Full Contact

by Sarah Castille

  He tenses when I near his buckle and gives a strangled grunt. “S’good.”

  My gaze drifts below his belt, to the bulge in his jeans. He is fully erect, his shaft straining against his fly. A naughty thrill of excitement shoots through my veins. He’s aroused because of me.

  “Um…do you want to take a break before I apply the stencil?”

  He shakes his head, then leans forward and sweeps his hand through my hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers. A sigh escapes my lips as delicious sensations sweep through my body. I am on fire. And although I’ve been with men before, I’ve never been immobilized by a single touch.

  “So soft.” He runs his hand over my hair again, this time trailing his fingers along my shoulder. His thumb glides over my throat and he curls his hand around my neck. “So fucking delicate.”

  I am burning. Consumed by fire. A burst of need drives a whimper up my throat, and I choke it back as his thumb circles the sensitive hollow at the base of my neck. Firm. Unyielding. Dominant. With one squeeze, he could break me. The way I was broken before. The way he broke the butterfly. And yet nothing could tear me away from this moment.

  “Sia.” He says my name softly, drawing out the last syllable in a gravelly murmur, almost like a prayer.

  My brain fuzzes with lust, and I surrender to the thrill of his touch, the pounding of my pulse in my veins, the desire that has haunted me since I first saw him in the ring. My head falls back, my lips part, and I drown in the depths of an azure sea.

  With a low groan, Ray turns sideways in the chair, dropping his legs to the floor. With his hand still cupped around my neck, he pulls me between his legs, the casters on my stool squeaking in gentle protest. I circle my arms around his neck and my breasts rub against his bare chest. The press of his erection against my stomach sends a rush of moisture to my sex.

  “Jesus Christ.” His voice drops husky and low. “You’re killing me.”

  He leans down and sweeps my hair behind my shoulder, then nuzzles my neck. Sensation sears through my body and I tilt my head to the side to give him better access. So unprofessional. What if Slim comes out? Overcome with the fulfillment of a year’s worth of longing, I can’t bring myself to care.

  He feathers kisses over my cheek and I lick my lips in anticipation. This is really happening. He’s going to kiss me again. A real hands-on-the-body Predator kiss.

  A bell tinkles behind me. Damn front door. Damn customers who come after hours. I’m not turning around. I want my kiss.

  Ray glances up and stiffens. “Holy shit.”

  Chapter 6

  I have never really, truly been kissed

  Poised, breathless, on the cusp of the fulfillment of a yearlong fantasy, I half turn to see who is behind us. But before I get a glimpse at the door, Ray launches himself forward, taking me to the ground with a painful crash.

  “What the…?”

  “Down.” He presses me against the cold floor, covering me with his body. I strain my neck to see, but my vision is blocked by the couch on the other side of Duncan’s chair, beside us.

  A crack. And another. Mortar crumbles from the wall behind us. Gunshots? My heart goes into overdrive as Ray pulls a gun from a holster around his ankle.

  Ray has a gun.

  “Who are they?” My voice is barely a whisper. “What do they want?”

  Ray puts his finger to his lips as shots ring out around us. A jar shatters. Foam explodes upward from a chair. I tremble so hard I am sure they can hear the chatter of my teeth.

  “What’s going on?” Slim appears in the doorway to the back room, and Ray motions him away. But he’s too late. Two shots crack the stillness and Slim goes down.

  “No.” I try to push Ray away so I can get to Slim. But Ray drops his weight, holding me still.

  “Stay down. Don’t know who they are or what they want, but they don’t seem to care who they kill. You’re going out the rear exit. Crawl or slide on your belly. Stay under the chairs until you get to that couch at the back. When you need to cross the floor, I’ll cover you. Once you’re out, call for help.”

  “I’ll call Tag.”

  Bullets ring out around us. A mirror shatters. “911,” says Ray. “Then Tag.”

  “Tag. I need Tag.”

  His voice drops, calm and even. “911. Then Tag. If he can’t get here in five minutes, that call will kill him, and Slim needs medical attention.”

