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He was almost as adept at cutting himself off as I was.
“I would’ve finished but you didn’t want me to.” I shrugged and lowered my gaze to his throat. Such a vulnerable place. I’d nearly kissed him there before he’d shoved me away. “You could’ve had my hand or my mouth. I’m up for anything.”
He cupped my chin and dragged my face up to his. “How about if I take you inside and lay you out on my bed and make love to you until you scream?” He stepped closer and spoke against my mouth, moving my lips with his. Puffing his breath into me and making it mine. “And then, when I’m finished, what if I spread your legs and lick your sweet little pussy until you’re begging me to slide into you again? You up for that, baby doll?”
I was so shocked I couldn’t even work up a sneer at the annoying endearment. That was the only reason I could find for what I said next.
I’d live to regret saying it, that was for certain.
“I don’t even like that,” I whispered, with all the dismissiveness I could summon.
I didn’t want anyone’s face between my legs. It seemed horribly intrusive. Especially a guy who, minute by minute, was making me want to kick his ass even more. Pretty soon I’d be willing to do it for free.
He didn’t react for what felt like forever. Then his lips curled into quite possibly the most smug grin I’d ever seen. “Yet.”
Damn if I didn’t clench with need.
I pulled free of his hold. This time he let me go. I zipped up his jacket to the neck, meeting his gaze one last time before I walked away. It was getting to be a habit with us—me leaving him hanging—but at least I didn’t run. In fact, I walked as slowly as my chilly legs would allow.
My pride was my most enduring friend.
When I turned at the corner, I looked back over my shoulder. He still stood in the same place, a looming shadow in the dark.
Chapter Ten
Tray
I headed out early the next morning. Sleep had been an impossibility, so I eventually gave up and dragged my ass to The Cage. A few other people had arrived early too, but most of my favored machines were available. I warmed up on the treadmill before moving on to the rowing equipment and the pull-up bars. Quality time with the weight bag came next, then a lengthy sparring session with Joe, the first guy I’d ever fought. Despite being as grizzled as a Kodiak bear, he’d picked up some speed, and I ended up with a couple more bruises than I’d expected.
“Good job, man.” Rubbing my side, I grinned and bumped his fist after the match. Damn, maybe I really did need to start laying off the carbs.
I’d miss my bagels. But if I had to go cold turkey on bread products, at least I had bacon to ease the pain. And smoked ham. And Italian sausage smothered in peppers, onions, and horseradish sauce.
Joe followed me into the pool and sat on the edge while I did laps. Lots of laps. Even after the workout, my head still felt muzzy from lack of sleep. That wasn’t the only area of my anatomy that had filed an official protest.
Let’s just say my entire body—every part—had been awake all night.
“So you’re up against Costas soon. Heard he’s a scrappy one,” Joe said when I surfaced.
I grunted a noncommittal reply. I wasn’t excited about the fight. It was just what I did. Something to fill the time. The days of me living to get in the ring were long gone.
“Lots of buzz around the bout. Hard to believe you’re the old kid on the block now. You’re what, twenty-two?”
“Three. You know fighters don’t last long ’round here.” Some got bored and quit. Some got hurt or aged out. Others ended up in another kind of cage, one with steel bars instead of rope. “I’ve been in the game awhile.”
“Which makes you a target.” Joe leaned forward to nail me with a penetrating stare. “Be honest now. You’re getting ready to hang it up, aren’t you?”
I ducked my head again and came up dripping. I rubbed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath of humid chlorine-scented air. All tactics to delay replying to Joe’s question. I already knew the answer, but that didn’t mean I was ready to say it out loud.
He was a decent guy, one of the best I’d fought. Joe had taught me Muay Thai. My favored low kick was a modified version of the roundhouse he’d shown me years ago. Even so, he was still a competitor. I trusted him—to a point.
“What makes you say that?” I slicked my hand over my scalp.
“Brother, I’ve known you for a long time. Your passion is gone.”
It wasn’t gone entirely, as proven last night with Mia. Just her name echoing in my mind had my poor neglected cock rearing to life in the warm water. But she was the exception.
She was also the reason I’d been up all night, hard, angry and frustrated.
