In the Ring (BOXER Book 1)

by Rie Warren

  I broke away, groaning, “Wait, wait . . .”

  Michael didn’t wait. He shoved me into the kitchen. He pumped against me, against the counter. He drowned every frigging thought of stopping from my head with his lips and his teeth and that fucking hot tongue on my neck and ears and jaw until I had to hold myself up on legs turned to liquid with my palms braced behind me.

  Gideon appeared in the room while Michael attacked my neck and I tried not to come in my pants.

  “Oh shit,” Gideon muttered.

  “Get out.” Michael lifted his head from his torturous tugging and lapping at the join of my shoulder just long enough to be a dick.

  “Michael . . .” I couldn’t move away from him.

  His teeth nipped me. His tongue trailed along my skin.

  “I’m nobody?” Michael’s mouth moved slowly across mine. “Nobody? Bullshit.”

  “Gideon—” I glanced over Michael’s shoulder.

  “Call me later. Unless you need some help?”

  “No.” My voice was so deep and hoarse, it barely registered.

  Seconds later the door softly closed.

  With that sound, Michael curled around me. His kisses gentled, moving from one part of my face to the next as he whispered words I couldn’t quite hear. All the fight seeped right out of him until we clung to each other.

  He moved his lips to my ear. “Were you with him?”

  “No. But it’s none of your damn business if I was.” I pushed him away then rubbed my fingers against my damp, kiss-swollen mouth. “You can’t keep doing this to me. You were with Wade.”

  “To leave him.” Michael glanced at me with stark eyes.

  “What?”

  “I’ve thought of no one else but you for so long, Liam. After we kissed in the shower and then the second time . . .” He pressed his lips together, frowning. “Do you think we could sit down?”

  My heart ricocheted around my chest, but I kept all show of emotion from my face as I led him into the living room where we sat next to one another on the couch.

  “I’ve felt like I’ve been unfaithful to Wade for months, even before anything happened between us. He knew it, too. Knew something wasn’t right. It’s been rocky for a long time. After Chicago, after you took off and I went a little crazy, he accused me of having feelings for you, and that’s when I realized it.” The turbulent gray of his gaze held me still. Sadness darkened his features. “Wade and I are over.”

  “Fuck.” I grabbed his hand, winding my fingers through his. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not really, but that’s a bastard thing to say, right?”

  Lifting his hand to my lips, I kissed the tip of every long finger before brushing his knuckles against my cheek.

  “You’re not really famous for your words, baby.”

  Baby. I liked the sound of that. It would be so much better with him begging.

  “I’m not, huh? What am I famous for, then?” Bringing his index finger to my mouth, I twirled my tongue around it before sinking down to the knuckle.

  “For your touch, by the feel of it.” His eyelids drifting shut, he moved closer. “Fuck, Liam.”

  “Mmm.” I swirled onto his middle finger, wetting it with a long slow slide of my tongue. “You taste so good. Can’t wait to suck your cock.”

  “You probably better stop saying shit like that,” he gasped. “I’d explode if you touched me right now.”

  “Wouldn’t want that happening just yet.” I let his hand go, and he smoothed it along the side of my face.

  Leaning forward, I kissed his cheeks, his forehead. I nudged his head aside to breathe in the scent at the hard square corner of his jaw.

  My throat grew tight. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you like this.”

  “Me either, Liam.” With his arms around me, he pulled me down with him.

  We curled up on the sofa, together. Jesus. Never thought I’d get the chance to do this. Even if I was just comforting Michael after he broke up with his long-term boyfriend, he wanted to be with me. That blew my mind. I was finally able to touch him, hold him.

  “Are you okay about Wade?”

  He moved closer, pressing his face against my throat. I fucking loved it. Jesus, I even played with his hair, those sun-drenched curls so soft to the touch.

  “It got ugly. How could it not? We’ve been together forever.” Michael shook his head against my neck. “He told me he’d been planning to ask me to marry him.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  He kept his face hidden where it was. “He flushed the ring down the toilet and started throwing my stuff out the window. We’ve got legal things to sort out. I mean, four years living together?” His laugh was short and shaky. “It’s as good as getting a divorce.”

