Shadowboxer: Tapped Out Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  Not desire—well, not only desire. Not embarrassment. Plain ol‘ happiness.

  Carly sorted through the gifts from her friends, opening a couple of brightly colored boxes that contained fluffy sweaters, a pair of jeans, and even a rock band T-shirt from Slater. She dug through everything with a joyful smile until she held up a small box wrapped in ivory paper with a gilt-edged tag.

  She frowned. “When did Aunt Patty send this?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Carly hadn’t spoken much to Aunt Patty after she’d fled her house with little warning, so I’d been surprised and pleased when I found her gift in the mail. I had a distant relationship with our dad’s sister, but I didn’t want the same for Carly. Hopefully, they’d find their way back to each other.

  She tore off the paper and unearthed a delicate cross on a gold chain. And stared.

  “It’s pretty, Car,” I offered quietly. Unable to help thinking that for some of us, maybe it was too late to repent. Maybe our chances of reclaiming our inner purity and holiness were gone.

  If I’d ever had any to begin with.

  “Too late there, right?” One of her new friends elbowed Carly, and they shared a grin. I didn’t particularly like the gleam in their eyes. Maybe these girls weren’t the best influence.

  Carly tucked the necklace back in the box and set it aside. Then she grabbed my present and shook it, smiling. “Did you get something tiny and fill the box with newspaper like you did when we were kids?”

  “Open it and see.”

  She peeled off the paper, laughing as the tape stuck to her fingers. Then she pulled off the lid and went still. “Oh, man. No way.” She pulled out the purple boots, her eyes filling. “God, Ame. I love you.” She shoved the box aside and ran over to me, dragging me off Tray’s lap with a sniffly laugh. “You’re the best sister ever.”

  “If you so much as scuff them, I’ll kick your ass.” I grinned and hugged her back.

  “Oooh, you got Uggs?” One of her friends squealed, drawing Carly back to her boots.

  I perched on the arm of Tray’s chair for all of five seconds before he pulled me back down on his lap. “Fluffy purple boots,” he murmured. “Softie.”

  “She wanted them.” I shrugged and fought not to squirm. Already the telltale flush had started heating my cheeks.

  He toyed with the buttons on my shirt, his lips curving in that seductive way that practically incinerated my panties. “I want something too.”

  “Uh-huh.” I gave in to the urge to cuddle against his chest and breathed in deep to savor his cologne and my plain Jane soap on his skin. Sometimes the rightness of being in his arms overwhelmed my fear, and all I could do was thank God, even if all of this ended tomorrow. My terror over that very eventuality helped me to never take him—or us—for granted.

  I’d never stop being grateful that I’d been part of an us. That I’d known the pleasure of a first date where we had a fancy dinner in a place with real linen tablecloths and candlelight. That I’d held his hand while we waited in line to see a Sandra Bullock movie, and I’d noticed people staring at me with envy. I’d snagged the hottest guy. One who looked at me as if he lo—

  No. That wasn’t the point. Cherishing the moment was. Just soaking myself in it until I couldn’t breathe from the fullness between my breasts.

  I closed my eyes, relishing the solid, strong feel of his long body under mine. Another snapshot for my memory banks. More fodder to keep me warm…after.

  I’d grown to hate that word with a passion.

  “Go ahead. I’m here,” he breathed against my temple.

  For the first time in forever, I could trust someone to keep me safe. I didn’t have to keep watch, because he would. He’d never let me fall.

  “Ame.” Carly nudged my shoulder. “Wake up.”

  I blinked and lifted my head from Tray’s shoulder, glancing around at the party still in progress. “I fell asleep?” That never happened so easily. I was the type to toss and turn all night. Guess it depended what kind of pillow I had beneath me.

  Speaking of pillows, I glanced at Tray, who was having a hushed conversation with Slater about whatever his buddy was doing on his phone.

  “Apparently. You haven’t even been drinking much.” Carly hiccupped and held out her cell. “Aunt Patty wants to talk to you.”

