In the Ring (BOXER Book 1)

by Rie Warren

  “I . . . umm . . .”

  “Ees Mishka, yes?”

  “Ja?” Okay, that probably came out as German.

  She shoved a box into my hands. “For breakfast. In bed. Go get him, lion.”

  “I think it’s tiger?”

  “Vhatevs.” Anya waved and disappeared down the hall.

  I shut the door. Now I had dinner and breakfast waiting, and Michael waiting for me.

  He wasn’t in the living room, though. I found him in my bed with the covers pulled down and all his smooth gold-glowing skin on show.

  “I’m sorry.” I dropped my sweats and crawled between his open legs. “It’s the stress of the title match getting to me.”

  His arms curled around me. His heels dug into my backside. My flared cockhead nudged his pert butt.

  “I was a jackass. I just wish Wade would go home. I missed you.”

  “Fuck me, sweetheart,” I breathed against his lips.

  When he rolled me to my back, I clasped his hips. The tiny tight nibs of our nipples rasped together as he draped himself on top of me. His words were hot murmurs in my ear, but nowhere near as hot as his cock soldering against me—thick with want, slick with lube, widening me, wielding me open.

  This lovemaking was painful in its intensity, unlike the shower fuck, which had been ferocious. Michael spread me open, speared inside me, scooped me into his arms. His gaze swam into mine with every emotion-fueled thrust. He filled my body, sizzled my soul, and dazzled me with his beauty.

  The way he moved, his mouth on mine, the moment he started thrusting faster because he couldn’t hold off any longer . . .

  He took my ass with tight jerking lunges at the end. I gasped his name through a lingering climax, coming between the damp cave of our bellies. Finding his lips, I watched his eyes drift closed as he hugged me to him.

  I traced his mouth and the shape of his eyes. Running my thumb lightly down his nose, I laughed when he grumbled in his sleep. I kissed his lips once more, watching the frown disappear from his forehead.

  I woke Michael later with touches instead of words. We made love again—the same agonizing almost-heartbreak feeling fueling me to take him as deeply into my body, into my soul as I could.

  I felt this, him, us slipping through my fingers even while I drew his mouth to mine and kissed him until I could feel nothing but him.

  #

  The next week, I was making my way back to my place during the early morning hours when Devlin crept from around a corner in the hall. Ambushed twice in two weeks by people who wouldn’t let Michael and me be, my track record sucked.

  I continued walking past him like I didn’t even see him. He didn’t care. He dogged my heels, going full steam ahead with the homophobic spiel.

  “Sneaking around like a horny teenager with Michael, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t have to sneak if you’d cut me some slack,” I tossed back at him.

  “Bullshit. You’re never coming out. You’re too scared.”

  Well, there he hit my sore spot, maybe even my blind spot.

  I wheeled around and got right in his grill. “If you think I’m going to let you dictate my love life, who I love, you’ve got another fucking thing coming, Dev, because I’m sick of this whole lying-about-who-I-really-am thing.”

  Dev flinched, but he wouldn’t back down. Not him. He was the meanest bully on the block, and I used to think I was lucky to have him in my corner because of it.

  “Do not use that word about Michael. You are in big trouble if this gets out. One more fight, Liam. Just one. Hold it together until then.”

  I flipped him off and threw open the stairwell door so I could make a fast escape.

  “Remember, your family’s counting on you, champ.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Stings Like a Bee

  I DIDN’T NEED DEVLIN’S reminder about my family to understand the importance of keeping a lid on my sexuality. His words ate at me though. And Wade may have finally returned to Chicago, but his jabs about Michael and me continued to rankle. Maybe he was right. Maybe he did know Michael a hell of a lot better than I did.

  The upside was I was almost always too physically drained to give any credence to anything other than things like making my arms and legs move, and moving air in and out of my lungs, courtesy of Michael’s brand new make him train until he cries regime.

  The downside of that was sometimes I was almost too wiped out to take advantage of Michael’s unstoppable ass, his goddamn hot cock, and the itty bitty stud-boy briefs and jockstraps he paraded around in. Now that right there was a crime.