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? I don’t want you to regret it.” Shut the fuck up, champ.

  Michael pulled out of my embrace. “Yeah. It’s not just lust with you, Liam. I was living a half-life since the injury, until I teamed up with you. You make me alive. You”—he smiled—“turn me on so much my gut hurts, but, Jesus, you push me. You piss me off half the time. You hit all my buttons, some I didn’t even know I had.”

  “The massages.”

  His cheeks tinged pink. He reached behind his back to chuck a cushion at me.

  “Dickhead. Maybe. Yeah. That’s definitely a button.”

  “One of mine, too.” My voice dipped deep.

  His gaze lowered to the swelling bulge in my pants. “Oh, I know.”

  I threw the pillow back at him. “Asshole.”

  We laughed until he turned toward me, running both his hands up my thighs. “I want to give this a shot with you, Liam.”

  I gulped. “Yeah.”

  Reclining onto that suede double-wide behemoth, I drew him with me. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

  “Didn’t stop you before.”

  His mouth was so pliant and firm at the same time. The sting of his light stubble captured my lips and made me crazy for it all over my body. His tongue weaved around mine in some kind of kinky slow motion dance I couldn’t get enough of. I grasped his ass. He clasped his arms around my neck. We moaned while making sweet, hot love to one another’s mouths.

  The thickness of Michael’s erection rubbed against mine when he rolled to his side, catching his breath. “What about that Gideon guy?”

  “I bought a painting. And I didn’t think I needed your permission to hang out with someone, since I’m an adult and all.”

  Michael leaned up onto an elbow. “Are you looking to pick a fight with me?”

  “No.” I thought we were headed to bed soon.

  Although tussling with Michael always got me hot. Maybe this was just more foreplay.

  “So you bought one of his paintings.”

  Again with the deceptive calm that hid a hot jealous streak I’d never imagined.

  Here I was taking a shine to him, and he was probably one word about Gideon away from trying to pummel me through the floor.

  “You went to his studio?” Again with the dangerous advance as Michael rolled me onto my back and crawled up my body. “Alone?”

  “Jesus Christ. We played Madden NFL tonight. And by the way, the never-heard-of-an-Xbox freak kicked my damn ass.”

  “Is that all he did to your ass?”

  I didn’t even bother to answer. I dragged Michael down, toppled him over, and went to work on any bare skin I could find. Come to find out, Mikey was particularly sensitive at the inner bend of his elbow, along the trail of fuzz that ran from his belly button to below when I lifted his shirt a couple inches, and his fingers. His hips thrust up every time I sucked and slurped his fingers. I couldn’t wait to get to his cock.

  I smiled against his lips when I rose up to kiss him again.

  His breath puffed in and out, and his cheeks were rosy, his eyes glazed over.

  “So?” I asked. “You and me?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Up and Comer

  M
ICHAEL LINKED HIS HANDS behind my neck to pull me down. “Yes.”

  “We need to keep it under wraps, you know.” A little bit of worry worked into my fuck-yeah-awesome moment.

  “What?”

  “No one can know, Michael.” I sat back. “Not right now. I’ve got the fight coming up with Reggie, the one that could get me to the title match. I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

  “And you think coming out as gay is going to ruin your chances?”

  “More like my career.”

  “I’m gay. I’m out.” He sat up, perfectly ramrod straight beside me.

  “It’s not the same. This is the professional sports world, man, you know this.”

  “So how do you propose we go about this”—he pointed between him and me—“us?”

  “We have to keep it private.” I stood up and walked around the room.

  “You mean secret.”

  “The people who matter, the ones who should know, know. Right now that’s you and me, Michael.” I kneeled in front of him. “Please. For now. I’ve been aching for you, babe. I wanna be with you, but holy fuck, if Devlin found out we were together he’d flip his fucking lid, and he makes my life a living hell as it is.”