  I started to shake my head, but then I remembered I was supposed to be a responsible adult, not a rebellious kid who hid from any sort of parental interference. I accepted the phone and rose to take the call down the hall, away from the music and drunken laughter. Kizzy sounded like she’d inhaled her entire bottle of champagne singlehandedly.

  “Okay. Thanks. Be right back,” I said to Tray.

  He gave me a distracted nod and a smile.

  Once I’d entered my dark bedroom, I sucked in a breath and leaned against the wall. “Hi, Aunt Patty. How are you?”

  “Is Carly drunk?” she demanded.

  So much for a pleasant conversation starter. “Uh, I let her have a little because it was her birthday.”

  “A little? That girl sounds wasted. She’s eighteen, Amelia, not twenty-one like you.”

  “I know that. It was a one-time thing.”

  “What else are you letting her do? The noises around her sounded like an orgy.”

  “She has a few friends over, that’s all. They’re all fully dressed, I swear.” At least they had been before I fell asleep.

  “Oh, really?” Never the most understanding person, Aunt Patty must’ve been OD’ing on her judgmental wine tonight. “What about you? She said you were cuddling in your boyfriend’s lap. Some example you’re setting for her, Amelia. I thought you of all people would realize how damaging the wrong influences can be on a young person.”

  “I was asleep in his lap, not having sex.” I swallowed the rest of the retorts that wanted to spring out of my mouth. She’d ignored me and Carly for years, content to get money from the state for our care, until she found Jesus and began pretending she lived a pious life. I could deal with anyone but a hypocrite. “Is there a reason you wanted to talk to me besides accusing me of things that aren’t true?”

  “Yes. You’re the wrong person to be guiding Carly’s life, and I want her to come home.”

  My chest and my throat iced over in tandem. But my heart still pounded frantically even through the frost. “She’s eighteen. She’s an adult.”

  “She’s too young to be in a wild place like New York City. If she were here, she could enroll in that culinary school she talked about. She’d be in a small town, with people who have small town sensibilities. She’d be with family.”

  Culinary school? Why hadn’t Carly mentioned that to me? I rubbed the dull ache spreading through my forehead. “I am her family. I’m her sister. She wants to be with me—”

  “She thinks you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown,” Aunt Patty interrupted. “That’s why she hurried up to finish school and raced down there to be with you. She feels responsible for you. Now she’s telling me that you’ve brought her into a world of illegal fighting and dangerous people. That even your boyfriend is one of them.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s not even fighting anymore. He’s in college.” Or he would be soon. Besides, why had Carly told her about MMA and Fox? Must be the alcohol talking, because my sister was smart enough not to tell Aunt Patty that kind of thing.

  Unless she was unhappier than she was letting on…

  I searched for my voice. “I’m only fighting to get enough money for us to move away to a better place. This is just temporary.”

  “Right, you’ll bring her with you so she can experience your unstable lifestyle. Living in cockroach-infested apartments with men coming in and out, day and night.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was afraid to ask.

  “That girl needs to be in school here at home. Do you want her to end up like you?”

  “No. Of course not.” Anything but that.

  �
��Then do the right thing and send her back to me. Don’t take her down with you.”

  My eyes prickled, so I shut them. “I’ll always do what’s necessary to keep her safe.”

  No matter the cost.

  Thirty-Three

  “Okay, now open your eyes.”

  Mia opened them and slowly glanced around my living room. Firelight flickered over her surprised features. “What is this?”

  “This is called camping indoors.” I lifted the red child’s bucket I’d purchased and scooped it through the sand I’d thrown all over the floor in front of the mantel. A big log bordered one side of the fake beach, and beside that, I’d placed a bag of marshmallows and a pile of sticks. “It’s too cold to go on a real trip, so I brought the beach and roasted marshmallows to you.”

  She covered her mouth and mumbled something.

  “You hate it,” I said after a moment. “You never really wanted to camp. You’re afraid you’ll get sand up your ass. But don’t worry, that’s why I have this.” I shook out the plaid blanket folded up on the coffee table and placed it over the lumpy sand. It wasn’t exactly as idyllic as I’d imagined it would be, but I hadn’t lit the tiki torches yet.

