by Quinn, Cari
If his profession hadn’t already led me to believe he was a masochist, his interest—or whatever the hell it was—in me would’ve proved it.
“It took a minute for me to cut through my solid wall of admirers. The women in there ogle me like a piece of sirloin.”
He gave me an affronted look that made me melt in spite of my steely resolve. Steely resolve didn’t have much hope of withstanding Tray Knox and his sea-blue eyes, that was for damn sure.
“I have a personality, you know,” he went on. “Just staring at my dick all the time hurts my wittle feelings.”
I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. He’d been extending his arm to me, coat gripped firmly in his fingers, but the sound made his arm fall to his side.
“What?” I asked defensively.
He pulled the bag off my shoulder, then helped me into the coat. I was so surprised by the gentlemanly gesture that I didn’t try to hold him off.
“I thought I heard you laugh inside the gym, but I was never sure. You do know how.”
“Of course I know how. I laughed last night too, remember?” My nerves buzzed from his nearness, from sheer awareness of his big frame looming behind me. Then he put his cheek close to mine and my thoughts scrambled like overcooked eggs.
“You have no scent but clean,” he murmured into my hair. “You never smell like fancy soaps or perfumes. Just soap and skin. Do you have any idea how sexy that is?”
I hated that I shivered, and not from the cold that led him to zip up my jacket like I was ten. He was seducing me so slowly and casually that I couldn’t kick him back. He wasn’t really doing anything. Just being friendly. Just being pleasant.
“I have to get to work.”
He let me take back my bag, and silently, we walked up the sidewalk. Except his silence unnerved me. He was probably trying to find an all new way to worm into my psyche.
By being nice to me, for fuck’s sake. I could take anything else. Had taken it, repeatedly.
I didn’t need anyone. Didn’t want anyone. Especially Tray or Fox or whatever he was calling himself today.
At the door to Vinnie’s, I turned, ready to give him another brushoff. I didn’t like being a bitch—contrary to popular opinion, I had a kinder, gentler side—but sometimes it was necessary. I wasn’t going to lead anyone on. Especially the guy I was going to fight.
“Look, Fox—”
He grabbed the door and held it open, lifting a brow in his signature move. “Going in, Spyder?”
The snarl left my throat before I knew it was coming. “You are so going to get a knee in the nuts if you call me that anywhere outside the octagon.”
“Promises, promises.” He grinned and waved me on. His workout bag didn’t budge from its location slung over his massive arm. He wasn’t bulky enough to be unattractive, but no one could say he wasn’t built like a damn semi-truck. “After you.”
“Thanks.” I walked inside and turned to pull the door shut behind me. In his face, if need be.
But he was already striding through, his gaze detouring from me to the bar. “Think Carmine’s here now?”
“What do you need with Carmine?”
He gestured behind him. “The sign in the window? You need another bartender, right? And he’s the boss, isn’t he?”
Oh hell no.
Words failed me, vanishing down my throat into my hollow stomach like someone had applied suction with a giant bendy straw. “We don’t need you.” Disturbing visions of Fox’s forearms flexing as he mixed drinks flew through my mind. “We’re good.”
But he’d already strode to the bar and leaned over it, showing off cascades of rippling muscles through his tight shirt. “Hey, Shelly.” He flashed the blond bartender a wide smile, reminding me of the day I’d met him.
Only two days ago. How could it only be Wednesday?
How much more could he screw with my head?
Carmine emerged from the back room and grunted at Fox to follow him. Fox shot me a grin over his shoulder, the teasing glint in his eyes promising that I would soon have a new coworker.
I didn’t doubt it.
Sighing, I stashed my stuff and got to work. We weren’t supposed to leave anything but our purses out front, but I wasn’t about to go in the back room to be confronted by Smiling Jack again. Might as well enjoy a few minutes of freedom from his presence.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t be getting much of it from now on.
