Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  “Lingerie shower?” I interrupt her in mid-sentence, and she grins and leans forward.

  She whispers in my ear, “You’re not allowed to come to that one, baby. But trust me, all of those gifts will be for you.”

  “That’s not fair. Besides, half of those parties sound like things I’m not even going to be invited to,” I say.

  She laughs again, and I can feel her breath on my neck before she pulls away from me, still tracing her fingers across my knuckles. “Well, all the more reason for you to enjoy this one. Come on, let’s go.”

  Brandi drags me out of the room, and we head down the hall and then down the enormous staircase and into the party. Everyone is dressed up in their finest suits and dresses. There’s music and an open bar too; you would think that this was the reception. Brandi has always had expensive taste, but she’s never been greedy with my money. I think the wedding and everything leading up to it is probably going to be the exception to her normally modest financial behavior. Her parents are putting nearly 10K down on the wedding, but Brandi and I will be covering the rest ourselves… and there is a lot more to cover if we’re going to get even half the shit on her wish list. I don’t care, though. That’s my girl right there, and she’s going to get the wedding of her dreams. I smile, kind of liking the idea of being Brandi’s prince charming on our big day.

  All the guys are here with their dates, and I grin slightly to see that Gabe has actually brought a chick. He’s always the single guy of the group. Brandi is standing arm and arm with me when I spot Gabe with this woman who I got to say is a looker. I beam somewhat proudly at my kid-brother character to see him standing with his arm around this woman’s waist. Brandi lets out a loud shriek suddenly, and I jump a bit. I had forgotten that I had had her best friend from high school flown in to surprise her. “Jonathan, did you have anything to do with this?” she asks as this overweight woman comes running up to her and the two share a ridiculously tight hug.

  “He flew me in so I could make it to the party!” the woman, Stacie, exclaims, and Brandi gives me this big kiss. Suddenly Brandi and Stacie disappear, probably to find a corner amongst the group of party guests so that they can catch up. I’m sure that Brandi is going to introduce Stacie to the other bridesmaids.

  I hurry up to Gabe while I don’t have Brandi hanging on me, curious to meet this sexy young woman he’s got on his arm. Marty and Tyler and their girlfriends are already standing by Gabe when I make my approach. Gabe introduces the woman like Michelle, and she smiles at me and congratulates me. Damn, Gabe, she’s hot! I’m so weirdly proud of him right now. She talks and she sounds intelligent when she speaks too. Where did he find this girl?

  Michelle along with Marty and Tyler’s girls all wind up departing after Marty’s girlfriend announced that she needed to find a restroom. I don’t know why women flock to the bathroom together, but now it’s just the four of us guys standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. “Damn, Gabe,” I say as soon as the women are gone.

  “I know, right?” Marty gets in, “I said the same thing when he came walking up with that on his arm.”

  Gabe’s face is red as we give him hell. Gabe attempts to change the conversation by congratulating me on the engagement, but that shit isn’t going to fly. “How did you nab that one?” I ask him, taking a little enjoyment on putting him on the spot.

  When he doesn’t answer right away, Tyler butts in and elbows Gabe in the side, “Go on, Gabe, tell em.”

  Damn, so Tyler’s already heard the story? Not cool. “Well?” I question.

  “I just met her at a bar,” Gabe says.

  “Bullshit,” Tyler says, “We all know you aren’t twenty-one yet, kid. And you don’t carry a fake ID. Tell him what really went down.”

  “Man, shut up,” Gabe says embarrassingly and then spills the beans. “We were at Chuckie Cheese, all right?”

  “Oh my God!” I laugh so hard and loud that I snort. Marty is laughing too at this discovery. We always pick on him for being the youngest in our group of friends, so this is just more ammunition for us to use.

  “It’s not like that, jackass. You know I got a little sister,” Gabe says.

  “What was she doing there, though?” Mary asks, “How old is she?”

