by Lori Foster
There was so much she didn’t know about him. “Who taught you to fight?”
“I did.” Covering her hand on his thigh with one of his own, he smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m analytical. Always have been. It’s why I’d be good in business and in sports. I can look at things and see why they do or don’t work. I’d watch a fight, see what moves the fighters used, and then copy them.”
The discoloration under his eye worsened. “I can’t imagine why anyone would enjoy getting hit.”
That brought a gruff laugh from him. “It’s not that I like getting clobbered. But I do like fending off a hit. I like testing my strength and endurance. After a fight, win or lose, I feel more alive.”
“I watched you in the gym.”
He shot her a surprised look. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you.”
“It was . . . brutal.”
“That was just practice, Audrey.”
“You’re still beat up.”
He laughed. “Woman, you’re insulting my ego. I am not beat up. But with any sport, you get banged around a little during practice and sparring. Believe me, I got worse than this in high school and college sports.”
Audrey was so attuned to what he told her that she almost missed it when he turned toward an impoverished neighborhood. He caught her quick look around and apologized.
“Sorry. I haven’t been in town long enough to look for more permanent housing. The place where I’m staying is close to Havoc’s gym, lets me have Spice, and stays out of my business.” Flexing his hands on the wheel, he said, “If you’d rather not be here—”
“I’m with you.” Smiling with sincerity, she smoothed a hand over his shoulder. “I feel totally safe.”
That gave him pause. “I’m glad.” He pulled up in front of a four-family brick house and parked on the street. Turning toward her, he used his pinky to smooth back a few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, Audrey.”
“I know.”
He looked beyond her and grinned. “There, in the second-story window? You can see Spice.” He opened his door. “She’s waiting for me.”
Audrey looked out the passenger window and saw the cat’s silhouette on the inside sill. When Brett opened her door, she stepped out. “Does she like visitors?”
“Haven’t been any since we moved here, but she’s a social creature. She won’t mind you.”
So he hadn’t brought any other women to his home? Given how she already felt about him, Audrey was glad to know it.
Several young men, maybe in their late teens and early twenties, loitered on the poured concrete porch, smoking and drinking beer. Brett only nodded to them as he led her to the door.
“Dude, when you fightin’ again?”
He paused with a theatrical groan. “I told you guys, I don’t know yet.”
“Been forever, man. Why’s Drew Black draggin’ his damned feet?”
“Yeah,” another one said. “If the man had any sense, he’d get you out there.”
After an apologetic smile to Audrey, Brett turned to the young men. “Drew’s a businessman, and the SBC is a business. That means everything has to be legal. Takes a little time, you know?”
One of the older boys drew on his cigarette, then flicked the butt into the yard. “There’s a fight going down at the club on Saturday. You should enter.”
Hearing that stole Audrey’s breath. An unsanctioned, unsupervised brawl meant that things could easily get out of hand. There’d be no one to enforce fair play, no rules. No holds barred.
Her vision narrowed and her chest hurt. Boys could get hurt, or even . . . killed. She had to do something.
Stepping away from her, Brett went deadly serious in an instant. “What club?”
“Paulie’s, down on Minton Street. Out in the back alley after closing.” He pushed away from a porch roof column. “If you enter, I’ll bet on you.”
“Me, too.” Saluting with a beer can, another young man said, “You’d kill ’em all.”
“Brett,” Audrey breathed, barely able to get a word past the restriction in her chest. He couldn’t be thinking of taking part in something so—
He took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Cops don’t know about this?”
One of the boys snorted. “Hell no.” He threw his beer can like a basketball into a broken flowerpot in the yard. “The 5-O would break that shit up.”
“Right.” Brett looked at each of them. “I’ll have to pass, but you guys have fun.”
Groaning complaints followed Audrey and Brett into the foyer. When Audrey started to speak, he shook his head and gave her a look. “Not here.”
Numbness pervaded her limbs on the climb to the second story. Somehow she had to stop the fight. She just wasn’t sure what to do yet.
How offended would Brett be if she called the police?
“Take a breath, Audrey. It’ll be okay. Trust me.” He dug keys out of his pocket and stopped in front of a thick wooden door. A rhythmic “pat, pat, pat” sounded from inside his apartment.
“That’s Spice scratching on the door,” he told her. “Let me grab her so she doesn’t slip out on me.”
One hand on the doorknob, he bent before pushing the door open—and scooped up a slinky multicolored cat who meowed her pleasure with ear-splitting delight.
Brett moved into the apartment and held the door open for Audrey. “Come on in.”
Almost robotic, Audrey stepped in. He closed and locked the door behind her.
Her thoughts skittered about until Brett cupped the back of her neck and drew her in for a warm, soft kiss.
Blinking at him, she tried to decide what to say.
He smiled and lifted the cat up to his chest to scratch under her chin. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll take care of it.”
“It?”
“The fight.” He nudged her toward a seat, then dropped down beside her. The cat left his lap to investigate her.
Audrey liked animals, so she stroked the cat’s back and was rewarded with a deep, rumbling purr.
