On The Ropes: Tapped Out Book 3

by Quinn, Cari

  Tonight was that night.

  When the cage door snapped shut, I spun into gear. Dancing emptied out my mind and made me focus on my movements. I was only heat and motion and energy. There wasn’t any room for worrying, or regret, or fear when the music was pumping and the music was flowing. I wouldn’t allow myself to get scared again. I’d danced the past couple of weeks without incident, and I’d be fine tonight and tomorrow too.

  Only a few weeks left.

  Within a short time, I was lost to the music. My hands caressed my body like a lover’s, and my feet moved without conscious thought. I stripped off my little handkerchief top and pressed my hands to the cage floor, absorbing the bass’s vibrations as I shook my ass, clad only in booty shorts. It was easy. Effortless. Grabbing my breasts and pinching the nipples, spinning on my towering heels. I could’ve been alone in my room for all the mind I paid the crowd. They didn’t exist for me. Gio wasn’t there yet. He couldn’t be, because of his fight. And if he wasn’t watching, I simply wasn’t interested anymore.

  I finished and collected my money, shoving it in my pockets and a handy zippered club wallet. At the end of my first post-back room set a couple of weeks ago, I’d forgotten to collect my cash, on account of running out of the cage like a demon was chasing me. One of the other girls had gathered my money for me and taken a healthy twenty percent fee.

  My mental health breakdowns would wait until between shifts from now on.

  I’d almost made it through the throngs of people and back to the dressing room when I heard that voice I’d been waiting for—and dreading.

  “Tesoro.”

  My feet nearly stopped. His voice, deep and rough, could easily command my body. How many nights had I had cause to realize that recently? He’d have me on my back in a minute and be inside me in twice that. And I’d let him—hell, I’d beg him. He was the only one who’d ever made me feel this alive, as if my skin and bones weren’t strong enough to hold my heart inside. He was everything.

  Too much.

  I made it into the dressing room and dropped into the first seat. Blindly, I dug through my makeup bag for my lipstick. Though I couldn’t breathe through the layer of trickery on my skin, I needed that armor. When it came to him, especially.

  The door crashed open and then he was in the room with me, taking over the space. By some miracle, no other girls were around.

  He flipped the door lock, and my throat closed. I tried to keep applying my lipstick, to focus on my face in the water-spotted mirror, haloed by a dozen tiny lights, but when he came up behind me, I dropped the tube. It rolled off the table and disappeared under an old, faded settee that had probably seen its share of action. Not from me. I wouldn’t succumb.

  Not again.

  A cry left me when he slapped off the lights. The only light that remained came from the mirror, and it left him almost entirely in shadow. All I could see were his huge hands, clenched. His broad body, blocking out the rest of the room.

  And my own decimation, a breath away.

  “You ran from me.” His guttural words scraped over nerve endings already rubbed raw.

  I shut my eyes. “You’re supposed to be at your fight. I heard them talking. How you were going to win. Make them all kinds of money.” My eyes flashed open and locked on his, scalding blue in the dim light. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

  “You want to know what matters?” His big hand wrapped around my throat, and for a moment, panic seized me. Dense and unrelenting, there was no escaping it. My eyes widened and he immediately eased up on the pressure as he dragged me back against him. He spoke close to my ear so that my hair fluttered over my mouth. “What I’m about to do to you. That’s what matters. Nothing else.” His fingers squeezed, but by then, the fear had disappeared in a rush of heat that blew through me from head to toe. “No one else.”

  “Now,” I whispered. “Now, I’m your focus, because I’m pulling away.”

  “Is that what you call it? Because to me, it looks like bailing.” He bit my earlobe, sending a shockwave of pleasure through my system. “And I can’t even decide if it’s the best thing or the worst. If you’re safer away from me than with.”

  The automatic protests sounded in my head and nearly erupted from my mouth before I stifled them.

  Safer with you always. Everything is better when you’re there. I can sleep again. I can breathe. I can laugh.

