On The Ropes Series Box Set

by Aly Martinez

  Her mouth got tight.

  “Let him stay. I’m out of here.” Chuckling to myself, I repeated under my breath, “Control your bitch.”

  Three words had never been truer.

  As my body relaxed, Slate and Till cautiously released me.

  “Show’s over!” Leo announced and then started barking orders to at least five of his men, who went to work clearing the disappointed crowd. “Time to leave,” Leo ordered, pressing a heavy hand into Davenport’s chest. “And, next time you call someone a bitch, the Page brothers are going to be the least of your worries. Got it?” He shoved hard, causing Davenport to stumble back a step, his gaze still locked on me.

  “That’s it, Page? You just gonna walk away? I should have known you’d be a fucking pussy!” he prodded.

  I laughed again as I draped my arm around Liv’s waist. “You ready to go?”

  “What the hell was that?” she asked, regarding me warily.

  My expression turned hard as I looked down at her. “You stay out of shit like that from now on,” I scolded her loudly. “I don’t need you making things worse.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m serious. That shit happens again, you stay the fuck out of it. Do not step between me and another man. Ever.”

  “You were about to lose it!” she snarled—even that was sexy.

  I leaned into her face and lowered my voice. “I cannot worry about you jumping in on something and possibly getting caught in the middle. Now, keep your mouth closed. And back away.”

  Her eyes flickered with understanding. “Quarry,” she warned, but she did it taking two giant steps away.

  “Good girl,” I whispered, knowing I’d pay for it later.

  Spinning on a foot, I charged forward ready to give Davenport exactly what I wanted him to take from our little pow-wow.

  Till and Slate were off to the side, chatting with Flint. Leo was still struggling to get Davenport out the back door.

  “Yo, Leo!” I called as all the eyes in the room lifted to mine.

  It was too late.

  My adrenaline finally found a way out.

  With a hard right Leo barely dodged, my fist landed on Garrett Davenport’s chin, snapping his head to the side and sending him stumbling to the ground.

  I dove for another punch, but Till caught my arms before I made contact.

  “Only bitch that needs controlling is you!” I roared.

  He jumped to his feet and lunged in my direction as security scrambled between us.

  “Grow a sack and sign the fucking contracts! You want me? Make it happen.” I pounded my chest as he fought the herd of men dividing us.

  He’d come wanting to fight. He’d left with yet another sample.

  The rest would be delivered in the ring.

  My body slacked in Till’s grasp.

  I calmly watched as Leo’s men dragged him, kicking and swinging, out of the back door.

  “Jesus Christ,” Slate growled, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.

  “Dumb fuck,” I mumbled as the door slammed shut.

  Till let me go, but not before slapping me hard on the back of the head. “Him? What is wrong with you? This shit is gonna be all over the news tomorrow.”

  I shook my hand out, inspecting it to make sure I hadn’t injured anything. “Maybe. But I bet Flint receives those signed contracts first thing in the morning.”

  Cutting my eyes across the room, I found Liv standing right where I’d left her. Her expression was unreadable, but her stiff posture looked positively pissed. Great. A lecture about keeping my shit together was on the horizon.

  “I think it’s best for everyone if I take off. Text me if a shitstorm starts to brew over this.”

  Till’s eyes swung to Liv. “Christ. You’re in trouble.”

  I chuckled. “Yep.”

  “Well, at least she can’t withhold sex.” He cupped me on the shoulder then shoved me in her direction. “Give him hell!” he yelled to her, but her hard stare never left mine.

  Shit.

  When I reached her, I shoved my hands in my pockets and rocked onto my toes. “You know this is all because you made me wear the suit.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “My body was being suffocated. Eventually, it cut off the blood flow to my brain.” I shrugged, and her nostrils flared. “I can’t be held responsible for any of that. If anything, I deserve an apology from you.” I quirked a teasing smile.

  When she didn’t reply, I sighed.

  “Can you at least bitch at me in the car?”