  Dev might know I was a homo, but he didn’t think I was stupid enough to act on it.

  “What about later?” Michael asked in a wary tone.

  “I want more. I want everything with you.” I pressed up to capture his lips.

  Michael wound his arms around me and slid down to the floor in front of me.

  Our lips parted, and I reached up to brush the hair off his forehead. “Sexy, babe.” I grinned.

  “Don’t even start unless you want me to jump your bones tonight.”

  “Who says you’re gonna be the one fucking me?” I raised an eyebrow.

  He snaked forward and bit my shoulder hard.

  I almost came on the spot.

  “Oh, we can talk about whose ass gets fucked . . . first.”

  We kissed for what felt like hours, and man, it was tempting to take it to the next level, which would include blowjobs, and rim jobs, and full nudity. But I tamped down the urge to get Michael naked on the floor so I could listen to him whimper while I went down on his balls. I hadn’t been kidding about wanting everything. I wanted it all, and I wanted to enjoy every single moment getting there together.

  When our lips shined and our cocks ached, and it was sheer torture to keep with the slow taunting trade of tongues into mouths, we broke apart. My heart jump-roped in my chest. Michael’s pulse raced along the strong chords of his neck. The gray depths of his eyes were barely visible. His irises all but blacked out with need.

  Our lips met one last time. Jump rope? Jesus Christ. My heart was on a pogo stick. I had stubble burn on my mouth as I brushed it against his. And fuck me, it felt so good.

  With a groan, I gave Michael a hand up from the floor we’d practically sunk into. I walked him to the door.

  Holy shit, he was grinning, showing those deep delicious dimples.

  With my hand on the doorknob, I hesitated. “Can I take you on a date?”

  “I thought you said under wraps and stuff.”

  I kissed him again, desperate for the taste and feel of him, pressing him against the doorframe. “Leave it to me.”

  His hands lingered on my hips, setting fire to my body. “I’ll come get you for Iron Fists Gym tomorrow?”

  I brushed my jaw against his and breathed into his ear, “Yeah. And I hope you take it all out on me this time.”

  #

  We couldn’t get away the next night. Devlin and Sean double-teamed me the entire day with Michael their order-barking disciple. I was pretty sure he got a rise out of ordering me around, knowing he’d be kissing the hell out of me later.

  Whenever Devlin or Sean disappeared from the gym to take phone calls—Dev—or toke soggy cigars—Sean—Michael’s and my smack talk filled with double entendres came hard and fast.

  Our bouts of fighting turned into opportunities to touch every inch of straining, sweaty, bulging muscle we could reach . . . while trying to knock the other one out.

  I was frigging giddy with the knowledge he was mine.

  And half sick about what would happen if anyone found out.

  I was also beat up and bruised. Dev and Sean had been driving me like I was a prized gladiator rather than a boxer out to win one more fight in order to get to the title bout. I needed more than gerbil feed and a gallon of electrolytes if they expected me to take down a lion with my bare hands.

  Michael, in the same condition as me, did little more than close his eyes and sigh as we straddled the locker room bench across from one another and I untaped his hands.

  I curled my hand around his neck and drew him into a kiss preempted by the janitor coming in to collect towels and mop the floor. In silent agreement, we showered at opposite ends of the block of open stalls.

  Keeping my hands off him just made me hotter.

  The following day I barely endured the weightlifting routine with Michael. He spotted me as I curled iron, bench-pressed, and for extra pleasure, swam laps with weights strapped on. Through it all he was in front of me, behind me, above me, wearing loose shorts that drew visibly tight over his hard-on.

  In the afternoon, we convened with Sean and Dev in my apartment to take apart Reggie’s game one more time. Out to make me thoroughly lose my mind, Michael touched me at every opportunity when the others weren’t looking.

  I wanted to rip his pants off and sink my mouth over his cock so much I probably drooled every time his tight ass moved in front of me. I had an ongoing battle with the bulge in my sweats. I tried to pay attention to strategy and inner-boxing-Zen, I really did. All I ended up doing was wiping my mouth and shutting my eyes as my cock jerked to get free.