  “What about you?”

  “Gotta stay with Slim. I’ll meet you out back. Go.”

  My mom didn’t raise any fools. Heart pumping, I slither under the chairs, staying close to the wall and under the ledge. When I reach the couch, Ray gestures me forward, then jumps up and shoots over the couch. Gritting my teeth, I crawl toward the door leading to the private ink rooms, staff room, and supply room out back. Thankfully, Slim has fallen back into the hallway, out of the line of fire. The soldier is with him, holding a wadded cloth to his shoulder.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “If we can get an ambulance here right away. You got a phone? I left mine in the treatment room and he needs pressure on the wound.”

  “Yeah.” My voice wavers. “In my pocket.”

  His face softens. “It’s gonna be okay. Took a quick look when the shooting started and the guy out there knows what he’s doing. He’ll keep us covered until the police get here. You get out. Call 911. I’ll stay with Slim.”

  After a moment of hesitation, I give Slim a kiss on the cheek, then race down the hallway and out the back door. Leaning against a Dumpster, I pull my phone from my pocket and call 911. Then I call Tag.

  His anguished cry almost breaks my heart. He is at least half an hour away. But Ray was right. He maintains his sanity only because I’ve told him I’ve already called 911.

  Too afraid to leave the alley in case the shooters are still out front, I curl up beside the Dumpster, my nose wrinkling at the pungent odor of stale piss and rotting garbage. My heart continues to pound and I take deep, calming breaths as the wail of sirens grows louder and louder. Tires screech. Doors slam. Voices. Shouting.

  “Sia.” Ray rounds the corner from the alley leading to the street and runs toward me. Relief crashes over me and I shoot up from my hiding spot. Before I can stop myself, I’m in his arms.

  For a long moment, we hold each other. Alone and out of sight. His warmth soaks into me, his arms tighten around me, and I breathe in his scent of sweat and soap, and the essence of him as he engulfs me with his body. The world fades away and we are completely still, connected, breathing together, our hearts pounding together. Despite the shouts and sirens, the barking of what must be a police dog, I feel safe—completely and utterly safe, in a way I have not felt since that terrible night when I went to a party Tag had warned me not to attend.

  Finally, I manage to tilt my head back. Ray is watching me, his gaze intense, his face tight with an emotion I can’t identify.

  “Sia.” My name comes out with the breath that releases the tension in his body. “You’re safe.”

  Whether his words are meant as an assurance to me or to him, I don’t know, but his stillness moves me. Ray is a man always in motion, like the Predator for which he was named.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nods. “Hit one of them in the leg, but they got away. Medics are looking after Slim. He’ll be fine. Bullet just grazed his shoulder, and he hit his head going down.”

  “Did you see who they were?”

  “Street gang. Nasty one. I recognized the colors and tattoos. Don’t think they were there to kill anyone, just give a warning by shooting up the shop. Slim got in the way.” His jaw tightens. “Someone in the shop must have done something to piss them off pretty bad.”

  “Jay, one of our senior artists. He left Slim a message saying he had to lie low and couldn’t come to work. I didn’t really take it seriously, but Rose did. She said he’d even inked some of them.”

  Ray scowls. “Anything to do with the street gang
s is serious. Bastard should have known better than to let them know where he worked. Put you in danger. Next time I see him, I’ll give him an ass kicking he’ll never forget.”

  His ferocity makes me smile. “Will he be able to work after you’re done?”

  “You want him to work?” His voice softens.

  “Yeah. I’m not really into revenge.”

  “What are you into?” His gaze drops to my lips, and I am suddenly and painfully aware of his body pressed tightly against mine, his arms around me, and his heartbeat quickening, as if it’s oblivious to the fact the danger has passed. I’ve never been this close to him, never seen his eyes so dark, never imagined I would feel the power thrumming through his body. Because aren’t predators supposed to kill?

  Unspent adrenaline screams through my veins, turning my legs liquid. I ache with a desire I shouldn’t feel. A painful, desperate hunger for a man I should not want—a man whose violent nature both arouses and frightens me.