  * * *

  Liv fumed while we waited just inside the building for our driver to pull around our car.

  Whatever. She’d get over it. I was freaking stoked.

  The title match was on.

  Assuming Davenport had a sack at all, which was seriously in question, he’d be signing the contracts in the morning. The announcement to the press would quickly follow, and then I’d have had the legal right and obligation to beat the fucking shit out of him.

  Flexing my hand out, I basked in the sweet ache of my knuckles.

  “You could have broken it again,” Liv said without looking at me.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You would have been out for months. No fights. And whatever hopes we had of getting another title shot would be gone. Do you have any idea of how bad that could have been in there?”

  My lips tipped up in a smirk. “We? You getting a title shot too?”

  “Yes. We. What part of this have you missed over the last fourteen years? I’m in this with you. Every match. Every opponent. I’m there. Just because I’m not in the ring doesn’t mean your choices don’t affect me.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry, Liv. Your paycheck is safe.”

  The words had barely cleared my mouth when a fucking bee stung me.

  I started to swat it away when Liv shrieked, “Shit!” Shaking her hand out, she continued to curse in Spanish as she danced a tight circle around me.

  “Did you just punch me?” I questioned in all seriousness.

  “I think I broke my hand,” she yelled. “Why were you flexed?”

  “Christ, Rocky. I just leveled Davenport. I’m a little amped. Are you okay?” I snagged her hand to inspect it.

  “Oh God, is it broken? It really fucking hurts,” she whined, and her face scrunched adorably.

  “Maybe you should learn to control your shit. What the hell were you punching me for?”

  Taking my time, massaging up and down her forearm, I continued to check her hand. It was fine, but I didn’t release it. I hated that she was in pain, but I loved the way she peered up at me as if I could take it all away.

  “Don’t start with me, Quarry. I’m the one who gets to be mad here.”

  “Why? Because that prick decided to show up talking shit the day he found out we’d been scheduled for a rematch?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “They scheduled a rematch?” she breathed.

  I’d spent the night lusting over her as she’d pranced around the ballroom. Thoughts of taking her on every horizontal surface had filled my mind for the majority of the evening. But right then, as she stared up at me with a mixture of surprise and elation, all because I was going to get something I truly wanted in life, a warmth I hadn’t felt in years washed over me.

  “No, Rocky. We’re getting a rematch.”

  Her eyes flashed between mine as she silently held my gaze. Pride and affirmation filled my chest from her unspoken praise.

  God. This woman.

  She was so fucking beautiful.

  Guiding her injured hand to my chest, I fought the urge to kiss her.

  She was close. It wouldn’t have taken much.

  I could have gripped her neck and tilted her head back. Leaning down, I could have brushed my lips against hers. She would have gasped, unsure of what to make of it. But, even in her confusion, her nipples would have swelled. Her breathing would have s
ped in what she would claim was nerves, but we’d both know that it was pure and erotic desire. Her feet would shuffle forward until those round breasts were compressed against my abs. Her hands would immediately snake around my waist for balance just before her eyes fluttered shut in invitation.

  I wouldn’t kiss her yet. No. I’d simply watch her face soften and her lips part in anticipation. Sliding my free hand up her side, I’d whisper my breath across her mouth, denying us both the contact we so desperately needed. Goose bumps would pebble her otherwise smooth skin as I made my way up to cup her jaw. Then I’d graze my thumb over her plump bottom lip until her tongue peeked out to dampen it. With a deep breath, I’d fill my lungs with the intoxicating mixture of champagne and Liv James—holding it impossibly long for no other reason than it had once been hers. I’d continue to ghost my lips over hers, torturing us both, until her eyes finally opened, dark with need. She would whisper my name as a question, and then and only then, when I was positive she was drenched, primed, and ablaze, would I crush my mouth over hers for the first time.

  Deep.

  Languid.

  Hard.

  Reverent.

  Liv.

  “Oh my God!” she yelled, snapping me back to reality. Throwing her arms around my neck, she pulled me in for a tight celebratory hug.