  I was embarrassingly close to nodding off on one such night when Michael let himself in and landed on top of me on the couch.

  “Did you see the news tonight?”

  I hadn’t seen anything much but the back of my eyelids. I shook my head.

  Clicking on the TV, Michael sat on the edge of the sofa, his eyes glued to ESPN. And showing now on ESPN? The kiss that must’ve been seen around the world. The first male-on-male in the sports world kiss. That Jimmy Fontaine had balls. I’d give him that.

  “What do you think?” Michael asked me.

  Christ. I drew a hand through my hair. Now was probably not the time to ask him what he wanted me to think. “It’s kind of sexy?”

  What? It was like free porn. You couldn’t blame a guy who’d experienced a lot of his first sexual encounters via GayTube.

  Michael jumped to his feet, looming above me. “That’s it?”

  So that was the wrong answer.

  “Nah. It’s cool. It’s really touching. He’s fucking brave.” I hurried to save face.

  “It’s nothing short of amazing, babe. Groundbreaking! Think of all the people seeing this. And he’s an NFL draft pick!” Michael grabbed my hands and pulled me up to him. “Think about what this means. Just like Jimmy you have the chance to make a huge impact on sports media and audiences for the LGBT community!”

  “What?” I broke free of his hold. “I can’t do that.” I pointed at the TV where the kiss was on rerun, over and over again.

  “Why not? What’s so bad about kissing me?” Stubbornly, Michael followed me to the television, which I turned off.

  “There’s not a damn thing bad about kissing you, but I’m not ready to be the ex-cage-fighter-gay-mascot. Jeeesus.” My stomach rolled into knots at the mere thought.

  “Then maybe you’re not the man I thought you were.” His quiet words pushed me over the edge.

  “That’s crap, Mikey, and you know it. Just because I’m not ready—”

  “How long until you’re ready? Months? Years? There’s always gonna be an excuse, isn’t there?”

  “That’s so not fucking true! I love you, can’t wait to be open about you.” I reached to grab his arm, but he jerked away.

  “Bullshit. I can’t touch you after a fight. I can’t kiss you during the most important moments of your career, like that.” He pointed at the black TV screen. “I won’t hide in the closet with you!” Dragging his fingers through his hair, he stared at me. “Do you know what it felt like the one time you took me on a date you made sure no one else would see us? Like I was your dirty little whore secret.”

  “You’re talking about Keens?” I was bewildered, but he nodded. “You certainly didn’t complain that night, did you? As I recall you couldn’t wait to get into my pants afterward.”

  “Because I thought you’d change sooner rather than never.” He was spitting mad now.

  I bristled in his face. “And I told you I need to win the fucking title belt first!”

  He leaned against the wall, and his voice quieted. “Do you know how much it hurts me you can’t really be with me?”

  “Michael.” I brought my hands to his face and looked for one glimmer of hope in his eyes. My heart clenched so hard it hurt. “It kills me to think I’m hurting you. I don’t wanna hurt you, not ever.”

  I watched him swallow hard, and it brought tears to my eyes.

/>   “I’m out. I made the leap for you—hoping you’d join me—and I’ve made my peace with who and how I am. I can’t . . .” He freed himself of my hands and lowered his head. “I’m not going back there. I’m not hiding who I am again. Not even for you.”

  My throat convulsed as my gut plummeted. I could barely make words come out and when I did, they were hoarse, croaky.

  “Oh, God. You’re gonna break my heart, aren’t you?” All the life drained out of me on the spot.

  “I don’t even know if your heart is mine to break, Liam.”

  “How can you say that?” I surged against him. “How can you possibly fucking say that to me? I love you. I told you I love you!”

  “But you won’t show it. You won’t even hold my hand in public.” Pleading, tear-filled eyes lifted to mine, and his crushed expression squeezed my heart again.

  “I show it to you. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one who matters. Not anyone else. Michael, please don’t do this.”

