by Knight, JJ
“Come here,” he says. His hand moves behind my head to bring my face to his.
I’m careful not to bump his nose. I feel like I’m floating on his hard body. My chest is crushed against him, and our hips clash against each other. I spread my knees to surround him. He thrusts up to make contact between us. I think of that day in the ring, and I know my face flushes red at how easily I came. I’ll wait this time. I’ll make it until he’s inside me, the way it should be, I think.
I go very still, realizing that the time has arrived. I’m going to do this with him. But he doesn’t know about me. That I haven’t done it before. I’m not sure if I should tell him.
He senses my hesitation and presses my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat calms me. His fingers tug at the little coils in my hair until they come loose. “I lost the fight,” he says quietly.
I squeeze his broad shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He sighs. “I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t have to, not with me.” And it’s true.
He holds me a little tighter. “You are my only safe place. I had nowhere else to come but here.”
I feel exactly the same way about him.
I push up to look at him. His eyes are full of gratitude. “I’m glad you came to me,” I say. I hear a break in my voice, and it startles me. I’m not the emotional sort. God, I’ve changed so much.
“Hey,” Colt says. My hair slips forward, and he smooths it back. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to watch the fight.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I knew you had your reasons.”
“I didn’t know how it would go. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
I can’t hold back anymore. “I went,” I blurt out.
He goes still. “What?”
“I snuck in. But I didn’t watch. Not really.” Terror that I will ruin everything slams through me.
Colt breathes a moment, in and out, his eyes shut.
He’s mad. He’s going to accuse me of spying. Of smothering him. Then he’ll leave. He’ll charge out of here and slam the door, and I won’t see him again. Buster will have to fire me, walk me out for real. I feel hot and sick. I shouldn’t have gone. I should have stayed away.
“Hey, hey.” Colt shakes me. “Jo. It’s okay.”
I realize I’m breathing super fast.
He lifts my chin to look into his eyes. “I should have asked you. Or explained.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I think I do.” His eyes are locked on mine, concerned. “What we’re doing isn’t exactly typical, but we are doing it. And I should think about someone other than myself.”
“I knew you didn’t want me there,” I say. “I just couldn’t stay away.”
He grins at that. “My animal magnetism.”
My breathing begins to slow. “Something like that.”
He laughs. “It was a plucky thing to do.”
“Plucky?” I ask. “Like a chicken? Is that my animal magnetism?”
He rolls me over with a little roar. I’m pinned beneath him, and my heart starts hammering again. I can’t keep up with his moods.
“A cute little chick whose feathers are too…” — he pauses — “…enticing.” His gaze moves down my body. He takes in the white shirt. I feel his reaction, hard against my thighs.
His broad hand covers my ribs. “I’m hoping this means you were expecting me.” His thumb crosses the nipple. My body arches in response.
“How thin is this fabric?” he asks. His lips close over my breast.
His mouth is hot and wet. The pleasure rushes through me, my entire body thrumming in response. Until Colt, I had no idea I could feel like this. I know everything I want from him. I want it all. Maybe I don’t have to tell him that I’m a virgin. Maybe he won’t notice.
He pulls away. “Mmmm. As sheer as I hoped it would be.”
The white shirt clings to my nipple, pink and taut. Colt looks as though he can’t get enough of me. “But now it’s in the way.” He grasps the bottom and rips it off over my head in one swift movement.
Panic shoots through me. I’ve never been this exposed with anyone, not ever. The only time anyone saw this much of me was disastrous, years ago, at my stepmother’s house. I was naked in the shower, and the clear curtain came down in a crash.
Even on the sofa with Colt, where I want to be, I can’t help myself. I cross my arms over my front.
“Hold on,” Colt says. “Hang on.” He sits up and folds me into him. His sweater is warm, and his arms are tight around me.
I try to shove the memories out of my head. I want to punch them like the Bad Boy bags, kick them until they tear apart, stuffing flying. Then I realize I’m not thinking of the training equipment, but remembering my stepbrother. What I did to him. The blood, the sickening sound of bones breaking.
Suddenly I’m hiccuping into Colt’s shirt, breathing too hard, hyperventilating.
“Shhhh,” Colt says. “Don’t think. Just be in the moment.” He strokes my hair. “Be right here. Nobody’s going to get you here.”
I gulp in air, angry now. I refuse to let that asshole mess up any other part of my life. He did enough. I stopped him. I got away. But it’s time. I can see it’s time to tell somebody. If people are going to come for me, maybe it’s time to let them come.
“I have to tell you something,” I say, my voice unsteady. “I’m just afraid.”
He runs his hands over my bare back. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
I try to calm myself. I have to do this. I have to tell him. If I don’t do it now, it will be impossible later.
“My real name isn’t Jo Jones,” I say to Colt. “It’s Joanna Mahoney.”
Chapter 12
Colt stands up so fast that I’m dumped onto the sofa. I snatch at my shirt and hold it in front of me.
“You lied to everybody?” His voice is a roar.
“I had to.”
He moves so fast that he knocks over the folding chair. “I do NOT like being lied to.” He’s running his hands through his hair.