Sure enough, Fox strolled out a short while later, hands in his pockets and an interested smile on his face as he listened to Carmine blather on about the costs of running a bar in Brooklyn. Fox clucked in all the appropriate places then gave Carmine a hearty clap on the back when my boss—our boss—said he’d see him bright and early on Thursday, since we were expecting a shipment.
“Sure thing. I appreciate the opportunity. See you tomorrow.” Fox shot me another of those taunting grins before the door shut behind him.
“Guess he got the job,” Shelly said with a wistful sigh.
“Surprise,” I said under my breath, attacking the glass I was polishing with new fervor.
“You think he’s single?”
“How the hell should I know?”
She didn’t pay me any mind. She was used to my random bursts of inexplicable anger. Most people who spent any time in my orbit got used to that facet of my personality quick.
At least I saved my urges to punch people for the cage. Mostly.
By the end of my shift, my mood had evened out. My feet hurt, yes, and that morning’s sparring session had resulted in more than a few sore muscles. Mix in my bruises and wounds from the other day and I was hobbling around like a senior citizen. But I wasn’t feeling freaked out or overwhelmed by Fox anymore—he hadn’t shown up all night, thank God—so I slotted the day in the win column.
Until I walked outside and found him leaning against a lamppost, waiting for me.
“Hi there.” His quirked mouth was barely a shadow under his hood.
Muttering a curse, I tightened his jacket around me. “Why are you here?”
“This is my new place of employment. Didn’t you hear?”
“You planning on staying here overnight to wait for your shift to start?” As was our way, I started walking without waiting for him to catch up. Since he could’ve outpaced me in his sleep, it wasn’t much of a lag.
“Maybe.” He fell into step beside me. “Actually, I asked what time you got off so that we could—”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. “Are you really this clueless or do you think you’re being cute?”
He grinned. “You think I’m cute?”
Back on that again. I nearly smiled before I caught myself. Jesus, he was like a puppy, who came with brass knuckles instead of claws.
But I wasn’t looking to take him home. Let him go pee on someone else’s rug. I didn’t have time for this nonsense.
I turned to face him outside one of the many bars in the area. I’d be damned if I stood around and watched this train wreck happen. If he needed a freaking boot to the face to get that I was not girlfriend material, I’d give it to him. “Are you that hard up for a date that you can’t understand when someone’s not interested? I don’t want to date you.”
He pushed back his hood. “Date me?” His smug smile slipped a notch. “What do you think this is? Grade school? I’ll write my phone number on your wrist and you’ll tell your friend Kizzy—wack name, by the way—that you’re crushing on me?”
His derision made me want to step on his instep. Hard. Since I wasn’t real good at ignoring my physical impulses, I did as I wished and had the satisfaction of hearing him grunt before I spun around to yank open the door to Shooters Bar. It was the typical meat market hookup joint and therefore the kind of place I usually avoided unless I needed some cash.
Loud rock music pierced my eardrums the second I stepped inside. I never saw if he followed me into the throng of people crowding the bar. I assumed he did, but it wasn’t
my problem. I was going to do something drastic, and if he witnessed it, even better. If not, I’d hit the reset button on my libido and end this idiocy once and for all.
He wasn’t going to throw me off my game. After I fought Fox, I’d never see him again. And if I played my blowjobs right tonight, hopefully he’d label me as a worthless bimbo and leave me alone.
The momentary nausea at dropping to my knees again would pass. I just had to soldier through and get it done. Anything to get Fox off my scent—for his benefit and mine.
Little did he know the favor I was about to do for him.
After a few minutes, I settled on a target. I’d started getting attention as soon as I walked in, but that was because of my super tight Vinnie’s T-shirt rather than my face. I was no one’s beauty. Pretty enough had been Darren’s favorite description of me.
I’d always wondered why he had pulled the car over beside me that day. He’d given me reasons, but they still didn’t explain why he hadn’t searched for someone who was so much more than pretty enough. Someone he couldn’t have broken as easily as he’d broken me.
