“So I quit. I got the first job I could, down at the docks, and moved into that shitty apartment, and decided I’d never fight again. But that didn’t fix anything. The first time I took the bandages off and saw my neck, I smashed the mirror. I realized what I’d become.” I turned to Sylvie. “It wasn’t just killing Travere in the ring. It was all the stuff I did for Rick. All those people I hurt. That’s all I’m good for, Sylvie—breaking stuff and causing pain. And I don’t want that for you.”
I looked at her and I prayed. I prayed that I was wrong. I prayed that she’d say something to make it okay.
But she just stared at me in horror and I knew I’d been right all along. I was exactly the monster I thought I was.
I got up and walked away.
Sylvie
Say something.
He was a killer. He’d actually killed someone and hurt many more.
Stop him.
Every warning my dad had ever given me ran through my head. Every concept of bad men. Ex-cons, with their prison tattoos. Rick’s bodyguards. Men I’d cross the street to avoid. Most of those men hadn’t killed anyone. But Aedan had.
Call him back right now or you’re going to lose him.
I tried to find a way around it. It was self-defense. He had no choice. But I couldn’t get past the image of the guy lying there on the floor of the pit, or his wife and kids at home. The knowledge was like a rock, crushing me down into the ground. This man I...loved...was a killer. Those same hands that had touched every part of my body had—Jesus.
I watched him disappear around the corner and then just sat there, head hunched against the rain. I let it soak through my hair and stream to the ground. I let it run down inside my t-shirt and flow down my back.
I imagined Rick slapping Aedan’s back after each fight, telling him over and over again how vicious he was. In some ways, it was a dark version of what Aedan had done for me—he’d changed his whole view of himself. But where Aedan had convinced me I could be strong, Rick had convinced Aedan that he was good for nothing but fighting. He’d twisted his mind. He was like a cruel dog owner who whips his animal until it snaps at anyone who comes near.
And Aedan had finally broken free of all that and sentenced himself to a life of solitude. And I’d showed up and asked him to train me...to hit me. God, that must have been unbearable for him. Just agreeing to train me, going back to that whole world...I felt sick at what I’d put him through. And yet he’d done it all, and for a stranger. I thought back to when he’d gone to The Pit with me and volunteered to take my place. He’d actually been willing to return to fighting—his worst nightmare—and for Rick, a man he must hate more than anyone in the world. All to protect me.
Maybe he was right—there was no fixing this. Nothing would bring back the man he’d killed. But he was trying to redeem himself. Shouldn’t that count for something?
I sat there frozen for another few seconds...and then jumped to my feet and raced after him.
Out on the street, out of the shelter of the alley, the rain pounded at your head and flooded your eyes. Cars had slowed down to a crawl and were sending huge fantails of rainwater up onto the sidewalk. I had to squint just to see Aedan—he was almost half a block away and moving fast.
“Aedan!” I yelled. No response.
I started to run. Rain was streaming down my face and getting in my mouth, making it difficult to breathe. I tried to go faster, but my sneakers were sodden sponges and my soaked jeans weighed me down. At every side street I had to double-check for trucks pulling out, because the rain made it impossible to hear. “Aedan!”
I never could have caught him if I hadn’t gotten into shape. But slowly, agonizingly, I gained. I was panting and gasping when I finally caught his arm and spun him around. Every muscle in his body was tense. He stared down at me, braced and ready. Ready for whatever useless platitude I could offer. Ready for me to lie and say it was okay. I knew none of that was going to work.
“You fucked up,” I said at last, spitting it out through the rain. “You did a really bad thing. But you’re already paying for it, every day. I’ve seen the way you look at yourself. Walking away from this, walking away from me—that’s not making things better. Torturing yourself won’t help.”
“You really want to be around someone like me?”
“Yes!” I took his face between my hands. “Rick used you! He manipulated you and Eric. He’s the one who should suffer.” I gently put my arms around him. “I can’t make this go away—ever. I can’t even tell you it’s okay, or that you shouldn’t feel guilty. But I can tell you I love you.”
