by E. M. Moore
I smile a little. “Jo. Short for Joanne, but everyone called me Jo.”
His lips quirk. He doesn’t tell me I look like a Jo, or that I don’t look like a Jo. He just takes in the information, internalizing it.
“What’s your name? Your real name?” I qualify because everyone—and I mean everyone—calls him Brawler. Even the teachers at school, though I doubt that’s the name on his birth certificate.
“Marcus, but I used to make people call me Mack until I got the nickname Brawler.”
I stare into his face, his halo of blond hair contrasting the ink on his neck and arms. I don’t know if I’ll ever use his real name, but knowing it makes another barrier slip away between us. It’s like we’re two normal people right now, not holding back any deep, dark secrets.
He nips at my ear again, running his hands up my back until I’m forced to raise my hands above my head so he can lift my t-shirt away from me. His hands dip into the waistband of my joggers next, then he moves them over my ass. I lift my legs, so he can take them all the way off. He leans back, gaze moving over my sports bra and panties. Hell, I’m not even wearing sexy panties. I learned a long time ago that having underwear ride up your ass while training is a terrible idea, but Brawler looks at me as if I’m a Victoria’s Secret model, anyway.
I slip my hands down the back of his joggers, cupping a handful of his ass. All thoughts of needing to get back downstairs or what will await me back at the tower, are gone. This is just about Brawler and me.
Brawler kicks off his shoes while I lower his joggers. His muscle tank is next until he’s standing there with pitched boxers. He leads me to the bed, and for the first time, I can see more of his room. His comforter is a solid dark blue. A dark shade of gray coats the walls. He has a Rocky poster on one wall, and Muhammad Ali on the other.
He captures my mouth again before I have more time to look around. He moves me to the mattress, and when I sink into his comforter, the smell of fresh sheets greet me. He hovers over me, and for the first time, I get a good picture of his muscled chest and torso. There are more tattoos there. A fiery sun over his pec that’s done in black ink, thick, broad lines shaping the circle and rays. I run my hands over it while he watches me. “What’s this one about?”
The lines are faded, not as bold or as dark as his neck tattoo. It’s older. “That one’s about waking up every day, feeling like it’s a fresh start. Maybe the sun is shining. The wind is blowing. And you take a breath of that fresh air…only to realize it’s just the same old day, laced in darkness.” He blinks. “I got it after my sister died.”
His brother died the same day, but when we discuss anything to do with that day, it’s about his sister and her innocent life. Not his brother.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I push up onto my forearms and kiss the center of his sun. He shivers. “I’m going to have to get one to represent you now.”
“Me?” I lick my lips. “That’s kind of, I don’t know, permanent.”
“You’re kind of permanent.” He kisses a trail down my neck, warmth spreading through my chest. “The sun is the old me. Since you got here, it’s been different. I’ve been different.”
“You mean like I might be your ray of sunshine?”
He maneuvers his hands to my back, unclasping my sports bra. “I mean like you might make everything worth it.”
Even after everything I’ve told Brawler, he can still look at me the way he is now. He can still think such nice things of me. Maybe I can come out the other side of this a normal person. He gives me hope.
He helps me out of my bra, tossing it over the side of the bed, taking me all in. He doesn’t immediately go for my breasts. Not like Johnny. His touch skirts around them, trailing over my needy flesh. Fire erupts in his wake like a lava flow chasing after his fingers no matter where they touch. After he’s mesmerized every freckle on my torso, he tugs on my panties. I lift my ass to help him and then they make their way over the side of the bed too.
He trails his fingertips over my lower abdomen, skirting my mound before he cups my hip. “When it occurred to me that you might’ve died in the shootout, I promised myself that if we ever got to do this, I’d take my time. I’d worship you like you deserve.”
He lowers his head, kissing a trail straight down the center of my breasts to my belly button and then back up again, first taking my left nipple in his mouth while he kneads the other, and then the right. I arch into him, craving more of his touch. I liked the intensity of the moment with Johnny, but what girl doesn’t want to be worshipped either?