  “Ray…” His name is a whispered plea on my lips.

  He threads his hand through my hair, tugging my head back so hard my eyes tear, but I have never felt such pleasure in pain.

  “Christ. I’m barely in control as it is.”

  A soft moan escapes my lips. I am hot—so hot, I might combust—and before I can stop myself, I rock up, thread my hands through his hair, and touch my lips to his in a gentle kiss.

  Ray stiffens and growls, the sound vibrating through my chest. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips to explore every inch of my mouth. My heart speeds to double time, but it is the way he holds me still—one hand tangled in my hair, his other hand firm around my back—that sends a wave of liquid heat through my veins. His lips are firm and demanding, forcing my mouth open as his tongue plunges deeper, stroking me into oblivion. Possessive. Demanding. Unyielding. A Predator’s kiss.

  Sliding my hands over his magnificent chest, taut and hard, and then along his broad shoulders, I drink him in with a never-ending thirst. Hot and hungry, my tongue tangles with his, questing, seeking, wanting more as I grind my hips against his thigh in an entirely uncharacteristic display of need.

  My actions inflame him. In one smooth movement, he spins us and backs me into the cold, brick wall. His arm tightens so hard I can barely breathe. And then he ravages my mouth, his tongue questing deep, as if he has lost control and the beast within will settle for nothing less than devouring me.

  I have never really, truly been kissed.

  Until now.

  I feel him with every inch of my skin, every breath I take. My breasts ache for his touch, my clit throbs for his attention, and my heart pounds in warning.

  But when I moan into his mouth, he tenses and pulls away. “Condition I’m in now…it’s like after a fight…I got no gentleness in me.”

  Bloodlust. The aftereffect of a fight. The edge of control. Tag told me about it, warned me to stay away from fighters immediately after a fight. But I have watched Ray for so long, lusted after him for so many nights, imagined I was the one in the ring pinned to the mat, I do the unthinkable and lean up and nip his lip. Hard.

  “I don’t want gentle.” I’ve had years of gentle. Years of being treated like a piece of glass. Years of men who held my hand and wept with me when I told them about my past because they couldn’t believe anyone would be capable of inflicting such pain. Years of wondering if my heart never pounded when I was with them because I wasn’t capable of being loved or giving love in return. Ray is the opposite of gentle. He is the opposite of all the men I have been with. Dominant. In control. He is everything I fear and everything I have secretly desired.

  “Fuck.” He yanks my head to the side, exposing my throat to the heated slide of his lips. My blood turns to molten lava, burning hot through my veins, but when he grasps my hands and pins them tight over my head, clasping my wrists easily in his broad palm, the lava erupts in a high-pitched shriek.

  Startled, Ray drops my hands and takes a step back. “Did I hurt you?”

  Damn. Damn. Damn post-traumatic stress disorder. Damn psychological triggers. Damn therapists who can’t make them go way. Damn Luke for putting them there.

  Stuttering and stammering, I manage to get out a few words. “I…no. Just…like my hands to be free.”

  He studies me for long time, as if he knows I’m not telling him everything and then he takes another step back. “This wasn’t a good idea. Especially now. When I can’t pull it back.”

  I draw in a ragged breath, my arousal a living beast inside me, desperate, hungry, and howling at the possibility of being denied. “But…you didn’t hurt me.”

  “Don’t know what I was thinking,” he says, half to himself. “When I thought you were in danger, and then you were okay…” He scrapes his hand through his hair. “Fuck…just…lost it. You’re a sweet girl. This was a mistake.”

  Sweet? With my tats and leather pants? Doc Martens and pink-streaked hair? Broken isn’t sweet, but he must sense I’m not normal because he’s walking away. Normal girls don’t shriek when mouthwatering, hot, sexy fighters hold their hands above their heads the way they fantasize about almost every night.

  Maybe I should tell him it’s just a quirk and I’m not looking for a relationship or even a date. Just one time. Here. Now. Him. But clearly it isn’t meant to be.

