by Cari Quinn
“Is that important?”
Forget my balls, she’d even turned my brain into a painful knot. “Ever heard of pleasant conversation?”
She slanted me a look as I moved ahead of her. We were going to my place and she didn’t know the address, but you couldn’t tell it from the way she marched up the street. I didn’t appreciate the puppy-off-the-leash feeling she inspired in me.
Fight me? Hell, she probably wanted to sell tickets to a public castration. With a dull butter knife.
“Once you mention paying for someone’s sexual services, I’d say pleasant is off the table.”
Though I was well used to bobbing and weaving, she kept me on my toes. “I’m okay with getting them for free too.”
Her lips twitched. It wasn’t a smile, wasn’t a laugh. Almost, though. I was getting closer.
“Did your parents really name you Fox Knox?”
I snorted. “Not hardly. My name’s Tray.”
“Like something you put plates on? That kind of tray?” Each of her breaths plumed clouds of air in front of her face. In no time, her teeth would start chattering.
As much as I wanted to enjoy her discomfort considering how much she sought to provoke mine, I couldn’t. Without thinking, I wrapped my arm around her waist and hauled her against my side. “You’re freezing. Don’t argue.”
She went rabbit-still. Stumbling a little, she picked up her pace again, soon matching it to mine. “You don’t even have a coat.”
“Yeah, well, I’m also suffering from sexual denial. That burns calories and generates warmth.”
“So…Tray? Really?”
Apparently we weren’t discussing my sexual needs. Moving on.
I turned at the corner, trying to ignore the way our hips collided before our rhythm smoothed out again. “Short for Trayherne. My father’s middle name. It’s only slightly better than Fox.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Fox fits you.”
“You’ve seen me fight then.”
“I have. But even if I hadn’t, I’ve gotten a few good looks at your face.”
I frowned, unsure of what she meant. “Explain that.”
“You know what fox means, right?”
“Yeah. Fast.” I shrugged. “I guess. I never really got what it was all about. To me, foxes are small little rodenty things. But people act like it’s a compliment.”
Mia came to a halt and I did too, albeit a little slower than she did. Since I hadn’t expected her to stop, we bumped into each other again, but she didn’t act as if she minded. Because she was too busy laughing.
No, not laughing. Roaring. Clutching her sides, doubled over, long dark braid bobbing while she fought to haul in air that I hoped froze her lungs.
I crossed my arms and waited.
After a couple of minutes, she rose and wiped her streaming eyes. “Sorry. I enjoyed that.”
“Are you quite finished?”
That set her off again. The bout of laughter didn’t last as long this time. “Whoa.” She sucked in a breath. “My belly hurts. Damn bruise.”
Without checking the impulse, I nudged her under a streetlight and tugged up her shirt. A shadowy smudge stretched from above her navel toward her ribs. I laid my fingers on it, cutting my gaze to hers when she shuddered.
“Cold,” she whispered.
I lifted my hand and blew on it, brutally aware she was watching me. Feeling idiotic, I kissed my fingertips and placed them on her skin again.
If anything, she shuddered more.
“How’d you get this?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
She jerked a shoulder. Somehow she hadn’t shoved me away yet. “Had a disagreement.”
“With who?” Whoever it was, I’d go show him what I thought of men who hit women.
“Some chicks.”
Chicks, plural. I couldn’t stop the inexplicable swell of pride. “How do they look?”
“Worse than I do.”
“Figured.” Though I didn’t want to, I drew my hand away and carefully pulled down her shirt. God, I hadn’t expected her to be so warm and soft. “Are you gonna tell me why you were laughing at me, Giggles?”
“If only you knew how rare it is for me to laugh, you’d rethink that name.”
“So tell me.”
She pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “You really don’t know what fox means? Other than the animal?”
“No. I really don’t.” I resumed walking. It was way too cold to be hanging around on street corners. Why the hell hadn’t I moved south?
Mia jogged to my side and we headed to my apartment in silence. Until she gave me one of those sideways looks and muttered, “It means sexy.”