“Let me tell you why,” I say, still clutching the shirt.
He kicks the chair out of his way. “I’m sick of all the goddamned liars everywhere!”
“Aren’t you the one lying about your engagement?”
He whirls around to stare at me. The malice in his eyes makes me want to disappear into the floor. “I told you the TRUTH about that.”
I’m trying to breathe normally, to stay calm. I need to find the right words. I have to explain everything.
But Colt doesn’t give me that chance. He strides across the room and flings open the front door. And with a terrible slam, he’s gone.
Oh my God. I struggle with the shirt, trying to get it over my head. I get tangled and actually rip a hole under the arm as I fight to get it on.
I scramble to the door and yank it open. But his motorcycle is already roaring. By the time I’m to the parking lot, he’s down the street.
I sit on the curb. I can’t believe it. It’s happened again. My whole life has just exploded into bits. I wish I hadn’t told him. Now he knows my real name. He could do anything. Look me up. Turn me in. At least I’m too old to be sent back home.
But old enough to be tried as an adult.
It takes all the energy I possess to get up and walk back inside. The ice is melting on the floor. I pick up the towel and hold it to my chest. My shirt is still damp in the one spot, and the cold bites deeply there first, over my heart.
Surely there is something I can do or say to make him understand. I wasn’t lying to him. I was trying to tell him the truth. Everyone in LA knows me as Jo Jones. There’s no reason for anyone to doubt it. My ID looks perfectly legit.
The phone Colt gave me sits on the coffee table. I set the ice in my lap and try to come up with the right words. When I begin to tap out the letters, I have to swallow all my fear. I’m leaving a trail, I realize. Once I press send, the message is ou
t there. He can use it against me. After all this time, I can be caught.
I read it over.
I got a fake ID when I ran away from home. I wasn’t sure then, and I’m not completely sure even now, that I didn’t kill my stepbrother the night I left. I did what I had to do.
Now he’ll know.
I send the message.
All I can do is wait.
Chapter 13
I don’t think it is possible to fall asleep in the state I’m in, but apparently I do.
I startle awake, my face in the sofa cushion. I’ve heard a sound. Something moves in the room, and I’m up, standing on the sofa, arms in punching position.
“Your hands are too high,” Colt says. “I could sink you with a low jab.”
He stands behind the armchair. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked if you don’t even know where to hold your hands.”
I drop my arms. I want to throw myself at him, hang on, and refuse to let go. But I stay on the sofa, watching his shadow cross the room in the near-dark.
“I just got your message,” he says. “You sent it hours ago.”
He’s close now, beside the coffee table.
I back up against the wall. My feet are buried in the cushions. Still, I’m barely taller than him.
“Was it like when you went after those boys?” he asks. “That first day I met you?”
I nod, although I’m not sure if he can see me in the low light.
“He was your stepbrother?”
I nod again.
“How old were you?”
I slide down until I’m sitting on the back of the sofa. “Seventeen.”
“Did he hurt you?”
A dozen scenes flash through my mind. Pinches. Grabs. His body on mine, pressing my face into a pillow. “Sometimes.”
“Did he ever…rape you?”
I stand up again. “No.” My breathing speeds up. “I didn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t. I was able to fight.”
“He tried?”
My legs wobble on the uneven springs of the sofa. I sit all the way down, my knees pulled to my chest. “He was working his way up to it.”
Colt settles on the coffee table, closer, but still distant. “What happened that last night?”
I bury my face against my knees. “I thought he was out for the night. I was always so careful to be out of the house if my stepmother was out.” I pause. I’ve never told anyone this story, but it’s played in my mind many times, like a movie I’ve watched too often.
“I was taking a shower. I hated taking showers there. The door didn’t lock properly. You just had to jiggle it.” I can see the crystal doorknob, how it rattled in its setting.
“He came in. It was so sudden. His hands were on me. It was so easy since I didn’t have clothes on.” I can still feel his hands going straight for the prize, fingers pressing between my legs. He’d never gotten that far before. It was like his game. How much could he grab before I fought him off?
“I brought the whole shower curtain down trying to get away.” The water sprayed everywhere, across the clear curtain, onto his clothes.
“It didn’t slow him down. He thought it was funny, us lying on the floor.” I was naked and scrambling to escape. He managed to trap me underneath him.
“Then I found my strength. I used it. I beat him.”
I close my eyes to the scene. I don’t want to see it. My elbow landing on his face. My knee in his belly. And even when I knew I had stopped him, I kept going. I kept hitting and hitting like he wasn’t a person. He was an object. I hit him long after I should have quit, long after his silence, his stillness.
The room is quiet. Colt still sits on the coffee table. A streetlamp outside casts feeble light across our shadows.
“And then you ran,” he says. “You didn’t call for help. No police. No ambulance.”
I flood with shame. “No, I didn’t call,” I whisper. “I ran.”
He moves over to the sofa and wraps his arms around me. In one subtle shift, I’m on his lap, still curled in my tight ball. “Jo, poor Jo,” he whispers against my hair. “No wonder you fight like you do.”
“My father is dead,” I say. “My mother left when I was born.”
