The Boxer (Modern Love Book 2)

by Piper Rayne

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he says.

  “I thought it was against protoco—” I never finish because he slams his mouth down on mine. His tongue doesn’t wait for permission, but slides through my parted lips, mingling with mine.

  Oh, my. His mouth tastes of the whiskey he was drinking. I grab hold of his shirt, pulling him closer. His right hand skims up my side, goosebumps following in his fingertips’ wake, and then his fingers entwine in my hair and he holds my lips to his. As if I’m going anywhere. I moan.

  His hand loosens on the back of my neck, and he begins to pull away, but I’m not ready for us to come back to our senses, so I lock my leg around his. A groan rumbles up his throat, and he deepens the kiss, pressing the large bulge in his slacks into my stomach. My leg tightens to stop my knees from shaking because his lips are like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  A chiming song rings out over the boat’s speakers, and we’re tossed back into the cold water of reality. My leg loosens, he lets the strands of my hair go and no longer do I feel his arousal pushing at my bellybutton. My lips are swollen and bruised by the time his hand snakes forward, his thumb massaging my cheek.

  “Better than I imagined.” He stares down at me with lust-filled eyes.

  “It was all right.” My lips betray me and turn up.

  “Bullshit.” He grips my neck again, and I wait for another breathless kiss, but someone calls out his name.

  “It’s time for dinner,” one of the waiters says.

  “Thank you,” Lucas answers and turns his attention back to me. “I should probably get you fed before I expend every ounce of energy out of you.”

  “Oh, I have plenty in reserve.”

  He chuckles, linking his hand with mine. “After meeting your ex, I’m pretty sure you don’t know the real meaning of being taken to bed. We might have to work up to it.”

  “Are you making a promise, Lucas Cummings?”

  He stops us right before the sliding doors into the dining room. With his hand locked with mine, he stares at me for a second. “I think I put up a good fight. It’s been harder than spending twelve rounds in the boxing ring.” His lips lift and excitement bubbles inside of me like a poured champagne glass. We enter the dining area and step across the deck toward the only table left.

  “Yeah, that hour must have been super hard for you,” I joke, but again he stops, and when his eyes meet mine, they’ve grown serious.

  “I’ve wanted my hands on you since you picked me as the underdog to win that fight. Believe me, my hand and imagination aren’t doing it for me anymore.”

  I don’t remark, mostly because I’m about to jump into his arms and beg him to drag me off to the bathroom to get rid of this incessant ache between my thighs. So not Miss Débutante.

  “Okay,” I muster, and he chuckles, releasing his hand to place it on the small of my back.

  He leans close to my ear, and shivers run up my neck. “It turns me on when I fluster you.”

  I glance down, and sure enough, he’s shifting to disguise his hard-on.

  “It’s all you, Tahlia. Look out to the sea of women here.”

  My eyes veer around the dining area—everyone is in conversation, sipping their drinks and starting their meals. There are lots of gorgeous women here, though none of the men are as mouth-watering as Lucas.

  “None of them do it for me,” he says. “Only you.”

  Then his hand slides down and lightly pats my ass.

  “Let’s get this dinner over with, so I can really smack your ass.”

  I swallow deeply and take a seat on my chair—all while my panties soak through.

  11

  We’re seated at tables of four for dinner, and it’s uneventful and feels like it lasts entirely too long. Would it make me pathetic if I pretended that Lucas was choking and gave him mouth-to-mouth? Probably, so I sit there quietly, listening to the men talk about sports while the girl across from me chimes in with facts and statistics. I bow down to her if she learned all that useless information just to impress guys. Well done, sister.

  Lucas’ hand roams under the table to my thigh a few times, but he never takes it far, even though my skin burns to feel those callused palms slide under the hem of my dress. Once we sat down, the man who wanted to spread-eagle me on the table so he could eat me for dinner turned into Mr. Stiff.