  “She’s my age, asshole,” Gabe says and then finally lets a small laugh emerge from his throat. “All right, all right, she’s the fucking mouse, man. She’s a student at the university, and she had been working there while she is going to school. My sister stepped on her tail and yanked her bottoms down and ripped the costume and her boss fired her because…” he suddenly laughs really loud and then quickly looks around to make sure Michelle is nowhere in sight, “because she hadn’t been wearing pants under the costume.”

  “Oh damn!” Marty practically shrieks.

  “I felt so bad. I gave her a ride home. I asked her why she hadn’t been wearing any pants under the costume, and she just said she got hot under that thing… but damn, you guys, the whole fucking costume ripped in two.” Gabe’s cheeks are red as he recounts the tale. “She was so embarrassed, but I guess I had been nice, and she thought my little sister was cute because she kept apologizing over and over again and crying about getting her fired.”

  “Can I borrow your little sister sometime so I can get me a pretty thing like that?” Tyler jokes.

  “Man, you got a girl,” Marty says.

  “She’s a hoe, though,” Tyler says, “Gabe’s sister found him a looker who’s going to school for… what was it, Gabe?”

  “Political Science,” Gabe said.

  “See? She’s smart. Did any of you ever go to school?” Tyler questions and he knows none of us had any of those sorts of aspirations. We’re boxers, and Gabe just works at the gym.

  “So…” Gabe says, eager to draw the attention off himself, “You ready for your match against Donte?”

  “Hold the phone,” Marty says and spins towards me, “Donte? As in Donte Evans?”

  “That’s the one,” I say.

  “That guy almost killed you last time you two boxed. You barely got him on points, and then he tried to kick your ass in the parking lot when you were being put into the back of an ambulance. Are you out of your mind?” Marty hisses and then smacks me in the arm like he thinks I’m a complete moron.

  “I still beat him, and that was one of my most watched matches. People want to see a rematch, and that match is pretty much going to pay for the wedding by itself. Do you get paid that much for a match? No, and neither do I. I took it in a heartbeat. Even if I lose, and I doubt that will happen, I’ll still be bringing in more money than I do for most of my matches,” I smile, “I can handle Donte.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” Marty grumbled slightly.

  “Thank you, Marty,” I hear Brandi’s voice behind us, her arms crossed with a pout on her face. She comes up and hooks her arm in mine. “I’ve been trying to talk him out of it all week.”

  I yank my arm away from Brandi. We’ve been going rounds all week about this match, so I definitely don’t need her getting anyone on her side with this one. “Babe, enough,” I snap.

  She looks pissed. “Don’t get an attitude with me, Jonathan. Not today. Marty and everyone else in this room knows that match is a bad idea. But you’re going to do it anyways because you’re a stubborn dick.”

  “Geeze, Brandi,” I say and do my best not to roll my eyes. I bite my tongue. I don’t want to get into it with her today, so I swallow my pride. I make it a rule not to get too sappy with Brandi in front of the guys, but it is our engagement party. I can take giving them some more ammo against me. I put my arms around her hips and pull her close to me. “I think it’s cute how worried you are about me,” I say it with a genuine smile on my face, and she rolls her eyes at me. I give her a flirty peck on the cheek. “Awe, come on, baby, don’t be mad at me. I love you,” I kiss her neck, and she laughs.

  “Fine, Jonathan, you win, today,” she pulls away and leaves to go check on her mom�
�s stepsister to make sure she’s not drinking herself silly.

  “Awe, I love you, Brandi. Don’t be mad at me, Brandi. Aren’t you adorable now that you got a ring on her finger? What’s the matter, Jonathan, you afraid she’s going to give it back to you?” Tyler teases.

  I just shake my head. The guy’s taunts won’t bother me today. I go to the party, playing host. The night goes on as planned. I smile when I see Gabe leave with his date. There’s this excited look in his eye that sort of reminds me of myself when I had first met Brandi. It’s youthful, and even Brandi comments on his nervous infatuation as he’s leaving with her. Brandi and I head up to my bedroom once the party is over; we’re both too tired for anything frisky, but we still curl up together and fall asleep with our heads lying next to one another on the same pillow.