  I made sure Devlin had no surprise-here’s-a-hooker-to-turn-you-straight plans for me that night. I used my one free hour off to scout out restaurants not-too-close to home base but not too far away.

  I made reservations.

  I texted Michael.

  I took a frigging girly amount of time showering and dressing and hemming-and-fucking-hawing over what color tie to wear. And what cologne to use because I had like two to choose from.

  After doing two test-scent runs I chose Burberry Sport, the ice blue tie with the diamond pattern, and my swanky single-breasted lightweight suit. I didn’t have a clue about any of this crap, but I’d chosen the suit for a press junket with Anya’s help. At the time she’d exclaimed something in Ukrainian that sounded like approval. Good enough for me.

  Did I do a breath-check? Yep, at least three times. Then I swiped my palms against my pants before knocking on Michael’s door, because damn right I was picking him up at his apartment. And goddamn right that felt good.

  When the door swung open, Michael stood before me. His hair was the usual wild blond halo, but he’d definitely cleaned up. Definitely. Yeah. I started at his hair and then swept my gaze down to his amazing face where a slight one-sided smirk lifted the corner of his lips. Tie—smoky gray—to go with his smoky eyes. White shirt, dark blue suit . . . his long, long legs and wide, wide shoulders emphasized by the cut.

  I cleared my throat and made a return journey up his body. His gaze clashed with mine, and I knew he’d been checking me out, too.

  I stepped back into the hallway. He closed the door with his suit jacket slung from one fingertip over his shoulder. I smiled and he leaned up to kiss that smile off my lips until my breath stuttered from me. When he pulled back, I swept out an arm to beckon him to the elevator.

  I grinned when his eyebrow lifted before he strolled off. I stayed a half pace behind the better to inspect the fine fit of his pants from the backside. He had to be going commando or wearing some kind of sexy jock under the slacks because there wasn’t a single bump in the fabric covering his taut ass.

  Alone in the elevator we kept up the silent routine, but when Michael pushed me into one corner of the empty car, w
e spoke with our lips upon the other’s, our tongues and touches trading the secrets of our hunger for one another.

  I grasped the back of his shirt and his jacket fell to the floor. He pressed into me and I fought back. Rolling him around, I brought him between the mirrored wall and me while his moan rushed into my mouth.

  We broke apart when the elevator dinged at floor two. As other people boarded, we stood in opposite corners, facing each other. Our chests heaving, our eyes and cheeks bright, we put ourselves back together.

  I brushed down my lapels. Michael straightened his cuffs with a snap and a sly look in his eyes. I fingered the loosened knot of my tie with two intertwined fingers. He slowly bent over to retrieve his jacket.

  There’s definitely no underwear under there.

  By the time we reached the lobby we stood side-by-side, somewhat straightened up, although I’d hidden my throbbing boner beneath my buttoned jacket. When we walked out into the lobby, we acted as if nothing had happened during the ride down. For some reason that was sexy as hell.

  I held the door open for Michael while he put on his jacket. I joined him at the sidewalk where the car I’d hired waited, a driver in the front seat of the partitioned SUV.

  As we slid inside and roared off, I turned toward Michael. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” He lifted one knee onto the seat so it brushed against my thigh.

  “You . . . uh, you made me speechless in that suit.”

  “You weren’t the only one.” He winked.

  His eyes fucking twinkled.

  I settled back against the seat and ran my arm around his shoulders. “I didn’t think you could look better than when you do crunches without your shirt on. Jesus, was I wrong.”

  “You should see what I’m wearing under these.” He plucked at the creases of his pants.

  My head fell back and I shut my eyes. “Christ, don’t do that shit to me. I’ve already been wondering, and we have a whole damn meal to sit through.”

  “We could skip it,” he tempted.

  My eyes blinked open. “No. It’s our first date.” I laced my fingers through his. “I wanna do this right.”

  “Never would’ve figured you for old-fashioned, Liam.”