Full Contact

by Sarah Castille

  “What kind of woman am I?”

  His hooded gaze locks on me; then he stands and pulls me into his arms. “The kind that can bring a man to his knees.”

  Mindful of the bandage on his chest and with my usual reticence washed away in a tidal wave of desire, I lean up and nuzzle his neck. “I don’t see you as an on-the-knees kinda guy.”

  “Neither did I.” His hands sweep up my body, in and out my curves, and then down again, curling around my ass, his fingers digging into the tender flesh as he yanks my hips against his hardened length. “But then I never met a sexy artist before, watched her put beauty into the world where most of us destroy it. Never thought I’d cut corners to get my work done early so I could see her again. Spent a lot of time thinking about you, so soft and sweet, your heart-shaped face, the way your eyes turn green when you’re scared, your lips—”

  “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  “I was coming back as soon as I walked away.” His gaze fixes on my mouth. “It was just a matter of time.”

  One hand still on my ass, holding me tight, he traces my lips with his thumb and then slides it into my mouth.

  “Suck, beautiful girl. Show me what those lips can do.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Although I know I shouldn’t, that this is taking me one step too close to the danger zone, I tighten my lips and draw his thumb into my mouth. His skin is salty, tangy, sinfully delicious. I suck, stroking him with my tongue, imagining it isn’t his thumb in my mouth but something else. Ray curls his fingers under my chin, locking my head in place as he pulls his thumb out and traces the bow of my lips.

  “So fucking soft. Perfect.”

  My body tingles, heats, my clit throbs, and all I can think about is getting more. And yet, this isn’t me. I go out with nice guys who invite me for dinner or a walk in the park, and if things go well, then they give me a peck on the cheek and promise to call. Not once has a guy slid his thumb in my mouth and held my head, watching, breathless, as I did to his thumb what I desperately wanted to do to his cock. But, oh God, was it good.

  Ray glides his thumb down to rest in the hollow at the base of my throat. His hand curls around my neck, his fingers stroking my nape, sending a wave of sensation cascading down my spine. I am at once unnerved by my vulnerability and intensely aroused by his control. A soft moan escapes my lips and Ray stills.

  “That makes you hot.”

  “Yes.” Understatement of the year. I’ve never had such an incredible endorphin rush. The dip in my throat seems to be directly connected to my pussy, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been this wet in my life.

  His hand tightens around my throat, and my sex throbs in response. Never could I have imagined such a controlling gesture would turn me on. I should be afraid, screaming, running away, but he is watching me so intently, I know that the second arousal turns to anxiety, he’ll let me go.

  With a groan, I fist his shirt in my hands and pull him toward me. Ray’s hand drops, his mouth finds mine, and then we’re kissing with a fierce intensity that takes my breath away. Tongues tangle and clash, lips bruise, teeth nip. His hands glide over my body, but when he pushes up my T-shirt, I freeze. And in that moment, Ray’s hands become Luke’s hands, his fingers cold and brutal as he shoves up my shirt. A violent tremble shakes my body. There’s a reason I’ve never let any of my boyfriends undress me, but it’s been so long since I let someone else take control, I had forgotten why.

  “Sia?”

  “I…thought I heard someone outside.” Cringing inwardly at the lie, I place my hands over his and tug up my shirt, hoping that if we do it together, the PTSD will go away. “As you were,” I say, mocking a frown. But Ray has been watching me too intently to fall for that kind of trick.

  “I hurt you.”

  “No.” I almost shout the word, terrified he’ll turn into another Charlie or James, so afraid of hurting me that they treated me like I was made of glass.

  From the set of his mouth, I can tell he doesn’t believe me, and when he takes a step back, a sob wells up in my throat. Why can’t I be like everyone else? Why can’t I have what I want without the past getting in the way?

  Maybe he just needs some encouragement.

  Closing the distance between us, I slide my hands over his chest, and around his neck pulling him down so I can run my tongue along the seam of his lips. He groans and slants his mouth over mine, his kiss warm and deep and filled with passion.

