“If you win,” she shot back, feeling more comfortable in the back-and-forth banter she was used to exchanging with him.
“Oh, I will. You can count on that.”
“Joe, you’re on deck in five.”
“Gotta go,” he told her. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering for a second longer than necessary. “See you later.”
Her cheek tingled, watching him as he disappeared into the bowels of the locker room. She snapped a few more pictures, then made her way ringside. There, during the lull between matches, she found Ted and his son-in-law in their front row seats.
“Come to join us for Joe’s match?” Dean shouted over the blaring music.
“Yes,” she shouted back. She adjusted her camera, took more shots. “This is fascinating.”
Ted leaned forward so he didn’t have to yell. “Joe’s favored to win.”
“Just saw him. He says he’s ready.”
“Have you watched him box before?”
“No. Honestly, I don’t even know what happens. He wins if he knocks him out?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Ted explained. “The judge will count the power punches and jabs for an overall total punches. Light punches with no force aren’t counted. Then there’s—”
She held up a hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Dean laughed with her. “Melanie doesn’t either, which is why she’s upstairs.” The music ended abruptly as the announcer stepped back into the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, but Taylor barely heard him. Her full attention was on the man waiting to climb into the ring. Joe’s challenger entered first, circled the ring to adoring cheers.
Then the announcer called out “… five-time undefeated Backstoppers champion, Joe Marino …”
Joe stripped off his robe, revealing a red and white sleeveless boxing shirt tucked into his waistband. He’d added it after they’d parted, she assumed. Like a phoenix, he rose the four feet to the climb through the ropes, and as he commanded the ring, Taylor added her screams to those of the audience. The energy was electrifying. He made a circle around the twenty-three-foot square, and she lifted her camera, catching his self-assurance and his predatory prowl. He was primal. Male. Magnificent. Dominant.
The ladies in the audience clearly loved him, and the men respected him, for the crowd chanted “Joe. Joe.” He was their rock star, their beloved champ.
The referee called the boxers into the center of the ring, spoke to them, and then gestured them back to their respective corners. Standing on the area outside the ropes, Joe’s coach gave him last-minute instructions and helped him slide on the red protective headgear. Then Joe was on his feet and the bell rang. As the two men crossed the canvas, Taylor held her breath.
She knew none of the mechanics, couldn’t tell an uppercut from a jab, but as Joe and his challenger engaged, the type of moves became irrelevant. Joe was the red Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robot. He landed punch after punch in a fury, and from the seats on the floor she could hear every swack and flapp as the gloves connected with skin or the protective headgear. To her, three minutes seemed to fly.
The bell rang and Joe headed back to the corner, where he sat on his stool.
“He won that round,” Dean said.
“Yes,” Ted confirmed.
Habit had her lifting her camera and shooting nonstop as coaches wiped sweat while Joe took a quick drink. His trainer retied his hair, the one-minute break almost over.
“Boxing is all about leg strength,” Ted told her. “To train, they run, they do sit-ups.”
“He does marathons.”
No wonder why Joe loved this sport. His burned legs might appear weak, but they were his key to victory.
“I did a few fights in my days. Back before the real world intruded and I gave it up after college. Your legs allow you to be grounded. Power comes up from the ground.”
Power comes from the ground. Taylor could see how Joe would need that, how he’d determined to be strong so he could save others as he hadn’t saved his sister.
A woman in a sequined dress and high heels paraded around the ring carrying a Round Two sign. The bell sounded as she left the ring.
Taylor adjusted the zoom, allowing her to focus close on Joe’s face. His gaze rested on his opponent, nothing else mattered. The intensity overpowered her, and Taylor shivered. Then she pressed the shutter, tracking his movements as he landed the first punch; she shot through the entire three-minute round, which Joe won as well. Muscles bulged, sweat gleamed. He hadn’t tired, but she could tell he’d faded somewhat. So had his opponent. The bell sounded.