Since my mind had wandered to what I would do with Mia once we arrived at my place—other than demand what the fuck she’d meant by asking me to fight her—I didn’t catch on right away. “Fox? You’re shitting me.” I thought back to the guys at the gym who leered and laughed every time they nailed me with that stupid nickname. “No way.”
“Yep. It’s kind of an old-fashioned term, but it means you’re hot. Sexually desirable.”
I rubbed a hand over my hair. Snow crystals had started to freeze on my scalp. My hand was so cold I barely felt them. “You said you thought it fit me. So you find me sexually desirable?”
She shrugged. “Sure. In a vanilla sort of way.”
“Vanilla, huh?” I stopped in front of the brownstone I lived in and snagged her arm when she would’ve kept going. “Don’t suppose you’d like a demonstration of how wrong you are?”
“Nah. Thanks.” She smirked. “I think I’m good—”
Cutting her off, I dragged her against my chest and tipped back her face with my thumb on her chin. I’d had enough of her amusement at my expense. “Open up.” I swept my tongue between her lips, silencing her brief protest.
Then I was inside her, if only in this insignificant way. The cold night disappeared. Everything did but the warm mouth that parted eagerly beneath mine.
Her rumbling moan vibrated through me and made me lightheaded. Need spiked low in my belly, causing a surge of blood into my cock that demanded more than our testing brush of tongues. Forward, retreat. I wanted to rake my teeth over the fullness of her lips, but they were cut. I didn’t want to hurt her while I was giving her pleasure.
Unless she wanted me to.
Despite my hesitation, she didn’t hold anything back. She fisted her fingers in my shirt and pulled me down. And in. I was drowning in her taste, cinnamon and mint. The combination didn’t go together. I was used to girls tasting like fruit or candy. She was more tart than sweet. More hard than soft. Her body yielded in my arms, but her tongue only became more aggressive, almost daring me to keep up.
Why did that turn me on so damn much?
She moaned again when I got rougher than I’d intended, and I immediately drew back. “Sorry,” I mumbled, fairly certain I’d never apologized after a kiss before. Her heavy lids lifted and she smoothed the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. “Jesus, Mia, don’t do that when I’m trying to be honorable.”
“Why?”
I scrubbed my face with my fists. She sounded genuinely confused. “Because we barely know each other. Because you don’t feel like someone I can just sleep with and forget, and I don’t do anything else. Because you have sore lips.”
When I dropped my hands, she was touching those lips, running her fingers over them. If she’d cupped her bare breasts, I doubt I would’ve become more aroused.
“I’m sore all over, Fox.”
I rolled my eyes at the nickname. Damn, she wouldn’t give me even a temporary reprieve.
“It’s not the first time,” she continued, “and it won’t be the last.”
Some secret hidden meaning lurked behind her words. I just didn’t get what it was. “You’ve been in a lot of fights?”
She gripped the zipper of my jacket and ran it up and down, the noise see
ming way too loud. This was never the quietest neighborhood. There was always a backfiring car lumbering past or someone dragging metal garbage cans to the curb. But tonight there was just deathly silence, made even thicker by the accumulating snow. Even the traffic noises were muffled.
For the moment, we were the only two people who existed.
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate.
I was beginning to put together the puzzle, but I wasn’t sure if I was lining up the pieces correctly. “With your boyfriend? Or your husband?”
She shook her head.
“Your dad?”
As she gave another shake of her head, I frowned. So much for thinking I could figure this out on my own. I needed to ask a direct question if I wanted a direct answer.
“Then who?”
She shrugged. “Other women. Anyone who wants to. Just like you.”
My frown grew. What the hell was she talking about? I’d thought maybe she wanted me to train her to become more skilled in defending herself against whomever she fought on a regular basis. But this conversation had just veered right off the tracks. Again.
“I want you to hurt me. I want you to kick my ass, Tray.”