  “You’re the one who’s doing it. Or should I say, not doing it?” He bit back.

  He punched back, and he pushed me away from him.

  “Is this because of Wade? Are you going back to him?” My worst fears boiled over as deep pain sliced through me. Worse than the punches. The bruises. The cuts.

  He scoffed in disbelief. “Why do you think everything comes back to him? This is about you and me.”

  “Because he tracked you here to New York, and he’s still here.” I touched Michael’s chest, above his pumping heart.

  “I left him FOR YOU!” Michael bolted for the entryway. “You need to get over your insecurities and come to grips with who you are, because you’re a goddamn mess, Liam.”

  “Fuck that. No.” I blocked the door. “You are not getting away from me that easily.”

  Wrangling an angry Michael into my arms, I pulled him with me to the bedroom, slamming the door behind us.

  That closed door became the perfect surface to take out all our intense aggression. Clothes snatched off. Hands dug into flesh. Our teeth drew blood that time instead of our fists.

  “You don’t believe what I feel about you is real, sweetheart?” I stroked our dripping hard cocks together.

  “I don’t think you have the balls to go through with it, baby.”

  Wrong words. Those were so the wrong words to say.

  “Oh yeah? But I’ve got the cock to do it.” Snarling into his mouth, I met the wet clash of his tongue, the hard press of his open lips.

  Flipping Michael around, I raised his hands above his head. “Maybe if you don’t move, I’ll show you.”

  “Do it. I dare you. Fuck me. Take me.” He widened his legs and pushed out his smooth bare ass.

  I raced for a condom and some lube, dropping down behind him.

  “You have the prettiest ass, Mikey.” My tone softened.

  My fingertips glided over his tensed bottom.

  “Pretty?” His legs loosened, and he lowered his body to follow my caress.

  Pressing my head against the backs of his legs, I murmured, “Michael. I love you. I love how college-smart you are. I love how courageous you are. I love the way you try to beat my ass in the ring.”

  He peered over his shoulder. “I thought you were aiming to beat my ass, beautiful.”

  A rush of breath—long held—released from me. Skimming my lips up the insides of his legs, I snuck my face between his cleft. His hole waited for me, opening wider with each breach of my tongue. He tasted so good. He smelled so delicious. He sounded amazing, groaning and grinding down to meet my lips.

  I splayed a palm on the small of his back. Pulling up behind him, I slanted two fingers inside him.

  My mouth moved to his neck and his jaw. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m almost never sure with you, baby. That’s why you’re too dangerous for me.”

  Something turned over in my chest. I grinded my forehead against his shoulder.

  “I’m not bad. I’m not evil. Not dangerous.”

  “No. You’re gay. Just like me.”

  I swallowed a huge breath. I smeared on more lube and guided my cock to his ass.

  “Do it,” he moaned.

  I charged inside of Michael, thumping his chest against the door. Clinging to his shoulders, I pounded into him. Thrust after hard thrust had me balls deep in the sweetest tightest heaven ever created.

  I chewed the skin of his neck and sucked it, leaving a harsh purple love bite.

  “Oh Christ, Liam. Every time. Every time with you,” he choked out the words, lifting his ass to receive my merciless thrusts.

  I slowed. I stilled. I withdrew.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He whimpered in a husky tone.

  “Turn around.”

  He rolled against the door, and I hefted him up in my arms.

  “You can’t,” he gasped.

  “I can.” With his thighs widened over my forearms, I teased his entrance with my fingers before spreading his ass and dropping him onto my cock.

  His scream melded with my shout. It didn’t take long for the body-shuddering force of our fucking to turn us into grunting male beasts. Pushing Michael higher, I dragged my tongue over both his nipples, up his neck, into his mouth. I braced him against the door that shook with each impact of my quick lunges. I used my freed hand to jerk him off in counterpoint.

  His eyes widened, and they were darkest gray surrounding large black pupils. “Oh. Oh Fuuuck . . .”

  The scalding wet ropes of his come painting my hand and stomach were second best only to his ass grasping my cock with so much pressure I rammed into him one last time.