“One more,” Ted said. “He’s doing great. Unless he gets knocked out, he should win this easily. Getting good pictures?”
“Yes. Thank you so much for arranging this.”
Ted smiled. He was a genuine, down-to-earth guy. “Glad I could help. He seems like a good man.”
“He is.”
The bell again sounded, beginning the final round and the last three minutes. There seemed to be a renewed energy, as if every second meant avoiding sudden death. Then the opponent landed a deadly combination, and Joe staggered back. Almost fell.
The crowd, sensing something, jumped to its feet. Ted placed his arm on Taylor’s. “He’ll be fine. He just lost some points, that’s all. He’s a beast.”
Joe deflected the next set of blows and found his inner monster. The machine inside began a series of uppercut shots that had the challenger falling back. “See? He’s back.”
Sensing the advantage, Joe kept pummeling. The cheers around Taylor grew louder, and Joe never let up. She checked her immediate response which was “Shouldn’t he stop? The guy is about to go down.” The level of intensity frightened her, yet at the same time called to something deep in her biology. Here was a defender, someone who protected those he loved and fought for justice and absolution.
After watching him fight, she’d never desired anyone so much.
The bell rang, and within seconds the two men stood on either side of the referee, who took Joe’s hand and thrust it high into the air. He’d won.
Joe stood there, as the crowd screamed and cheered for his win. Then as the ref let him go, he took off his headgear, and arm muscles bulged as he held his arms down out from his sides, palms up, the muscles in his neck tightening and his eyes turning to slits as he opened his mouth to let out a primal scream, one Taylor captured. The emotions, so like Michael Phelps at the 2008 Olympics, went on for a few seconds before he pumped his fist into the air and seemed to float out of the ring.
As he disappeared from view, she headed back up the escalators to the suite. “Did you see that?” Marci asked when Taylor found her. “Your Joe was incredible.”
“He’s not my Joe.”
“Well, then I want him to be my Joe, as did probably every woman in this place. He’s smokin’.”
“Hands off.”
“Now the claws come out.” Marci laughed. “Meow. You know you want him.”
Taylor did. She sat in one of the comfortable chairs, scrolled through her images as Marci went off to the bar for another beer. The camera couldn’t capture the true essence of the man, but it had come dangerously close. As Marci returned, Taylor tucked the camera away in her bag. She wasn’t sure if tonight had made her a boxing fan, but it had shown Joe in another new light. She desired a man with too many dimensions to count.
Her phone beeped another text, from an unknown number. “Please stop blocking me. I just need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Owen.”
She deleted the text and blocked the new number, although really, she knew that wouldn’t do anything. Owen could be extremely persistent.
“Oh Taylor, good, you’re back,” Virginia said. “I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. Ginger wants her family’s portraits done, and I told her she must use you.”
Taylor stood. “I’d be happy to help.”
Virginia motioned. “Then follow me.”
/> * * *
“Great job tonight, Joe,” his trainer Hugh said as Joe exited the shower cubby clean and dressed in slacks and a red mesh polo. “The streak continues.”
Joe rolled his shoulder. Tomorrow he’d have a few bruises, but nothing he couldn’t handle. “He almost got me. That’s never happened.”
“I’ll review the tape and figure out what went wrong.”
“Thanks.” Although Joe already knew the answer. The periphery of his vision had seen Taylor and her camera. One millisecond, but it had been enough. She’d been on the floor for his fight, and his body had forgotten the fight and instead wanted something else.
He’d paid for it by failing to block a fast combination to the head. Speaking of, he squinted his eyes a few times, trying to rid himself of the headache that the two naproxen he’d ingested upon leaving the ring hadn’t yet cured.
“See you in the gym Monday?” Hugh asked.
“Tuesday. I work tomorrow and Monday.”
“Let’s hope it’s a light shift.”
