. It’s a shitty-ass deal for Mary-Kate and the little ones, Conor and Saoirse, while I get the red carpet treatment for being nothing more than a punching bag. Nothing I’d expect you to understand.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. I might’ve had it pretty good growing up, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care, Liam.”

  I braved a look at him.

  Tugging a hand through his hair, he said, “Sorry. I guess I always thought of you as invincible.”

  “I’m anything but.” I stood up to get away from his sympathetic look.

  Last thing I wanted was his pity.

  Michael rose beside me and turned me to him. When his hands roamed behind my neck to hold onto me, fast hot darts of longing flared down to my groin. His breath heated my cheek.

  I stood rigidly in his embrace. “Don’t. Fucking don’t touch me, Michael, unless you mean it.”

  “Jesus Christ!” He exploded away from me. “I do mean it! If you had any idea how much I hurt when you take a punch. How many times I’ve had to count to one hundred when I’m massaging you, or all the times I’ve walked out of a locker room because you were already in there. How much I want to be the one in your bed!”

  “What?” My stomach clenched.

  He stalked toward me, growling in my face, “I want you so much, Liam. You’re fucking killing me. These past two years . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  My knees buckled. “But I’m not—”

  “Gay. I know. Fuck, I know.” He ran his fingers through his hair, causing the blond curls to tumble over his lowered brow. “Just don’t hate me for it. Don’t say anything to ruin my career. I’ve still gotta work, you know? Even if it’s not with you.”

  In my wildest dreams I never thought I’d hear him say he wanted me. I didn’t even listen to the rest.

  I moved fast, bracketing him inside my arms against the wall. “I was gonna say I’m not straight, Michael.”

  “What?”

  I ran my lips up his neck to his ear. “I’m gay. And you’ve made me insane. I can’t think when you’re around. I don’t sleep with chicks. All those women you think I’m using for an easy fuck? I’m not. I never have. I win fights for you. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to want me.” I looked into his eyes. They were almost black with need. “I want you.”

  “Kiss me.”

  Oh my God.

  My breath halted. I lowered my head and nuzzled his jaw.

  “You smell good.” It was something about his heat, maybe his soap. Spicy. Tangy.

  “Liam . . .”

  “Shh.” I watched his eyelids close and his lips part. “I’m getting there. I’m just taking my time.”

  I kissed the side of his jaw and licked up to his earlobe. He grasped my hips and then slid his hands to my ass. The feel of his thick rod jutting against me, even through clothes, was enough to draw my lips to his mouth.

  A light taste was all I took. I pulled back and licked my lips. He watched and groaned. I kissed him again. His lips were smooth and soft but strong. And the burn of his fine stubble on my mouth was so fucking hot.

  “More,” he moaned.

  Slanting my head, I dipped down and dragged my tongue across his lips, then inside. We traded small kisses until restraint became too much. I grasped his neck and his hip, hitching him closer to me. Parting my mouth, I took his in a bruising kiss. Our tongues twined and tasted. Our lips moved faster. Hunger for each other had us grinding together. My grunts meshed with his groans and the slide of his stiff erection against mine pushed me close to the edge of coming.

  Just as quickly, Michael jerked away. Breath crashed in and out of him as he stared at me.

  “What?” I grunted.

  Closing his eyes, he shuddered and groaned. I reached toward him to haul him back, but he moved away.

  “Fuck.” His voice shook. “Liam, I’m sorry.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. My cock pounded in my pants. My lips felt swollen. I wanted him back against me.

  “Don’t be sorry. This is exactly what I want.”

  “I can’t do this. Not when I’m with Wade.”

  Talk about a stunning blow.

  I almost fell over. I barely managed to catch myself on the wall, my arms outstretched to brace myself. Suddenly I couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “Of course not.” The words hashed out of me.

  “I want to.”

  “Ha. I think that’s pretty obvious.”

  “Wade and I have been together so long.”

  At that I held up my hand. “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear anything about that. Sorry if I sound harsh, but I can’t listen to you talk about your relationship with another guy when that’s the only thing I want with you, and he might be the one thing standing in the way.”

  “So . . .”

  I kept my eyes on the wall, thinking I’d really like to punch it but I couldn’t risk messing up my hand. “So I guess we have a lot of training to do before the next fight.”

  The next thing I heard was the door closing.

  That was that then.

  For one brief moment I’d thought I could have it all.

  Turning around, I slid down the wall. I landed on my ass on the floor. Right in front of me was Gideon’s painting. Michael hadn’t even noticed it. I’d bought it because it reminded me of him and me.

  More torture. Nice one, champ.

  Well, I might as well go whole hog. I dug out my phone and finally listened to the voicemails Michael had left while I was in Cincinnati. Hearing his voice, the concern and regret, the worry, and then the anger that I was blanking him out, hurt almost as much as having him walk out on me again.

  After the final message, I hurled that fucking phone against the opposite wall.

