by Alla Kar
“God, yes!”
I smiled, pressed the pad of my thumb against her clit and made slow deliberate circles. “You’re so wet, so beautiful,” I whispered, filling her up over and over again.
Her eyes fluttered closed but snapped back opened to the road. Leaning down, I nibbled on the shell of her ear and shoved the third finger inside of her. I loud moan filled the car as she road my hand, fingers clutching the steering wheel. “Oh God, please. Shit!”
Her muscled tightened around my fingers, the feel of her letting loose made my dick protest harder against my pants. When her body relaxed, I pulled my fingers from her and sucked them to the back of my throat.
Wild-eyed, cheeks flushed, she swallowed and lowered her gaze to my mouth. “You taste so sweet,” I whispered, pressing my finger to her own mouth.
Without hesitation she sucked my fingers into her soft mouth and moaned at her taste. A pink tint shaded her cheeks. She giggled beneath her breath and turned her attention back to the road.
Guilt wrapped its hand around my throat. This girl had fallen for me and she didn’t even know what I was capable of. She didn’t realize I was her worst fucking nightmare. And I was too goddamn selfish to let her go because I’d fallen for her the moment I saw those green eyes.
***
The gym stood massive compared to the one before. The crowd double the size. But none of that mattered, it was the fact that we were in Dallas, fighting. Despite the loud gym fans blowing toward us, I dripped sweat. I scanned the crowds, searching for someone—anyone—that I knew. If the wrong person saw me, it wouldn’t be pretty. Denver was still in Paris with my sister, but he either worked with or employed every scumbag in the city.
I leaned against the entrance to the locker rooms, watching every person that walked up each aisle, scanning the excited faces. No one. “You’re nervous?”
Neveah stood beside me, her cheeks bright pink. I ignored her question. I didn’t want to talk about the match, or me. “You’re blushing. Have you been thinking about the car ride over here?”
Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t, thank you.”
She was. Smiling, I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Whatever helps you sleep tonight.”
“I have other things in mind that’ll help me sleep tonight,” she whispered.
Turning to face her, I smiled. “Oh yeah, will you need my help with any of them?”
She gave me a lazy one shoulder shrug. “Well, it includes a dick so, you’ll do.”
I grinned while I watched the color heightened on her cheeks. “I think I can definitely help you there, Champ.”
The smirk on her face disappeared when the buzzer went off. “You’re up soon,” she whispered, turning her gaze to mine. “Your opponent is Jackson Simpson. He is six three, twenty-eight and this is his second match. He’s no good, you’ll have him in the first round. He leans back on his leg before he strikes.”
I nodded slowly, never taking my gaze from her lips. She knew so much about boxing, and everyone knew she could throw one hell of a punch. “Why don’t you fight?”
She looked down at her feet. “Before my mom died, she made my dad promise that he would never let me fight. It’s not that I don’t want to but it was her only wish.”
Christ. I reached for her arm but someone’s heavy footsteps from the hallway stopped me. Cooper stopped an arm’s length away from us, hands shoved down in his pockets, a scowl on his face. “Wes wants to see you in the locker room.”
Giving Neveah a lingering glance, I shoved from the wall and stalked toward the room. Wes stood in the center, facing toward all of the boys. His face was stern, jaw set, his hands clutched around his clipboard.
“Have a seat Declan.”
I took a seat, taking in the significance that’d taken over the room. Every guy’s face was serious, no one spoke. “It’s our first real match tonight, and I want you all to know that I believe in every single one of you. This counts, so listen for my cues and give it everything you have. We can do this. Now, let’s get out here and whoops some ass!” Coach yelled.
The room burst into cheers. And despite my situation, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. It didn’t set well with my plan to save my sister or to move on, but it felt good as fuck.
***
Adrenaline coursed through me. The sweat that built on my forehead cascaded down my face to my shirtless chest. The fight hadn’t even started but I was so amped up, my hands twitched on my lap.
Neveah stepped in front of me, swiped two fingers into the Vaseline and began to cover my face. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered.
I grinned. “I’ll be fine when we get you home tonight.”