“That would be ideal.” Joe rolled the other shoulder, stretching it out. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
His trainer gave him a pat on the back. “None of us are. See you. And again, great job.”
“Thanks.” Joe chatted with a few of his fellow competitors and then headed up to the suite.
Taylor was in conversation, but as soon as she saw him, she broke off and beelined over. “Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
He took a step toward the bar, but Taylor pressed a hand on his arm. He stopped. Gazed at her. “Can we get out of here?” she asked.
“Sure.” He didn’t need to socialize. Usually after a fight he’d head home. “We can go whenever, wherever you’d like.”
Taylor glanced over her shoulder. Joe saw the woman who’d been at the photo shoot in conversation with some guy. “Damn. I drove Marci and—”
Joe nodded. “It’s okay. No worries.” Her hand never left his arm.
“Give me a minute.”
As she moved away, he retrieved a soda from the bar and watched her speak with her friend. Then she was back, purse in hand. “Marci says Thad will give her a ride home.”
“Thad?”
Taylor led the way out of the suite. “He’s the son of someone here. In medical school at Wash U. I try not to judge. She’s a big girl. So you don’t want to stay around?”
Joe shook his head as they made their way down the escalators to the exit. “No. I normally go home, or to my parents’, and get some food and …”
They’d reached the ground level. She turned to him. “What? I didn’t catch that last part.”
Only a few people lingered in the area by the box office, most inside cheering the current bout. He pulled her to him, inhaling the floral of her shampoo. “You smell so good.”
Her hands were flat on his chest.
“Come home with me.”
“Joe, I …”
He could see in her eyes she wanted the same thing. “You drive me crazy. To distraction.” Admitting the truth didn’t lift a burden.
“I did get you hit.” She reached up to touch his chin and he winced. “Sorry.”
“Lost concentration for a split second, yes,” he admitted. “My own damn fault.”
“Still.” Her hands kept checking his injuries.
Joe looked at her and knew he was lost. She was touching him and driving him crazy. He couldn’t go multiple rounds with her. Couldn’t put her safely in a box. “I can’t fight this—us—anymore.”
“Then take me home,” she whispered, and Joe couldn’t say no. Didn’t want to.
Because she was in flats, he leaned down to kiss her. His mouth wasn’t gentle as he found hers, for his need had consumed him. He kissed past her lips, thrusting his tongue so he could taste her mouth, so he could fully possess her. He deepened the kiss until she made that soft little kittenish cry. He pulled back, stared into her eyes. He was hard as a rock.
“Yes,” she breathed. “My mom came home today so I don’t have to take care of the cats.”
He grabbed her hand. Led her out to the parking lot. “Where are you?”
“Over there. You?” Her chest heaved, and as they reached the car Joe pressed her up against her car door and kissed her senseless again. His hand found her breast, kneaded through the fabric. He’d take her right here but she deserved much more, and he wanted to take his time. Wanted to lose control for once. Wanted to trust that this time would be different. That she was different.
“Wait here until I bring my truck around. You can follow me. I live in St. Louis Hills. It’s not far.”
She appeared dazed as he helped her into the car. Good. He wanted her as affected as he was. “Hold that thought and I’ll see you in a few.”
The kiss stayed with Taylor the fifteen minutes it took her to drive to a four-family apartment building on the South Side. She parked behind the building, next to his pickup.
Few lights were on, which meant Elaina was probably out. Good, Joe thought as he led Taylor upstairs. He’d be off to work tomorrow before Elaina could question him about the strange car next to his.
Joe unlocked the door and tossed his keys into their spot. He closed the door, twirled Taylor, and pressed her up against it, his hands immediately finding her breasts, and his lips her mouth.
She moaned immediately. “Good,” he mumbled, his fingers reaching for her hem so he could pull up her shirt and slide his hands over the bare skin of her stomach. “Oh God yes.”
He slipped under the bra, pebbled her nipple. “So perfect.”