I take my fingers and hook them around his boxer briefs before pulling them down. He pauses his attention on my nipples to kick out of his boxers before lowering himself again. “Open your legs for me, beautiful.”
I push my knees to the side so he can settle comfortably between them. He hovers just out of reach, so I tip his chin up so I can kiss his lips, while wandering my fingers through the hard dips of his abs and then lower until I brush his cock. He jerks toward me at first contact and moans into my mouth. I stroke him, my palm running down his hard length and back up again at the pace of our kissing. My core throbs. Brawler lowers his hands, brushing his thumb over my clit. I buck into him, needy for more. He places a finger at my entrance, teasing me first.
“Wet for me.”
“Mm-hmm,” I sigh.
He pushes his finger inside, and I break the kiss. All thoughts obliterate as I focus on his finger and match my strokes to his. The slow burn of us easing into this has only intensified every spark of desire coursing through me.
“Brawler,” I warn, trying to tell him that if we’re going to do this, we have to do it now because I’m not going to last long.
He pulls his finger away, kissing me on the lips before reaching over to the stand by his bed and opening the small drawer there. He fishes out a condom wrapper, and I wait as he rips it open and guides it down his length. I watch in awe at just how long it takes for him to unroll the condom over himself. Brawler’s big.
I don’t have too much time to think about it though because he hooks his hand around my thigh and pulls me close to him, lining us up. He pauses a moment, waiting until our gazes connect, before he pushes the head of his cock inside. My toes curl as he strokes all the way in, only stopping when he’s fully seated.
I smile. It’s the most ridiculous thing to do in that moment, and I instantly regret it. Before I can hide in shame, though, he smiles back. “Fuck,” he says, chuckling. “You feel too good.” He moves out and pushes back in, reaching a little further this time until both of us react, a moan from him and a short cry from me.
After that, all bets are off.
The bed creaks underneath us. I hope to God his mother is still sleeping because it’s obvious what’s going on in here. Every time he pushes inside me, he grinds over my clit, and I suck in a breath at the explosion of pleasure. My hands roam over his firm, tight muscles as he drives us both higher and higher.
Trembles overtake my body, and I dig my heels into the bed, matching him stroke for stroke until my fingers sink into his skin as soon as my orgasm hits. “Yes, yes.”
Wave after wave of pleasure rocks into me. Brawler’s whole body tightens, then he strokes inside me one last time, his arms quaking as he holds himself up. After a moment, he drops his forehead to mine, silencing us both as we share an intense stare. In that moment, everything that needs to be said between us is said with our eyes.
Brawler will be following me when I leave the Heights. That much I’m sure of.
We dress slowly. I liked being in the Brawler bubble, but now that reality has set back in, I know I have to leave soon. Brawler hands me my t-shirt, and when I pull it over my head, he grasps the material in his fists and pulls, bringing me closer to him. He kisses me, a tender press of his lips against mine until footsteps sound on the other side of the door.
He pulls away. “Shit.”
A knock sounds. “Marcus, are you in there?”
&nbs
p; The voice is gravelly. I can tell it’s a female, but it’s also a lower tone than I would’ve imagined coming from his mother. Or any female for that matter.
“Yeah, Mom.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, and he lifts his shoulders. Dear God, I hope we didn’t wake her up.
He straightens the fresh shirt he pulled on while I take my hair out of its ponytail, run my fingers through the dark strands, and then put it back up again. He takes my hand, and we walk out together. His mom looks over her shoulder. She’s wearing a nightdress. She can’t be that much older than what my own mom would be, but looks aren’t just measured in years, and I can tell the years have not been kind to Brawler’s mom.
My heart sinks.
Her eyes widen when she sees me next to him. Her gaze drops to our entwined hands, but I’m not afraid of her telling anyone. She looks like she doesn’t get out of the apartment much at all. “Oh, hello.”
I slip my hand from Brawler’s and move toward her. “I’m Kyla,” I tell her. “Nice to meet you.”