She held her smile back. “I meant in the fight.”
I eyed her curves in her polo, then her short shorts. “I’m not worried about the fight, Neveah.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “Good. You shouldn’t be.”
“I like it on my chest too.”
She dipped her finger and smeared it over my chest. Her fingers clenched when I tightened my muscles beneath her. “I remember,” she whispered. “How come you don’t take this more seriously?”
She didn’t mean anything by the question, but it hit me sharply in the chest. The truth was that I didn’t know how long I’d be there. I had to save Hannah, but what would happen after that? I’d bring her to live there with me? I couldn’t stay away from Neveah for that long. There’d be no way to hide our relationship.
“Rage,” Neveah whispered, her hand touching my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I cleared my throat. “You didn’t upset me, Angel. I just don’t know how to answer that question.”
She searched my face. “That’s okay. I don’t think it matters either way. You’re amazing.”
I wanted to lean down and kiss her mouth.
Coach pulled me from Neveah’s soft touch. “Okay, Kid. We’re about to begin,” He bent in front of me, handing me a water bottle. “Listen to my cues, and do what you do.”
The ref made his way to the middle of the ring, and silence grew over the crowd. Coach drew my attention with a quiet whistle and snapped his fingers in my face. “Bend at the waist. Keep your hands up and defend yourself. Kill this kid.”
I smiled. “I got it, Coach.”
The ref called our match, and we met in the middle of the ring. My opponent was taller than me, just by an inch or two. He wore braces on both wrist and both ankles which told me he was a heavy hitter and even heavier on his feet. But I was one hundred pounds lighter and a hell of a lot quicker.
“Let’s have a clean fight.” He gestured toward our gloves. “Touch ‘em up.”
We hit our fist quickly and separated like the Rea Sea. A low hum sprinkled over the crowd. We hadn’t had too much of a crowd in prison. But it didn’t bother me. It was simple to tune it out.
The whistle sounded and the arena went quiet. I bounced on the balls of my feet twice, swung greedily at the air and bounded toward the center of the ring.
“Swing tight, Fernandaz!”
“Arms up, Dec! Arms up!”
I pushed out the noise, focused on his steps, his eyes, the nervous pull of his eyebrows. Each sway of his feet sounded like thunder, but there was no denying the fear in his eyes. He pulled his arm back to build force, like Neveah mentioned. His quick jab skidded an inch from my jaw. I sidestepped, he stumbled forward from the weight, giving me the perfect angel for a right upper cut. The sound of my bone hitting his face cracked around me, sending jolts of adrenaline to my toes.
“Back up, Fernandez. Defend yourself. Arms up! Arms up!”
But it was too late. The swell of his left eye blinded his vision, giving me the one moment I needed to TKO. Loosely, he held his arms in front of his face, the realization hiding beneath his gaze.
I matched his steps, bounded forward and slugged him in the jaw. His head dropped backwards, the arena went quiet, and he hit th
e ground with one heavy thud. It felt like someone placed a blanket over the arena, blocking out all of the noise, only to rip it off, revealing a thunder of applause.
I held my hand out for Fernandez. A small smile pulled at his mouth, despite the blood running down his face. “Thanks, man. That’s some arm you’ve got there.”
Someone jerked my arm upward, turning my attention to the screaming crowd. “Winner by TKO is Declan Samuels!”
My body hummed at the screams of the people in front of me. Everyone stood, arms clapping wildly above their heads. Pride filled my chest like bricks in my lungs. Guilt tried to worm its way up my throat, but I swallowed the demanding pain. Fuck that. This was one moment I’d felt proud of myself. The spotlight wasn’t on me because I’d stolen something or got sent to prison. TKO in my first real fight.
“Declan!” Coach screamed over the crowd. “You’re a fucking fighting machine, son!”
I searched the ring for her. Her back was pressed against my side, her hands wrapped tightly around the ropes. “We’ve got three more matches after this. Go get a shower,” Coach slapped my back, gesturing toward the locker room.
