by Fel Fern
All or Nothing © June 2020 by Fel Fern
All rights reserved: No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Blurb
Preacher Garner left his hometown a decade ago. He came from nothing but Preacher managed to turn his entire life around. Now a two-time heavyweight boxing champion, Preacher returns to Black River Bend as a favor to his best friend. One fight and he’ll skip town for good—except Preacher never anticipated crossing paths with Travis again. Travis is smart, sharp-tongued and his best friend’s kid brother. Travis is too good for a dirty boxer like him but the heart knows what it wants. Preacher has won fights and lost some, but this is one battle where he doesn’t intend to lose.
Travis Reid thought he was done with Black River Bend. Travis was the nerdy kid, the perfect target for bullies in highschool. Travis worked his ass off at MIT, found his dream job with a gigantic gaming company—only to lose it all. Travis slinks back home, feeling like a massive failure. Black River Bend seems the same, except for Preacher. Travis has wanted Preacher for as long as he could remember but Preacher only knows how to cut and run. Can Travis risk his heart for his brother’s best friend?
BE THE FIRST TO KNOW about Fel’s new releases. Subscribe to her newsletter:
https://tinyletter.com/authorfelfern
Or visit her website at:
http://www.felfern.com
Prologue
Ten Years Ago
Hearing voices outside his room, Travis Reid put his headphones down. He hit the pause button on the video game he was currently obsessed with. He padded towards the door and pressed his ear against the wood. He could make out Kurt, his older brother’s voice, along with another man.
Should he open the door and take a peek?
Ever since their old man passed away two months ago, it had been rough. Kurt and he started to get into fights more often. Travis just turned eighteen a week ago. He was practically an adult. Travis didn’t need Kurt’s protection anymore. Kurt thought it was his job to look out for his geeky, awkward younger brother his entire life, but Travis could take care of himself just fine.
Travis didn’t own a lot of stuff. He gave his messy room a once over. Travis had some savings in the bank from his part-time job at the Red Door Cafe. He could rent a one-room apartment somewhere in town, get out of Kurt’s way, except, he still stayed where he was.
Kurt would never admit it to his face, but they needed each other. Both their parents were dead. Their family was just down to the two of them. Despite the nasty argument Travis had with Kurt that afternoon, Travis opened his door. The apartment they lived in wasn’t exactly big. He could see their visitor right from where he stood.
He sucked in a breath. It was his brother’s best friend Preacher. His heart skipped a beat, as he caught sight of the six-foot-plus, muscled, and tatted-up bad boy. Preacher set down his backpack and took a seat in the living room while Kurt handed him a beer. For the longest time, Travis always had a secret crush on Preacher. He still did.
Travis didn’t stand a chance. To Preacher, he was probably just Kurt’s nerdy little brother who didn’t even have the guts to come out of the closet. His experience with dating was limited. Travis had to settle for stolen fumbles, kisses and blowjobs in secret places. All of the guys he screwed around with were only interested in one thing—getting off. None of them wanted to know him. Not really.
What would it be like to be with a real man like Preacher?
Travis shook his head. Travis doubted he was even on Preacher’s radar. He knew Preacher was gay because he once caught Preacher making out with another guy in Kurt's car.
Preacher looked damn good even if Travis hadn’t seen him in over a year. Preacher was twenty, just like his brother, two years older than Travis. Last he heard, Preacher left town and was moving from place to place on his motorcycle, picking odd jobs here and then to fuel his ride.
Noticing the shiner on Preacher’s left eye, Travis guessed Preacher had been fighting again. Kurt always complained about how often Preacher got into fights and how he had to constantly stop Preacher from getting into trouble.
“So, what happened to your eye?” Kurt asked.
Preacher ran a hand through his messy black hair and Travis caught a peek of his dark blue eyes. He felt like a creepy little stalker, standing by his door. Neither Travis or Kurt seemed to have noticed him.
“Doesn’t matter. You should see the other guy,” Preacher said, grinning.
“Before I let you stay over, I need to know whether you’re in deep shit or not. I can’t have you bringing trouble to my home. Dad’s dead. It’s up to me to look after Travis now." Kurt reminded Preacher.
Preacher snorted. “Isn’t Travis 18 now? I’m surprised he hasn’t flown out of the coop yet.” Preacher paused. “Have you decided what to do with your dad’s old boxing gym?”
Travis stilled at those words. That place meant jack shit to him but he knew the Hard Iron Gym was important to both Kurt and Preacher. It was where his father taught Kurt and Preacher to fight.
His dad would’ve taught him too, but Travis had zero interest in punching the lights out of someone else. Besides, he’d known since he was a kid that he wasn’t cut out to be a fighter.
“My dream is to keep the place afloat, but,” Kurt let out a breath. “My dad was broke when he died. He left us debts.”
That was news to Travis. No wonder Kurt had been working more and more lately, juggled three jobs even. Guilt rammed into him. Here was Travis, picking fights with Kurt all the time. He didn’t even contribute anything to the household or the bills. His part-time job didn’t pay much.
