He swirled the cool water around and spat. “He’s wrong. I got this.”
Shakes inserted Mike’s mouthpiece as he rose from the stool.
“Take him out,” Shakes said, patting his shoulder as Mike left for the center of the ring.
He faced Littleton. The contender was all business. Gone was the camera-loving ham. Gone was the nice guy who looked forward to a clean match. Now, Mike looked into the eyes of a seasoned professional and knew Littleton’s reign as a champion was ending.
There was a new middleweight in town.
The bell rang and both men attacked. Littleton unleashed his massive power blows. He landed a jab and a firmly planted right cross to Mike’s body. Then, from out of nowhere a right hook to Mike’s face sliced through the air, and blood squirted. The spot on his face stung. Blood oozed into Mike’s eye, and the ref called time, sending each man retreating into his corner.
Shakes darted out. The cold press slammed down on Mike’s face. Shit. The cut felt like the sting of a thousand bees. “It’s bad.” Shakes’s face took on a grave expression. “If it bleeds too much, they’re going to stop the fight.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. His mouthpiece kept him from speaking the words out loud.
“Make quick work of him,” Shakes advised, “or this thing is over.”
Shakes smeared Vaseline all over the cut, trying to stop the bleed. No. He wasn’t going out like this. His first fight in the Garden wasn’t going to be cut short over an open wound. No doubt Littleton had read about Mike’s last fight, the one where it was stopped because of a cut and Mike won by technical knockout. Littleton probably wanted to test the waters and see if he could do the same.
Mike bowed his head, letting Shakes know he received his instructions. The ringing bell enticed him from his corner. He walked out, blood rolling down his cheek, and readied to deliver some payback to Marlon Littleton.
He lifted his hands. Littleton punched, but Mike’s quick defenses prevented any shot from landing. He protected his face as Littleton closed in. Mike quickly pushed him off. Blood flowed, blurring his vision. He blinked some of the blood away, but it continued to ooze down his cheek. Mike knew he had to end this before the officials stopped the fight.
The current champ resumed his pattern. Then, like Daniella had said he would, he dropped his left hand. Mike swung, landing a shot against Littleton’s temple. The fighter stumbled, and Mike pressed. Blow after blow, Mike delivered one rapid punch then another, sending Littleton to the mat, knocking him out cold.
A hush fell over the crowd. They didn’t expect Littleton to fall so quickly. Neither had Mike, if he were honest. The referee intervened and started counting.
“One, two, three . . .” Littleton didn’t open his eyes.
“Four, five, six . . .” A roar erupted from the crowd.
“Seven, eight, nine . . .” Mike looked at Shakes and Daniella, both hanging on the ropes.
“Ten.” He turned his gaze to Ava, as the referee lifted his arm in the air.
His heart nearly sprang from his chest, exhilarated. He was exhausted and bleeding, but he’d won. He worked his mouthpiece off his teeth and spat it on the canvas. The bell rang and the mass of people in the arena cheered.
Ava rushed to the ring. Like Daniella and Shakes, she climbed through the ropes and made her way to him. She stood at his side as the announcer formally declared Mike’s win. Shock and wonder spread through the audience like an uncontrollable disease. They might have hated him, but Mike would allow his performance to turn the audience’s opinion of him on its head.
Security tightened around him.
“Let’s get out of here,” Daniella ordered. “Before Littleton’s diehard fans get restless.”
Blood obscured his vision. Mike closed one eye and placed a gloved hand over Ava’s shoulder.
“Lean on me, baby. I’ll get you out of here,” she said.
He followed her toward the dressing room. The Stamina team surrounded him. A mix of jeers and shouts of support filled his ears. Winning one fight didn’t make fans love you. He knew no matter how well fans received his performance in the ring, he still had a long way to go to improve his overall image. Some people would never forgive his past, and they’d believe every word Tiffany said. And while he wanted supportive followers and people who invested themselves in his career, he breathed easy knowing he’d always be his biggest fan. He had shed the shame of his past and moved forward.