  11

  This is actually a fairly laid back pre-match meet and greet with the reporters compared to the last one I had had, and seeing as how Donte Evans is here as well this is coming as quite a shock. Donte has done some growing up since our last match, so he seems like a little less of a prick now. The two of us still make snarky comments about one another, but it’s more playful, and light-hearted than angry threats as we talk about our upcoming match. The match is in four hours, so we are both pumping ourselves up.

  Damion and Gabe are seated beside me, and Donte, and his pit crew are seated at the far end of the long panel-style table, a microphone in front of him as well. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to the match,” Donte says as he rambles on and on about the last question he had been asked.

  Suddenly I see her, and a part of me gets uncomfortable at her sight. It’s Alison Lial from The Morning Cup, and she’s got the floor. She looks dead at me, but there is absolute no discomfort or familiarity there. Thank God. I don’t know what I would do if she brought up what happened or spilled the beans with Brandi standing over in the corner showing off her ring to some of the other boxer’s wives she knows. “Mr. Trial, I was hoping you could comment on Ms. Eaglewood’s latest win; last night’s match has caused her to break a state record for most consecutive wins –including your own record, Mr. Trial. Care to share your thoughts on Ms. Eaglewood’s success?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t seen Eaglewood fight. I don’t really watch female boxing,” what did I just say? Oh, God, someone is going to take this the wrong way. Fuck me.

  “I’m sorry, I just assumed someone as involved in the boxing community as you would have been keeping an eye on someone quickly approaching such an impressive record,” Alison said, a bit taken back by my comment.

  I try to save face quickly before this shit gets online; there are so many cameras pointed at me. “Well, I used to watch female boxing more, but it’s been a while. I have been fairly occupied in my own training; I hadn’t even realized someone had been close to breaking that old record-”

  Donte jumps on his mic before I have a chance to save face. “Are you saying you don’t think women should box, Jonathan?” He says loudly and clearly into the mic. “That’s not cool, man.”

  My mouth goes dry. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  Too late. There are cameras in my face and reporters scribbling shit down in their notepads. This is the last thing I need to be worrying about right now. “Mr. Trial, what are you opinions about female boxing?” someone shouts out.

  “Do you feel that your record was only broken because female boxing is in some way more simplistic than traditional male boxing?”

  “Would you take up Ms. Eaglewood in a match if she challenged you?”

  Oh my God… make it stop. I feel like a deer in headlights. “Well… um… she’s not really in my weight class,” I say as though that answers all the questions that are being thrown at me. I don’t know what to say.

  Donte leans into the microphone. “Look, Jonathan, I don’t know what you’re suggesting down there, but I for one feel that female athletes do not get enough credit for their capabilities. Really, we should be talking about the gap between men and women athlete’s pay. My sister is a soccer player as many of you all know, and it’s really a shame that we don’t care enough to pay-”

  I can hardly hear what he is saying, but I certainly know he’s helping me to dig my grave deeper and deeper. This was an unexpected turn of events. I try one last time to make things better. “I absolutely agree with you, Donte,” I say quickly, but there are eye rolls amongst the crowd. Well, we’re going to have to fix this shit later. The meet and greet are over, and I have to get ready for my match.

  12

  I take another hard punch to my nose. My arms feel like limp noodles; it’s almost impossible to keep my hands up. I can’t see out of my right eye. Donte doesn’t look much better, but he is at least keeping himself balanced while I am swaying around like an idiot trying to keep myself from falling over.

  The bell dings, and I send up a prayer of thanks just so I can sit down and breathe. My first match with Donte had been rough, but this is an entirely different animal. It’s like he had been studying me and me alone for the past couple of years just so he could get a revenge match like this. He’s kicking my ass, and the refs are wiping blood up off the floor between each round.

  I gasp and choke up blood as Gabe and Damion wipe the blood off my face. Damion sticks a straw in my mouth so I can choke down a bit of water. “You got to get the ref to call it,” I hear Gabe say, and I contemplate spinning around and using my last bit of energy to knock him back.

