Unfiltered & Undone

by Payge Galvin

  “No, it’s fine.” Super fine, in fact.

  She did as he said, being very careful to straddle him above the waist. Just a self-defense lesson. Nothing kinky. Just sitting on a guy’s… torso. Definitely his torso. Which was still very nice, her knees hugging his waist, and when he shifted, she could feel the muscles in his stomach moving against her, through the very thin fabric of her gym shorts, and if she lowered herself a little to feel it better, well, she was just getting comfortable. Very comfortable.

  “Is that okay?” he said.

  She wriggled. Just making sure.

  “All right,” he said. “Grab my arms.”

  She followed his directions. She had to move up his chest more to get proper reach, and when she got his arms pinned she looked down to see he was getting an up-close-and-personal look at her cleavage about an inch from his face.

  “Whoops,” she said. She could have jumped up, but she only adjusted, moving her breasts a bit farther from his face. “Didn’t mean to smother you.”

  “You didn’t.” A slightly hoarse chuckle. “Not that I would have complained. Definitely not a bad position to be in.”

  “Is my position right?”

  “It’s very right.”

  “For the pinning?”

  “That, too.” Another chuckle. “Okay, sorry, back to work. Let’s start with a few holds…”

  They did that, her pinning him, moving above him with her breasts a few inches above his face and his hands on her hips positioning her, and for something that wasn’t meant to be sexual, it was damned sexy, flaunting her chest unabashedly, him enjoying the view equally unabashedly.

  Finally, he said, “Okay, now pin me and I’m going to escape. Tell me when you’re ready.”

  She adjusted her grip. “Okay.”

  “You’ve gotta stop me from escaping. You ready to do that?”

  She nodded, and before she could blink, she was on her back and he was on top of her.

  She lay there, under the delicious weight of him, his hands pinning her wrists lightly to either side of her head, his face above hers, that gorgeous grin beaming down and she decided that as much fun as shooting lessons had been, this was really much better.

  “I win,” he said. “So what’s my prize?”

  Heat rushed through her and when she opened her mouth, the words, “Anything you want,” were on her lips. She managed to clamp her jaw shut and before she could think of anything clever—and maybe just a little dirty—he said, “Three more? Loser makes dinner?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He swung off her and lay down again. “Okay, round two, and this time I’ll take it slow, show you what I’m doing.”

  The technique was more complicated than it had seemed. First, he pulled her down, which would throw an attacker off balance, expecting a push instead of a pull. Then he pinned her foot and rolled off in that direction, putting her on her back and him on top.

  He took her through it a half-dozen times. Then, when he had her on her back, he said, “Ready to try it yourself?” She nodded and he pinned her arms up, which was… interesting.

  It wasn’t exactly S&M-level bondage. She’d read up on that, back when she’d hoped to explore sexual options with Chandler and had approached it in the way she knew best: by studying. Sami had helped, mainly because she got a kick out of Jess’s academic approach. Jess had read up on positions and toys and kink, hoping to explore boundaries, see what turned them both on. She’d even studied how to give a great blowjob, which Sami had assured her was a guaranteed way to get Chandler’s attention. She’d studied and she’d practiced—on dildos, because Chandler never even let her give her skills a try. “You don’t need to do that,” he’d say when she tried going south, and no amount of cajoling would convince him that she wanted to.

  As for S&M, it hadn’t sounded like something Jess would enjoy, but now, pinned under Declan, she could see the appeal. It was all in the partner, she suspected. He might have her pinned to the floor, but if she so much as shifted, he said, “Is this okay? Am I holding too tight?” and she knew that at one word of protest, he’d let her go. So she could enjoy the sensation of a hot guy holding her down, feeling deliciously helpless, while knowing she was the one really in control.

  It took her a while to get him flipped. Admittedly, just trying was kind of fun, too, her body rubbing against his as she struggled under him. She certainly didn’t seem to be the only one enjoying it, and when she finally got him flipped and sat on his chest, her ass collided with a very firm obstacle. She pretended not to notice, sliding her ass over his erection, hearing his sharp intake of breath, and giving him her best wide-eyed innocent look.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  He took a moment, as if thinking of what else they could do in this particular position. She shifted on him and he let out a soft, stifled moan. She braced her hands on his shoulders and leaned down, rubbing against him as she did.

  “What if I pin you like this?” she said.

  “S-sure.”

  She wriggled on him, as if getting a better hold, and his breathing quickened. She leaned forward as far as she could.

  “Is this right?” she said.

  He lifted his head—and got a full-view of her cleavage, which might had been a little more prominent than it had been a few moments ago, thanks to some discreet tugging on the bottom of the tank top before she pinned him.

  “Yeah.” His voice came thick. “That’s good.”

  She squirmed a little more. “Are you sure? Maybe if I reached a little more, like this—” She strained upward, her breasts pushing against the tank, fabric sliding further down. “I could get more leverage.”

  “G-good. Yeah. Do that.”

  She did, leaning and wiggling, heat rushing through her as Declan tried to stifle another groan and she felt his cock pressed hard, so deliciously hard, against her and—

  A sound from the front hall. The distinct sound of someone trying the doorknob. They both froze.

