He planned to take a page out of Jack’s book, his friend and reformed skirt-chaser. He’d used sex to increase his heart rate and called it part of his training plan. At the time, Mike had thought the idea foolish. Now he knew daily rounds with Ava were just as important as sparring and roadwork.
God, with her he felt invincible. Marlon Littleton better watch the fuck out. He had the skill and the training, and with Ava in his corner, he had everything he needed to go the distance. Beating Littleton seemed like a detour on his path to becoming one of the greatest middleweight fighters in history.
A knock sounded on the door. Mike lifted his torso from the bed, listening. A second knock. Probably housekeeping. He rose off the bed, careful not to wake Ava. Sliding into a pair of jeans, he zipped up and walked toward the sound.
Annoyed at the third knock, he opened the door with a yank.
He let out a sigh. Caleb stood at his doorstep, holding a covered tray.
“Good morning.” The sound of his perky, Midwestern voice went straight through Mike, boring a hole into his nerves. The guy didn’t know when to quit.
“Need something?” Mike asked flatly.
Caleb started to take a step forward. Mike blocked him.
“I wanted to deliver your breakfasts. The meal comes with the room.”
He took the tray from the blond version of the Pillsbury Doughboy and gave a nod of thanks. As he placed the tray inside, Caleb angled his head right, then left, as if he were trying to look past Mike into the cottage. Noise from behind Mike rustled, like sounds of Ava waking.
“Guess you won’t need the other room for tonight, eh?” Caleb raised his eyebrows.
His gaze narrowed on Caleb. The man actually tried to get a glimpse of her. Asshole. At his growl, Corn-Fed turned his glance back to Mike.
“You hit that, huh.” Caleb didn’t hide his smarmy tone. “Lucky bastard.”
Mike slammed the door in his face. From the first moment he laid eyes on Caleb’s squeaky-clean exterior, he knew the guy was a jerk. He pegged him right. He bet Caleb was one of those types that spent too much time with dirty magazines in his parents’ basement as a kid and held no appreciation for women.
“Who was that?” Ava called from the bedroom.
Mike carried the tray into the bedroom, ducking her question. Ava sat up, tucking the sheet around her body, covering those amazing breasts. “Oh, how sweet,” she said, spying the tray. “What’s in there?”
He didn’t answer because he didn’t know. Placing the tray on her lap, she uncovered the food.
“Pancakes and bacon.” She spied him suspiciously. “You didn’t order this?” She lifted a strip of bacon from the plate and ate.
“Nah. I can’t take credit for it. Breakfast came with the room.”
“Can we make a phone call and get some egg whites for you, maybe a vegetarian omelette?”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “Don’t worry about me. Eat.”
She did. He didn’t have to tell her twice. Clearly, she’d worked up an appetite this morning, which was good. She needed to eat. A lot. “Fuel up,” he told her. “We’re stranded here until tomorrow morning, and you’re going to need your strength.”
Chapter Twenty
Ava had known good sex. Orgasms were orgasms, right? Oh, how wrong she’d been. The feelings Mike stirred up inside her were unlike those she’d ever experienced. He’d done things to her body she swore she’d never felt. And those hands. Somehow he knew where to touch her and magically he knew when. Those hands pushed her past the peak of sexual pleasure into the realm of oh-my-freaking-God.
This kind of sex was addicting.
But it wasn’t just his body, which was awesomely toned and hot. Or his dick, which was rock-freaking-hard. All. The. Time. It was how he made her feel. Protected. Safe. Wanted. Like he’d never leave her. She’d been left before by her father. Abandonment scared the shit out of her, and Mike was the kind of guy who’d be there. He was steady, dependable. She’d never known a man to deny himself for the sake of his woman.
Mike did.
She lifted her fork and shoveled in another heap of pancakes, while he drank protein sludge that looked like mud mixed with chocolate pudding. He looked like he hated the taste. He drank the protein powder because he was a dedicated fighter. He took care of his training, his body, his career like he had taken care of her in bed. With controlled determination.