  Meanwhile, the warmth in my chest disappeared as I mourned the loss of a moment that had never truly been mine to claim.

  I had to get over this bullshit with her.

  Or…figure out a way to get her on the same page as me.

  Both seemed equally as impossible.

  But, then again, she had been checking out my ass tonight, so maybe…

  God, what am I doing? Am I seriously thinking about seducing my best friend? Then what? We fuck? We date? We go back to being friends? Shit, we get married?

  Yes. I was insanely attracted to her, and I cared about her more than I could ever put into words. But what else? What if that was it? What if we had sex and nothing more came of it?

  Liv didn’t pour her soul out to me about dudes or anything—it was safer for everyone involved that way. She’d had boyfriends. I’d actually liked a few of them. But I had an inkling that she wasn’t the casual let’s-experiment-naked-and-see-if-we-have-any-feelings-for-each-other kind of girl.

  I knew right then that I had to shut that shit down. She deserved someone better than me. If I knew some guy was having these wishy-washy thoughts about her, I would have beaten the absolute fuck out of him before I ever let him come near her.

  The only problem was that this was one fight I couldn’t walk away from.

  Quarry Page versus Quarry Page.

  The man who suddenly and desperately wanted to claim her versus the man who would protect her at all costs—even from myself.

  Clearing my throat, I briefly returned her hug then set her away from me. “We need to get some ice on that.” I nodded to her hand.

  She ignored me. “So, when’s the fight? How much money are we talking this time?”

  I chuckled. “We’ll talk when we get home. I have a copy of my contract in my room.”

  “I can’t believe you hid this from me!” She crossed her arms over her chest in what I assumed was supposed to be an attitude, but a wide grin gave her away.

  “I just found out this morning. I was gonna tell you tonight,” I replied as our car finally pulled up. I was pushing the door open when she grabbed my arm.

  “Wait. What time is it?”

  I glanced at my Rolex. “Nine.”

  “Come on. Let’s do something fun. I have a new assistant. You have a huge multimillion-dollar fight, which is surely going to net me a raise. Let’s celebrate! What do you say? Chili dogs, cheese fries, a soda big enough to drown us both? Then we’ll chase it with a million beers at the house.”

  “Shit.” I curled my lip in disgust. “That sounds like the recipe for puke.”

  “So, you’re in?”

  My lip curled even higher. “I have the chance of a lifetime…for the third time…to win the boxing heavyweight championship of the world in a few months. Just because Davenport is a viper cunt doesn’t mean he isn’t a beast in the ring. It’s going to be grueling, Liv. You remember how hard I worked out the last two times. Spending entire days in the gym, eating cod six meals a day, chugging protein shakes like they’re an elixir from the gods. Training, conditioning, and a strict diet starts immediately.”

  She tipped her head to the side and repeated, “So, you’re in?”

  I blew out a hard breath. “Fuck yeah.”

  With that, I shoved the door wide and hooked my arm with hers. We laughed as we hurried to the SUV. Cameras flashed around us and people called our names, but as far as I was concerned, the real excitement would happen when we got home.

  Alone—together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liv

  “YOU NEED ANOTHER?” QUARRY ASKED as he made his way to the kitchen.

  “Mmm.” I hummed around the bottle tipped to my lips. “Yes, please,” I slurred, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

  Usually, I wasn’t much of a beer girl, but after the excessive amount of junk food I’d just consumed, there was no way my stomach could handle wine. As my mind buzzed, it became clear the six-pack had more than done its job.

  Hot dog wrappers, remnants of broken french fries, and at least a dozen beer bottles littered the coffee table. I’d long since shed my dress and my heels, having opted for a comfortable pair of pink sleep shorts and a white tank top. Quarry had barely even made it in the house before he’d peeled off his shirt in search of his house uniform: a pair of variously colored workout pants—tonight was black with a white stripe down the side—and a T-shirt that on anyone else would have been plain. However, the way it was forced to stretch around his biceps and his pecs made it anything but.