“Last time we were in this position you made me …” she breathlessly told him, her words hardening him further.
“Well, you’ll come a lot tonight,” he promised.
“I thought you needed food.”
“I do.” He exposed her breasts and lowered his mouth to a peak, licked his tongue over it. “But real food can wait. I want to taste you.”
As he drew her nipple into her mouth, she trembled and went “oooh.” He throbbed, so hard it hurt more than the blows he’d taken tonight.
Brutus rubbed against his legs and then, not getting attention, bit him. “Hey.”
Joe drew back, used his leg to push the cat aside. Taylor stood pressed up against his doorway, mouth swollen and clothing bunched. Her half-lidded eyes opened. “You have a cat.”
“That monster right there. Brutus. Bad cat.” Brutus simply licked an orange paw.
“He’s sweet.” She pulled her shirt down. “A good break. Let’s get you some food.”
“I liked what I was eating,” he grumbled.
“It can wait until after you eat. Are you planning on stopping and running me off?”
He thought of his scarred skin. Manned up. “No. That was a mistake. Told you, I’ve been making a lot of them. But not tonight.”
“Then let’s eat. What do you have in this place?”
The kitchen was in the middle, with his bedroom behind. She pulled open the refrigerator door. “Is this roast beef good?”
“Yes. Bought it two days ago.”
“Perfect.” She grabbed that, some cheese, mayo, and the loaf of bread he also kept in the icebox. Then she made them both sandwiches.
“You know your way around a kitchen.” His turn to open the refrigerator door, and he pulled out two bottles of beer. He held one up, and she took it.
“Thanks.” She twisted the top off and took a swig. “I raid my mom’s so much that I’ve become a professional forager. I couldn’t believe she took extra days on me.”
“But she’s back now,” Joe said, between big bites.
“Yes. I’d missed my apartment. It’s not much, but it’s mine. My first real space that’s just mine, you know?”
“I’ve been here years. It’s small, but all I really need.”
“I noticed you had a very big TV.”
He grinned. “A guy has to have some vices. I like movies. I don’t
even have cable, just Netflix. Really, that’s all I need.”
“So you’re a simple man.”
“Maybe?” He wasn’t sure what she meant. She tore some of the roast beef from her sandwich and dropped it on the ground for the cat. “He’s a monster.”
Brutus put two paws on her leg and stood up on hind legs to ask for more. Taylor gave him another morsel and then shooed him away. “He’s a good boy. Like his owner.”
“Honey, there’s nothing good about me. Except maybe what I’m going to do to you in a few minutes. Although, actually, that’s going to be great.”
“Promises, promises.” She winked at him, making him hard again. “We will see.”
He swallowed the last bit of his food, so ready for her. He reached across the small table and toyed with the fingers on her free hand. “You should know something. About me.” He hesitated. “For when we get naked. For we are getting naked.” He emphasized the last word.
Taylor’s plate was empty. “I already know.”
He frowned, stunned. “Know what?”
She steadily held his gaze. “Why you wear those long socks that hide your legs.”
He thumped against the chair back, breaking their connection. “Susie. She has a big mouth.”
“She told me your own burns are why the book is so important to you, that’s all. Now it all makes sense.”
His need to make love to her warred with self-preservation. “She shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t her place.”
“Joe.” Taylor leaned so she could grab his hand in hers. She squeezed. “You are more than your skin. I don’t have sex with people based on how they look. It’s the person inside. You matter. Hell, you’ll only be the third person ever.”
Warmth traveled from her touch. She didn’t let him go, but rose to her feet and tugged him after her. He followed. “I’m glad she told me, because if you stop because you’ve got cold feet, I am going to be very unhappy. And you don’t want me unhappy, do you? Not when you promised to make me happy?”
No, Joe didn’t want that. He wanted her writhing under him as he plunged into her. He wanted her to be different, as he already believed her to be. “Let’s make you happy.”
Burning for You Page 13