They had all day together. And, it may take all day, but at some point during their time in the cottage she planned to take his self-control and throw it out the window. Sure, she’d see to it that he maintained his schedule. He needed to run, work out, and eat on time. But, during the periods of downtime, he belonged to her.
“Want some juice?” he asked her.
She nodded.
Mike took the carafe of orange juice from the tray and poured a glass, then handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to walk down to the garage,” he told her, “and check on the truck to see what time we can pick it up tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He searched for a T-shirt and pulled it on. Then, he left the room and she finished her breakfast in silence. At the sound of the closing door, reality snuck into the tiny cottage. Tomorrow they would hit the road, and each mile brought her closer to the end of their trip. What would their relationship be like once they reached New York? Would he go his way and she go hers? She didn’t think so. Their time together meant something to him, like it meant something to her.
Her heart squeezed. He left the cottage only moments ago and she wanted him back in her bed. For sex. Yes. But, not only sex. She wanted him close. A part of her wondered if he made all the girls he’d been with feel this way. Was this addictive feeling what motivated Tiffany to ruin him? Her hands trembled as she imagined what it must’ve felt like to have Mike’s protectiveness and caring stripped away.
Finishing her breakfast, she moved the tray from her lap. She fastened the belt of her bathrobe and carried the tray to the door, placing it outside. Returning inside, she spied her computer and thought of the update Ed had hounded her for.
She had to give him something, but the truth was she had nothing. Sure. She could talk about how Mike had fucked her until she’d seen stars, but that wasn’t appropriate, professional, or anyone’s business but hers. She could talk about her feelings for him. That he was the kind of guy she could see herself falling in love with. Or her desire for him. How her body missed him long before he’d left the cottage. She knew all of this firsthand. No sources needed.
The truth was she wanted it all, Mike and a story to further her career. But she had to weigh her ambitions against her desires. Right now, her urges won. But they wouldn’t always. They couldn’t. She still had a job to do, a career to grow, and, like it or not, an article to write.
***
Ava allowed her eyes to scan the internet search results. Once she got past all his fighting history, she scrolled downward. She’d read over articles about Mike the boxer a thousand times. Today, a thousand and one. Paging back, going deep in his history, her mouse stopped on one article, the only one she found that had listed Michael’s name alongside his mother, Maria. They were listed as survivors—they’d outlived Mike’s brother, José. The poor kid died in his teens. The article mentioned the services, funeral arrangements, and burial site. An ache swept through Ava’s chest. It was all too heavy, more emotional than she’d expected. Tears stung her eyes.
A tiny photo of José, a school photo, sat at the bottom of the page. She focused on his face. He resembled Mike, only younger. Narrow brown eyes, dark features, he even wore Mike’s look of cocky determination. But there was something behind his eyes, something it took a reporter’s intuition to see. Fear mixed with sadness.
Ava continued reading. The cause of death wasn’t named, common after the death of someone so young. The obituary described José Antonio Perez as funny, smart, and strong-willed. A tender
smile cracked Ava’s mouth. Stubbornness ran in Mike’s family. The article mentioned Mike, his mother, and a website to make a donation in José’s name. She clicked the link and landed on a page dedicated to stopping gang violence in Miami.
Suddenly, a strange sensation overcame her. She’d gone too far. Edging into Mike’s past had crossed a line. At heart, she was a sports reporter, and investigating a death in Mike’s family wasn’t part of the deal. The article was supposed to cover his boxing career, first and foremost, not a past he’d worked hard to escape. Ava closed the lid to her laptop. The cottage door opened. Feet shuffled inside. Then, Mike strode into the bedroom, his gaze landing on her.
“Truck will be ready in the morning, we can leave at six.”
She pushed the computer aside and focused on the gorgeous man standing in front of her. Her fingers tingled to touch him. And after learning of his loss she wanted him back in her bed more than ever. “What are we going to do until then?” she teased.