Stretching an arm out along the back of the sofa, Brett settled in close to her. She hadn’t noticed when he got out his cell phone, or when he’d put in a call.
With the phone to his ear, he kissed her temple, her jaw. Someone answered his call, and he eased back from her to say that he wanted to report an upcoming illegal fight at a nearby bar.
He must have been put on hold, because he went back to seducing Audrey.
“Street fights can be dangerous,” he said between light kisses that left her skin tingling. “Someone drinks too much and decides he’s Superman. Drugs blunt pain so you don’t realize how badly you’re hurt, or how much you’re hurting someone else. There aren’t any medics on hand to monitor things.”
She knew that only too well.
Just then, his call was picked up again, and Brett leaned forward to relay the details of the fight. He chose not to give his name, but did share what he knew. He thanked the officer on the phone and, after shutting off the call, put the cell phone back in his pocket.
“Thank you.”
“What?” He settled back in the seat again. “You think you’re the only one who doesn’t like street fighting?” He drew a hand along the cat’s back, then transferred it to her waist.
She felt caged in—and liked it. “So you don’t approve?”
“’Course not.” Somehow he got his hand under her shirt, to her bare skin. His thumb stroked along her ribs, almost touching the bottom of her breast.
Voice low, somehow soothing, he said, “Those fights are nothing like the professional bouts put on by legitimate MMA organizations.” He nuzzled her jaw. “The cop on the phone said he’d check into it.”
Just like that? No arguments, no misunderstandings. She should have known, should have trusted him. Brett wasn’t a thickheaded lout with no understanding of danger.
The cat let out a loud “Rowwrrr,” making Brett chuckle.
/> “Stay put while I feed her, and I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he said it, Spice launched herself off Audrey’s lap and loped into the tiny kitchenette. Brett followed, leaving Audrey with the opportunity to familiarize herself with his home.
When they’d first entered, she’d been under a barrage of emotional memories. Seeing those young men with their cocky attitudes and reckless disregard for danger had hit home in a big way. Their love of bloodshed could be deadlier than any of them guessed.
But she didn’t want to dwell on the past right now. She wanted to focus on Brett and how unique it felt to be with him like this.
The sofa was cushy beneath her, threadbare on the arms, but clean. One old leather lounge chair sat in front of a modest television with a crate beside it for an end table. There were no lamps, just old-fashioned ceiling lights.
A modern, covered cat box dominated one corner of the room.
A trunk holding gym paraphernalia sat in the other corner, along with a set of weights on the floor.
The kitchenette was separated from the TV area by a two-seater bar. No room for a dining table. Down a short hall she saw two doors, and she assumed one would be his bathroom, the other . . . his bedroom.
Leaving her purse behind on the sofa, she wandered toward the hall. A small distance away, Brett spoke with the cat just like he would a baby. She found it endearing that he pampered his pet as easily in front of her as he did alone.
All in all, his home was ultraorganized, clean, sparse, and barren of even a single photograph.
Based on Drew Black’s comments about his childhood, he might not want any mementos. More than anything, Audrey wanted to make a difference in his life. She wanted to ease the bad memories from his past, to help heal any hurts he might still suffer.
She wanted . . . to love him.
Feeling far too brazen and wicked, Audrey went down the hall and opened the first door. His black-and-white-tiled bathroom smelled of shaving cream. She breathed in the scent, and her desire tightened.
Already Brett had made a difference in her life. Without even knowing her past, he had helped alleviate the pain of memories. By being himself, he made her doubt her perceptions about fighting and the motivation of fighters. She had a lot of reevaluating to do.
But for now, she craved to know more about him, physically, emotionally.
Intimately.
Heart thudding in slow, heavy beats, Audrey went to the next door and pushed it open. A full-size bed dominated the room, accompanied by a dresser and one nightstand. Fading light spilled through a window on an opposite wall. He’d left it open enough to keep the air cool.
Brett had tidied the room by smoothing out the sheet and a colorful, worn quilt. The dresser held some change, a few receipts, and nothing else.
Drawn to the bed, Audrey went into the room. She sat on the edge of the mattress and put her palm on one of the two pillows, where she imagined Brett would lay his head.
When she heard the door click shut again, she looked up, and Brett stood there, watching her. Saying nothing, he walked to the dresser and took out his wallet, his keys. He turned back to her and, still silent, reached over his shoulder for a fistful of shirt. He pulled it off over his head and dropped it to the floor.
God Almighty, the man had such a fine body.
Audrey’s pulse sped up when he unbuckled his belt and slid it free of the loops in his jeans.
If he shed his pants right here, right now, she’d probably embarrass herself with her enthusiasm.
To her mingled disappointment and relief, he didn’t. He took off his shoes and socks and came to stand by her, his bare feet braced apart. One hand touched her chin, and the other hung loose at his side.
She was eye level with the most remarkable set of abs she’d ever seen and a definite erection beneath his fly. Her mouth went dry.
CHAPTER 10
STROKING his fingertips over her jaw, her lips, Brett gentled her nervousness and her racing need. He stepped closer and leaned toward her to remove the band holding her hair in a ponytail. It slipped free, and he moved his fingers through her hair.