She gives me a limp shake and then retracts her hand, rubbing it down her disheveled nightgown. Crimson colors her cheeks, and I glance away at her embarrassment. “I didn’t know Marcus had anyone over. A girl…friend? A girlfriend?”
I look over at Brawler. His gaze softens when he looks at her. For the first time, he’s not a badass fighter, he’s someone’s son. A caregiver. “Kyla and I really haven’t talked about it yet. Thanks for bringing it up.”
I laugh, and his mom hobbles over to the sofa before falling backward into it.
“She’s the neighbor I was telling you about. The one you made the cookies for.”
“Oh, yes. How were they?”
“Really good,” I say, almost choking on the words and hoping she doesn’t spot the lie. “Thank you. It’s always nice to be welcomed somewhere.”
A small smile flits across her lips, but it looks almost staged, as if someone wrote it on a script that she had to smile at this point, so that’s what she’s doing.
Brawler puts his arm around my shoulders. “Kyla has to go now, Mom.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m glad I got to meet you.”
“Me too,” I tell her, before Brawler leads me toward the door.
“I’m going to walk Kyla out. I’ll be right back up.”
She bobs her head, and Brawler ushers me out the open door. We’re silent as we move toward the stairs at the end of the hallway. Before I can think of anything to say, Brawler speaks up, “She’s changed a lot since my sister died. She didn’t used to be like that.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him because what am I supposed to say? I can’t lie. I’m not going to tell him it was really great to meet his mom because he’d see through that shit. She was half a person, like going through the motions of everyday life. It was awful.
“Did you really eat those cookies?”
“Fuck no.”
He barks out a laugh, the area around his eyes crinkling adorably. Right before we hit the front entrance, he pulls back on my hand before letting it slip through his fingers. We face each other. With others milling around the lobby, there’s nothing we can do or say to one another right now. Instead, I smile and nod as the sapphire blues in his eyes focus on me.
Brawler and I just shared something special. If I could do anything differently, it’s that I wouldn’t have to hide it.
But because we want to stay alive, we have to.
16
When I get in the car, I expect Magnum to give me shit about being careful, but he doesn’t. Brawler walks back toward the apartment building, and Magnum takes over like this is a trade-off of highly valuable belongings between dealers.
“Find anything you wanted to keep?” he asks as he puts the car in Drive.
I shake my head. “Everything was pretty much destroyed.”
“The thing you wanted though?”
“Safe,” I tell him. Thankfully. If anyone found out who I was, I’d end up dead, for sure.
I bite down on my lip, my heart coming to a startling halt. When Johnny finds out why I’m here, he’s going to be devastated. Furious. Confused.
Betrayed.
Just like me. Just like I felt when I heard the news about what someone did to me.
“You okay?” Magnum asks. “You’re pale all of a sudden.”
“Fine,” I croak. “Great.” Fan-fucking-tastic. I have feelings for a guy who I’m intent on ruining. You know, the usual shit when it comes to the Heights.
“You can talk to me,” Magnum urges, shifting in the driver seat. He looks over his shoulder, sharing his attention between the road and me. His acute hazel brown eyes read me. If anything, Magnum is damn good at his job. Too fucking good for my liking.
“Why do you care?” I ask, head swimming. “You work for Big Daddy K and Johnny, and yet, you wanted to get me out of here. You let me spend time with Oscar and Brawler even though you know Johnny would be pissed,” I say, remembering he’d done this even before the shootout with Oscar. He let me go to his football game by myself. My brow furrows as I wait for his reaction.
His copper scruff can’t keep the tightening of his jaw hidden away from me. “Everyone needs a friend. Moreso when you’re thrust into a situation you can’t handle.”
“I can handle this,” I scoff, hackles rising down my spine.
“You can handle being in a shootout? You can handle having a gun being pulled on you?” He shakes his head. “We weren’t designed to handle those things.”
“Sounds like you’re in the wrong profession.”
