Outside The Ropes

by Ashley Claudy

  Pinpricks of excitement and nerves crossed my skin, but I followed her directions. I found myself wishing Gage would step out of the back office now. He was there, I knew because I saw him arrive earlier, but he hadn’t come out this entire time.

  I cleared my head of the distracting thoughts and focused on following Sharon’s directions.

  “That’s good.” Sharon stood behind the photographer, looking at the pictures he had snapped. “Last change.” She went to her hangers and pulled out a bikini. “Here put this on.”

  My blood drained from me as I looked at the strings. “Do you have a different one? Maybe a sports bra type top. I don’t wear string bikinis,” I tried to explain.

  Silas’s forehead wrinkled. “You wear what she gives you, this isn’t about personal style.”

  My heart flip-flopped in my stomach, but I raised my chin in defiance. “It’s not that… I won’t wear it. That has nothing to do with boxing, I’m not doing it.”

  Sharon turned to Silas, “We agreed on the number of outfits and the bathing suit was part of it. It’s part of the contract.”

  Hating that she was discussing this with him and not me, I interrupted. “I’ll wear a different one, but not that one.”

  Silas shot me a silencing look. “Come with me,” he commanded.

  I followed him to his office.

  “Get out. I need to talk to Regan.” Silas’s normally level voice was strained.

  Gage stood up from behind the desk, eyes widening as they grazed over me.

  “What’s going on?” he questioned, not moving to the door.

  “Sit down, Rea.” Silas gestured to the chair before turning to answer the question. “She’s refusing to wear the last outfit.”

  His back rose and fell with his deep breath, and then he turned back to me, his face back to his typical smile. “Regan, I understand you being wary about modeling in a bikini. But I can guarantee you it won’t hurt your image. It’s for an athletic store, not some magazine. If anything this will help. People might see you as a pretty face and underestimate you, which could be used to your advantage in the ring.” He nodded like he had already convinced me.

  I met his eyes, trying to make it clear that I wasn’t budging. “No. I won’t wear that.”

  “Why?” he demanded.

  I couldn’t answer that, protecting my scars was my top priority, no matter how angry Silas got.

  “I’m a boxer, not a bikini model.” I didn’t break eye contact with him.

  Gage put his hand on Silas’s shoulder. “I’ll go see if we can work something else out, maybe another outfit or something.”

  I let out the breath I was holding, feeling a slight relief. But Silas wasn’t appeased by Gage’s suggestion.

  “They already paid us up front. I’ll come with you.” He turned back to me. “Stay here while we clean up this mess.” He shook his head in disapproval before walking out.

  What felt like an eternity later, Silas came back in. “Will you wear this?” He held up a sporty white and blue tankini, and I nodded with relief.

  After changing, I hesitated on my way to the set up. Gage was standing there in blue and white surf trunks that matched my bathing suite. His tan body was shiny with oil, the same oil I was covered in.

  My mouth went dry and I had to force myself to breathe. He watched me as I made my way over, his face blank, but an unreadable look in his eyes.

  He took the few remaining steps to where I was. “They agreed to the switch of outfits as long as I stood in for this one.” His voice was low and his eyes kept dropping over my body, leaving electric currents in their wake.

  I couldn’t stop myself from drinking him in. This close range, I could easily read his tattoo along his ribs. Big bold lettering stacked on each other: Rage, Rage. The top word was in flames. When I raised my eyes, he was smirking, eyebrow lifted as he watched me, watch him.

  “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” His blunt words squashed the anticipation that was dancing in me.

  I gave myself an internal reprimand; I needed to take control of my body’s reactions to him, get this over with, and move on. Like he did.

  The photo shoot was the ultimate test in my strength. We had to pose in each other’s arms. Standing face to face, he hung his arms low around my waist and my arms were on his chest. The heat was there, but tempered by the multiple eyes and directions being given. After a couple of shots it was over and Gage dropped his arms too easily and disappeared to change.