He stared at me. Those pale blue eyes were burning brighter than I’d ever seen them, wanting it to be true.
So I showed him the only way I could. I threw myself at him and kissed him. For a split second, his lips stayed closed. And then I felt his body relax against mine as the guilt bled out. I’d felt the weight of the knowledge for just a few seconds, back in the alley, and it had been unbearable. He’d been carrying that weight for years...and now it had finally been lifted.
We pulled each other closer, wrapping warm arms around rain-chilled waists. My breasts crushed against his chest and I could feel the beat of his heart through the sodden layers of our t-shirts. He lifted me off the ground and I clung to him, wrapping my legs around his waist. The rain poured down our faces, but it couldn’t hold back the heat of the kiss as we gasped and panted and his tongue explored my mouth. The heat of him warmed my chilled body, sending shudders out to my fingertips. At first, it was about reassurance—letting each other know that we were back, that it was going to be okay. But slowly, it changed, becoming hotter and deeper. I could feel all the barriers between us finally lifting...leaving us free.
He drew back for a second, gazing at me as if to check he wasn’t dreaming. “God,” he rasped. “God, now I got you...I’m gonna do such bad things to you.”
I was naive enough to think he meant when we get home.
He set me down, took my hand and dragged me towards the nearest structure—a parking garage. His warm, urgent grip and the way he squeezed my hand in excitement was exactly what I’d longed for that morning on the subway. Everything was different, now. We were properly together for the first time.
When we reached the garage, he didn’t bother walking around to the entrance. He just lifted me over the low wall and inside, then vaulted the wall himself. The place was full of cars, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around—a good thing, judging by the looks Aedan was giving me. I don’t think he would have cared if there had been anyone around. At that point, I think he’d have happily fucked me in a police station.
I managed to steer him a little way away from the street, into the dark maze of cars, but he ran out of patience after just a few seconds and pushed me up against an SUV, his hands sliding up underneath my t-shirt. His lips found mine and his tongue slipped into my mouth. His hands cupped my breasts and he pinned me against the car, my wet shirt squeaking along the window. When the family who owned it came back for it that evening, they must have wondered why their car was dripping wet, indoors.
Then he stripped my t-shirt up and over my head.
“Not here,” I gasped. “We can’t.”
“Yes we feckin’ can.”
He reached behind me for the clasp of my bra, but his fingers kept slipping on the wet fabric. Frustrated, he flipped me around and pushed me forward against the car. My breasts pillowed against the driver’s side window, the glass shockingly cold. When he stripped off my bra and pulled me back against him, I saw my breasts had left a sideways figure of eight on the glass. Then his hands were cupping them, thumbs stroking across nipples that were already achingly hard.
He lifted me and set me down on my back on the hood of the SUV. I lay there staring up at him, panting. We’re not going to—God, we can’t, not right here in public—
He started to unfasten my belt. In the distance, I could hear voices. In the huge, echoey space, it was i
mpossible to tell where they were coming from. They could be heading for this very car, for all I knew.
Aedan stripped my jeans, sneakers and socks off in one twisted wet bundle. A second later, my panties followed and I was naked on the hood. The metal must have been freezing under my ass, but I didn’t even register it. All I cared about was the sight of the man in front of me as he slowly unfastened his belt and shucked down his jeans. He didn’t bother taking off any more clothes. His cock was already fully hard for me and he took it in one hand as he stepped towards me. He looked right into my eyes, but I couldn’t meet them—I couldn’t stop looking at his cock as he nudged my knees apart and stepped between them.
I gasped as he pulled me to the very edge of the hood. He bent my knees up and back so that I was wide open to him. The heat was flooding through me, lashing and whipping around like a living thing. I grabbed my legs and held them there. He rolled on a condom and stepped closer, until the tip of his cock just split my folds, and I could feel how wet I was for him.
“I’m going to fuck you, Sylvie,” he told me. “So hard.”
I went weak.