  It shattered on impact.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Down But Not Out

  TOTAL BLOCKADE. COCKBLOCKED. HEADFUCKED. Call it what you liked. This was a million times worse than going solo into the fantasyland of what could happen between Liam and Michael. Now I knew he wanted me, too, but nothing was ever gonna come of it.

  I wished I’d never fucking known.

  We certainly didn’t mention the kisses that never should have been. But I wouldn’t give up our kisses, those few kisses, for anything. No matter how much they haunted me.

  I threw myself single-mindedly into training. The backbreaking routine was all I had. Michael was just as hardcore. Sean and Devlin approved of it all. At least I didn’t receive any more ear-bashings from Dev. I didn’t receive any more sexy massages from Michael either.

  He went at me like a gorilla when he worked my muscles. His fingers dug in. His knuckles pressed down. The moment his hands gentled, warmed, stroked, felt, he jerked away as if my skin burned him. Shaking out his hands, he’d turn away. I hoped it was to h
ide an erection like the one I invariably boasted.

  Torturous times in the ring. Wracking my body under heavy weightlifting. And doing yoga always ended with locker room standoffs. Who would undress first? Did we still untape each other? Was showering in the same block still okay and how many times did he check me out? Did he see me leaning out of the shower as he walked bare-assed to his towel?

  On edge. Both of us were. Maybe that made me more of a killer in the ring. Being even more hyper-aware of my fucked-up circumstances definitely primed my instincts, instilled the will to fight and win.

  Just a shame it was Michael I wanted to win, and that was even more far-fucking-fetched than my championship belt had been two years ago.

  That shit went on for four fucking-horrible New York weeks that culminated in Michael asking Devlin for a weekend off at the beginning of June. At least Mikey’s leave of absence meant I didn’t have to look at him and want him so much it crippled me. I couldn’t touch him the way I wanted to, or stare at him because he was so goddamn gorgeous it made me crazy not having him.

  I was relieved until Dev let slip Michael was off to Chicago. Awesome. Great. He was having a sexy weekend getaway with Wade.

  I felt like I’d been kicked in the nuts.

  Sick of spinning my wheels and being a mopey housebound bastard, I decided to take Gideon up on his offer of “friends”. I’d already filled Anya’s ear about the goings-on. She was still on the circuit so we commiserated via Gchat about my nonexistent love life while I’d sympathized with her over quantum physics and other shit I had no clue about.

  Mary-Kate had blasted into me about being not just a closet-case but a total shut-in. That was Shaughnessy family support for you. Too bad she had a good point.

  On the Friday night of Michael’s weekend sexcapade, I ended up at Gideon’s with cartons of Thai takeout. Once again I kicked myself for not being attracted enough to him. I looked at his black hair and thought of blond. I saw his sparkly green eyes and pictured the hazy gray depths of Michael’s.

  Shoving those thoughts firmly from my mind, I released a long breath. Michael was not gonna take up any more of my headspace. I was here to hang with someone who had no idea who I was and wanted nothing more from me than chilling out.

  Gideon and I sat in his little lounge area. We shared from open cartons of food. He had wine, but I stuck to the water. The small talk was easy because I was truly interested in his artwork, and I studiously avoided any mention of my work.

  Later, Gideon stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and grinned at me in his lazy way I was getting to know. “So you’re the up and coming heavyweight boxer, huh? The Irish Blight?”

  “Ah shit. You Googled me?” My face turned hot. “And I prefer Bonny Bruiser, by the way.”

  He laughed. “Well, you are definitely bonny. What can I say? You made an impression on me, and since you’ve never talked about yourself, I got curious. Very impressive, and I’m not just talking about your physique.”

  “I think you live to make me flustered.” I hid my face in my hands.

  “You’re even sexier when you blush.”

  I groaned long and loud.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ve already propositioned me half a dozen times already.” I peered over at him.

  He lounged like a panther, so at ease with himself. “A gay guy can try. Really though, have you ever considered sitting for a nude painting?”

  “What?” My eyes bulged out of my head. “No!” I covered my crotch with both hands on instinct.

  “Gotcha.” Gideon smirked.

  I had to tussle with him after that, but I made sure not to bruise skin or break any bones. Then I stopped because I usually didn’t roughhouse with anyone but Michael.

  Gideon’s long hair clung to his cheeks as he hunkered on his heels across from me. “I wasn’t going to put the moves on you.”

  I stood then reached down to give him a hand up. “It’s not that.”

  “Aw hell, Liam. Just be straight with me,” he grumbled as he took a seat on the sofa.

  My eyebrow quirked.

  “Right. You know a lot of us are good at keeping secrets.” Laughing, he patted the cushion next to him. “You already admitted you’re gay, okay? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind. I just want to help.”

  Gideon. He was gorgeous. I should want to giddyap on him. Instead I sat on the edge of the couch, as far away as possible.