But I’d never asked. I’d just sat there and smiled like the soulless doll I’d become. Pretty enough shell, empty insides. Now my shell wasn’t so pretty anymore, yet I still used it to accomplish what I needed to.
My gaze landed on a muscular football-player type standing with a bunch of his buddies. Though he had short hair and a nice smile, I wouldn’t have cared if he looked like Hannibal Lecter. I wasn’t all that fussy when I was on the warpath to rip out someone’s heart.
Not that I assumed Fox had anything but the most basic of lustful feelings in my direction. We’d only known each other a handful of days, and he was a player. I’d harbored a lot of delusions over the years, but even I drew the line somewhere.
This would only sting him for a couple minutes, if that. If he even saw. And we’d both be better off for my acting quickly to nip…this, whatever the hell it was, in the bud.
The weird thing about the lies I told myself? Sometimes they tasted exactly like the truth.
“Hey there.” I smiled at the football dude. “What’re you drinking?”
Thirteen
I knew what she was doing. She’d go all the way with a stranger just to get me to back off. A girl like Mia wouldn’t settle for a conversation when she could offer a live demonstration of her disinterest. She’d pull down some guy’s zipper right in front of me if necessary.
But she didn’t understand me or my reactions. I’d been the kind of kid who ran up to danger signs and tried to figure out how to scale the fence to reach what I was supposed to avoid.
Mia’s warnings were foreplay to me. Just a tease. And the guy she was currently feeling up with absolutely zero subtlety? Merely a human speed bump.
I sipped my beer from where I’d settled back to watch the show. She thought she had me handled. Too bad she’d miscalculated her opponent.
Somehow she disappeared from my line of sight. That didn’t worry me at first. Then the minutes dragged on, and an emotion I hadn’t experienced much since moving away from home kindled in my gut.
Fear.
I’d stopped being afraid when I walked out my father’s door. I still grew concerned about my mother’s safety now and then even if she didn’t, but I’d filed their domestic issues away in a box labeled do not touch.
Up until the day I cut myself off, worry had been my constant companion. For my mom, for me. My father had never laid a hand on me, though I’d always expected that to change. If I believed in shrinks, mine would probably say I fought for the sole reason of beating my father over and over again. In a place no one could stop me, where I could win.
He or she would probably be right.
I pushed off the stool and prowled through the bar like a tiger off its leash. Amazingly, I hadn’t started growling yet.
Where the hell was she?
I stalked to the side door and pulled it open, my ears prickling at the moans that drifted toward me. Stiffening my shoulders, I stepped into the alley and glimpsed a couple who were humping—dry now, wet soon—near the street. One sharp sound from me, and they adjusted their clothes and headed down the block.
The noises continued. I narrowed my eyes on the shadowy figures near the back of the alley. One stood, hunched over. The other knelt, barely a ghoulish shadow in the dark.
She still wore my fucking jacket.
Rage burned away the coppery taste of fear in my throat. Not because she wore my coat while she blew some dude to get back at me for—
What? Daring to like her? For seeing her as more than this?
No, that wasn’t it. I got that she had issues. What made me angry was that she’d risk herself. She knew this jacknozzle even less than she knew me. He could be some kind of lunatic, and she’d come out alone with him into an alley?
Yeah, yeah, she was a big time fighter. All well and good if the guy didn’t cut her ear to ear before she had a chance to get into position. Was pissing me off really worth compromising her safety? If so, she sure had some screwed-up priorities.
“Mia,” I said in an undertone, knowing she could hear me. Hell, she’d probably been timing her suckfest to my arrival. “Get off your fucking knees.”
Their uneven breathing broke the silence. Then came a low curse. “Dude, this isn’t your business.”
“She’s my business.” She hadn’t moved by the time I made it over to them. “And if you want to use your dick again, you’ll get out of here before I tear it off and shove it up your ass.”
