Against the Ropes

by Sarah Castille

  jewelry I have ever worn. “Max, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to.”

  The audience claps and cheers. Max spins me around to face

  them and slides an arm around my waist. “Are you ready for the big

  time, baby?”

  By the time the paparazzi are done taking pictures, I can no longer

  see. Max leads me off the stage and into a luxurious side room with a

  working fireplace, silk tapestries, and carved wood ceilings. We sit on a

  red upholstered sofa built for two, and I stare at the fire and try to blink

  the spots from my eyes.

  “I see you managed to get an invitation.”

  Max runs his hand up and down my bare back sending tiny shivers

  of need darting through my veins. “When I saw that picture I had to

  come. I would have stormed the castle if Colton had not managed to

  get me on the list.”

  I touch the necklace. “I’m glad you did. Seeing you walk through

  the crowd was magical. You took my breath away. It’s a moment I’ll

  never forget.”

  “I aim to please.”

  “And please you do,” I whisper.

  With the worst possible timing in the universe, Dr. Drake appears

  in the doorway. “Mac, we need you on stage. The bidding is cooling off.

  You’ve got to get out there and heat things up again.”

  Max bristles. “No.”

  “Huntington.” Dr. Drake walks toward him and holds out his

  hand. “We meet again. I want to thank you for your contribution. It

  will help us purchase equipment that will save many lives, and I’m sure

  Mac will be an entertaining dinner companion.”

  He turns to me and gives me a wink. “Hopefully you can repeat the

  performance for the benefit of Geriatrics.”

  “No.” Max’s voice deepens and he rises to his feet. “She’s not going

  back on that stage.”

  Dr. Drake’s smile fades. “No?”

  I tug on his sleeve. “It’s for charity.”

  “I said no.” Max folds his arms. The sleeves of his tux strain under

  the bulge of his flexed biceps.

  Dr. Drake raises an eyebrow. “I believe it is Mac’s decision. I might

  also point out this is a work function and she’s being paid to do a job.”

  “I want to help.” I stand up and put my hand on Max’s arm. “It

  won’t take long, and I promise not to offer any dinner dates.”

  “There you go,” Dr. Drake smiles. “She wants to help.” He puts

  his hand on my bare back and takes a step forward, leading me toward

  the door.

  “Take your hands off her.”

  Dr. Drake freezes. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.” Max grasps my arm and pulls me toward him.

  I stumble sideways and trip on the hem of my dress. Dr. Drake’s arm

  snakes around my waist and he catches me before I fall.

  Max yanks me out of Dr. Drake’s arms.

  “Enough. This isn’t a tug of war.” I twist in his arms but he hugs

  me to his chest like a child protecting a toy.

  “I believe Miss Delaney would like you to release her.” Dr. Drake’s

  voice is calm and even—a decided contrast to the low, threatening

  rumble emanating from Max’s chest.

  “And I believe if you have any sense of self-preservation, you will

  walk out that door and find someone else to help with the auction.”

  “You are overreacting.” I rest my cheek against his twitching pecs.

  He smells divine. His cologne is fresh, spicy, and oh so masculine. His

  body vibrates with the rumble of his voice. He is in full protective mode

  and it fires my blood. But I can’t let him interfere with my work.

  “Are you threatening me, Huntington?” Dr. Drake gives Max an

  assessing look. “I’ll have you know I was a two-time NCAA champion

  wrestler in college. I gave up on a professional career to become a doctor,

  but I still practice daily in the hospital gym. He air boxes his shadow,

  giving it a one-two punch. You want to step outside?”

  “No.” I look from Dr. Drake to Max and back again. “I won’t

  allow it.”

  “I wanted to step outside with you a long time ago, Drake,” Max

  says ignoring me. “You can’t seem to keep your hands off my girl.”

  “Is she your girl?” Dr. Drake asks in a cool voice.

  “Are you my girl?” Max’s voice drops to a low murmur, and he

  brushes his lips over my hair.

  “Yours,” I whisper.

  Max gives a self-satisfied grunt and tightens his arm around me.

  “She’s mine. She says so.”

  “That doesn’t mean obeys Max’s every whim,” I add. “I’m going to

  do my job and help with the auction. You can glower by the stage and

  growl at anyone who dares breathe in my direction.”

  Dr. Drake chortles. “Looks like she might be too much for you to

  handle, Huntington. Maybe she needs a real man.”

  Max’s body tightens and I slide my arms around his chest. “Don’t—”

  “Redemption,” Max bites out. “MMA club in Ghost Town.

  Tonight after the auction.”

  Dr. Drake’s eyes flash and he grins. “I’ll be there. And lucky for

  you, after your defeat, when you’re moaning in a pool of your own

  contrition, I will be morally obligated to tend to your injuries.”

  He extends his hand and he and Max shake.

  “After the auction,” Max snaps, “and you don’t touch my girl again.”

  “After the auction. And I will if she wants.”