“You didn’t have anybody to tell,” he says. He gets it.
“I’ve been fine,” I say. “LA has been just fine. Zero is good. I’ve had work.”
His arms surround me, and we rock together. My body begins to uncoil. I release my legs and lay my head on Colt’s shoulder.
“I’m glad you told me,” Colt said. “When you’re ready, we can sort it out. See what happened to him.”
“Last thing you need is a fugitive on your payroll,” I say.
His hand moves to my cheek. “You’re Buster’s problem,” he says. “I’m just here because I can’t stand to be anywhere else.”
His features are hard to make out in the low light.
“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” I say. “Never even kissed anyone until you.”
His exhales slowly. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a rough-cut fighter like me.”
“I don’t think I will break,” I say.
When his lips meet mine, it’s nothing like before. The passion is there, and the need. But something else has taken over. It’s tender. Careful. The sensations don’t start at our mouths, or where our bodies touch. But inside. There’s a connection that goes deeper. I trust him completely. I have no doubts.
Chapter 14
Colt rains kisses across my cheek and down my jaw. Each touch is careful, like I’m made of glass. He eases me down onto the sofa. Our bodies barely graze each other as he braces himself above me.
His hand on my ribs is gentle. Only after I arch into him does he finger the hem of my shirt, exposing a narrow strip of skin.
“Just one little piece at a time,” he says. He trails his fingers along my belly. His lips return to my mouth.
He waits until I shift against him, writhing down so the shirt catches on his hand and pushes a little higher. He smiles against my mouth. “A bit more, then?” His fingers slip into the hollow below my rib cage, feathering light caresses across my skin.
I’m filled with a slow burn, a gradual increase in need. I match his pace and let my hands explore his back just above the waist of his jeans. His sweater is soft and thick. I push it up, running my fingers along the taut muscles up each side of his belly.
Like that first time on my sofa, he keeps everything easy. His lips are gentle, not pressing. They move from my mouth to my ear and back again. When his hand inches enough to graze the bottom of my bare breast, he pauses, his breath on my cheek. He waits for my response. When I relax back into him, he kisses me again.
He’s just far enough above me that I can slip my hand up the front of his sweater. His skin is smooth and hot. The position is work for him, as I can feel the shifting of muscles as he holds himself above me. I move higher, across his abs to his chest. When I reach a nipple, he sucks in against my mouth.
His hips rock against me, but he catches himself, and holds back. I want more, so I arch up to meet him, reestablishing the connection. He’s hard against my thighs. I remember his thrusts in the cage, and the burn begins to flare into something hotter.
His mouth becomes more urgent. I part my lips, and he dives in, his tongue seeking mine. His hands move beneath me, lifting my body to press into his. I feel the heat rising, spreading out, flaming between my legs.
One hand pushes my shirt up again. His head lowers to capture the naked breast in his mouth. He rocks against me, and I’m lost in it all. Pleasure, anticipation, need. I clutch at his hips, moving with him. I want more skin, more connection. I reach between us for his belt buckle and fumble to pull it loose. His jeans open with a snap.
I feel my way across his belly, hard and smooth. I want to see him too, but our position is too difficult. I tug at his jeans. “Shall we move?”
He nips his way up to my jaw. “Yes,” he says.
I feel weightless. He walks me to the back of the living room. We pass the kitchen and go down the hall. He doesn’t know the way, but my place is small. He shoulders open the door to the bedroom. I had planned for this earlier, before our disaster. I left the closet light on, the door cocked. The bed waits by the window.
I realize I’m holding my breath. He lays me down on the cool sheets. His back is lit from the closet as he pulls his sweater over his head. I’ve seen his chest many times, daily. But it’s different now. It’s mine to touch and explore. I want to do all sorts of things, run my tongue along the grooves of his abs. Bite the base of his ribs. I’m overwhelmed with it. I have to slow down, take my time.
He kicks off his boots and slides the jeans down. His boxers are navy blue, and fitted rather than loose. I can clearly see the bulge of him. I know how things fit together, but it seems so big. Suddenly I realize how little I know. If it’s skin, won’t it rub? Won’t it hurt? Wouldn’t it be like a friction burn? Are we supposed to use some sort of lube? Does he have it?
“Jo,” he says softly. I realize I’m breathing fast again. “It’s all right.”
The bed dips as he settles next to me.
“How does it not hurt?” I ask.
He smiles down at me. “It works out.”
Colt goes back to the simple touch along my stomach, inching my shirt up again. I have trouble relaxing, thinking maybe I just want this first time over and done with. But then he leans in, his lips on my belly button, and I flood hot. He reaches for my jeans and tugs at the button.
I shiver as the zipper opens wide. His hand is flat on my skin, his thumb tracing lazy circles at the edge of my panties.
His hand works his way along the outside of my jeans to my hip bone, down my thigh, and across my knees. I want to writhe beneath him and make him go where I want.
But he’s careful and slow. His fingers move high again, to my belly. I want to beg him, to grab his hand and put it there. He makes another round across to my hip. I want to weep with need. But this time, he comes straight across, grazing me lightly between the legs.