  That one night might’ve changed my outlook, darkened it permanently, had I not found peace—and so much more—with him. But he wasn’t the keeper of my sanity…or my safety. I had to stand on my own two feet and make better decisions.

  I didn’t want to mindlessly rebel anymore. I didn’t want to wonder if the company I was keeping would find me wearing bulletholes for breakfast some morning.

  I wanted to be a chef, and own my own café/bakery/whatever with my sister, and be a young woman who didn’t need to grow up any faster than she already was.

  That was enough.

  “If that’s all it is with us, safety and this,” I gestured to his mouth on my ear, and his hand at my throat, “then yeah, I’m safer away from you. You’re worried about protecting my body, and in here, I’m a mess.” I rubbed my fist over my chest. “I don’t want to be a mess over you, Giovanni Costas. It was one thing when all I had to think about was if you liked me back. Now I’m wondering if the company you keep will end up hurting you—or me. Or my sister.” His hand dropped from my neck yet the pressure there only grew. “I don’t want to care about you, if I’m only going to lose you. Can’t you understand that?”

  He shut his eyes and stepped away, and the withdrawal of his body heat made me shiver. There were only a few days left in October, and the chilly nights were setting in. Soon, it would be winter.

  Soon, I’d be back to being alone.

  “I understand, tesoro. What do you think made me stay away from you all those months?” When I swiveled on my stool to face him, he shook his head and drove his fingers though his hair, ripping apart the stubby ponytail at his nape. “Not only that. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Things that would change your view of me, of who you think I am.”

  “Like your attempted murder rap? You saw how that dissuaded me, right?”

  “You see the best in me. Why, I don’t know. If you knew—”

  I rose and went to him, because I couldn’t stand to see him in pain and not attempt to alleviate it. Anyone but him, this man who made me feel so much. From the first, he’d been capable of arousing such strong emotions in me.

  Lust. Anger. Arousal. Fear.

  More.

  God, more.

  “Then tell me.” I gripped the front of his jersey and realized it was soaked through. From a shower? From sweating during the fight? Perhaps it was raining again. It didn’t matter. His sweat put me off about as much as all the rest. “Trust me to hear the truth and stick around, just like you’ve expected me to trust you.”

  A vein throbbed in his temple. For a moment, just one, I thought maybe he might tell me something. Not everything. But some-damn-thing that might explain why he was spending so much time with men he clearly felt contempt toward.

  As quickly as it came, that instant of openness in his eyes shut down.

  “I can’t.”

  “Won’t,” I corrected. I turned back to the dressing table and dug another lipstick out of my stash. The other was lost to the perils of a grungy floor.

  “Won’t,” he agreed softly, coming closer again. Somehow I didn’t bristle as he set his hands on my shoulders. Not because I wanted him to let go, but because I ached to beg him to hold on. “Give me a few more days. Please. I need… It’s selfish, baby, but I can’t let you go like this. I need you too much.”

  I leaned forward to apply my lipstick, then capped the tube with shaking hands. “You need me for what, exactly? To get your dick wet? That’s not enough anymore. I thought it was. But as insane as it is, I’m already halfway—”

  “No.” O
ur gazes connected in the glass. “You’re not halfway anything. What we are is what we agreed to.” His hands on my shoulders felt like clamps, desperately holding me still. “A few more days. If it’s going to end, let me give you what I wish I could for real.”

  Looking into his painfully direct eyes hurt, so I glanced away. If only it was so easy to deny my emotions.

  I knew the crazy situation probably had something to do with my sudden onslaught of feelings. Throw in some danger, a healthy dash of hormones, toss in a bit of illicit behavior, and pow, you had the recipe for a hell of a problem. But it wasn’t just that. I’d had feelings for him all along. Ones I couldn’t entirely explain. Probably a lot of it had to do with the whole forbidden aspect. At least that was what I told myself when I sneaked home at night, frustrated and lonely at the prospect of crawling into my bed alone.

  Scratch that. Crawling into my sleeping bag. On the floor.