  Chapter 15

  You Know the Rules Of the Ring

  The auction is a roaring success. I walk the catwalk four more times,

  and my hearts raise another two hundred thousand dollars. Max escorts

  me on and off the stage. During the breaks, he even keeps Charlie away

  with his folded arms and menacing stare. I am forced to entertain myself

  by playing spot Big Doris as she swans around the room in her flores-

  cent green suit.

  After the auction ends, the floor is cleared for dancing. I catch

  Charlie planting a smooch on Big Doris in the corner. Big Doris doesn’t

  look pleased. She slaps him across the face. Good thing we’re in a room

  full of medical professionals.

  “Lighten up,” I say, after Max chases away an eighty-something-

  year-old man in a wheelchair.

  “If you want me to lighten up then put on my jacket,” he snaps. “I

  know what these men are thinking, and I don’t want them thinking it

  about you.”

  “If I wear your jacket, will you dance with me?” Although I have

  doubts about the kind of music the band is going to play for the primar-

  ily post-sixties crowd, I never miss an opportunity to dance.

  Max gives me a curt nod and slides his jacket off. He holds it for

  me and I slip my arms inside. The warm, silk lining glides over my skin,

  and I close my eyes and revel at the delicious sensation of being totally

  enveloped in Max.

  We hit the dance floor and the band launches into an upbeat, old-

  time jazz tune. Max takes my hand and we shuffle a slow circle under a

  potted palm. He hums along to the song, his face soft and relaxed. A smile

  tugs at the corners of my lips. I’ve never seen him really enjoy himself.

  “What is this song?”

 
; “Nina Simone’s ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me’.”

  “Of course it is,” I grin. “And you had nothing to do with the fact

  they decided to play it right here right now.”

  The band segues into something soft and sultry. Max pulls me into

  his arms. He slides one hand under the jacket and caresses my back. His

  other hand intertwines with mine, and he holds them pressed against

  his chest. So damn sexy.

  The beat slows, and I press my cheek to the smooth cotton of his

  shirt. “What’s this one?”

  “‘Listen to Me’ by Buddy Holly.”

  I snort a laugh. “How much did you pay them?”

  Max chuckles and spins me around the dance floor. His hand mas-

  sages its way up my bare back with firm, gentle strokes. My muscles

  relax into his warm caress, until his questing fingers dive into the side of

  my dress to fondle the curve of my breast. I stiffen in his arms.

  “Bad Max. I’m wearing the jacket to assuage your overly jealous

  nature, not so you can surreptitiously feel me up.”

  “You can’t show me something all night, baby, and not expect I’ll

  want to touch.” His fingers slide farther into my dress, and brush over

  my nipple. I gasp and try to pull away.

  Max holds me tight and leans down, covering my mouth with his own,

  drowning my moan of displeasure. Or is it pleasure? I can’t tell. His lips

  move, easing mine apart, and he kisses me, deep and tender. “Shhh, baby.”

  “I’ll shhh when you stop being naughty.”

  “Can’t. You’re wearing a naughty dress. All I can think about is

  getting inside it.” To emphasize his point, he slides his hand down my

  back and inside my dress to cup my bottom. He gives my ass cheek a

  squeeze and runs his finger along the inside of my thong before giving

  it a tug. “Don’t need this.”

  “I do need it. I am not going commando at a swanky party.”

  “You won’t be wearing it by the end of the night,” he rasps in my ear.

  “I promise you that.” He squashes my hips against him and his arousal

  presses into my belly, sending tiny shivers of need down my spine.

  The band plays yet another old tune, and Max easily catches the

  beat. The music is not as bad as I thought, especially with Max caressing

  me into a frenzy of lust under his jacket.

  He croons along with Sinatra, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

  My body thrums with desire and the anticipation of unfulfilled need.

  “You’re in the mood for fighting,” I correct him, when he pauses to

  take a break after the famous first line. “You’ve decided to throw away

  the opportunity to get Makayla out of her dress so you can indulge in a

  late-night pissing contest with Doctor Drake. I have to work tomorrow.

  There’ll be no loving for you.”

  “Sassy girl. It works both ways. Do you really want to spend the

  night alone?” He feathers kisses along my jaw. I roll my eyes and pretend

  flames of need are not licking through my body.

  “I have a Rabbit.”

  Max freezes and thrusts me away from him, eyes wide. “What did

  you just say?”

  What did I just say? I take a little trip down memory lane. I do not

  like where I arrive. My hand whips over my mouth. NO. I did NOT

  just say that. Please, please, please let it not be true.

  Max’s eyelids lower to half-mast and he licks his lips. “We’ll go to

  Redemption. I’ll deal with Drake. Then we’ll go to your place and play

  with your Rabbit.”

  I did say it. “Uhhhhgh.” My voice catches in my throat. “I don’t…

  you know—”

  “You do now.” His voice is warm, rich and filled with promise.

  “Can’t you just forget about Doctor Drake?” I murmur. “We could

  go to my place—”

  “He challenged me. I don’t turn down a challenge. This is who I

  am, baby. I’m a fighter.”