He glowers at me. “Trust me, I’m in the right fucking profession.”
I don’t know why every time I talk to Magnum lately, we end up arguing like enemies. It feels like we’re on two separate sides even though he keeps telling me I can trust him. If that’s the case, he can answer a few questions for me, can’t he? “How’d you get into the Crew? Oscar told me you went to school in the Heights. I’m assuming that’s where it started.”
Magnum settles back in the seat. Even though he’s practically my valet with some bodyguarding duties, he’s a badass one. His all black outfit with arm muscles poking out from underneath his sleeves would tell anyone not to fuck with him. The copper scruff adds to his aura of badassery. “I’ve been running with the Crew since school, yeah. I’m a lifer. What can I say?”
His bored tone aggravates me. “Can we stop playing games? Why haven’t you told Johnny about Brawler and Oscar?”
Magnum hits the breaks and swerves the car to the side of the road. Several people skitter out of the way as one tire runs up onto the sidewalk and then thunks back down. He shifts in his seat, glaring at me. “Don’t say that out loud again. Don’t insinuate it. Don’t even think about it when you’re in Rocket’s presence. You understand?”
“Do I look dumb to you?”
His nostrils flare, and his brows pull together.
“You didn’t answer my question. I want to know why.”
“Saying I want to be your friend isn’t enough? Because that’s all I’ve got. Maybe I recognize myself in you. Yeah? Maybe I see more than you want me to.”
My heart hammers, knocking against my chest. I don’t want anyone seeing me.
Magnum’s lips thin as he takes me in. “Remember that we both have shit on each other, Kyla. I know you fucked Brawler.”
“And I know you tried to get me out.”
“Tit for tat. When two people share secrets, that makes them friends.”
“That’s…fucked up.”
“That’s how it is here.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I already know.
I sit back in the seat while Magnum pulls the car back onto the road. Good thing all the windows are dimmed, and no one can see in. I’m heeding Magnum’s warning on that. Spies are all over the Heights, and they would love to endear themselves to the Crew by turning in a backstabber.
Magnum pulls into a parking spot in the garage. It’s a d
ifferent one than he usually uses. The shadows in this area stretch through the whole corner. He sighs as he leans back in the seat. “I really am trying to be a friend to you. I know it’s fucking hard because of where we are. I understand that things are usually never cut and dry. Johnny tasked me with keeping you safe, and that’s what I’m going to do. Even if it is in a way he wouldn’t approve of.”
“You seemed shocked before…when you asked if I actually liked him.”
He scratches the short, stubby hairs on his face. “I didn’t see the connection at first, but I get it now.”
My phone rings. I glance toward it and then back at Magnum’s face. He’s closed off again, looking alert and ready to make a decision at a moment’s notice. I reach inside my bag and pull it out. It’s Johnny. I bite my lip. Ever since I had the revelation about how he was going to take the news about his father being killed, guilt has been tearing at me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says. “Just making sure you didn’t forget I wanted to see you tonight.”
“I’m actually right downstairs about to come up.”
“Excellent,” he says, voice suave as usual. “Get your sexy ass up here.”
I end the call and push the door open when Magnum puts his hand on my thigh. “Be careful.”
He squeezes and lets go, and I glance back as I get out of the car, but he’s already face forward, the bodyguard mask down over his face.
I take the elevator alone this time. When it pings on their floor, the doors open to reveal a stunning Johnny. A smirk quirks his lips, and his posture is savagely confident, as if he knows he looks good. He’s wearing a pair of khakis and a button-down shirt, the top four or five buttons undone.
His presence about knocks me over, and I have the sudden need to shower. Brawler’s scent is all over me. His touch. His words, and here I stand in front of someone who wants to own me. Hell, he thinks he already does. He may have been able to capture a part of my heart, but he doesn’t have it all. Not completely.
“Hey,” I say, trying to plaster on an innocuous smile.
“There she is,” he says, stepping forward. He reaches for my hand to bring it to his lips, kissing me on the knuckles.