  My orgasm tripped me into a blinding white heat that echoed the surrounds of his hole sucking it all out of me. When I came around, when I lowered his legs to the floor, Michael dangled limply in my arms.

  “How can you love me if you can’t be with me?” His throaty accusation brought me back to earth.

  If I’d thought I could fuck it out of him, I was wrong.

  And Michael was right.

  I knew from the beginning I’d never be good enough for him. I was fighting a losing battle.

  “Did I hurt you?” I asked.

  He wriggled from the press of my body against the door.

  Pulling on his pants and shirt, he said in a low voice, “Not where you think you did.”

  “Michael!” I ran after him as he slipped out of my bedroom.

  He spun toward me. “Don’t stop me from leaving you again. I’m not strong enough.”

  “This is fucking shit! You’re the strongest man I know. I’m trying. I’m trying for you.”

  A cold hard look sealed his eyes. “You fight in the ring with your whole heart. I need that for me too.”

  I grabbed his wrist. “How about this. I don’t want you as my trainer. I want you as my husband.”

  “What?” Scared and hopeful, he looked at me.

  “You heard me.”

  “I . . .”

  “Jesus, Michael, just believe me this time.” My heart dropped to my knees.

  The sad reminder of a smile flickered across his lips.

  “I can’t.” His brow furrowed, and he opened the door. “When you’re ready to admit that to the world, come find me.”

  “Yeah? And when you can tell me you love me, you know where I’ll be!” Righteous anger invigorated me.

  I watched the same thing flare in his eyes before he walked out, slamming the door in his wake.

  Then I slumped to the floor in defeat.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A Stunning Blow

  AFTER THAT TERRIBLE, NEARLY sleepless night I woke to a bright blue sun-filled morning. The cheery weather made me feel sick inside about all I’d ruined. Maybe I needed to stop being so goddamn fatalistic. It didn’t have to be over because of one argument. I’d take a shower, head to the gym, catch up with Michael there. I’d apologize, and hopefully he’d forgive me long enough to make it through these next couple
months of training and the title match.

  Feeling slightly less like road kill, I stuck with my plan. After grabbing a quick shower, I was drying off when the door to my apartment banged closed.

  Oh, thank God. Michael. He’d come to his senses, too.

  With the towel wrapped around my waist, I rushed out of the bathroom.

  Devlin nearly collided with me as he stalked down the hallway.

  “What are you doing here?” I barked out.

  “You don’t know?” Leaning against the wall in front of me, he watched me with cold fury.

  Instant fear surged through me. “Know what?”

  Christ, Michael better be all right.

  “I got Michael’s resignation this morning.” He pointed a shaking finger at me in his seething rage. “You just lost the best trainer you ever had.”

  “What?” Shock leveled me.

  I slumped against the wall as the world reeled around me.

  “That’s right. Michael ditched you. You wouldn’t know anything about his change of heart, would you?” Dev’s snide face appeared in front of me.

  “Not now, Devlin.” I bit out the words because if I took a deep breath or opened my mouth to speak, I’d fall apart on the spot.

  “Yeah. You’ve got one day to pull yourself together.” He jabbed a finger at my chest. “We’ve got a belt to win, not personal issues to worry about. You haven’t fought this long, this hard, to fuck it all up.”

  I held it together until the door shut behind him. Then I raced to the bathroom. As soon as I leaned over the toilet, I hurled into it. Everything in my stomach emptied out. The heaves ended in hoarse sobs that wrenched my body, burning my throat as tears burned my eyes.

  When there were no more tears left to cry and I had no voice with which to shout, I dragged myself to bed.

  Humiliation and shame of the worst kind left me hollow. Even if I’d known this would be the fallout for my actions, I still wouldn’t publicly admit my sexuality.

  Nothing but a coward.

  Michael didn’t just walk out my door. He walked out on the job. He disappeared from my world.

  On the brink of the biggest fight of my career, I’d lost the biggest goddamn battle of my life.