Reaching the locker room, Daniella stopped him. “You’re going to need stitches. We need a doctor. Let’s get you sewn up.”
Mike dropped his arm from Ava’s shoulder, though Ava stayed close beside him.
Shakes called for medical assistance. Daniella started to lead Mike into the dressing room with Ava in tow. A man, presumably the doctor, carried a bag and ran straight toward them.
He turned to Ava. “Stay here,” he said. He didn’t want her to see some doctor patching him up, with him bloody and dirty. No. The first time they really, honestly got to talk, he wanted her alone, and all to himself. “Wait for me.”
She gazed up at him, unblinking. A glow kissed her cheeks and she said, “Always.”
Chapter Forty-two
After the doctor sewed up his face, Mike showered. The water mixed with blood and sent a pink swirl around his feet. His head ached, from the punches, the cut, and the stitches. It felt as if he’d gone fifteen rounds instead of two. As the doctor administered his stitches, he overheard Daniella talking to Shakes and Jack. Word was that Littleton’s fans demanded a rematch, and when the promoter denied their request they started looking for a little blood of their own.
Ava’s voice penetrated the sound of the water’s flow. He heard Daniella say she didn’t want to leave her outside, not with disgruntled fans roaming around. Mike shut off the water and emerged from the shower. After drying, he slipped on a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. He was in no rush to leave. He wanted to take his time, not only for safety, but for the entire night to sink in. For the first time in his life, he boxed in Madison Square Garden and he won. His boxing career just landed itself in the fast lane. He could name the next guy he wanted to fight. Now, anyone would line up to take him on. Ticket prices would soar, and the endorsements he needed? Well, he took stock in knowing that Daniella’s phone had no doubt started ringing.
He stood silent, absorbing the weight of the moment. José would be proud. Ava was proud. But most of all, he was proud of how far he’d come, finally realizing that no matter how hard he tried, life wasn’t in his control—and as long as he knew where he stood, that was okay.
Stuff went down over the years spent getting here, but with the bad came the good, the best, like Ava. He sauntered out and walked barefoot out into the open where everyone stood.
“Are you ready to go?” Daniella asked. “We have some celebrating to do.”
He wet his lips. “No. You guys go ahead. We’ll catch up with you at the hotel.” He fixed his eyes on Ava.
He wasn’t rude or inconsiderate of his Stamina team. He simply waited until they picked up on the hint he dropped. He needed to be alone with his woman. Mike needed Ava more than air. One by one they picked up what he laid down. Of course their leaving probably had something to do with Ava rushing to him and planting a kiss on his lips.
Silently, Daniella, Jack, and Shakes filed out, taking the doctor with them. As Mike broke Ava’s kiss, they were finally alone.
“I meant what I said on stage,” he told her.
“I know you did.” She spoke in a soft voice.
“I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”
She shook her head. “No. I deserved it. I betrayed you. You told me your past, and I never should’ve risked it being aired for the world to see.”
“Maybe not, but . . .” He bowed his head. “It was time.”
“Time?” She took on a quizzical look.
“Time to confront what happened with José, to accept that his death and that no
thing that happened with him was my fault.” He let out a breath, one he didn’t know he’d been holding, until the truth, his truth, came out in a rush. “I found you, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”
She kissed him. “You won’t. Oh, baby, you’ll never be alone again.”
He pulled back from her and cast a disbelieving grin. “Did you really quit your job?”
She nodded. “Yeah, so actually, you, um, probably won’t be alone at all.”
He laughed. “So I guess you might be interested in a new job.”
Her head jerked. “What job?”
“It seems Stamina is going to have to find someone to handle the press. I overheard Daniella telling Shakes while I showered. It sounds like the public’s opinion is turning around, but I’m still the guy who knocked out Littleton. You don’t knock out a fan favorite and earn instant adoration. I’ll need to give some interviews and pick up a new sponsor. Everyone is going to want a piece of me, press included.”