  “You wanting something, beautiful girl?” Ray grinds the steel of his erection against my stomach as I nuzzle his neck, breathing in his scent, tasting sex on his skin.

  “You. I want you.”

  Ray covers my hand with his and draws it down, over his chest, skimming the taut muscles of his stomach, past his belt, to the bulge in his jeans that has grown significantly since the last time I looked. He squeezes my hand around his shaft, so hard I can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt, and whispers, “Bite.”

  So I do. I sink my teeth into the tender flesh at the join of his neck and shoulder blade, just a little nip.

  Ray groans. “Harder.”

  Swallowing hard, I bite harder. His cock stiffens beneath my palm, and his obvious arousal almost makes me come right then.

  He pants his breaths, and I curl one arm around his neck, pressing my chest against him, and bite so hard my teeth pierce his skin.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Ray rips himself away with a shout that echoes through the studio, and I am at once shocked by his outburst and mortified by my behavior, and the tang of blood on my tongue.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve never done that before. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I babble my apology, stumbling back until I hit my chair, and then I freeze. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  A curious expression flickers across his face. Self-loathing? Disgust? But it disappears so fast, I wonder if I’ve imagined it. He scrubs a hand over his face as if to wash away the sight of me. “’S’okay. My fault. I shouldn’t have…”

  But, clearly, it’s not okay. What the hell was I thinking? This is the side of me that got me into trouble in the first place. Sia the thrill seeker. Sia the danger queen. Sia who has always wanted it rough and dirty and didn’t learn her lesson the first time. Tag is right. Ray isn’t the right guy for me, although not for the reasons he said. He’s the kind of guy who makes me lose control, and that’s not something I can do. Control is how I survived after Luke. Control over my life. Control over my emotions. Control over the men I chose to be with. But with Ray, control is just so damn hard, because the more he takes, the more I want to give.

  “Lights are going out in the gym.” I gesture to the door. “They’re closing up for the night. You should probably get going.” I draw in a ragged breath and will him to leave before I break down. “Rampage will be waiting. He offered to take me home.”

  “Rampage. Okay.” He nods, but he doesn’t move.

  “I just have to pack up my equipment and put it in the autoclave. You don’t have to stick around.”

  I imagine he flinches the tiniest bit at my awkward dismissal, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

  “Going out of town again tomorrow.” A pained expression crosses his face. “Might not make it back for the fight on Friday.”

  Pleaseleavepleaseleavepleaseleave. Can this get more awkward?

  “I probably won’t make it anyway.” I straighten the ink caps on the tray, grateful for an excuse to keep my eyes averted. “We’re booked solid for the next few weeks, and I’m doing overtime because I need the extra work.”

  When I look up into the silence, his face has smoothed to an expressionless mask.

  “Got it.”

  My stomach churns as he grabs his shirt and tugs it over his head. The tat on his shoulder has got to hurt, but if it bothers him, he gives no sign.

  Still, I can’t leave him with just an outline. I am a professional, after all, and although it will be incredibly awkward to see him again, I wan
t to finish his ink. “Whenever you want me to finish up your tat, just call Rose. I’ll tell her to squeeze you in.”

  “Sure.” He turns and walks toward the door, eating up the fancy marble tile with easy strides of his long legs.

  “Bye, Ray.”

  The door opens and then closes with a bang. If he said good-bye, I missed it.

  Chapter 9

  Dangerous Man. Dangerous Bike.

  Priority: Confidential

  Bay Area Underground Fight Club (BUFC) Fight Night

  Ex-machine shop, Jack London Square. 8 p.m.

  Headlining: Misery vs. The Predator

  Code Phrase: “I am your number-one fan”

  Friday night, four days after Ray left me in a state of aroused confusion at the studio, Jess and I are drinking beer with Blade Saw, Doctor Death, and Rampage in a former machine shop just off Jack London Square. Blade Saw has an arm around Jess’s shoulders, and she is no longer annoyed at being dragged away from watching Tag torture his recruits at Redemption. Although she’s told Blade Saw she’s not looking for a relationship—she’s still not ready to give up on Tag—he’s happy to take whatever she wants to give, which means I’ll be going home alone. Again.