  It was well past midnight, and we were still “celebrating.”

  Since it was now a dual celebration, he’d nixed every single one of my movie choices and decided to put on some stand-up comedian neither of us was paying any attention to.

  “Has Till texted you back?” I asked when he returned from the kitchen.

  “Nah. He’s probably still trying to drag Eliza’s drunk ass home. I’m sure everything’s fine. Flint or Slate would’ve messaged if Davenport was stirring up more shit. I’m just hoping tonight pissed him off enough to get him to actually crawl through those ropes.”

  Taking the beer from his hand, I replied, “He’s such an asshole. What happened to champions like Slate and Till? Hell…even ‘The Brick Wall’ Mathews was at least humble.”

  “Ha! Yeah, humility is one gene Davenport is missing. He thinks the sun rises and sets in his asshole. If he weren’t such a fucking pussy, it wouldn’t be so bad. He’s a fucking disgrace to the belt.” He reclined in the corner of the sectional.

  His legs were propped up on the coffee table, while I was cozied into the bend of the L with mine stretched out on the cushion in front of me. It was the way we always lounged when hanging out at the apartment together. And, considering that that was basically every weekend, we had clearly established our assigned seating.

  There was a lull in our conversation, and we both absently turned our attention to the TV. For several minutes, I watched a man parading around a stage and ranting. My drunken mind wouldn’t allow me to focus on what he was saying. Eventually, I zoned out. It wasn’t until I felt the tingling sensation of being watched that I glanced over at Quarry.

  Oh, he was watching me, all right. But his eyes were trained on my legs. I assumed he had zoned out too until his eyes very slowly slid up to my breasts and back down again. That realization tingled somewhere else, and I quickly cleared my throat before he was able to notice my nipples, which were inevitably going to turn hard. Those traitors reacted each time he so much as walked through the room. And, since we lived together, I swear it happened so frequently that it was how I burned the majority of my calories.
>
  His eyes jumped to mine, and I arched an incredulous eyebrow.

  “Were you just checking me out?”

  “W-what?” he stuttered. “No.”

  “Bullshit!” I laughed, and then I casually pulled a sip off my beer.

  His mouth twitched, suppressing a smile. “Well, I figured it was fair game after I caught you drooling over my ass tonight.”

  I choked before I had the chance to swallow. Beer stung my nose as I covered my mouth to keep it from spraying across the room. It was a wasted effort. It still managed to leak out.

  He snagged a napkin off the table and threw it in my direction. “Shit, look at you. You’re drooling now just thinking about it.”

  I choked again, and he chuffed loudly.

  “Stop.” I laughed, cleaning my mouth before wiping beer off the back of my hand.

  His smile grew even wider. “I didn’t figure you’d be an ass girl.”

  “Are you drunk?” I giggled, not even the slightest bit embarrassed.

  “Well, I’m not sober.” He winked. “But let’s get back to you and asses.” He moved his feet to the ground and leaned forward, propping his fist under his chin like the statue of The Thinker—but hotter.

  Finally collecting myself, I shot him a grin. “Okay, yes. Let’s get back to that. Asses are totally my thing. It is not my fault that you have a nice one. But what about you?” I lifted my legs in an exaggerated cross, giving it my best Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct. “A leg man? Really? Mia was, like, five feet tall.”

  His gaze jumped from my legs. “I’m just a man. Period. You show me nice tits, legs, ass, stomach, face, eyes, whatever… I’ll appreciate it all.” He chugged the rest of his beer.

  “Really? You don’t have a type?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. I guess I have more of a personality type than I do looks.”

  “That’s so funny. I always thought the short, little punk girls like Mia were your thing.”

  “Mia was…different. She made me laugh and didn’t let me get away with anything. Even when I dumped my world of shit on her, she never once showed me pity. I didn’t care what she looked like. I just loved her.” His voice was thick with emotion. Standing, he collected a group of the bottles off the table and started to make his escape.