I swallowed. Neveah watched as I gestured toward the locker room. She gave me a slight nod before crawling under the ropes. All the adrenaline inside of me needed unleashing. I wanted to let loose, kiss her, fuck her. My long strides took me to the entrance of the locker room when I heard my name.
My real name.
Fuck.
“Rage?”
I clutched the doorframe, my back tight with anticipation. When I turned I saw Henry. Henry Johnson. He’d dated my sister her freshman year of college. I’d scared the shit out of him on numerous occasions.
His care-free smile widened when he met my eyes. “What in the hell, man. That was one hell of a fight.” He jutted his hand out to me.
Slowly, I took his hand, aware of Neveah’s footsteps falling closer to us. “Man, you knocked the hell out of that guy! Shit!”
I eyed Neveah who’d stopped two feet behind Henry. “Thanks.”
Running his fingers through his blond hair, he eyed me. “You’ve gotten bigger. Prison done you some good, huh? I didn’t even realize you were out.”
Fuck. Neveah’s face fell, and my chest collapsed. All the things she thought of me vanished. The fear in her eyes hurt my gut, and I fucking hated it. I clenched my jaw and sent him the grimmest glare I could give. “Yeah, done me a lot of good.”
“So where is your sister? I haven’t talked to her in forever.”
Neveah stared down at the concrete floor. I could see her trying to make sense of this. Trying to imagine every reason why I’d be in prison. “I don’t know. Can you please excuse us?”
Henry looked over his shoulder. “Oh, my bad.” He winked at me before side-stepping Neveah and disappearing.
“Neveah,” I whispered, taking a step forward.
She withdrew from me, her arms wrapped around her stomach. “You’ve been in prison? You—your background check came back—damn, that’s not your real name. Oh God. What were you in there for?” Her voice rose with each sentence.
“Neveah, listen,” I said, grabbing her elbow. She jerked away. “You don’t understand anything. It’s not what it seems.” No it’s much worse. “Let me talk to you.”
She began to shake her head, her brows furrowed in confusion or anger—I didn’t know. I just knew I hated to see the pain on her face. “You’ve been in prison. Who are you? What the hell did you do?”
Desperation strangled me. Stepping forward, I caught her neck in my hand. “Neveah, if I tell you, you won’t want me anymore. I’m too selfish of a man to lose you. I haven’t had enough. I won’t. Please don’t be scared. I would never hurt you or your family.” My words were honest and real. I could tell it sunk in, but she wasn’t ready yet. I understood. I rested my lips against her forehead, then her eyes and down to her mouth.
Both hands clutch my shoulders like she was holding on for dear life. “You have to tell me,” she whispered. “I can’t trust you if you don’t tell me the truth, Rage. Why were you in prison?”
Goddammit. “Baby,” I cooed.
“No,” she snapped, shaking her head. I tightened my grip on her, desperate to keep her in front of me. I needed to fix this. Those beautiful green eyes landed on me. “Tell me.”
The frustration in my throat snapped, and my mouth flew open, eager to tell her everything. “I’ll tell you everything tonight,” I whispered. “Come to me tonight.”
Chapter Seventeen
Neveah
Call me what you will but I went.
I stood staring at the closed wooden door of the guest house. Confusion, anger, fear, want, it all suffocated me. The fact that I stood at his door should have told me I needed help, that I was desperate for him.
He’d told me he’d been in prison—in fucking prison. That made sense of the six digit number tattooed on his back, the blank phone and picture of his sister. My stomach lurched as I knocked three times. This was stupid, I was stupid. Despite my inner voice screaming run, I stood on the porch determined to find out why, or how. I needed to know everything.
The door swung opened two seconds later. Rage’s hair looked like he hadn’t gotten any rest. Both hands were shoved down into his sweats, showing me the sexy V of his hips and the flat plane of his stomach. After several minutes of staring at each other, his eyes tracing me like it was the last time he’d see me, he opened the door wider. “Come in.”
On wobbly legs, I walked through the threshold. Even though I kept my face forward, I was fully aware of every single movement he made behind me. His breath on the nape of my neck, how his body warmth heated me from the inside out. “Tell me.”