  I showered, washing away the makeup and oil from the photo shoot, but not able to rid my skin of the feel of Gage’s hands. I put my wet hair in a no nonsense French braid, preparing for work at the restaurant. My new bangs helped to soften the look.

  Slinging my book bag over my shoulder, I walked out of the locker room, almost running into Gage as I turned the corner.

  He took a step back, taking in my outfit, his forehead creased. “You gotta work right away or do you have some time to talk?”

  “I’ve got to work now,” I said with mixed feelings. I wanted to hear what he had to say, but didn’t want to answer any questions.

  He shifted his eyes, and then leveled me with them. “Can I drive you?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving away his nervousness.

  I nodded slow, not really sure, but knowing we needed to have this talk. Hopefully we could cut some of the awkwardness and at least have a working relationship.

  He slid his seatbelt across him and paused, shooting me with a hard stare. “You can’t fight outside of the ring. You can get suspended for that.”

  I looked away, out the window. “I didn’t mean to. I won’t do that again.”

  He tilted forward, trying to get my attention. “Drinking or fighting?”

  “Fighting.” I meant both, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right about me.

  He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the one-way street. Checking his rearview mirror he said, “You don’t handle alcohol very well, you should stop that too.”

  “You should stop telling me what to do,” I bit back. Then pressed my lips together, reigning in my anger. This had been a bad idea.

  We stayed quiet, the car filled with tension, until we pulled up to my work.

  I reached for the handle, anxious to escape. No longer interested in hearing what else he had to say.

  “Wait,” he sighed. “I don’t mean to lecture you.”

  I dropped the handle and turned back to him, eyebrow raised, silently questioning what it was he meant to do.

  His eyes softened as they ran over me, causing goose bumps.

  “You scare me,” he whispered.

  I froze.

  “The things you say and do sometimes, it scares me. And you won’t listen to me; that scares me. But I thought that was part of the adventure.”

  I didn’t absorb the words. The way he spoke them and left them hanging between us, made it clear that a big "but" was coming next. Something that would wipe them all away, and I was waiting for that, rigid.

  He swept his eyes up me again, until they locked with mine. “I thought we could be fun, something new, an adventure. I embraced the fear as part of that. But when I saw that,” his eyes dropped to where my scar was, “It hit me; this is real. I’m scared to death that I might hurt you, more than you’ve already been hurt.”

  He spoke softly but his words were like razors, scraping at me. I had to look away, no longer able to take the emotion in his eyes or the emotion he stirred in me. Or the way it seemed he could see through me.

  “You deserve better than that, than me. I’m no good for you.”

  And there it was. The dismissal. I met his gaze again, forcing him to look at me while he rejected me.

  “You should be with someone who makes you laugh…”

  I tuned out the rest of his words, agitation building. But his last words were a slap in the face.

  “… Like Dexter.”

  “Fuck you. You don’t wa
nt me? Fine. But man up and admit it, be honest. Don’t feed me some bullshit lines, and then try and pass me off on your brother.” I climbed out of the car, turning back to throw out my last words. “You’re disgusting.”

  He popped out of the car, quickly coming around the vehicle to my side. I was trapped between two cars and he stood at the end of them, not letting me pass.

  “That came out wrong. That’s not what I meant.” He stepped close to me and grabbed my elbow. “I’m not passing you off to anyone. Especially not Dexter. God, that would kill me. I don’t want you with anyone.” He took another step towards me, forcing me against the car, the heat of him penetrating through my jacket. “I should let you go, but I’m selfish. I still want you.” He trapped me between his arms, bracing his hands on the car behind me. “You should tell me to leave you alone. And I’ll try to.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “Tell me,” his breath warmed the skin on my forehead and the feeling spread through me like wildfire.