“Fox, relax.” Mia jerked to her feet and gestured. “His pants aren’t even open.”
I made myself take a quick glance. She’d only gotten as far as unbuttoning the last few buttons on the bastard’s shirt, a fact for which I’d be forever grateful. The idea of her wrapping her battered lips around his flesh made me want to turn his skull into a macaroni casserole. With extra sauce.
Yeah, so I had a little anger management problem. I didn’t actually do it.
“Get. Lost.” I didn’t look at the guy’s face. If I did, he wouldn’t have a motherfucking chance. “Last warning.”
I couldn’t kick Mia’s ass—though she’d all but given me an engraved invitation—but I could rip this bastard a new one.
Mia’s “date” shuffled off, head hung, fat fingers fumbling over his buttons. Poor disappointed willie probably already deflated in his pants.
Asshole.
Mia tucked her pale, probably freezing hands under her arms. When she finally spoke, she didn’t sound mad. Just exhausted. “Why can’t you leave me alone, Tray?”
Tray, not Fox. If she’d tossed my ring name at me, or her usual bravado, or even fury, I would’ve told her to go to hell and gone back inside. Maybe even picked up my own company for the evening, as much of a double standard as it was.
Instead, she gave me an honest question, and I unraveled at her feet.
I moved closer and tentatively touched her jaw. My fingertips whispered over her skin before she tilted her head up toward mine. Her eyes looked as raw as wounds and as big as manholes. So dark and deep. Drawing me into her until I couldn’t see the escape route.
I wanted to be lost with her. Maybe even to her.
“Do you really want me to?” The words scraped my throat on their way out.
She hesitated for so long I began to believe she wouldn’t answer. Then she slowly shook her head, her soft, damaged lips falling open while she dragged in a breath. “No.”
Stepping toward her, I pressed my arms against the brick wall on either side of her head. The cold air stung my cheeks, but my only focus was the warmth generated from her sweet body wedged against mine. “I’ll make you a deal.”
She shook her head again. “No deals.”
“Yes. It’ll be a really simple one.” I placed my thumb in the shallow dent in her chin. “You want to help someone to get off, I’m happy to oblige you. But you won’t be on your knees.” I boosted her up in
my arms so that she had no choice but to lock her legs around my waist. I turned and put my back to the wall, then looked up at her face outlined in the weak glow from the lights at the edge of the lot. She looked otherworldly, almost ethereal. All hollows and shadows. “And the person who’ll be getting off,” I murmured, “will be you.”
I figured she would fight me. That was our routine. Initial attack, block, strike again. Counter, spin, clash. Holding each other on the ropes until I gave in and she walked away.
Not this time.
She slapped her hands on the brick wall above me and started to move, her body riding mine. I’d seen her work out for hours today, watched her bend and twist and stretch, and I’d still never imagined her being able to grind in such a sensual, fluid way.
For a moment, maybe two, I was too stunned to respond in kind. I should’ve known she never gave me what I anticipated, which made me want whatever she dished out even more.
The rock music pumping out of the bar served as her soundtrack as she rocked her pelvis and swayed to the beat. She brushed against my chest, her breasts barely constrained by the thin material of her work shirt, and I swear my eyes crossed. My dick swelled in my tight jeans, begging for relief. Even the icy night air couldn’t cool me down.
I forgot what I’d promised her. Forgot my own name and the blood money she wanted to put between us. I gripped her firm ass and turned again, driving her up against the brick so I could get my hand on her bare flesh above her belt.
So soft. Fuck.
Her chilled skin felt like silk under my palm, and I slid my fingers higher. Beneath cotton, above the satin of her bra. Climbing until I could roughly cup her breast while I slanted my mouth over hers.
She gasped and thrust her tongue between my lips, all hunger and need. This wasn’t the unsteady, confused woman of the other night. Now she was right here with me, as eager as I was. I had to keep her here.