“Too bad. Hard Iron's where we learned how to fight,” Preacher said. For someone who always claimed he didn’t care about anything or anyone, Preacher almost sounded like he was genuinely sorry to see the place go. “It was home for me.”
For a second there, Preacher’s voice had gone soft. Vulnerable almost. Travis never expected to hear that tone from a tough-as-nails guy like Preacher. Some part of him envied Preacher for choosing to live by no one’s rules but now, Travis realized that kind of existence was a little lonely.
“Yeah, I know. You haven’t answered my question,” Kurt said.
“Don’t worry. I’m not dragging any trouble to your door. Let’s order some pizza. I’m starving. Is your little bro going to join us?” Preacher asked.
“No. We fought earlier. He locked himself in his room. I think he’s playing video games. Typical Travis.”
Preacher turned his head towards the corridor and met his gaze. His heart galloped. Then Preacher gave him a secret little wink as if he knew Travis had been eavesdropping the entire time. He sprinted back inside his room and
slammed the door shut, embarrassed.
Travis leaned against the door, breathing hard.
“Travis?” He heard Kurt calling him. “We’re getting pizza. What flavor do you want?”
He sensed Kurt approaching his door. Kurt knocked but eventually gave up when Travis didn’t respond. Travis put his headphones back on, tried to get back to his game but he wasn’t into it anymore. He turned off his computer, set his headphones aside, and collapsed on his bed.
Travis didn’t know how much time had passed. He must’ve fallen asleep because when he looked at the wall clock above his bed, it was already past midnight. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he skipped dinner.
It was late. Maybe both Kurt and Preacher were asleep. Travis wouldn't run into anyone on his way to the kitchen. He crept out of his room, relieved to see the lights were off. Travis walked past Kurt’s room. Kurt always left his door opened. His brother was in bed, snoring softly.
Travis was certain there was still some leftover pizza. Kurt always ordered plenty.
He halted in the living room. Preacher lay on the couch, his blanket on the floor. Unlike Kurt, Preacher didn’t snore. Travis didn’t know what possessed him to come closer until Preacher was only a few feet from him.
Asleep, Preacher didn’t look so intimidating or scary. He almost looked tamed. Peaceful. Preacher didn’t wear a shirt, only boxers. Travis could make out the black ink on Preacher’s skin. He wondered what it would be like to touch them.
Preacher looked good enough to eat. Sexy, tasty man. Travis could feel his dick getting hard. He imagined himself pouncing on Preacher only for Preacher to turn the tables on him.
In a matter of seconds, Preacher would have reversed their positions and it would be Travis lying on his back and Preacher would be above him. What would it be like to be kissed, to be fucked and owned by this man?
Preacher would never be his. That one thought rooted Travis back to reality.
Travis should grab dinner and head back to his room. For some reason, he took those last few steps until he was only inches away from Preacher. He leaned in close, touching the day-old bread on Preacher’s face. What the hell was he doing?
Preacher and he never stood a chance. Travis planned on just stealing one kiss. That was all. Preacher wouldn’t even notice. By morning, Preacher would be long gone, off to God knew where. Preacher always reminded him of a restless nomad, someone who was always on the road. Someone who could never settle down.
“You going to kiss me or what?” Asked a deep voice.
Startled, Travis nearly backed away as Preacher opened those deep, ocean blue eyes. In the dark, they almost looked black. Preacher stood up. Travis remained frozen in place. Preacher slid one hand on the back of Travis' neck, preventing escape. Preacher’s hand felt big and rough, his touch incredibly warm.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked.
“You approached me,” Preacher drawled. “Are you backing off now? I’m kind of disappointed.”
Annoyed, he snuck a kiss on Preacher’s mouth. It was meant to be quick, but Preacher tightened his hold on his neck and kissed him back.
Preacher thrust fire into his mouth. He shut his eyes, letting Preacher deepen the kiss. All Travis could do was get lost in Preacher. The room fell away from his line of sight. Nothing else mattered but the kiss.
God.
This was exactly how he imagined kissing should be like. Preacher pulled away at the last second and the look in Preacher's eyes excited and scared Travis. Preacher reminded him of a hungry predator, but Travis didn’t mind being Preacher's prey.
“You’re dangerous,” Preacher said in a low voice.
He backed away from Preacher, finally realizing what he’d just done. Like a frightened rabbit, Travis bolted back to his room. He hated himself for being a coward, for always running when things got too hot.
“Sweet dreams, Travis,” Preacher called after him.
Travis snorted. Behind his closed door, he felt safe and a little silly. He touched his lips, which were still swollen from Preacher’s kiss. Damn Preacher for giving him a taste of something he could never have. Travis doubted he’d be able to get any sleep tonight.