  I shook my head slightly, and then his lips were on mine. They moved against me, like he'd been starving, a low growl vibrating from him. He sunk to my level as his hands left the car and cupped my face. Our tongues caressed each other’s and his fingers trailed down my neck, sending shivers through me. His body pressed me into the car, but our jackets were barriers, padding between us.

  A chilly wind cut through our kiss, but he only pulled me tighter to him, our heat a shield to the cold. The kiss slowed to an end, but he kept his forehead pressed to mine. “I don’t want to let you go.” His breathing was strained, and his breath fanned over me. “Can I pick you up after work?”

  I took a few breaths, trying to still my erratic heartbeat. “Yes.”

  I didn’t know how I was going to get through the next couple of hours after what just went down, but I was happy to have the time to sort through the jumbled thoughts and emotions warring in me.

  23: Edge

  “BEFORE WE GO,” GAGE’S CAREFUL TONE SET me on edge.

  He shifted his eyes to me, giving me a sidelong look as he started the car. He pressed some of the buttons on the console, turning the heat up and music down before continuing. “You didn’t say anything, and I’ve got to know, where’s your head at with this?”

  The vulnerability he let show on his face and the way his leg bounced melted me some, but at the same time it increased my own nerves.

  “I don’t know,” I responded with the truth. I felt lost out at sea, just waiting for the tide to push me so I knew which way to paddle.

  He waited for more, but I couldn’t look at him as I said the rest. Instead, I stared straight ahead, at the lights of the restaurant and city life beyond.

  “We’re going to hurt each other. It’s only really a matter of when or how hard. And the way we are, the way we fight…” I stole a glance at him, the muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. “But everyone hurts each other. It’s what people do.”

  That was the end of my certainty. I turned towards him and said what I was still trying to convince myself of. “I’m willing to take that risk though.”

  His hand moved to my cheek, a smile touching his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

  I grasped his hand, pulling it off me. “I think we’re taking it too seriously. What was it you had said? An adventure. I liked that. Let’s be that.

  He nodded, eyes lit with excitement. “Where should we start? Your place or mine?”

  My heart skipped, and whirlwinds of uncertainty started in my stomach. “Yours.”

  I figured it easier to call a cab and leave than try and kick him out if we go downhill fast. Plus, Dexter stays with Leona on school nights, so we'd be alone at Gage’s.

  “Have you had dinner?” Gage hung up my jacket in the hall closet.

  “No.” I stared at him, unsure of how to act or what to do.

  He seemed nervous, too, and a part of me thought I should put us out of our misery and kiss him, but it hadn’t gone over well the last time I did that.

  He licked his lips, only increasing my urge to jump on him.

  “I made dinner. I haven’t eaten yet either.” He gestured for me to walk to the kitchen.

  My feet froze at the entrance. He had the table set for two with a salad, and the typically tidy kitchen was immaculate.

  Gage slipped his hand to the small of my back, pressing me forward into the room. “I was hoping you’d say my house. Otherwise this would have gone to waste.”

  I walked to the table, out of his touch, the whirlwinds picking up speed in my gut.

  “I made steak and shrimp, with sweet potatoes and parmesan green beans. I still have to cook the steak, it should only take a couple of minutes.” He pulled containers out of the refrigerator and turned on the center grill of his stove.

  I envied that he had something to do to keep occupied. “Can I help?”

  We prepared the meal together, but the awkwardness returned as we ate. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to avoid any mention of this past weekend, but it wouldn’t leave my thoughts.

  “I got dessert too,” Gage said, lifting his eyebrow enticingly.

  “You made dessert?” I was surprised. This guy was so rigid about his eating, and here we were having steak already; I had thought that was enough of a cheat for him. Especially since he ate a lot, like usual. That man ate healthy, but in large quantities.

  He shook his head, sitting back from his plate. “I didn’t make it. I bought it. Figured, you’re done with your shoot, so you could take a break tonight.”

  I smiled with excitement, no longer interested in the food in front of me. “What is it?”