  “Sia.” Tag rounds the corner and jogs up the alley toward me, stopping when he meets up with Ray.

  “Don’t know how I can ever thank you for looking out for my sis. The guys outside told me what you did. If you hadn’t been there…” Tag chokes up and gives Ray a manly thump on the shoulder. Ray nods.

  “Gotta go give a statement.” He turns the corner. And then he’s gone.

  * * *

  An hour later, I am sitting in Tag’s squad car with a blanket wrapped around me and a coffee in my hand. Ray is nowhere in sight. Tag hovers.

  “You need anything?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Water? More coffee? Another blanket? You want me to sit with you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? I want to go find out what’s going on, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  I wave my hand generally around the area. “There are about twenty cops here. Nothing is going to happen to me, and I’m not allowed to go until the officer in charge has gone through my statement. Go get the scoop. I’ll be right here.”

  After Tag leaves, I try not to think about what possessed me to come on to Ray and how I so obviously misread the signs he was giving me. Sure, he kissed me, but maybe it was post-shooting bloodlust, or he was just riding the adrenaline high. Clearly I took advantage of Ray in his “weakened” state, and as he came around, he realized he didn’t want me, and gentleman that he is, he backed off.

  For the fourth time that evening, I call Jess. I tell her my new theory as I pace back and forth beside the police car. She tells me she’s never heard a bigger load of BS in her life. Maybe he didn’t want to fuck his teammate’s sister in a dirty back alley with a load of cops out front after he almost just got killed saving her. Did I consider that?

  I tell her no, I didn’t consider that. But what man in the throes of bloodlust turns down a sure thing just because she shrieks in terror because he tried to pin her arms above her head?

  Ray, she says. ’Cause he’s a nice guy. But I don’t believe her. I’ve seen him in the ring. Tag has warned me about him. He has a gun. Maybe the rumors are true and he’s in the CIA. Although he doesn’t dress like the feds dress on TV. And why would he be moonlighting as a PI and fighting on the underground circuit? Not that I know anything about the CIA, but I do know my crime TV. I also know “nice” is not a word that fits Ray. He’s badass bad. And badasses fuck in a badass way. I know, because I’ve just had a little taste.

  Tag returns about twenty minutes later. I lean against the vehicle and he gives me a lecture about the dangers of working in the Lower Haight and associating with people like Jay, whom he confi
rms is indeed marked by one of the more vicious local street gangs. On a roll, he lectures about the dangers of driving at night, going to underground fights, and taking too many risks.

  While he rants, I am struck with the realization that I won’t be going to any more underground fights. No more watching the Predator from the shadows. No more cheering crowds, fists slamming into flesh, power unleashed. My fantasy came true, and it was nothing like I had imagined. It was better. And then it was gone.

  “You’re not listening.” Tag’s irritated voice cuts through my reverie.

  “I’ve heard it all before. I understand how you must feel. But it’s not my fault that I happened to be at the shop when that gang came looking for Jay. And it was a good thing Ray was there. He had a gun.”

  He rakes his hand over his fuzzy head and his jaw tightens. “Yeah, he did.”

  “Why?”

  Tag shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  “Is he still here?” Not that I want to see him, but I do.

  “No, he took off. Asked me to say good-bye. I hope you’re not seeing him. I told you before, he’s not the right kind of guy for you.”

  I slump against the vehicle and sigh. “No, I won’t be seeing him again. He came in for a tat, but I have a feeling he won’t be back.”

  Tag’s eyes widen. “I thought you’d start screaming at me about interfering in your life. I know you like him and—”

  “He isn’t my kind of guy, and I’m not his kind of girl.”

  “If you say so.” He pulls open the passenger door. “You can ride up front today.”

  “Gee thanks. No treating me like a criminal today. I feel honored.” I pull my door closed and fasten my seat belt while he climbs into the driver’s seat beside me.

  “Can I stay at your place tonight? I don’t feel like being alone.”