  Thankfully, the other couple seems to be hitting it off. At least, they’re doing that whole flirting about fighting over opposing teams. I’ve never been into sports. My dad would sit in his study on Sundays and watch the games and Chase would host Super Bowl parties every year, but I think the betting thrilled him more than the actual game.

  I glance over at Lucas, and there’s a burning desire in his eyes as he discusses whether the Forty-Niners or Raiders are the superior team. I’m at least attuned enough to know they’re both California teams. Well, at least Sarah, the other girl at the table, mentioned it about a half hour ago.

  As the three of them go back and forth, my eyes veer to the other diners. My mind wanders to Chase and Quinn. How long have they been dating? The only thing that upsets me about them together is that she thinks she’s one up on me. Our competitiveness has transferred from our mothers to us in the years since junior high, unfortunately. I should be the bigger person and not care what she’s doing with her life, but it’s hard not to want to put a girl like her in her place.

  Lucas’s hand lands on my thigh, and he squeezes it gently, dragging me back to the present. I glance over, and he raises his eyebrow in question.

  I smile. Can he be as sweet as he seems?

  He stands from the table, pushing in his chair, and I watch him, wondering what he’s doing.

  “I forgot, there’s some paperwork for you to fill out.” He motions with his head toward the patio. “I better have you complete it before I forget.” Then he looks over to the other couple, who aren’t paying either of us any attention. “We’ll be back.”

  I place my napkin on the table, stand up and slide my chair back into the table. I can feel Aaron’s eyes on me the entire time I follow Lucas out of the eating area.

  The sun has descended, leaving us under a dark sky with a million twinkling stars scattered above us. Lucas leads me to the front of the yacht, then motions for me to take a seat on the bench. I sit down and cross my legs, staring out at the skyline of San Francisco.

  He sits next to me, and his arm rests along the back of the seat, his fingertips teasingly close to my skin. Skin that still simmers from the earlier kiss we shared.

  “It’s a beautiful city,” he remarks, and I nod to confirm my agreement. “How long have you lived here?”

  It dawns on me that I know nothing about him, and beyond what he overheard the night of the boxing match, and then what he witnessed tonight, he knows next to nothing about me.

  “My entire life. You?”

  “Me too. Well, I moved out of state for high school and college, but returned shortly after.”

  I nod. “Where did you go to college?”

  His back stiffens, and he stares ahead instead of zeroing in on me like they have been. “Boston. You?”

  “Stanford. Family pedigree.”

  His eyes shoot to mine, and he stares at me for an uncomfortable beat. It’s not the usual heated stare, it’s filled with curiosity.

  “You come from a long line of Stanford alumni?” he clarifies the question I just answered.

  “Yeah. All the way back to my great-grandfather. So, of course, I followed in their footsteps. Chase went there, too, so the decision was easy.”

  I remember how excited I was when Chase asked me on our first date. What a fool I was.

  “What’s his last name? He looked familiar to me somehow,” he says.

  I’m caught off guard by this, but it’s not uncommon for Chase’s face to be in the press from time to time. “Webber. You might have heard of his family.”

  “I think everyone in San Francisco knows the Webbers.” H
is long fingers tap on his pants and his comment further piques my curiosity because yes, the Webber name is known, but I’m pretty sure Lucas and Chase aren’t running in the same social circles.

  “He’s actually Cole’s brother. You know the Webbers?” I ask, shifting my body to face him better.

  “Nah. My dad worked at one of their restaurants and I chatted with Cole once at one of the fights, but I didn’t realize he was a Webber. I only know of them.”

  I release a breath because if this boxer is some rich frat boy, then I might as well move out of state to get away from all the Chase clones because nothing about this man says spoiled, entitled egomaniac.

  “Does that relieve you?” he asks, his face bent down, so he’s right in front of me.

  I bite the side of my lip, contemplating his question. Does it? I’m sure there are high-society guys who aren’t cheating bastards like Chase. There’s Whitney’s boyfriend, Cole. And a girl I went to college with, her husband actually changes their kid’s diapers, so I’m sure there’s is an exception to every rule.