  But it’s the best choice, as I’ve said to Jess about a dozen times over the last few days. I need to be with men who are sensitive and easygoing. Men who don’t call to the thrill-seeking side of me that got me in trouble in the first place. Men like Charlie, my first serious boyfriend after the attack, who put up with my panic attacks and flashbacks and stroked my back and made me tea and even came to see my therapist so he could learn how to help me. At the time, I told Jess that men didn’t get better than Charlie and that I probably would never have been able to have sex again if I hadn’t met him.

  Ever the pragmatist, Jess said Charlie and I wouldn’t last. Although we were comfortable together, there was no spark. And she was right. Just as she was right about Jason, another caring, sensitive man who was so concerned about my issues and triggers that he often couldn’t perform in bed.

  Still, she calls me on my BS. How could I possibly think the Predator would be put off by a little pain? Look what he dishes out—and takes—in the ring. Maybe he has his own issues. And didn’t I tell her he got harder when I bit him? This is what I always do, she says. When they get too close, I push them away. And if I didn’t want him, why the hell did I call her up and drag her out of yoga class when I found out he was fighting tonight?

  Good questions. Too bad I have no answers.

  “Never took you for a beer drinker.” Doctor Death taps my bottle and I shrug.

  “I’ll drink just about anything with alcohol in it when I’m stressed.”

  His brow creases. Unbelievably, the slight frown makes him even more handsome.

  “Stress can have some profound physiological effects on the body. What are you stressed about? Often it helps to just talk these things through.”

  “Uh…well…” I can’t tell him I’m worried about Ray fighting Misery. And there’s no way I’m telling him I’m lusting after a mercurial fighter who I just pushed away.

  “I thought Misery was in jail for kidnapping Makayla and Amanda,” Jess says loudly, finally coming to my rescue.

  Dragging my thoughts away from my disastrous night in the studio, I nudge Rampage, who is trying to stay hidden in the shadows—an impossible task given his size and his penchant for wearing yellow. Both licensed MMA amateurs, Rampage and Blade Saw are taking a risk by coming to an underground fight, but like me, they can’t resist. Redemption was an underground club for many years, and this kind of fighting is what they know and love best.

  “Do you know anything about Misery?”

  Rampage looks over and scowls. “He did three years and then he found himself a good lawyer for the appeal and got out for good behavior. They couldn’t link him to the drugs or he might have been there forever.” Rampage is very protective of the women in the club and took it as a personal affront when Misery, once Torment’s biggest competitor in the underground league, kidnapped and beat up Makayla and Amanda when they inadvertently stumbled on his drug smuggling operation in the Menlo District.

  “He’s wanted to fight the Predator ever since he got out of the joint.” Blade Saw pulls another beer from his bag and offers it around. “The Predator always refused and last week he didn’t show. But for some reason he agreed to tonight’s fight.”

  A whistle blows and we turn our attention to the makeshift ring in the middle of the shop. The fights are rarely held at the same location and this venue is rougher than most. Four metal poles with a thick rope strung between them mark the ring. Sawdust has been scattered over the concrete floor. The air smells of wood chips and diesel with a hint of sweat, and the only light comes from the glare of spotlights set up around the perimeter of the ring.

  The first few fights are as bloody and gory as an underground fight lover could want. The concrete floor is responsible for one knockout and two broken arms. A medic tends to the injured in a corner. My skin prickles as if someone is watching me. I scan the crowd, but I don’t see anyone looking in my direction, and I don’t see Ray.

  Finally, the promoter announces the big event and Misery steps into the ring. He must be at least six feet two inches tall and weighs over two hundred and fifty pounds. Rampage tells us he was once one of California’s top-ranked amateur heavyweight fighters, but he threw it all away for a fistful of blow and a cup of revenge.