  I stroke my hand along his jaw, trying to ease his tension. “It isn’t

  who you are. You are so much more. I don’t want you to fight with him.

  Please. Just walk away. Come home with me.”

  He shakes his head and draws my hand away. “Don’t do this. Don’t

  ask me to choose.”

  My heart sinks, weighted down by his unspoken words. If forced to

  choose, he won’t choose me.

  An hour later, I huddle in the backseat of the limo outside Redemption.

  Despite Max’s best efforts, I refuse to go inside. If not for the fact it is

  impossible to get a cab at this time of night, I would not even be here.

  Lewis turns around and holds up a flask. I shake my head. I might

  be patching up two morons tonight. I’ll need a clear head to treat them,

  and my wits about me to scold them.

  My phone buzzes and I take a call from Dr. Drake. He isn’t coming.

  Big emergency at the hospital. He sends his regrets. Hooray! I might get

  some loving tonight after all.

  I race into the club and find Max shadowboxing in the practice

  ring. His fight shorts cling to the curve of his ass, and his back glistens

  with sweat. I catch the fresh, lemon scent of cleanser and raw musk of

  hot, sweaty male.

  “He’s not coming.”

  Max shakes his head and jabs at the wall. His muscles ripple and

  swell as he lands each imaginary punch. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

  “Doctor Drake isn’t coming,” I yell. “He was called to the hospital

  to consult on an emergency heart surgery.”

  He lowers his arms and turns to face me. “Do you believe him?”

  “Yes. If he wanted out, he would have thought up an excuse that

  wouldn’t be so easy for me to check when I go to work tomorrow.”

  Max grabs a towel and wipes himself down. His hair is damp, and

  curls just above his neck. As he moves, his tattoos undulate over his skin.

  Broad back, tight ass. All man. All hot. My mouth waters.

  As if sensing the stirring of my desire, Max spins around, dark eyes

  hooded. “What are you thinking, baby?”

  I put a hand on my hip. “I’m thinking it’s time to go home.”

  His wicked grin shoots straight to my core. “I’m thinking it’s time

  you came into the ring. If you aren’t here in five seconds, I’m coming

  to get you.”

  I kick off my shoes and climb through the ropes. As soon as my feet

  touch the mat, he backs me into the corner, and licks his lips.

  “You look like you’re about to devour me.”

  “I am.” His mouth slants over mine and he kisses me. Hot. Wet.

  Hungry. I don’t even try to resist. I curl my hands around his neck and

  pull him down for more.

  “You know the rules of the ring,” he murmurs. His tongue flicks

  against the seam of my lips, forcing them apart.

  “No eye gouging. No biting. Nothing below the belt. No fish

  hooking,” I say with pride.

  Max chuckles. “Not the rules I was thinking about. Especially since

  there may be some biting and there will definitely be attention focused

  below the belt.”

  A soft “oh” escapes my lips. “I didn’t know there were other rules.”

  “Our main rule is that no one leaves the ring unless someone goes

  limp or gives up. Which will it be, baby? I think we should go
for

  limp—the replete with sexual satisfaction kind.”

  My lips part with a moan, and he dips inside, coaxing me open with

  his talented tongue. He tastes of whiskey and coffee. He tastes of me.

  I slide my hands around his powerful torso and explore the hard

  ripple of muscle down his back. “You must have me confused with

  someone else,” I tease. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “What kind of girl are you?” He sifts his hand through my hair and

  cups my head, holding me tight as he deepens his kiss.

  “Hot kind,” I whisper against his lips.

  “What else?”

  “Wet kind.”

  He slides his hand down my bare back, then lower until he kneads

  my bottom, sending a shock wave of pleasure over my skin.

  “What else?” he demands.

  I pull out of his grasp and step away. Before he can protest, I put my

  hands behind my neck and undo the clasp of my dress. The front falls

  to my waist, revealing its secret built-in bra cups and baring my breasts.

  Max’s hungry gaze rakes over me, but before he can touch, I undo the

  clasp on my lower back and let the dress sweep down my body into a

  pool of silver sparkles. “Naked kind.”

  Max stares at me, his gaze traveling the length of my body and back

  again, so intense I feel the heat in my toes.

  Boldly, I step forward. My breasts brush against his hot, hard chest,

  and my nipples tighten in response.

  “I like naked kind. But you aren’t entirely naked.” His hands glide

  down my sides to my hips. His thumbs hook into the band of my lacy

  thong and he tugs. The thin fabric parts with a graceless ripping sound

  and then flutters to my feet.

  Raw lust streaks straight to my core. “Animal! You tore off

  my panties.”

  Max cups my ass in his palms and squeezes lightly, rolling my

  cheeks. “I told you it would come off tonight.”

  “Is that how you seduce a woman? You rip off her clothes?”

  “I thought you were seducing me,” Max murmurs. He presses tiny

  kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “Best seduction technique is to

  get naked.”

  I rub my hip against the hard line of his erection. “Is it working?” I

  ask with feigned innocence. “I’ve never seduced a man before.”

  “And you won’t again.” His voice is deep and sexy, and I can’t help