  He went into the pantry, and came out with two bags of M&M’s. Extending them to me he said, “Ones plain, but the other one's peanut butter. I thought you might like that?” He lifted his shoulders with the question.

  “I do. Thank you.” I bit my bottom lip, trying to subdue the nervous laughter, but my stomach still vibrated with it as I took the bags from him.

  He sat, pulling his chair close, eyes dancing over me with amusement. “It’s not much, but I’m glad it made you smile.”

  I didn’t know what to do with this version of Gage. He was too hesitant and nervous. This dating thing didn’t seem to suite us.

  I opened the bag and offered him some before pouring several into my hand. I ate them one by one, drawing out the time before we had to talk or act.

  By the way he watched me, like I was his dessert, I knew our ‘date’ would be over soon and he’d get to the real reason for having me here.

  His face darkened as his jaw worked. “How many people have you been with?”

  I almost choked on the candy in my mouth, but forced it down, going rigid at his question. “How many have you slept with?” I returned.

  He took a deep breath and nodded, visibly letting go of some of the tension in his body. “Point taken. What I really meant was, there’s no one else now, right? The cop is still out of the picture?”

  I nodded, still trying to subdue my residual anger. “There’s no one else. And what about you?” My mind jumped to his randoms. “Even casually?”

  He stretched his jaw while shaking his head. “Nope. And there won’t be.” His hands traveled over the top of my jean covered thighs, building heat. They moved up my legs until he gripped my hips and shifted me to face him with a quick jerk that sparked a fire. “I want the same promise from you. I can let go of our past, as long as it’s only me now.”

  “As long as we last, it’s only you.” I bit back my smile, afraid to let it go. “And we’ll forget our past?”

  His hand gripped my hip tighter at that, like a warning, and my stomach dipped.

  “Except, I have to know one thing.” He paused, but I didn’t respond, a slow cold fear spreading. He hesitated as he watched me for a reaction. “That,” his eyes flicked to my scar, “was it someone that can still hurt you?”

  I scooted back, out of his touch. Not able to handle it with the thoughts
crashing in my head. I could answer this one question; I had to if I wanted him to drop it. I just had to work up the nerve and figure it out.

  I carefully planned my three words and said them with even more care. But I couldn’t look at him. “No, she died.”

  It was and wasn’t the truth. She was dead, but she still hurt me. All the time.

  He grabbed my hands, leaning into my space again. “Who?” his voice was desperate.

  I closed my eyes, pulling everything back in so when I looked at him I was in control. “You said one question.” I rose to my feet and dropped my eyes over him, slow and heated, making my intentions clear.

  He pulled me into him, a good thing since my feet wouldn’t budge. Letting go of my hands, he slid his to my waist, firm and strong as they circled around me. My body melted under his grip.

  “You won’t pull away this time?” I had to ask.

  The air around us burst as he stood, chair skidding back behind him. His gaze was electric as he looked down at me. “No.”

  Then his lips were on me, inhaling me, hands gripping my hair as he tilted my head back. All too soon his lips left mine, but his eyes were still on fire. “Bedroom, now,” he ordered, pulling me in that direction.

  But he couldn’t make it that far before he was on me again. He pinned me to the wall in the hallway, nibbling my lips and flicking his tongue in my ear, dissolving any of my hesitation.

  He broke away to pull me up the steps, only to pounce again at the top. This time he lifted me, his hands traveling over my body in waves of heat as he walked us the rest of the way to the bedroom. Our kiss was desperate, trying to hold onto lightning.

  I pulled at his shirt, trying to lift it from his body, close to tearing it in my need. He lowered me on the bed, braking his kiss just enough to slip it off.

  His hot lips ran down my neck and his hands slid under my tee, soft on my stomach, making it tighten in a delicious sensation that moved between my legs.

  He tugged at the edge of my shirt, but pulled back, looking at me for approval. I sat up, sliding it off, and then ran my hand over my camisole and shook my head, setting the rules.