Her tongue darted out of her mouth. “I definitely want a piece of you,” she teased.
“And then there’s something I could use your help with?”
“What? Anything.” Her eyes widened.
“I need to contact my mother and tell her I’m not engaged to Tiffany.”
Ava’s shoulders slumped. “Johnston told you, huh?”
Mike nodded. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but contacting Maria was the only way she could’ve known anything about my past. So, you see, I’m going to need a lot of help in the PR department myself. Maybe we can talk to Daniella and see if you’d be a good fit for the job?”
Her hand grazed across his chest. “Oh, I’m definitely a good fit.” She winked. “Every good publicist should know their client inside and out.”
He grinned and then wet his lips. “I think a pre-interview assessment is in order. Maybe I should test your skills.”
Her hand inched lower to the waistband of his shorts and played with the elastic. Then, her hand dipped lower. “Oh, I have mad skills. Do you want me to show you?”
She never took her eyes off his as her hands pushed his shorts lower. In turn, he reached for her pants and tugged at the zipper. He wanted to lose himself in her. Forever. And now he could. He pulled her jeans down and she stepped free. Her panties soon followed. He dropped his bare ass on a bench and pulled her onto his lap.
Her mouth crushed his. Love, so much love passed between them. Alone, they’d been a force. Together, they’d be unstoppable. Their kiss went ragged, Mike filled with an urgent need. His dick nudged against her sex, teasing her folds. She placed her hands on his shoulders, straddling him. Oh, he wanted to be inside her. To join with her. He grabbed her ass and guided her down onto his cock.
He pushed himself inside her, his dick drenched in heat. God, he loved her. So much. How could he have considered letting her go? A gasp escaped her.
“Oh, baby.” Ava fixed her eyes on his. “I love you so much.”
And as he thought his heart couldn’t get any fuller, it expanded. He kissed her again because he couldn’t stop himself. She rode him, and his hands pushed her to him, drawing her deeper onto his cock.
He continued, pulling her downward, until he hit that spot. Oh, that spot that sent her head rolling back and plastered a smile on her beautiful face. Lucky him. He’d get to see that smile every time she came because he’d put it there. He thrust harder, loving the deep pull and drag of their lovemaking.
“Oh God.” Her eyes closed as her orgasm took over. Her mouth opened slightly, and she rode the wave. Pleasure. Pure pleasure. That’s all he wanted for her now.
She bent forward and he pressed light kisses to her lips, soothing her through the shudders. His cock throbbed. Not much longer now. After a few quick pulses, he groaned and spilled into her. She felt so good. So warm. This was his forever.
Sitting there, Mike holding her, Ava pressed her forehead against his. “I meant it. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Mike squeezed her.
“I’d love to work with you every day, if you’re serious,” she said, her breath brushing his cheek.
He looked deep into her eyes. “There’s nothing I want more.”
Her lips parted, and with her smile he knew he’d never be alone again.
Ready for another round?
Read on for a special preview of the next sexy,
exhilarating Ringside book . . .
Coming soon from
Boobs. Titties. Breasts. Knockers. If Trevor Redding had seen one pair of Double D’s, he’d seen them all. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the wad of tuna fish sandwich he was chewing as Chantel streaked past on her way off the stage.
“Jesus Christ, Chantel, put some clothes on,” he said with his mouth full. He’d seen her naked more times than he could count, but he didn’t react like most men who spied her in her birthday suit. He wanted her to cover her shit up. He wanted all the girls who worked at the Gentleman’s Club to wear a robe or something when they weren’t on stage. Keeping the girls clothed made his job easier. Why didn’t they understand that?
Chantel appeared in the tiny break room and posed, giving him a glimpse of everything her mamma gave her. For the thousandth time. “What? It ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“You could say that again.” Inflection was absent from his voice. Then, he gave a chuckle at his own joke.
Chantel spun around, twirling like a hippie on an acid trip, and left him in the break room alone.
“You working that move into your next performance?” he teased. He liked giving Chantel grief. If he’d had a sister, he imagined she’d be a lot like her.