  Chapter 7

  Jess

  “It’s locked, right?” Declan said.

  Jess nodded. “Dead-bolted, too.”

  “And you aren’t expecting someone?”

  “No. The only one with a key is Sami and I talked to her a couple hours ago.”

  They listened as the knob turned. Then the scrape of what sounded like a key. Declan frowned. “Chandler doesn’t have one, does he?”

  “He did. I changed the locks.”

  The lock popped open. Someone tried the door and hit the bolt. By then, Jess had crawled off Declan and was getting to her feet.

  He grabbed her leg and motioned her down. Then he started for the door, moving silently across the carpet. Jess crawled enough to make out a male figure through the sheer drape over the sidelight. It looked to be Chandler’s size.

  The would-be intruder gave the door one last shove before backing away. Declan broke into a jog, and then fumbled to get the bolt undone. He ran outside in his socks. Jess rose and followed and found him at the road, squinting toward a running fair-haired figure.

  Declan loped back inside and grabbed his keys and shoes, and took Jess to his car. By the time they pulled from the lot, there was no sign of the fleeing figure. Declan circled the block a few times. There were students out and about, and half of them seemed to be average-sized guys with light hair and jeans.

  They returned to the townhouse.

  “Did it look like Chandler?” Declan asked as they walked back from the parking lot.

  “It didn’t not look like him. But I swear I changed the locks.”

  “No chance he knows how to pick one? Some guys learn it for fun.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Not Chandler. His idea of fun is very straight and narrow. In every way.” When Declan glanced over, she realized how that sounded and her cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean… Well, actually yes…” Her face was flaming now. “Sorry. TMI. I’ll shut my mouth.”

  He smiled. “That�
��s what I would have figured anyway. With his type, either they’re really into kink or they’re really not. Which, um, I’m sure is not quite what you meant, so I’ll shut up myself. He wouldn’t pick a lock. We’ll leave it at that.”

  Declan paused in front of the townhouse and eyed the living room window. Jess and Sami had attempted to put a garden there. That’s what you did on the front border of a house where they both came from. However, desert? That made things tricky, and after almost three years of various experiments, Jess had abandoned the effort this year. Meaning her “garden” was made of dirt. When she saw Declan staring down at her plot of dirt, she walked up beside him to see two clear footprints.

  “Someone was looking in the window,” she said.

  “Yeah.” The sheer was drawn and when he leaned toward the glass, he shook his head. “Can’t see more than dark shapes. But someone was peeping in your windows and trying your door. It must be Chandler, right?”

  Since last night, she’d been considering the possibility that her attacker hadn’t been Chandler. She kept thinking back to Saturday night. Was it possible that one of the dead man’s friends was coming after her for revenge? That would mean someone had pointed him in her direction. Could one of the others have sold her out? Or, worse, been forced to? But they didn’t know who she was and, after the body was disposed of, how would the man’s friends know where and how he died?

  Could it instead be one of the others from the shop, coming after her for the money? They’d still need to find her, but that scenario seemed more likely.

  She couldn’t explain that to Declan without telling him what she’d done. But if there was a chance her pursuer was connected to the shooting, shouldn’t she tell Declan? Warn him he could be dealing with more than her stalker ex? Yet to tell him put him in even more danger, and made him an accessory to her crime.

  “Jess?”

  “I…” She swallowed. “There was this one time, when I was with Chandler, that these guys came at us. Hassled him. Rough guys. It was something to do with his dad and politics. I can’t imagine they’d still be harassing him or come after me but… It seems like it’s Chandler. It probably is. But there are other possibilities. Worse ones.”

  “There are always worse possibilities,” Declan said. “And you can’t discount them. Whether it’s Chandler or not, it’s still a threat, and trying to break into your place during the day is scary shit. I’m going to cancel my fight tonight.”

  “No, you don’t—”

  “I will,” he said as he headed for the front door. “I don’t mind a night off.”

  “I thought you liked boxing.”

  He hesitated. “I do. But you know how it is—when other things are going on, even hobbies can feel like a distraction.” He waited for her to unlock the door, then said, “Go on inside. I’ll make a call and take another look around out here.”

  From the living room, she heard what sounded like an argument, or one side of one, as Declan made a call on his cell. He didn’t raise his voice enough for her to hear the words, but he was obviously annoyed and when he came in, he said, “I can’t get out of tonight. Normally, it’d be no problem. But this was a match thing and… it’s complicated.” He walked to the window and looked out. “I really don’t want to leave you alone, though. Not even in the library.”

  “I could go and watch you fight.”

  He had his back to her so she couldn’t see his face, but he stiffened. When he’d first mentioned that he boxed, her reaction may have been a little less neutral than she might have liked. All she could think about was Chandler’s rugby games, which she hated and he’d insisted she attend, forcing her to sit in the stands and watch her boyfriend take far too much pleasure in hurting people.

  Violence wasn’t even the point of rugby. With boxing, it was, so she hadn’t been able to hide her reaction when Declan told her what he did. Once she’d come to know him better, she’d realized he was nothing like Chandler. He fought for sport, not as an outlet for violent impulses. But there was no undoing that initial reaction.