He lunged into me and I cried out as his thickness spread me. With my legs up like that, he could go deep, and he did. He leaned right over me, his hands going to my waist and then sliding up my body to my breasts. My skin was icy cold from the rain but inside I was scalding hot, and every movement of him inside me pushed the heat further and further outward. My nipples rasped along his palms and the heat turned dark and oily inside me, a low groan escaping me.
He started to thrust, and I knew neither of us was going to last long. It was quiet in the garage and I could hear the wet slap of our bodies meeting and the low, hard sound of his breathing as he filled me again and again. For the first time, he was utterly free, with nothing holding him back. He pressed me down on the hood, his thumb and forefingers pinching lightly at my nipples, and slammed into me in hard, savage thrusts. I could feel the heat swirling and building, taking form. I started to cry out on each stroke, my eyes tight shut and my head thrashing against the hood.
Voices again, closer, this time. On our floor and heading towards us.
Aedan didn’t stop. He leaned down and kissed me, muffling my cries with his mouth as he thrust and thrust.
The people must have been only a handful of rows away. I could hear them asking each other where they left the car.
His cock was silken perfection inside me, solid and hotly thick and wonderful. My climax built and built and I could feel Aedan getting close, too, his thrusts becoming faster but more erratic. I grabbed his shoulders and squealed in ecstasy, my cry muffled by his lips. “MFFF!”
The world suddenly exploded into noise—a howling banshee cry. I was too far gone to care, and so was Aedan. Three more thrusts and he thrust deep and held there, wrapping his arms around me, and I felt him shudder and shoot inside me in long bursts. I clung to his shoulders, arching my back as I came too, clenching and tightening around him.
“Jesus!” said a man’s voice, right next to us.
I opened my eyes and looked up. Two businessmen were standing there staring at us. It was only then that I realized the SUV’s alarm was going off.
Aedan pulled me off the hood and grabbed my clothes and we ran, staggering and giggling. And happy.
Aedan
For the next two weeks, Sylvie trained like crazy. With the barriers between us removed, we could both focus on getting her ready to fight Jacki. Both of our futures hung on her winning. If she won, she’d be free...and I was starting to believe that maybe I’d redeem myself.
Telling Sylvie about my past had changed everything. Hitting things still felt good, as it always had, but now it felt honest and clean, not darkly addictive. I started to have daydreams about going back to fighting, when all of this was over. Not for some scumbag like Rick, but on the official amateur circuit. It was a crazy dream and I knew it...but at least I was daring to dream again.
We spent almost every waking hour together, at the gym or at my place. She basically moved in, disappearing only for her few remaining shifts at the hotel. I hated to think of her down on her knees, scrubbing for rich guests who barely acknowledged her. But she needed to keep a job. If she won, she needed a future after this.
If she won. She was getting better each day, not just at the basics of punching and footwork but at the little tricks. I taught her headbutts and elbows to the face, eye gouges and stamps to the back of the leg. Some of it would be useless when fighting a woman, of course, like the knee to the groin. But I figured she’d be able to hold her own against Jacki.
We got past our fear of hitting each other. We left the sparring for the end of the day, when the gym was deserted and the owner was dozing in his office with a dead six-pack of beer. Then we’d get in the ring and turn it into a game. We’d circle and pant, the adrenaline flooding our veins like a drug. I’d lose myself in the gleaming perfection of her sweat-slick skin, in those gorgeous green eyes, narrowed in concentration. I’d throw big, heavy punches at her, but she’d dart out of the way, gasping and sometimes giggling, letting fly with flurries of her own and sometimes landing one. And eventually, when the tension got too much, I’d rush her and pin her up against the corner post and snog her. And we’d stand there, tongues entwined, punching and kissing, before I finally dragged her off to the rooftop.
A few days before the fight, I figured she needed a break so I took her for a picnic in Central Park. Nothing fancy—just pastrami on rye and takeout coffees. But we sat in the sun, with Sylvie in a little strappy top, and feck me if we didn’t look just like some real, happy couple who’d met through a dating site, or a matchmaking friend or something.