  “It does. There’s something about a guy who doesn’t expect the world to fall at his feet.”

  My answer earns a smile that reaches right up into his green eyes. His arm drops and his fingers lazily roll up and down my shoulder. “You’re shivering,” he mumbles, and his muscular body slides closer.

  “Aren’t you worried someone will see us?” I ask, glancing around, trying not to concentrate on the warmth seeping into my body from his thigh touching mine.

  “Nah. The only problem is Aaron, but he won’t say anything after our conversation.” Now his whole palm is rubbing along my bare upper arm, and he has to know those aren’t shivers, they’re goosebumps.

  “What was that conversation all about?”

  He releases a breath and looks over to me. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but a few weeks ago, a girl got spooked about Aaron. He’s sort of on probation, but it’ll be up to my buddy when he returns on how he wants to handle the situation.”

  “Spooked?” Aaron’s an annoying gnat, there’s no question, but he doesn’t seem harmful.

  “There was a member who I think liked him until he kept showing up at her doorstep after she allowed him to walk her home one night. I’m not even sure he meant to scare her, I think he’s just one of those guys that get attached really fast.”

  “You mean you won’t be showing up at my doorstep tomorrow morning?” I joke, and Lucas glances over at me from the corner of his eye.

  “Like I said, Aaron didn’t mean any harm, but she reported the incidents, so I ended up having to take her home after one of the dates and then tell Aaron he was never to show up there again. It made her uncomfortable, and I didn’t much like the whole scenario.”

  “Oh.”

  “So Aaron was trying to tell me to stay away from you and rambling on about the rules. I think he thought I slept with that woman. We cleared the air tonight, so it should all be good.”

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to tell me all of that. I appreciate your honesty.” I clamp my legs tighter together, hating the stall of our conversation.

  “I didn’t answer your question about showing up at your doorstep.” Lucas’ tone drops a few octaves, and he leans in.

  “I was joking.”

  A smile tilts the corner of his mouth. I try not to return it, but he makes it hard.

  “So you don’t want to know if I’d show up on your doorstep tomorrow morning if you allowed me to take you home tonight?” he asks, and I don’t know how to answer. Am I capable of just having fun without overthinking things?

  “Only if you want to tell me,” I say in a soft voice.

  His hand covers my interlaced fingers on my lap.

  “If you let me see you home tonight, I think I can pretty much guarantee that I’d still be buried deep inside of you in the morning. So no, I wouldn’t show back up, because I’d still be there.”

  That flare of heat in my neck rushes like a raging wildfire straight to the center of my thighs. I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth, unable to answer, but then again, he didn’t ask me a question. Did he? Maybe he did. Is he asking me to have sex tonight? Do I want to have sex tonight? I glance over at him. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind it. Wouldn’t mind it? I’d love it, and I’m positive he could make me come more times than a football team at a Vegas brothel. He could be my unicorn cock.

  Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I just referenced Whitney’s stupid analogy. That stupid thought that there’s one unicorn cock out there for every girl.

  “Tahlia.” His voice pulls me from my frenetic thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I say, warily meeting his gaze.

  “I wasn’t looking for an invitation.”

  Of course, he wasn’t. I mean, he’s probably like a Tim Tebow. Lucas is probably just a hotter-than-hell boxer who is saving himself until he gets married. Then again, a devoted Mormon doesn’t kiss a woman like he kissed me. And I don’t even follow sports so why do I even know that little fact about Tebow anyway? Shut up, Tahlia. Relax.

  I release a laugh that does nothing to match my words. “I know that.” I wave him off, hoping it comes off as casual and not full of all the nerves threatening to take over my rational thinking.

  “Would you like to take me home?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows.

  My eyes widen. “What? No! I mean. Yes. I mean—”

  He places his finger over my lips. “Sorry.” He chuckles. “When I see you flustered, it turns me on. I’m being selfish by prolonging your torture.” He smiles and I stare into his amused eyes. I say nothing more and he leans in even closer. “You can use me to forget him,” he whispers, and the cool breeze isn’t affecting my hot body now imagining everything he’d do to me.