  Damion looks me in the eye. “You want me to call it, Johnny?” I shake my head and gasp for air. Damion grabs me under my chin and makes me turn my head out to the audience where I see Brandi staring down at the floor to avoid looking at me. “If you don’t want me to call it, you better show me you can still talk at least, or I’m having the ref call it right now!”

  “Don’t call it,” I say, gurgling blood bubbles out of my mouth as I speak. Thank God for mouth guards.

  I can see Gabe shake his head nervously, but Damion steps aside as the final round gets underway. Donte launches at me like a lunatic. Where is he finding the energy? I can barely block. I think my arm is broken. I’m not sure; it’s certainly swollen. Last round. It’s the last round. I’m not going to let this son of a bitch K.O. me. I’ve never been knocked out; it’s not happening. Donte gets me in my throat again. Fuck this shit. I swing and somehow actually manage to deliver a punch, but I’ve gotten sloppy. I leave myself open, and he knocks me good.

  I go back, and I land flat on my back –arms spread wide. Tunnel vision. I see Brandi’s horrified look as everything around me goes black.

  The next thing I know I’m waking up in a hospital bed. A hospital bed? Are you fucking kidding me? They had to take me to the hospital? My stomach churns at the image of my knocked out ass being hauled off on a gurney. I couldn’t even get up and walk out? I couldn’t walk away with my dignity? No, I had to be carried out, apparently. It only takes me a second to realize there’s a damn tube down my throat, and a part of my feels claustrophobic to have it there. I frantically search for the nurse call button and press that thing probably twenty times before a nurse comes hurrying into the room. She smiles. “Just relax, Mr. Trial, and we’ll have your breathing tube removed,” she says. I’m trying not to have a full-fledged panic attack. I saw my dad when he had woken up from heart surgery panic when he realized he still had a tube in his throat, and they had sedated him, so I try to at least pretend to be calm. I must get the claustrophobia from him.

  She takes way too long, but soon it’s out of my throat, and I feel like I can relax a little. “Where’s Brandi?” I question.

  “Your friends and family are still here at the hospital. They’re downstairs in the cafeteria. I’ll go get them for you and send your doctor in,” she speaks in a reassuring and kind tone, so I thank her as she disappears and a doctor comes in shortly after.

  The doctor tells me that they couldn’t wake me up, and I cringe at the thought. I have a serious concussion,
and I’ve been out cold for six hours. Six fucking hours. I can’t believe it. I had to be given blood. I had surgery too –internal bleeding. I still have my teeth, so I guess that’s good.

  Eventually, Brandi and Gabe and even Damion come darting into the room. Brandi starts crying as though I had died on her and had suddenly come back. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I assure her, and she hangs on me to kiss me, and it hurts like hell, but I don’t tell her.

  Gabe looks pale. I wonder how bad the knockout looked? Damion calls my manager to let him know I’m up. There are flowers everywhere. I can’t believe I lost.

  We’re there for a few hours before I work up the courage to watch the match. Brandi is against me watching it, but I insist. Gabe shows it to me on his phone… holy shit. I watch myself go round after round with Donte. The first nine rounds looked pretty good, but after that, I start looking like a complete idiot. Donte really kicked my ass. The last round is the hardest to watch. I get knocked out, and they hold up Donte’s glove –everyone seems to expect that I’m going to get up, but I don’t move.

  I can see Brandi on the side of the ring screaming at someone to go over and check me. A bunch of paramedics circles around my perfectly still body. Donte awkwardly backs up. Security is pushing people back away from the ring. There is a panic in the room that I can feel. Even the announcers are talking like I’m fucking dead. I put Gabe’s phone away. I don’t need to see anymore.

  13

  The alcohol numbs the pain far better than the damn pain killers the doctors keep prescribing me. It has been nearly a month, and I still have not been approved to fight. Donte really fucked me up bad, and there is nothing I want more than to get back in the ring and kick that guy’s ass. Brandi thankfully has wedding planning to distract her; I don’t want her to realize how bad my drinking has gotten. I can’t workout. My trainer won’t let me do anything more than physical therapy crap. I’m bored, and I’m pissed.