He shrugged playfully. “Got any ideas?”
“Maybe.”
He stood at the foot of her bed as if he were waiting for an invitation. She flashed him a sly smile. Then her hands wrapped around the belt of her robe, loosening the knot. If a summons was what he wanted, then she’d be the one to extend it. “Why don’t you come over here, Mr. Perez, and I’ll show you what I have in mind.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Mike couldn’t fucking contain himself. The moment she pulled her robe open and showed him those fantastic tits he was done. She lay back against the pillow, and he drew her taut nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled over her tender flesh. He scraped his teeth over the tiny bud, and her breath shuddered. He stayed there, teasing her breast and listening to the sounds she made. God, she did it for him. She made him want to take her in ways that shouldn’t be legal. His mouth moved into the tiny space between her breasts. His tongue darted out, bathing her from her breasts to her stomach.
Her breathing turned into lazy moans. Her sounds nearly got him off and she didn’t lay a hand on him. His connection to her felt so deep, so real. Yet, they hardly knew each other at all.
She didn’t really know him, and once she did, would she still feel the same? Or, was her interest rooted in finding her next orgasm?
He dipped his tongue inside her belly button and she squirmed. A small giggle left her throat. “You’re killing me,” she said.
He stilled. Paused. Her words hit him center mass. “I’ll always protect you.”
Her eyes widened, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Then, in a flash her giggle returned. “Do it some more.”
He licked her navel. Her body arched in response. “God, baby, I want you inside me.”
“I know,” he said, moving lower down her body, “just wait.”
Her hand reached out and gripped the sheet. Her fingers curled into the cotton, and she squeezed it in her hand. He traveled teasingly lower, slow, and deliberate.
His hand touched the inside of her thigh and her legs parted. His hands reveled across her silken skin, causing gooseflesh to rise to the surface. Need tightened in his core. His mouth lowered to her sex and his tongue bathed her folds. Oh God, she tasted too good.
He settled in, curling his hands around her thighs, supporting her in just the right position. His tongue worked her sweet middle until her honeyed taste filled his mouth. At times, her body arched. She panted. Called out his name, but he didn’t quit. He wouldn’t stop until she came for him.
He found her clit and sucked it. Pressure built inside him, but he pushed his own need for release away. There was time for him later. Right now he focused on Ava. A small moan escaped her. He teased her, working that tiny bud until she squirmed. She fought to hold back, to make the feelings he was giving her last longer.
God, he loved her reactions. The only part he hated about being down low was missing the look on her face when she let go. Imagining the pleasure on her face drove him deeper into her. She spread her legs and he took what he wanted. Before he knew it, her hips rocked, gently pushing him deeper. So deep. She tasted so good.
And with one deep lick, she came. Her orgasm released so fast and hard, her pleasure nearly caught him by surprise. He continued to work her middle as she rode the waves of release. Hearing her orgasm, his dick hardened. He felt tight, throbbing, and so fucking horny. As her breathing evened, he pulled away from her.
His damn jeans had to go.
Her beautiful eyes peeled open. “Oh, Mike.”
He threw his shirt to the floor and left his clothes in a heap to crawl in bed beside her. He let her enjoy the sensations flooding her body, the ones he’d given her. She reached for his hand and took it in hers. Intertwined she raised their clasped hands to her mouth and kissed each one of fingers.
She sucked the tip of his forefinger, and when she released it from her mouth, she said, “I want to ride you, babe. I want to make you feel the things you do to me.”
Usually, he didn’t let women take control. In his past relationships, he’d always left them satisfied, but he did as he pleased. For the first time, in a long time, he let a woman, let Ava, do whatever she wanted with him.
And God, it felt good.
Ava lifted herself from the bed and climbed on top of him. She took him inside her and rolled her head back. Pure satisfaction. Those beautiful round breasts came into full view, making him harder.