While I reeled at her usage of my real name, she stepped forward and gathered my shirt in her fist, pulling until the fabric tightened around my neck. She had my attention now, every bit of it. “Mia?”
“You won’t succeed, but I need you to try.”
“Jesus fuck, what is this?” So much for being articulate. I couldn’t make sense out of this conversation, and I didn’t get why we’d delved into this topic again while we were still outside in the freaking cold.
Oh, wait, yes, I did. I’d kissed her and opened Pandora’s crazy box.
“Why aren’t you listening to me?” She punched my chest, leaving a dull pain behind. “I’m a fighter, just like you. You haven’t heard of me because women fighters don’t count for shit around here. But I’ve heard of you. I’ve watched your tapes. I’ve seen your matches. You’re good.” She licked her lips. “But I’m better.”
Laughter exploded out of me with the finality of a gunshot. She didn’t flinch. Barely even reacted. She’d been expecting it, obviously. “You’re a fighter? For real? Who the hell have you been taking out? Smurfette and her rowdy blue brothers?”
Her teeth clicked as she set her jaw. “You shouldn’t insult what you just admitted you don’t know a damn thing about. Get in the ring with me and we’ll see where all your big talk leaves you.”
I nearly laughed again. “Honey, I can’t deny you have the body for it. You just had it up against me, so I know you’re in good shape.”
“Fuck you. I’m not your honey.” She shoved me back with the flat of her hand.
Much to my surprise, it almost hurt. Almost.
She wasn’t through yet. “You had your tongue down my throat. That doesn’t make me your little woman.”
“I never said—”
She was still coming at me, pushing me backward with surprising strength. I wasn’t putting up a struggle, true, but she was still driving me up the sidewalk. And she wasn’t even winded. With her eyes blazing and her braid trailing in the wind, she was a beautiful sight.
Not that I dared tell her that, in case she decided to go for my nuts.
“Guys like you, you think you know everything. You’ve got the world by a string, and it only ever unwinds the way you want it to. That’s not how it is for the rest of us. We have to fight for what we want. We have to bleed.”
She stopped shoving me and started yanking on my shirt to expand upon her opinion. If we’d been inside, I was pretty sure this conversation would’ve ended with her pulling off my clothes. And vice versa. The leashed energy pouring from her was seriously turning me on, and I was rapidly losing the ability to argue coherently. Anytime now I’d probably volunteer to fight her naked in front of a crowd of jeering men with slabs of raw meat attached to my ass.
Hey, it could happen.
“Are you listening to me? Can you even hear me through that thick skull of yours?” She was yelling now, punctuating her questions with bruising knuckle jabs.
Fuck, she was hotter than hell.
I’d never been harder in my life.
I might’ve even fallen a little in love.
Chapter Nine
Mia
I was not getting the reaction I wanted.
Any minute now, Fox’s tongue would loll out of his mouth. I wanted to slap him full in the face and tell him to get a hold of himself, but that probably would’ve spun his crank more.
Men. They were such predictable creatures. Cute sometimes, annoying others, but so very manageable. At least if you knew how to fight back. And I did.
I also knew when I couldn’t reach my opponent. This one needed something a rational conversation could not provide. I’d suggest he go take care of business in the shower, but I really didn’t have any desire to broach the subject of sex in any form.
Bad enough that I’d let him kiss me. That I’d kissed him back. That I’d enjoyed it with every particle of my body and most likely a few of his too.
Now I needed to get home. I’d put the idea of us fighting out there. He could stew on it. Beat off to it. Whatever. But I would get my way. My sister was counting on me, and I needed the money I could get from fighting him. Nothing else mattered.
“Stop it.” Fox’s irises glittered in the moonlight. “You’re not hitting me anymore.” He reached up to pry my hands away from his chest and seized my fingers in an iron grip.
I nearly moaned at the bolt of heat that speared between my legs. Hell, maybe I’d make myself come too. Clearly, we both had too much excess energy. How could we talk like rational human beings when all we cared about was rubbing up against each other?