  “I’d like to do that,” she said. “If it’s not too much bother. I’m especially interested now, with the self-defense and all.”

  “Tonight’s not good. The place where we’re fighting is a real dive, and you wouldn’t be comfortable there.”

  She spoke carefully, trying not to let annoyance seep into her voice. “I’m not a delicate flower, Declan. And I’m not a stuck-up snob either. I’ve been in some rough places, and yes, they’re not my usual haunts, but I’m a big girl.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean…” He made a face. “It’s not you; it’s me, as the cliché goes. The place is an absolute hole, and I don’t want that to be your first exposure to boxing.”

  “Take me along, and I’ll wait in the car.”

  He hesitated.

  She continued, “The chance of someone tracking us there is a lot lower than the chance of them following us to the library. You can leave the keys and I’ll take off if there’s trouble.”

  A slow nod. “It’s not ideal, but I guess so. Troy can keep you company in the car. I know you haven’t met him…”

  “Anyone you trust, I trust.”

  ‡

  The fight was in Phoenix. By the time they arrived at the place, darkness was falling, but Jess could still see enough of the building that she didn’t understand why Declan wouldn’t let her come in. True, it wasn’t a fancy gym, but it looked like the kind of place she expected amateur boxers to fight in—a warehouse-like building in a part of town that was what her mother would call seedy. Jess wouldn’t traipse around alone at four in the morning flashing her Cartier graduation-gift watch, but if there was a good club in the area, she’d have had no qualms about going with friends.

  When she told Declan it looked fine, he’d only grunted distractedly. He’d been quiet for the last part of the drive. Shifting his focus to the ring, she presumed. As she saw others streaming into the warehouse, she began to wonder if it was more than a friendly match.

  “Is it a real fight?” she asked as he parked.

  “What?” He looked over sharply, startled.

  “I mean, is tonight’s match a spectator sport?” She waved at the people walking past the car.

  “Uh, sure, some people watch. Other fighters, friends, whatever. But there are other matches going on. Most people would be here for those.”

  He took his cell out and placed a call. She waited patiently, trying not to watch as he seemed to grow increasingly irritated, then cursed as he hung up.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I wanted Troy to come out before I left, but he’s not picking up. There’s lousy cell service in there.”

  “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

  He sent a text message and waited a minute. When Troy didn’t reply, Declan grumbled and climbed out of the car.

  “Keys?” she said.

  “Right.” He passed them over with final instructions. Keep the doors locked. Leave the keys in the ignition. If a black guy with a shaved head knocks on the window, it would almost certainly be Troy, but make him show ID before rolling down the window. Jess thought he was kidding about the ID. When she laughed, he made it very clear he wasn’t. She couldn’t be too careful. So she promised to card his friend and Declan left, only after checking all the doors, as if the locks might somehow be defective.

  Jess pulled out her laptop and set to work on a lab paper. She lost track of time, engrossed in analyzing her data. When she first heard the phone buzzing, she absently reached for her own, only to realize it came from the driver’s side. In his distraction, Declan had left his behind.

  She listened to it buzz as it vibrated, but she made no move to check it. Declan’s phone. Declan’s business. When it started up again, it became apparent someone was trying hard to get hold of him. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled it from where it’d fallen, between the seat and the door.

  The call had gone to voice mail, but it still
showed the name. Ciaran Brady. Declan’s little brother. Last night Declan mentioned he’d bought Ciaran a phone. For emergencies.

  Jess grabbed the door handle, ready to get the phone to Declan. Then she reconsidered. First step? Check for a voice mail message. There wasn’t one. Next step? Try Troy. His number was the last dialed, so she didn’t need to go digging through Declan’s contact list. When the call went to voice mail, that settled it. She grabbed the keys from the ignition and hopped out of the car.

  The lot was packed, with cars creating their own spaces when they couldn’t find empty ones. She could see one other person on the far side. A broad-shouldered guy in a hoodie. He seemed to be going up and down the rows. Looking for his car. Or looking for one to break into? To be safe, she steered clear and darted from SUV to minivan to pickup to stay out of his line of sight.

  Jess had seen people going into the warehouse via a rear exit, but when she approached, it was dark and silent. She gave the door a tentative tug. It barely budged, suggesting it needed a little more force. She yanked as hard as she could. It opened to a raucous cheer, and she resisted the urge to take a bow. The cheers came from deep inside, of course. From the spectators. It sounded like a full house—full of very rowdy spectators. Even when the cheers died down, she heard shouts and catcalls and whistles and stomping.

  The back hall was lit by a single hanging bulb that did little for illumination. In the distance, there seemed to be a proper light—which was also the direction of the cheering. Jess took a few steps toward it, then heard a woman clear her throat.

  She turned to see a large woman in a coat-check cubby. The woman set one oversized open hand on the counter, palm up, and cleared her throat again. When Jess didn’t respond, she said, “Twenty bucks, girlie.”

  “I’m not here to see the bout. Just one of the fighters.”

  “Declan?”

  “Um, right. How’d you—?”

  The woman cut her short with a meaningful once over. “Any girl looks like you and wanders into this place, there’s only one reason.”