Chapter 1
Present
Preacher Garner had plenty of excess energy to burn that morning. He clobbered the punching bag and imagined it was his opponent he was going after. Sweat coated his back and front. Preacher was relentless. He couldn’t afford another loss, a disaster like his last fight. Kurt told him it didn’t matter if he won or lost. His name alone carried weight but Preacher would still like to win.
“My head wasn’t in the game,” he told himself.
“Working that punching bag, huh?” Said a new voice.
Preacher stopped to see Kurt grinning at him.
“Thanks for doing this,” Kurt said. His best friend had changed little over the last ten years. Kurt kept in shape although he traded in his boxing gloves a long time ago and people started calling him Coach.
“No problem,” he said. He looked over Kurt’s shoulder and noticed a bunch of other up and coming fighters training. Preacher lowered his voice. “How bad is it?”
Kurt dropped his smile. His best friend didn’t need to tell him. Hard Iron was hurting. Preacher gave the gym another long look. Kurt kept his father’s gym exactly the way his old man left it but Preacher noticed the new paint job and equipment. Preacher had fond memories of this gym.
He knew what it felt like being in a bad place. For most of his life, Preacher only cared about saving his own skin. He grew up in the foster system. Preacher learned early that folks didn’t give two shits about him. To survive, he had to stay on top.
Most of the people he knew called him a selfish prick but he always saw Kurt as family. Kurt was the brother he never had. When Kurt phoned him and asked if he was willing to do one match back in their hometown of Black River Bend, Preacher didn’t hesitate. He immediately agreed. Kurt would do the same if their positions were reversed.
“Kurt?” He asked.
Kurt looked like he had zoned off, which troubled him. Was the gym in that much trouble?
“We’ll talk later,” Kurt finally answered. “Can you drop by the office? There’s some promotional stuff I want you to look at for the upcoming fight with Reyes.”
“I trust you,” Preacher said simply.
“It’ll be quick,” Kurt said. “I just need your approval on some of the marketing stuff.”
Preacher whistled. “You can afford marketing?”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “It’s free labor.”
One of the fighters called out Kurt’s name.
“Go,” Preacher said. “I’ll see your assistant.”
Preacher had enough practice for the day anyway. He knew he’d been pushing his body too hard after his last fight. His doctor told him not to overdo it. Preacher took off gloves, tape, and debated heading to the locker room. Maybe splash some water on his face. He shrugged. He should just get this over and done with.
Preacher moved past the ring and climbed the rickety stairs that led to the office. He didn’t bother knocking. Preacher yanked open the door only to behold a delightful sight. Travis was hunched over a ratty and scarred-up desk. Travis was looking through a bunch of papers. Even though it had been ten years since they’d last seen each other, Preacher recognized him right away.
Damn, but Kurt’s little brother looked good. Travis had grown out of his awkward stage. He was taller, leaner. Travis had a runner’s build. It seemed Travis also got rid of his anime and superhero shirts in favor of a suit and tie, despite the sweltering heat. No glasses either. Travis must be wearing contacts. Travis’ dark gold hair was tamed back with hair gel but Preacher could imagine spearing his fingers through his hair and bringing Travis’ face close to his for a kiss.
Like all those years ago.
Preacher got hard thinking about that single moment. He wasn’t a sentimental guy by nature. Preacher had never been in a relationship th
at lasted more than a month. Hell, he could barely recall the names and faces of his exes but that kiss with Travis had been branded into his memory for ten years. No other man had ever tasted so sweet. Travis had been so willing, so eager for him.
Hell, he bet if he took Travis on that couch Travis wouldn't resist him one bit. Travis would’ve just begged him for more. Preacher’s one regret was not moving beyond one kiss. He’d held himself back because he knew Kurt was sleeping in the next room. Kurt would never forgive him if he went after Travis.
Travis was off-limits but that was in the past. Back then, Travis had just turned eighteen. Travis was barely an adult but now? Travis was a grown-ass man capable of making his own choices.
Travis stood straighter.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear—” Travis didn’t finish his sentence, simply gawked at him but he quickly recovered. Travis loosened his tie. “I heard from Kurt you agreed to come back here to do a televised match.”
“Kurt mentioned free labor. You doing him a favor, too? Last I heard, you were working at some big-shot game studio in the city.” Kurt and he kept in touch all these years. Preacher would never forget how proud Kurt sounded on the phone when Travis got hired right out of college to work for some big gaming company.
“I had to quit.”
Travis’ careful choice of words bothered him. Travis looked distant, numbed and Preacher wanted to ask what the hell was wrong. They were never close. Travis never hung out with Kurt or him back in high school. Thinking back, Travis wasn’t very sociable by nature. He often preferred to lock himself inside his room. Preacher eliminated the distance between them and closed his hand over Travis’ wrist. Travis swallowed and looked up at him.
“W-what are you doing?” Travis asked.
“You said you had to quit. Why?” He demanded.
“No reason,” Travis said quickly. “Can you give me some space?”
“Why? Is it getting hard to breathe?” He asked.