  Oh, yeah, I was having an adult affair, all right, in the center of a very high school-equivalent life.

  “What is that?” I had to ask. Had to know. “What do you wish?”

  His hold on my shoulders gentled. Even when he was gripped by his darkest urges, he never lost control with me. He might offer a rough touch now and then, but he never crossed the line. And the next touch he’d give me would be ten times as sweet.

  “Most of all, I’d wish for time.”

  I blinked, not understanding. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  “Come home with me tonight.” He fingercombed the long dark hair I’d chosen for this evening away from my face, following the long wavy strands to the tips before starting from the top again.

  My mind told me to say no. But my gut, my body, and the part of my heart that wasn’t worried about getting trampled were all much more agreeable.

  “Are you going to rip my clothes off again?”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek, then he surprised the hell out of me by smiling. Sort of. It was a pained expression, but the effect was there. “That was my intention when I came in this room.”

  My breath caught. “So what stopped you?”

  “It occurred to me I’ve never done anything else.”

  The sadness I heard in his voice pulled at me, causing a pang in my chest. “Did you hear me complaining?”

  “Actually, yeah, I did.”

  “I wasn’t complaining about the sex, you jerkoff. The sex is perfect. Magical. Damn near a transcendent experience, with a side of fairy tale orgasms.”

  Now he smiled for real, long enough for me to rise and trace the curve of his mouth. “What’re you doing?” he asked against my fingertip.

  “Memorizing this moment. I don’t see this smile nearly enough and it’s beautiful.” I pretended to click a camera with my other hand and stepped back, giving him a smile of my own. “There. Saved it. I have proof.”

  He ducked his head, and for a second, I had no idea if that was a good sign or bad. Then I realized I’d embarrassed my big, brawny, badass fighter and nearly made him blush.

  “Aww, so cute,” I teased, playfully nudging his arm. “I should take a mental picture of that expression too.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve taken mental pictures of all your expressions—and more than a few of your positions.”

  “Hmm. Guess it’s a good thing these mental picture reels will never end up on the internet then.” Lightly, I shoved him toward the door as someone knocked. Probably another one of the dancers who, you know, actually wanted to change in the dressing room. “I’ll see you after my next set.”

  “Okay.” He turned and hesitated as if he was on the verge of saying something. Then his mouth was on mine, and I rose on my tiptoes, pressing myself against his massive chest. Such strength there and in his powerful hands, but he touched me with such tenderness in spite of the hunger emanating from every pore of his body. In the center of the storm, he treated me as if I was precious even as our tongues tangled and our breaths came short.

  When we pulled apart, the knocking had become thunderous, and my reservations had dwindled away.

  Tomorrow would take care of itself. Tonight, I needed him.

  “Wait.”

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to let him out of my sight. In this room, he was safe. We were safe. Out there, that could change in an instant.

  He waited.

  “You didn’t tell me if you won tonight.”

  “What do you think?”

  The cocky Gio I knew was back. I’d missed him, though I had to admit I enjoyed knocking him down a peg or two. But only for fun. Not when his eyes were so grim and desolate.

  “I think you’re going to get lucky tonight to celebrate.”

  “I’m lucky already.” He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and laid the fingers of his other hand on my lips. Then he brought them to his own mouth in his version of a goodbye kiss. “Later, amore mio.”

  I smiled after him. I really needed to get a pocket Italian dictionary or something.

  My next set went by without incident. I danced, I shook my ass, I stuffed dollar bills in the waistband of my booty shorts. Gio’s win had given the place a jubilant atmosphere—led of course by his good buddy Marco and the rarely spotted Lorenzo—and that meant guys were in the mood to spend. I was happy to capitalize on their generosity.

  Mama had a bakery to start outfitting. I was already picturing the Sub-Zero freezer and gleaming stainless steel KitchenAid mixers now.