  “Hey, Liam. I may want to jump your bones, but I don’t want to rattle your cage.”

  He looked one hundred percent honest and open, and suddenly I was sick and tired of hiding. There was no hanky-panky. But over the course of the evening, I ended up spewing my guts because—goddammit—I just needed companionship with someone who understood that totally private side of me.

  It felt good. It was a relief to be honest. It was even fucking funny, telling him some of my stories that had so killed me in the past—the time with the Robert Mapplethorpe book in the public library, for instance—and listening to Gideon’s in return. It was great, in fact, until the conversation rolled around to Michael.

  Then I clammed up.

  When Gideon said goodbye to me at the elevator, he made it just as easy. “No strings. Just friends. Besides, I may need some muscle sometime, and you could come in handy.”

  I got through that shitty weekend with my head on at least halfway straight because of Gideon’s company. I didn’t mind when he flirted, it seemed to be part of his personality. And he was damn hot, so that didn’t hurt none either.

  We were at my place Sunday evening. Dinner had been eaten before I’d introduced Gideon to the finer points of Madden NFL on the Xbox after I’d mopped up my opponents in Call of Duty Black Ops II.

  The poor dude. He’d clearly never held a control pad or played a video game in his life. He gaped at my instructions like I was talking Greek. Possibly Russian.

  I couldn’t wait to wipe the floor with his ass.

  Precisely one hour later I wanted to rip the controller out of his hands and throw it against the wall so it could join the gadget graveyard with my deceased cell phone.

  I wished I’d never told him what an Xbox was.

  He’d just kicked my ass for the third time on Madden.

  “Beginners luck.” I kicked out my foot to connect with his hip as he sat across from me on the floor.

  “Sore loser. Is this how you act when you lose a fight?”

  “I don’t lose fights.” I flexed my biceps for him until the big muscles swelled into huge hardened masses.

  “I might have to make a move on you if you do that again.” Gideon waggled his eyebrows.

  I immediately dropped my arms.

  He cracked up. His low laugh came from his belly, always with his head thrown back. Would he look that way when he came? I was just thinking maybe someday I could fall for him when someone banged on the door so loud I thought they were gonna break right through the damn thing.

  “That must be the supreme pizza I ordered. I know you’re on a special diet, but I’m getting tired of eating sawdust for dinner.” Gideon chuckled.

  “Asshole.” Getting up, I planted my palm on top of his head. Then I shoved him sideways.

  Another round of heavy banging landed on my door.

  “I’m coming!”

  Unlocking the door, I swung it wide open. Michael stood outside, all ablaze and shining and beautiful and blond.

  All smiles.

  What the hell was he smiling at? He’d disappeared for a Wild Wade Weekend. I almost slammed the door in his face but he crossed the threshold first.

  I backed up.

  He came forward.

  “Who is it?” Gideon shouted from the living room.

  Gideon’s voice stopped Michael in his tracks. His I’m so happy I got laid expression changed. His face became unyielding. I could see the fury building in his eyes, and it called mine to the surface. As if that f
ucker had any right to get jealous.

  “Nobody,” I called back, keeping my hard gaze on Michael. “Nobody at all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jealous As Fuck

  MICHAEL’S EYES BLAZED. HIS jaw clamped down so hard I heard his teeth snap together.

  “I go away for one weekend and you’ve already got someone over here?” He stood so close to me his chest brushed mine when he exhaled a choppy breath. “Who’s in there?”

  “Gideon.”

  “The painter? You’ve got that goddamn painter in your living room?” Michael’s nostrils flared.

  I folded my arms over my chest, forcing him to take a step back. “Yeah. We didn’t make it to the bedroom.”

  Michael turned slowly. He closed the door with deceptive calm then stepped up to me once more. I wouldn’t back up. I wasn’t gonna back down. This was my fucking place, and I could have any damn person I wanted over. I could have entire fucking orgies of men if I wanted.

  “And I’m nobody, huh?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Pretty much.”

  Suddenly unleashed, Michael connected with me. He almost toppled me over. His hands grappling down my back and to my ass, he yanked me against his body. God help me but he felt good, so good. From the hard biceps to the thick pecs to the soft stubble as his cheek rasped mine.

  Too good to be true.

  I shoved him away.

  His back hit the door.

  “Stop it.”

  With a slow sinister grin, he shook his head. He bit into the pink skin of his bottom lip, zeroing in on my mouth when I unconsciously licked mine in response.

  “Michael—” I didn’t get out another word.

  He leaped at me, knocking me into the wall. He slanted his mouth down on mine so fast, with such heat, I groaned. I reached for his hair, tugging at the blond curls to drag him closer instead of thrusting him away.

  He moaned the moment my fingers fisted then he parted my lips with the hot wet dart of his tongue. They were furious kisses. Brain frying, body melting kisses as we clambered to get closer any way we could: pulling at clothes, grabbing at asses, tangling around each other.