  “It’s…”

  “Wait. Let me add the mood lighting and scents.” I flicked the lighter and set the pseudo torches and a candle blazing, then grabbed the beach room spray I’d also gotten at the dollar store. Three spritzes later, I was on the verge of a sneezing fit, but at least she was smiling.

  I’d do anything to make her smile. Even die a painful death thanks to my screaming sinuses.

  “Now it’s ready. Ta da.” I waved my arm. “What do you think?”

  “You put all this together?” she asked shakily.

  “Unless you hate it, then no. It was all Slater’s idea.”

  She laughed and knelt to scoop up sand. “Do you blame him for everything?”

  “Only things like romantic gestures and gifts for women. Otherwise, I’m completely manly and accept blame as it comes.”

  Sifting sand into the bucket, she gave me a smile and ducked her head, letting her curtain of dark hair hide her face.

  “Vey’s at my parents’ for the weekend since I’m having surgery, so we don’t have to worry about him eating sand. He tends to put everything new in his mouth.”

  “Oh. Good.” I waited for her to say more, but apparently, that was the sum of her thoughts.

  “Don’t be so effusive. Really, I don’t need praise. The glow from a job well done is praise enough.” I crouched in front of her. “Lame? Not lame? Give me a frickin’ bone here, Anderson.”

  “It’s amazing. I can’t believe you did all this for me. Just so we can have sex.” A muscle ticked along her jaw. “I’m a sure thing, you know.”

  “Ha.” A dry laugh croaked from my throat. “No, you aren’t. You’re so far from sure that I spend most of my time on ground like this sand, trying to keep my balance.”

  She continued filling the bucket slowly and methodically before dumping it out. “Why? What makes me worth it?”

  Every time she made me answer that question, I worried I’d get it wrong. I couldn’t tell her the simple truth. She was everything. My everything.

  She’d never understand.

  “You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known.” Her silence prodded me to dig beyond the nerves. She was the only woman who made me constantly fear rejection. The only one I’d risk it for. “I was jaded and bored before you walked into my life. You challenged me. You woke me up.” Exhaling, I pulled off my stupid eye patch. After this weekend, I wouldn’t have to wear it anymore. “I suck at this. I’m no fucking poet.”

  “You’re doing fine. Better than I am.” She grasped a handful of sand, letting it drain from her fist. It seemed to fascinate her. “You make me want to be normal. To try.”

  “I want you just as you are.”

  “You say you do, but you don’t know what—”

  “Mia.” I covered her hands with mine, closing my fingers so the sand squeezed between them. As much as I’d tried to tamp down on the physical side of our relationship over the past two weeks, I’d never be able to share how I felt otherwise. “Let me show you.”

  She rose on her knees and slid her arm around my neck. With her other hand, she traced the skin underneath my injured eye, her touch more soothing than the salve she’d rubbed on my chest when I was sick.

  “You shouldn’t strain yourself,” she murmured, a hint of a tease in her tone.

  I loved that she felt comfortable enough to taunt me now. I treasured those moments almost as much as her smiles and laughter. “Don’t worry ’bout me, baby.”

  “You’ve got a big couple of days ahead of you, and so do I,” she continued as if I’d never spoken.

  “Uh-huh.” I wound her hair around my knuckles, using it to tip back her head so I could suck on her lower lip. “So I should make sure you don’t come, right? Okay, if you insist.”

  She let out a baffled laugh. “What?”

  “You know, how you aren’t supposed to bust a nut before a fight. Holding on to that tension is supposed to be beneficial.” I sucked her lip harder, earning a moan. “Though I know it’s a lie, because you had me fucking hard for a week before mine, and I still lost.”

  She frowned. “I don’t think that rule applies to women. Since we lack nuts and all.”

  “Ah, good to hear. Since I intend to make you come until you’re limp.” I met her gaze. “It’s not showing up for the match that matters, but what you’re fighting for.” I caressed the long sweep of her hair, driven to keep touching her. Reassuring myself she was still here. Still in my arms. “Let me give you a good reason to come back to me.”