Rage’s gentle touch on my elbow felt like fire. “Take a seat.”
I walked over to the bed, sitting on the very edge, finding his gaze once I got settled. Both hands clutched around the small nightstand he’d leaned against, his eyes eating me alive. “My parents died when I was eighteen and my sister was fourteen. They never had a lot of money, so I was left with the duty of making sure Hannah got into college. Taking care of her.” Those grey eyes darkened, his knuckled turned white from his grip. “So I took a job working with Denver. I’d met him at a bar where I’d gotten into a drunken fight and still whooped his guard’s ass.”
Rage pushed forward, lacing his finger into his hair. “He’d been so tempting. Flashing wads of cash, jewelry and girls around like they were nothing. The picture he painted for me was far from the reality of the job, but I took it. And I made fucking bank. Once I started, I found out the real job behind all that money—and it was darker than I’d ever gone before. Selling drugs for the biggest drug dealer in the Dallas area was more than I’d ever imagined. The killings, the beatings, the torture.”
A lifeless expression took control of his face, and he dropped to his knees in front of me, both palms engulfed my bare thighs. “Neveah, I tried,” he whispered. “After Hannah graduated, I’d tried to break free.” His fingers clutched tighter. “But he set me up. See,” he laughed darkly, “you don’t just stop working for Denver. He set me up, and that’s how I landed in prison.”
One hand clutched my chin, forcing me to meet his heated eyes. “I spent two years in prison, boxing,” he whispered. “That’s how I started. Once I was out, I went looking for Denver and my sister. That’s when you found me. They think I’m dead, and Dante is my only inside source to find her, Neveah. I have to find her.”
Every word that’d left his mouth left a mark against my heart. Those broken eyes that held so many secrets were raw and honest. They would be the death of me. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pulling my thumb down the center of his bottom lip. “Let me help.”
Silence.
Maybe he didn’t hear me? “I want to help you.”
There was no sound for the first minute, only the heavy silence filtering through the room. I’d dropped my gaze to my feet, not able to meet his heated g
lare for another second. Someone had turned the tension in the room up to a thousand. “No.”
Anger built in my throat, and despite being scared to see the look on his face, I looked up. The veins in his neck bulged outward and a sadness overtook his face.
“Why? You need help.”
Something suddenly registered on his face, and the corner of his lip lifted into a heavier sneer. “You don’t understand, do you? All of what I’ve done. I’m not some innocent school boy, I’m a fucking criminal. I’ve done fucked up shit.”
I believed him. I just didn’t care. Something deep inside of my gut told me that he was dangerous from the first moment I laid eyes on him. That was the attraction. Deep down I’d known I wasn’t happy with Heath, because he was so weak. So fake. So secure in his life because of his pocket book. Money would never show power in my eyes. Strength was something on a completely different level.
That bone-deep connection drove us together, no matter how hard we—he—fought against it. “I don’t care,” I whispered, aware at how naïve and stupid I sounded. I just didn’t care anymore. I’d begged him to take me, and he’d walked away, but dammit I just didn’t care!
He was what I needed.
His dark chuckle hit me like a brick in the chest. “Sweetheart, you have no fucking idea what you’re asking for. I’m not like any person you’ve ever been with—I can promise you that. My life isn’t something you should want, but I’m damn sure not about to let you go. It’ll be over my dead body when I drag you deeper into this than you already are. I can’t take your help.”
I watched his face closely. The hard lines of his face were stern but it was there in his eyes. The sadness in each word he uttered. “You don’t understand,” I whispered. “My body craves you,” I whispered. “I want to help you. I hate seeing you sad.”
He stood silent, his chest heaving harder and faster, a look that pinned me to the bed. His first movement toward me sent flutters to my lower stomach, and the second filled my veins with a heavy need. My heart thumped loudly, causing me to strain to hear his voice. His rough, rogue voice. “Do you think I haven’t felt every single thing that you’ve felt for me? That I don’t know your panties are soaked for me right this fucking second?” Grasping my wrist, he placed my palm against the ridge in the front of his sweats. “You feel how hard you make me?”
