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Mia
I didn’t have a ton of confidence in my ability to give head. Sure, I’d done it plenty of times. Other than with Tray, none of those times had ever been anything close to romantic. I wasn’t sure repetition had lent me any skill in that arena, but Tray had never complained.
Before today, he’d also never pulled out of my mouth when I was doing my best impression of a deep throater and walked away.
First time for everything, right? Especially bad things. Those particular ones you never forgot.
“Umm, hi. Wasn’t done yet.” I wiped the back of my hand over my cheek and shifted to watch him stalk across the room. He grabbed his waistband and dragged his pants up his legs, leaving me goggling.
That was one magnificent butt he’d just hidden from view. The handprint I’d left on the right cheek glowed red, a primal statement. Mine. All mine.
Take that, Brit bitch.
“Have you been using this today?” He crouched in front of the heavy bag, running his fingers over the floor.
I frowned. Guess the BJ wasn’t happening. I’d been enjoying it too. His was the only dick I’d ever wanted in my mouth. The others…
The others weren’t allowed to intrude. My head was too full already. I had enough trouble keeping Darren out. I’d be damned if I gave an all-access pass to my thoughts to the men I’d sucked off for money in the back of the bar, back when I hadn’t valued my mouth as more than a way to make extra cash.
Amazing how a year could feel like more than a lifetime.
“No.” Sighing, I cleaned up with a couple of tissues then tugged up my pants. I pushed my boobs back into place in my sports bra and adjusted my tank. “I worked out in the gym today.” I’d needed to hit an actual body rather than a bag but I kept that part to myself.
Tray shot a narrow-eyed glance at me over his shoulder. “So I saw.”
The words he’d used sent a shiver through me. They were too close to I see you.
Was the caller a reporter on the trail of a story? Some sensation mongerer? Maybe an old deluded fan from my fighting days? I just didn’t know. Waiting for their next contact was making me mental.
I hadn’t gotten a hang-up call today, which broke the pattern. Perhaps my stalker was moving on. I hadn’t freaked out and run—as I’d done the last time someone had decided to play phone tag with me harassment-style—so it was possible they’d turned their attention elsewhere. I so rarely hoped for anything that maybe the universe would give me a pass this time.
“Check this out.” Tray spun the bag around, revealing a large tear in the side. It wasn’t immediately visible. At least it hadn’t been to me, and I’d come into the office after I’d arrived two hours ago. He gripped the seam in both hands, holding it open so I could see the breadth of the cut—closer to a slash, possibly from a knife—while more of the bag’s sandy innards spilled onto the floor.
A fucking knife.
My vision swam and I stumbled back into the desk, catching my hip hard on the corner. I cried out, more from surprise than pain.
“Jesus fuck, Mia.” Tray shoved the bag away. He’d taken two steps toward me when the door banged open.
“Get your hands off her,” Giovanni snapped, falling silent as he took in the scene. Me leaning against the desk, my hair probably all messed up to shit, Tray halfway to me with the damaged bag twisting on its chains behind him. Tray’s shirt was still rolled halfway up his torso and his lips were smeared with my lipstick.
Whatever Costas thought was happening, clearly wasn’t.
“Excuse me?” Tray’s voice had gone to pure ice. “I don’t recall inviting you in here, Costas. So get the fuck out.”
Giovanni held his ground. “I heard slapping as I came up the hall, but I waited until I heard the crash and her crying out before I came in.” He swept his blue-black eyes over me. Coolly assessing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m f-fine.” Shock made me stutter. Who the hell ever tried to be my savior except Tray?
I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around my boyfriend doing it, never mind Costas, a man Tray and I had no love for. The fact that I’d willingly sparred with him a short while ago had more to do with right place, right time and my need for a workout than a lessening of my distaste. Nothing could do that. Not even him trying to play hero when he so didn’t need to.
Tray pulled down his shirt the rest of the way. Good thing since his torso was all scratched to hell from last night. Or a tussle with a wild cat in the underbrush. “Of course she’s fine. What’s your problem? Never heard people fuck before?”
“Tray.” The protest was halfhearted. I knew this was some kind of male peeing on a tree routine. Since I’d just engaged in one with big blue eyes out front, I couldn’t judge.
Giovanni crossed his arms over his broad chest. Tattoos rippled up and down his arms, the colorful ink covering every inch of his skin. “It didn’t sound like any freaky s
hit to me. It sounded like someone getting hurt.”