The next time she appeared in front of him she wore the short red silk robe he’d given her last Christmas. He dropped a lot of coin on all of them last year—Chantel, Brooke, Rocki, Charley, and Tammy. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. They worked hard and they had to put up with more shit than they should. All the dancers deserved something nice.
“Nah, I’m just busting your balls. For a guy who loves us as much as you do, you sure get uptight when we’re not dressed backstage.”
The next bite of the sandwich found its way down his esophagus. “That’s not the point. This place may be named the Gentleman’s Club, but there’s not a damn gentleman in the place. If one of them gets an offstage peek, chances are they’ll be coming back here, and I’m going to have to knock somebody out.” He put up his hands, and threw a right hook, his sandwich still tight in his grasp.
“Yeah, fight him with food. That’ll do it.” Chantel gave him an exaggerated eye roll.
He stuffed his mouth and chewed with cheeks as big as a chipmunk. Chantel dropped her fake attitude and laughed.
“You are so goofy. Besides, that hasn’t happened in six months, not since Brooke broke up with Eddie and he walked back here to ask her to come home.”
Trevor shook his head while swallowing. She hadn’t been there, not like he had. “That’s not how it went down. Brooke was working the private room. She gave some creeper the lap dance he paid for and when it was over and done, she headed back here in nothing but her thong. Creeper decided there was more life in the Viagra he popped, so he walked back here and tried to grab Brooke in the dressing room.”
“Oh.” Air left Chantel’s lungs.
“Eddie came back here after I called him to take Brooke home. They’d broken up, but I trusted him to do the right thing and he did. He saw that she got home safely, while the Creeper had a nice conversation in the parking lot with my fist.”
Chantel pulled the sash on her robe tighter. “Why do you do it? I mean, why do you work here? Doesn’t that big time manager of yours pay you to train?”
He gave a decisive nod. “Yeah, but if I left you guys, who’d look after my sisters as well as I do?”
She pursed her lips. “Yeah. We would miss your dumb ass.”
“So, I’m going to do both jobs for as long as I can.”
>
Chantel walked into the break room and sat down on a stool beside him. “You know we love you, right? I mean, we’ve all worked here together so long it doesn’t feel like work, it feels like family.”
“Of course it does.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“And, for most of us, we ain’t got a shot like you do. Think about it. Since we met, all you’ve ever wanted was to become a professional boxer. And, now you are. You signed on with a big time gym, and you work with Jack Brady, the heavyweight champion. You can spar with Mike Perez anytime you want. Those guys are serious professionals, and you’re right there with them.”
He chewed. “Yeah, so?”
Chantel’s lips formed a gentle smile. “So, what are you still doing here?”
He squinted and kept chewing.
“What I’m trying to say is,” her voice turned soft, “You’re so busy looking out for us— who’s looking out for you?”
He lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, and put his sandwich down. He didn’t answer her because there was no answer. No one had ever looked out for Trevor. Nor did he expect anyone to. Not now, not when he was a kid. The fact that Chantel even mentioned it is what kept him coming back to the club night after night. These girls were his first family, the only ones he’d ever known until he’d signed on with Stamina gym. Then Daniella, his trainer, and all the boxers at the gym acted as his second family. He couldn’t leave one for the other. How could Chantel expect him to choose?
“Doesn’t matter,” he finally answered her question. “Don’t worry about me. You’re on in five minutes. Better get ready.”
She nodded and lifted from the stool. Trevor went back to his sandwich. All was good. Quiet. Until Chantel called out his name.
Her voice, urgent, almost panicked, she cried out again, “Trevor!”
He jumped up from the stool and followed her voice. Sounds of a commotion led him to the front of the darkened club, Chantel following after him. He squinted against the strobe lights to see exactly what was happening, but couldn’t make it out completely. A circle had formed near the bar, and Nick, the bartender, had jumped over the front and started pushing people back.
Going The Distance (Ringside #2) Page 21