  “He’s forgotten,” I answer, my classic answer, and he cocks that damn perfectly arched eyebrow again. What kind of guy has perfect eyebrows?

  He shakes his head. “No, he’s not, but I’m willing to sacrifice myself for the cause.”

  “Oh.” All the thoughts from earlier run through my head with new fears entering the mix. Did I shave? Yes. Thank goodness Whitney dragged me to the spa the other day and we each got the works. Otherwise, Lucas would have to ask for a map of Yellowstone to find my damn clit.

  “Tahlia.” His voice again pulls me back to this conversation. “Do you want me as much as I want you?”

  All my insecurities and fears race through my mind again and to stop the runaway train from gaining any more steam I blurt out, “Yes!”

  Lucas seems momentarily stunned, probably because of my eagerness so I try to save what little face I can.

  “I mean, I’m down…with everything you said. But I’d prefer if we went to your place.”

  Lennon’s teachings on one-night stands rings through my head. She says when possible always go back to their house. That way if they’re a shitty lay they have no way to track you down after, and you can see if the guy is a complete freak based on his place right from the get-go. Besides, Chase was the only man who I’ve ever had over at my place, and I’m not sure I’m ready for another man to share the same bed Chase and I did.

  “So it’s settled then. Don’t worry.” Lucas squeezes me into his side. “I’m more than up to the task.” He arches a brow and the live band begins playing a slow melody from the upper deck as I send a small prayer up begging God to make Lucas a man of his word.

  12

  The yacht docks at the pier and Lucas purposely has us hang back, so we’re one of the last couples off. I appreciate his effort in trying not to advertise the fact that we’re leaving together, but it’s given Chase the opportunity to wait around until we step off the yacht’s exit ramp.

  Lucas’ hand clenches mine harder as he approaches.

  “Can I talk to you?” Chase asks.

  I glance over at Lucas, whose expression hasn’t changed, and then back to Chase.

  “Where’s Quinn?” I ask.

  “She’s in a cab o
n her way home.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his expensive loafers.

  “I’m sorry, Chase, but we’re leaving.” I squeeze Lucas’ hand and step forward.

  Chase reaches out and grabs my elbow. “Tahl,” he pleads.

  Lucas’ hand twitches in mine and when I glance over at him there’s a storm brewing in his eyes. He looks like he’s about one second away from losing his cool.

  I slide out from his grasp. “No, Chase. I’m here with Lucas. If you’d like to talk, call my office.”

  I face forward, ready to leave him behind me once again, but he grips my arm a little firmer this time.

  “Tahlia?” His tone is questioning as though he’s confused as to how I’m not caving and giving him what he wants right now.

  I swivel around, but Lucas’ hand leaves mine, and I know before I turn to see them chest to chest that this situation is volatile.

  “She said no.” Lucas puffs his chest out a little and watching the two of them so close, their differences couldn’t be more noticeable. Chase’s build is slimmer, and everything about him screams money and white collar, whereas Lucas’ broad shoulders and superior height shadow Chase, along with his more rough-and-tumble vibe.

  “Back off, Johnny-come-lately,” Chase baits. I’m sure if he knew Lucas was a boxer with the name Raging Bull, he might have thought twice about his remark.

  “When a lady tells you to leave her alone, you do,” Lucas says, and Chase narrows his eyes.

  “She wants to hear what I have to say.” Chase’s eyes linger my way with a softness I recognize from days long past, and for a moment, I’m about to intervene and allow him five minutes of my time.

  “Let me guess,” Lucas bites out. “You want her back because you saw she moved on? Maybe you’ll convince her, and you’ll head over to your current girl’s apartment for a quick fuck before the two of you actually get back together.”

  Man, it’s scary how much Lucas knows Chase without knowing him.

  Chase places both of his hands on Lucas’ chest and pushes him. “Mind your own damn business. She’s my fiancée,” Chase says, and all the air in my lungs swooshes out.