Connor’s girlfriend, Karen, was playing as part of a string quartet—not really my kind of music, but it was relaxing. And there were some other girls from the same posh performing arts place—ballerinas, doing pirouettes and those spooky jump things, where it looks like they don’t weigh anything at all. Sylvie was sitting between my legs on the grass. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, put my chin on her shoulder and pretended I wasn’t watching the dancers too hard.
“You’re looking at the ballet dancers, aren’t you?” asked Sylvie.
“What ballet dancers?” I kissed her ear.
She twisted around and whispered. “You could always buy me a leotard.” I felt my cock harden against her ass. Then, watching the dancers do the standing splits, she added, “Not sure I could manage that, though.”
“I’d rather have you,” I told her truthfully. The dancers were pretty and all, but they were nothing compared to Sylvie. I looked around at the people watching the dancers, because if Karen and Connor were here and their other friends were here—
Even as I thought it, a shadow fell across us—one with curves that reminded me of an old movie femme fatale. I looked up into a cloud of auburn hair.
“Your shopping trip worked out, then,” said Jasmine.
I introduced them and, even if Sylvie was just a little suspicious at me knowing a TV star, they were chatting away happily within minutes. When Jasmine left, she gave me a sidelong glance and a grin that said, You’ve done good. Don’t mess it up.
I grinned back at her, squeezed Sylvie a little tighter, and nodded. I won’t.
Sylvie
It was the day before the fight and the tension was starting to win out over my new-found happiness. “You think I can take her?” I asked for about the thirtieth time that day. We’d just come out of a lengthy session of bag work and my arms felt like limp noodles.
“You bloody better,” Aedan told me. “I’ll have money on you.”
I gave him a one-two to the chest. “Be serious!”
“I am. I will have money on you.”
I hit him again and then hugged him. After a few seconds, he stroked my hair and said, “Yeah. You’ll beat her. You’re stronger than her and faster than her and you’ve learned to fight dirty. You’re ready.”
I s
hook my head slowly. “I still can’t believe...I’m going to have to hit her. I mean, really hit her, like knock her down so she can’t get back up.”
He squeezed me. “You’ll be able to put her down, when the time comes. She’s used to dishing it out, not taking it.” He pulled back a little and looked deep into my eyes. “I know what you’re worried about, but she’ll be okay. And you only ever have to do this once.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t get rid of the tightness in my chest.
“You’ll whup her ass,” said Aedan in a very bad American accent.
“Stop! That’s awful!”
“You’ll open a can of whup-ass on her.”
I started to laugh, despite the tension. “Stop! We don’t talk like that!”
“Oh hell yeah—she better get her books ready, ‘cos you’re gonna take her to school.”
I kissed him to shut him up. “I’m going to take a shower,” I told him, “and then stop at the store and pick up a few things for dinner. You coming?”
He glanced at the punchbag. I’d noticed him doing that a lot, recently, which was why I’d asked. “You mind if I stay here—just for half an hour?”
I grinned. “Sure. I’ll see you at your place.” He’d given me his spare key a week before. When he handed it to me and curled my fingers around it, my heart had felt as if it was going to launch off into space. I was about to face the scariest thing in my entire life, but I was happier than I had been in years. Maybe, just maybe, if I won against Jacki, I could get my life back. Not just the one I had before Alec was injured but a new one, a better one, one where I woke up every morning in Aedan’s arms.
And Aedan was happier, too, since he’d opened up to me. I could see him looking at the gym and our training differently. He was thinking about going back to it. That’s why I was ecstatic to see him wanting to thump the bag on his own for a while. Sure, he’d used to come to the gym before I met him, but that was to lift weights and work off stress. This was him getting back into his old life again, like shaking out an old uniform and discovering it still fits. Rick had convinced him that he was nothing more than a thug. Now, he was slowly returning to the guy who’d first come over from Ireland, the one who’d wanted to be a boxer, not a fighter. The idea of him fighting again, even on the official circuit, scared the hell out of me...but not as much as the idea of him never doing the thing he loved again.
Saving Liberty (Kissing #6) Page 41