  On my way down from my cage, I caught sight of Gio with a redhead. Not a sort of redhead like me, but one rocking a full head of glorious scarlet corkscrew curls. She had her hand on his arm, and she kept trying to talk to him, but his attention was squarely centered on me.

  Jealousy spurted hot and was quickly doused. We weren’t a permanent thing, or one that could be acknowledged anywhere but behind closed doors. Going up to his new friend and throwing a drink in her face would be childish, and ultimately, unsatisfying.

  There was a reason I’d never be able to get too close to Gio, and it wasn’t because of all the pretty babes he could have with a snap of his fingers. If only. The hold Marco and the others had on him would snatch him away from me long before another woman did.

  I sent him a smile and a wave as I sailed past him and headed to the dressing room, careful to keep the envy off my face. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.

  On the way to his place, he called me on it.

  “You weren’t jealous,” he said flatly as I counted that night’s take.

  “Hmm?” I’d done well for myself. Damn well. It would hurt to give up this job, but I’d get over it. I’d just have to make sure I aced every one of my classes and worked my ass off at the bakery to turn a profit.

  Maybe a café was a better choice. I could still sell baked goods and offer a small array of sandwiches and soups—

  “She wasn’t anyone to me. Just one of the girls Marco brings around.”

  I waved my handful of cash. A nice thick handful, thank you very much. “Oh, I know. That’s okay.”

  “It’s okay?” His fingers tightened around the wheel. “Are you back with salad dude?”

  “What?” I laughed. “No. I’m not with anyone.”

  “Except me.” As if I’d forgotten.

  “Except you,” I echoed. “But we both know that’s almost over. Better to plan for the future and not fret about what can’t be changed.”

  Damn, I sounded Zen. Slater would be proud of me, if he wasn’t dating a psychopath and was still talking to us.

  I’d have to go see him this week. He wasn’t allowed to shut me out too. I hadn’t done a thing to him. And if he was dating a psychopath, maybe somehow he had a good reason.

  I cast a sidelong look at Gio.

  Just like you have a good reason to be dating a guy who almost committed murder.

  Or maybe he had and just hadn’t gotten caught. Getting off on a technicality one time didn’t say anything about possible other times.

  “And you’re okay with
that. Just fine with it. No big deal, right? Just go back to our lives the way they were before.”

  I stopped counting. “You’re the one who tried to argue me out of my feelings earlier,” I said quietly. “Now you’re mad because I’m doing my best to accept reality?”

  “No. God, no.” He tipped back his head on the seat for a second before returning his attention to the road. “I asked you to give me a chance to show you what I wish, and I’m ruining it.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ll never lie to me, will you? No matter how raw it is, you’ll always give me the truth.”

  I thought of the words I’d stuffed down earlier, so we wouldn’t get into a fight. So he wouldn’t know what a sucker I was, so hopeless and naïve to fall for a man like him. “Yes, except when it comes to one thing.”

  He glanced at me, and quickly glanced away. He didn’t want to know that one thing any more than I wanted to tell him.

  As soon as we arrived at his place, he drew me into the bedroom. I expected things to progress quickly from there, but instead, he handed me two gift-wrapped boxes.

  “What are these?” I shook them, as I always did with gifts. The rustle of tissue paper was the only sound. “It’s not my birthday for another four months.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, looking more exhausted than I’d ever seen him. The smile he gave me was nothing like the one from earlier. There wasn’t an ounce of genuine feeling in it. “Open them, and you’ll see.”

  Wanting—needing—him to smile again for real, I sat beside him and went through an elaborate routine with the first present. I shook it again, then pretended to sniff it, and took forever pulling on the bow and paper. When I finally opened the lid and pulled out a white cotton dress with plump strawberries all over it and yellow ribbons laced around the collar, I started to laugh. Belly laugh like I hadn’t in too many months to count.

  “You didn’t,” I managed.

  A glimmer of amusement lightened his eyes. “Open the rest.”

  The next box held a multi-pack of huge plaid underwear. Not sexy plaid, old-fashioned plaid. I didn’t know where he could have found something so ugly.