“So pretty.”
She’d always been a tomboy with no interest in fashion, makeup, or the latest hairstyle. But Brett made her feel feminine—and more. And because he still stood there, taking his time, her natural modesty waned.
Putting both hands flat on his abdomen, she explored his taut skin and the incredible warmth of his body. A tantalizing trail of dark hair led from his navel down into the waistband of his faded jeans.
The muscles tightened beneath her palms, and his hands stilled. She heard his indrawn breath before he deliberately relaxed again. Cupping the back of her head, he tilted her face up to meet her gaze.
“Whatever you want, Audrey, I’m game.”
Such an offer.
She knew exactly what she wanted, she really did. It had never appealed to her before, but now, with Brett . . . defi nitely.
Just thinking it tightened her womb and made her nipples stiffen. Biting her bottom lip, she popped open the snap on his jeans. His nostrils flared, his mouth firmed, but he didn’t move.
Freeing herself of his gaze, she gave her attention to her task. Carefully, without haste, she dragged down his zipper. Through snug black boxers, she could see the size and shape of his straining penis. She dragged the backs of her knuckles over him and felt the tension in his body tighten.
He locked his knees and cupped her head in both hands.
Audrey pushed his jeans down to midthigh and at the same time, leaned forward to breathe in the rich musk scent of his arousal. Forehead against his abdomen, she put her lips to his erection.
Brett gave a low, muffled groan and his hands clenched in her hair, but quickly loosened again. “Damn, Audrey.” He caressed her hair, encouraged her. His deepened voice, the way he touched her, even the way he held himself, told her how much this excited him.
And that excited her. For the first time, she understood the power women had over men—and she loved it.
Anxious to further explore this new aptitude, Audrey pushed down his boxers, too, then pressed him back a step. With the enticing image of supplication in her mind, she slid off the bed to her knees before him.
A short, hungry sound came from deep in his throat, and Brett again stiffened his knees.
Excitement left her trembling. He was so hard, throbbing, and thick. A drop of precum glistened on the head of his erection, tempting her.
She wrapped a fist around him, holding him still in one hand while with the other, she palmed the taut muscles of his rear. Everything about him was perfect and masculine and so stimulating to her senses.
She licked her lips as she looked at him and, impatient, Brett urged her forward.
Audrey didn’t think about what he might expect, or how to tease him further, or even about the proper way to do it. This was her moment of pleasure; she gave in to her own hunger and, after one long lick that ran along his length and ended at the crown, she drew him deep into her mouth.
His harsh groan vibrated in the quiet of the room.
Wildly excited by the taste of him, Audrey enjoyed his rich scent and his reaction. He guided her, groaning anew each time she drew him in, shaking as she pulled back. She put both hands on his backside and let him have her mouth, let him dictate the depth and speed and—
“God, that’s enough.” Brett went rigid, fighting himself more than her. Breathing hard, he started to pull back.
But Audrey didn’t want him to.
This was her first time taking a man in her mouth, and she wanted everything.
She clenched her fingers in the muscles of his butt and slicked her tongue around him.
“Audrey . . .”
He sounded in pain and, loving it, she licked him again, swallowing more of him.
For two seconds of suspended time, he hesitated, and then he gave up. His big hands curved around her head and he drew her in close again,
eased her back, brought her in again.
Each time, his breathing rasped, and Audrey felt him throbbing in her mouth.
“Audrey,” he growled as she took him deep. “Suck on me. Hard.”
That command was almost enough to push Audrey over the edge, too. Feeling wickedly sensual, she did as he instructed, and he lost it. Fitting his thumbs into her hollowed cheeks, he let himself go.
His taste was unique to her, hot and salty. When his release ended, he dropped his head forward and petted her in a leisurely, affectionate way, stroking along her hair, her cheek. Audrey didn’t want to let him go. But now when she licked, he flinched as if it were too much, so she finally eased away and rested her cheek against his hip.
He reached down for her arm and tugged her to her feet. Green eyes glittering, warm with emotion, and soft with release, he stared at her.
Audrey licked her still-tingling lips.
Smiling crookedly, he touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth. After another beat of time, he shook his head on a small laugh. “I have to tell you, Audrey, that was one hell of a nice surprise.”
He sounded gruff, and Audrey blushed. “I’d never done that before.”
Maybe he could tell, because he didn’t question her. He just bent for a kiss and then tumbled her into the bed with him. “Now I need a minute to recoup.”
He’d sprawled on his back with his jeans and shorts still at his knees. Audrey scrambled up. She couldn’t imagine ever tiring of looking at him. Now his penis was semisoft, and for whatever reason, that appealed to her, too.
While she cuddled him in her hand, she bent to kiss his chest, those sexy abs, the tops of his thighs. She went off the bed to stand at his feet so she could finish stripping him.
He came up to his elbows, and that position sent new muscles bunching and flexing.
She sighed.
Shaking his head at her, Brett laughed and said, “You, too, hon.”
Distracted with his body, now fully bare before her, Audrey glanced at him in confusion.
“Take off your clothes, Audrey. I want to look at you, too.”