  She trembled. “You already have.”

  I reached behind my head to pull off my T-shirt. It went flying, landing on top of the log.

  Eyeing it suspiciously, she cocked her head. “Is that actually real?”

  Pretending to misunderstand, I patted my chest. “No pectoral implants here.”

  “I meant the log, smartass.”

  I took her hand and drew it to the front of my jeans, grinning at her groan. “It’s real. I swear.”

  “See how bad you are?” She gave me a playful kiss, easing back before I could really sink in. “I still owe you a punishment.”

  “And you don’t even know how bad I’ve been. You haven’t seen your gift yet.” I tugged up her shirt and yanked it over her head, inhaling sharply at what awaited me. The shadowy light blurred the details, but I was pretty dang sure she was wearing an animal print bra that matched her sexy-as-hell panties. “Oh, man.”

  “Do you like it? It doesn’t say juicy, unfortunately.”

  “I’ll make do somehow.” I lowered my head and ran my tongue along the fringe of lace, dipping beneath to warm flesh. She cupped my head as I curled my tongue over her tight nipple. With one flick, she moaned. With two, she arched, offering more of her breast.

  I nudged her bra straps down and held them taut behind her back, enjoying the way the plump swells lifted right to my mouth. I nipped the soft skin, tongued my way between, and did the same to the other. “I fucking love your tits.” When she made a dismissive noise, I bit down in a way I knew would leave a mark. Something that bastard Costas could see above her tank top in the ring tomorrow. “When you ride me, these are gonna be in my mouth. I’m going to suck them until you scream.”

  She wove her fingers through my hair, holding me in place while I licked and caressed. I pulled her onto my lap, undoing my pants with one hand. Fumbling with them because God, every time was like the first time with her, and I couldn’t get past my eagerness long enough to do it right.

  I’d had moves with other women. For the most part, I’d felt like I had the game down. With Mia, the familiar steps didn’t apply. Every time, she brought me back to square one, where my hands shook and my breath stumbled and I couldn’t get inside her fast enough.

  Her hand curved around my
cock, and she squeezed me in her ridiculously strong grip. She rubbed her thumb over the crown, smearing the wetness that had escaped. She tightened her fingers until the torch light wavered and bled behind my closed eyes. I wasn’t consciously aware of begging for her mouth. Of demanding that one thing, over and over again.

  Only when her lips closed around my shaft did I realize what I’d asked for, and what it meant.

  I couldn’t drag her away. I couldn’t ask her to continue. Through it all, she pulled me deeper into the hot, wet recesses of her throat, the vibrations of her pleasure increasing mine. I should’ve been determined enough to change course, to flip her on her back and taste the sweetness between her thighs. But the sounds she uttered while taking me like this were so primitive and raw that I could barely resist the urge to shout.

  Mine. All mine.

  And now, maybe finally, I was hers. We’d find our way through the dark together. Neither of us would be alone ever again.

  The pressure built inside me quickly. Too quickly. My hands threaded through the long ropes of her hair, using them to guide her and to anchor myself. I couldn’t catch my breath, but even my gasps weren’t enough to drown out the drumbeat of my heart. It pulsed in my dick while she drew on me with an expertise that might’ve shut down my enjoyment if I’d still been capable of thought.

  All I could do was drop my head forward to savor the sensation of her tongue bathing me and her fingers exploring my balls. Tugging so gently that the heat rising inside me surged into a manic throb.

  When I reached my limit, I yanked her up and gripped her chin, slanting my mouth over hers in a desperate kiss. I had no skill left. I’d become all panting need. She met me stroke for stroke, moaning with a pained excitement that echoed mine.

  Too much. Not enough.

  Together, we fought with her jeans, dragging them toward her knees. I fell backward on the blanket and pushed my hand between her damp thighs, groaning at her silky slickness. Still struggling with the denim, she climbed on top of me, stealing my air with the sight of her swollen red lips and taut pink nipples.

  I grasped my cock, on the verge of taking what I ached for—her sweet, snug pussy clasping me while we sought the sanctuary we only found in each other.