They moved in time together. Tension curled around his spine. His head pressed deeper into his pillow, absorbing every sweet bit of the sensations running through him. His body quivered, threatening release. But he couldn’t, not yet, the view from his vantage point was too damned good.
Her long auburn hair draped over her shoulders, barely covering her amazing tits. The purity of her snow-white skin contrasted against her sinful red hair. The look of enjoyment on her face . . . The view was something special. Something he wanted to see again and again.
Her hips moved forward. A wicked smile crept across her mouth and she gazed down at him with a wanton expression.
“Say my name,” she ordered.
Surprise hit him in the gut. No woman ever had demanded he call out her name. Not in bed. He gave the orders. But, with another smooth roll of her hips, she commanded it again. “Say my name.”
“Ava,” he responded.
At the sound of her name her insides tightened, clamping down on his dick, squeezing him harder. His body heated in response. Oh, she had skills. Mad ones. And if she’d keep it up, he’d call her anything she wanted.
“Say it again,” she said.
“Ava.”
She squeezed and tightened, and this time her hand tweaked his nipple. Heat poured through him. He fucked her harder, and oh good God when pleasure met the tiniest bit of pain he thought he’d lose control.
But why lose control and risk disrupting the gorgeous view?
“Again,” she ordered.
Her nails dug into his abdominals, and in one deep, hard thrust, she came.
And he abandoned all control.
This was it. He’d waited his entire life for this moment.
Oh, sweet Jesus. He was hers.
Chapter Twenty-two
After he came back down to earth, he pulled Ava on top of him and held her tight. He liked having her close. He never expected a road trip with a salacious reporter to turn into a day of hot sex with, quite possibly, the most fantastic redhead he’d ever met. And it wasn’t just because she was good in bed. He’d had lots of sex, but no experience compared to the feelings he had for her.
They had more than just sexual chemistry. She respected his training schedule and, over the days on the road, had looked out for him and advised him in ways she didn’t have to. She wasn’t needy. She didn’t demand to be entertained. Focused on her career, she took her job as seriously as he did his.
Speaking of her job, he needed to give her an interview, like Daniella had requested. Or at least give her something, so
she would know why he couldn’t give her the whole interview she wanted. She said he could trust her. He hoped she lived up to her word. Since she had him in a relaxed mood, there was no better time to trust her than now.
He pulled her body to his side, and she rested her head on his abdominals. Not looking at her beautiful face would make it easier to confess all the ugliness. All the things he hoped she’d never find out about his past. However, if he wanted her to love him, as he did her, she had to know the truth.
“I grew up in Miami.” He started talking without knowing where to begin. “My mom had two kids with my dad, but they never married. He took off before they tied the knot. She said she never wanted to marry him, but she lied. She never wanted us to know how bad he’d hurt her.”
Ava lifted her head from him, but he gently pressed her back down to rest. Somehow confessing his past was easier if he didn’t have to look into her eyes.
He continued. “She did the best she could on her own, raising two boys, working two jobs.”
“Is that why you started boxing,” she asked, “to earn extra cash?”
He pursed his lips, then said, “No. Back in the day there was no place like Stamina. Kids didn’t have a place to go. So, we hung out on the street, getting into more trouble than we should have. My brother, José, he was small, quick. Guys in the neighborhood took notice of him. At first, he worked a corner. Then, he started making deliveries, and after a while he started doing more.”
“Deliveries? Like pizza?”
He paused. “No. He moved whatever the Latin Boyz wanted him to move.”
“Oh,” she said in a clipped tone. She must’ve realized what he was saying. His brother ran drugs.
He wet his lips. “Money rolled in. Mom didn’t know what we were up to. We lied. Told her José got a part-time job. And me, I had his back. My job was to keep him safe.” He ran his fingers through Ava’s hair. “The Boyz brought us in, closer than I wanted to be involved, but José, they liked him, and I wasn’t going to let him get involved with a gang alone. He needed protection.”
Going The Distance (Ringside #2) Page 11