Not that I ever did that sort of thing. I didn’t even get horny. Well, fine, occasionally. But not on any regular basis, and I usually just worked out extra hard to compensate. I didn’t even own a sex toy. I had no idea when I’d last had an orgasm.
Unless I counted right now, because if Fox kept looking at me like that, it was going to happen all on its own.
“Why are you staring at me?” I demanded, hoping he couldn’t hear the thin thread of need in my tone. Anytime now I’d start panting.
“Are you honestly asking me that? Jesus, are you that dense?” He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his cock, and hell if I didn’t squeal like most girls did when presented with a bug.
Nice, Anderson. Show him you’re a worthy opponent by acting scared of his penis.
I moved closer and palmed the front of his jeans, more out of a desire to seem okay with the situation than because I wanted to learn his precise shape. And length. He seemed to go on and on, stuffed as he was into that life-constricting denim. He’d be sterile soon if he didn’t relax.
Judging from his groan, my fumbling caresses weren’t helping to ease his strain.
“What the fuck, Mia? What the fuck?”
I didn’t think that question was one that called for an answer. So I kept touching him, filled with curiosity and trepidation both, wondering how I could get what I wanted from this situation without letting on exactly how badly I needed things to go my way. Desperation was not a color that went well with my skin tone.
Bringing him to climax in his jeans seemed like a good way to get him on my side. All I needed was a yes. I didn’t care how I got it.
The best fighters fought dirty, and I was better than most.
I backed him up to the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the lawn, and he grabbed the pointy spokes in a feral grip. His hips flexed, and he rocked into me while I roughly jerked him off. I slid my hand up and down in quick strokes and pressed my face to his chest. His heart was beating so fast, potential heart-attack fast, and his rough gasps made me squirm with longing. He’d tasted like beer, and now I wondered if he’d made me drunk somehow, because I didn’t understand what was happening to my body. I mean, logically I understood.
I’d climaxed before. But not with a guy I wanted to be with. Not so easily. So naturally.
I picked up my rhythm as his breath grew choppier. He was getting close. I’d forgotten my moves for a couple of minutes, but I’d done this with enough guys to know I could make him come quickly.
So what if he’d kissed me first? So what that I’d liked it so much I wanted more? I’d only forgotten that this wasn’t about me and my pleasure for an instant. Now I could focus on my real part in this—
“Stop it.” He grabbed my wrist. “I’m not creaming in my jeans like some teenager.”
Swallowing hard, I raised my gaze from the sight of his darker fingers encircling my paler flesh to his eyes. Nodded. Then I reached for his zipper.
“What’re you—no. No. Jesus, Mia.” He snatched my wrists and held them up by my shoulders. Trapping me in place with his virility and strength. Bile streaked up my throat from the vulnerability of my position, and I fought him like a wild animal, forgetting where I was.
Who he was.
Instead of my Vinnie’s uniform, I wore a pretty pale pink dress. The first shade past white. It was a virginal color, because I was pure and innocent.
I’d been that way once.
His leather jacket bunched around my arms, cutting off my range of motion. The harsh drags of cold air I sucked into my lungs didn’t smell like Fox’s crisp, masculine cologne, but cigar smoke, thick and rancid. My heart thumped in my head, a primal drumbeat that spurred me to fight harder, to make each twist of my body count. I threw out an elbow, kneed whatever part of him I could reach. He grunted, but he didn’t release me. I redoubled my efforts even as my vision blurred.
I wouldn’t live through this again.
“Goddammit, stop it. Mia. Mia, baby, stop it. It’s just me.” He enfolded me in his arms, hauling me straight off the ground and into his arms while my legs pumped and slashed through the air. “It’s Fox. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
When his words finally cut through the mist of terror in my brain, I went slack in his hold. As limp as a damn baby. He didn’t let me go, just kept whispering soothing words that would’ve caused me to weep if I’d had any tears left to cry. Instead I sagged against his chest while shame burned through me like lava.