  Anticipation ratchets through me as the crowd parts and Ray ducks under the rope. Although Misery clearly outweighs him, Ray dominates the ring through the force of his presence alone.

  “He just gets better looking every time I see him,” Jess whispers.

  She’s right. His muscles seem bigger and more defined, pecs protruding above his washboard stomach, his jaw firm, blue eyes focused and intent. His fight shorts, blue with white wolves on the sides, cling to his narrow hips, and for a moment I wonder if he got them because of the tattoo I might never finish, now a dark outline across his pec.

  Hidden as we are in the corner, I don’t know if he’ll be able to see me, but I can pretend, and so I send him a mental kiss for luck.

  At the sound of the whistle, they touch bare knuckles—no gloves in underground fighting—and then circle each other in the center of the ring. Already my heart is in my throat, and I feel the familiar surge of adrenaline that keeps me coming back time and time again.

  “This is going to be a great fight.” Doctor Death throws a casual arm around my shoulder, and I stiffen and pull away with an apologetic smile.

  “Sometimes I like to wave my hands and jump around. Wouldn’t want to hit you by accident.” I cringe inwardly at my feeble excuse, but what if Ray looks over and sees us together? Although I’m mentally prepared for it to be over, hope still flickers in my soul.

  Misery cocks his left hand and then, without warning, the Predator attacks, unleashing his power with a left uppercut that sends Misery staggering back against the ropes.

  Rampage draws in a sharp breath, and my pulse kicks up a notch.

  “That’s not his usual MO.” I look back over my shoulder at a rapt Rampage. “He usually stalks them first, then toys with them, lets them get in a few punches before he moves in for the kill.”

  Misery shakes his head, trying to recover, but the Predator doesn’t give him a chance, exploding on him with shot after shot. Misery goes down and grabs for the Predator’s legs, but he has left himself vulnerable. The Predator takes full advantage, unloading a flurry of big shots to his head. As Misery pushes himself to his feet, the Predator unleashes a powerful kick, striking the side of Misery’s head and sending him back to his knees. Another few punches and Misery is down for the count.

  Violent. Powerful. Explosive. I’ve never seen the Predator blitz an opponent before. Nor have I ever been as aroused by a fight as I am now. All I can think about is having all that power…on me, around me, beneath me, and…oh God, inside me.<
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  “Sia? You okay?” Rampage turns me to face him and peers into my eyes. “You look kinda dazed. Too much for you? Never seen the Predator let go like that.”

  “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “We should get outta here.” Blade Saw tugs Jess’s hand. “The crowd was pretty loud for that last fight. Might have attracted the wrong kind of attention.”

  “Sure.” I look back at the now-empty ring. Already the ropes are coming down and someone is sweeping bloody sawdust into a bag. Ray is nowhere in sight.

  Doctor Death is paged by the hospital and pulls me to the side before I can follow Jess out the door. “You always disappear from these events so quickly we never get a chance to talk.” He trails his finger over my shoulder, and I grit my teeth to repress a shudder. Not that he is in any way unattractive, but there is only one man I want touching me right now.

  “Tag worries about me coming out to secluded areas at night, so I try to leave before he discovers where I am and comes looking for me.”

  “I can understand that.” His voice drops to a soft growl. “A woman like you brings out a man’s protective side. So delicate…with those big, liquid eyes…you just ooze vulnerability. Are you seeing someone?”

  My skin prickles, and I scramble to think of a way to shut this down before it gets too awkward. No, I’m not seeing someone but there is someone I want to see.

  “Sort of…it’s…uh…complicated.”

  Doctor Death smiles. “So that’s a no. Excellent. I’ll come by your studio this week when I’m not on call and we’ll have dinner and talk about that complicated situation.”

  “Thanks, but I…don’t think I’m free this week. I’m doing a lot of overtime.” My stomach clenches and I will him to get the message I’m so politely trying to convey. But, of course, he doesn’t understand.

  “I’m at the gym most nights I’m not working anyway, so I’m sure we’ll find a time that works.” He brushes a kiss over my cheek. “So looking forward to it.”