Against the Ropes (16 page)

I would like to know who thinks this heart is worth one million dollars.

Or maybe, I already do.

A low murmur builds, rolling from the back of the room, gaining momentum as the crowd parts. I hold my breath, and a space clears at the front of the stage.

Max.

He looks up and catches my gaze. My eyes glisten with happy tears. My lips part and my grin stretches from ear to ear. He strides toward me, breathtaking in his sleek, black tux, thick hair still slightly damp and curling at his temples. When he reaches the stage, he closes the distance between us, taking the steps two at a time until he is standing in front of me.

He takes the necklace from my outstretched hand. “Mine,” he whispers.

“Yours. A million times over.”

He reaches behind me and fastens the chain around my neck. His fingers brush lightly over my bare skin and a tiny shiver races down my spine. My hand flies to my throat to touch the most expensive piece of jewelry I have ever worn. “Max, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

The audience claps and cheers. Max spins me around to face them and slides an arm around my waist. “Are you ready for the big time, baby?”

***

By the time the paparazzi are done taking pictures, I can no longer see. Max leads me off the stage and into a luxurious side room with a working fireplace, silk tapestries, and carved-wood ceilings. We sit on a red upholstered sofa built for two, and I stare at the fire and try to blink the spots from my eyes.

“I see you managed to get an invitation.”

Max runs his hand up and down my bare back sending tiny shivers of need darting through my veins. “When I saw that picture I had to come. I would have stormed the castle if Colton had not managed to get me on the list.”

I touch the necklace. “I’m glad you did. Seeing you walk through the crowd was magical. You took my breath away. It’s a moment I’ll never forget.”

“I aim to please.”

“And please you do,” I whisper.

With the worst possible timing in the universe, Dr. Drake appears in the doorway. “Mac, we need you on stage. The bidding is cooling off. You’ve got to get out there and heat things up again.”

Max bristles. “No.”

“Huntington.” Dr. Drake walks toward him and holds out his hand. “We meet again. I want to thank you for your contribution. It will help us purchase equipment that will save many lives, and I’m sure Mac will be an entertaining dinner companion.”

He turns to me and gives me a wink. “Hopefully you can repeat the performance for the benefit of Geriatrics.”

“No.” Max’s voice deepens and he rises to his feet. “She’s not going back on that stage.”

Dr. Drake’s smile fades. “No?”

I tug on his sleeve. “It’s for charity.”

“I said no.” Max folds his arms. The sleeves of his tux strain under the bulge of his flexed biceps.

Dr. Drake raises an eyebrow. “I believe it is Mac’s decision. I might also point out this is a work function and she’s being paid to do a job.”

“I want to help.” I stand up and put my hand on Max’s arm. “It won’t take long, and I promise not to offer any dinner dates.”

“There you go.” Dr. Drake smiles. “She wants to help.” He puts his hand on my bare back and takes a step forward, leading me toward the door.

“Take your hands off her.”

Dr. Drake freezes. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” Max grasps my arm and pulls me toward him. I stumble sideways and trip on the hem of my dress. Dr. Drake’s arm snakes around my waist and he catches me before I fall.

Max yanks me out of Dr. Drake’s arms.

“Enough. This isn’t a tug of war.” I twist in his arms but he hugs me to his chest like a child protecting a toy.

“I believe Miss Delaney would like you to release her.” Dr. Drake’s voice is calm and even—a decided contrast to the low, threatening rumble emanating from Max’s chest.

“And I believe if you have any sense of self-preservation, you will walk out that door and find someone else to help with the auction.”

“You are overreacting.” I rest my cheek against his twitching pecs. He smells divine. His cologne is fresh, spicy, and oh so masculine. His body vibrates with the rumble of his voice. He is in full protective mode and it fires my blood. But I can’t let him interfere with my work.

“Are you threatening me, Huntington?” Dr. Drake gives Max an assessing look. “I’ll have you know I was a two-time NCAA champion wrestler in college. I gave up on a professional career to become a doctor, but I still practice daily in the hospital gym.” He air boxes his shadow, giving it a one-two punch. “You want to step outside?”

“No.” I look from Dr. Drake to Max and back again. “I won’t allow it.”

“I wanted to step outside with you a long time ago, Drake,” Max says ignoring me. “You can’t seem to keep your hands off my girl.”

“Is she your girl?” Dr. Drake asks in a cool voice.

“Are you my girl?” Max’s voice drops to a low murmur, and he brushes his lips over my hair.

“Yours,” I whisper.

Max gives a self-satisfied grunt and tightens his arm around me. “She’s mine. She says so.”

“That doesn’t mean
obeys
Max’s every whim
,” I add. “I’m going to do my job and help with the auction. You can glower by the stage and growl at anyone who dares breathe in my direction.”

Dr. Drake chortles. “Looks like she might be too much for you to handle, Huntington. Maybe she needs a real man.”

Max’s body tightens and I slide my arms around his chest. “Don’t—”

“Redemption,” Max bites out. “MMA club in Ghost Town. Tonight after the auction.”

Dr. Drake’s eyes flash and he grins. “I’ll be there. And lucky for you, after your defeat, when you’re moaning in a pool of your own contrition, I will be morally obligated to tend to your injuries.”

He extends his hand and he and Max shake.

“After the auction,” Max snaps, “and you don’t touch my girl again.”

“After the auction. And I will if she wants.”

You know the rules of the ring

The auction is a roaring success. I walk the catwalk four more times, and my hearts raise another two hundred thousand dollars. Max escorts me on and off the stage. During the breaks, he keeps even Charlie away with his folded arms and menacing stare. I am forced to entertain myself by playing spot Big Doris as she swans around the room in her florescent green suit.

After the auction ends, the floor is cleared for dancing. I catch Charlie planting a smooch on Big Doris in the corner. Big Doris doesn’t look pleased. She slaps him across the face. Good thing we’re in a room full of medical professionals.

“Lighten up,” I say after Max chases away an eighty-something-year-old man in a wheelchair.

“If you want me to lighten up then put on my jacket,” he snaps. “I know what these men are thinking, and I don’t want them thinking it about you.”

“If I wear your jacket, will you dance with me?” Although I have doubts about the kind of music the band is going to play for the primarily post-sixties crowd, I never miss an opportunity to dance.

Max gives me a curt nod and slides his jacket off. He holds it for me and I slip my arms inside. The warm, silk lining glides over my skin, and I close my eyes and revel at the delicious sensation of being totally enveloped in Max.

We hit the dance floor and the band launches into an upbeat, old-time jazz tune. Max takes my hand and we shuffle a slow circle under a potted palm. He hums along to the song, his face soft and relaxed. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I’ve never seen him really enjoy himself.

“What is this song?”

“Nina Simone’s, ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me.’”

“Of course it is.” I grin. “And you had nothing to do with the fact they decided to play it right here, right now.”

The band segues into something soft and sultry. Max pulls me into his arms. He slides one hand under the jacket and caresses my back. His other hand intertwines with mine, and he holds them pressed against his chest. So damn sexy.

The beat slows, and I press my cheek to the smooth cotton of his shirt. “What’s this one?”

“‘Listen to Me’ by Buddy Holly.”

I snort a laugh. “How much did you pay them?”

Max chuckles and spins me around the dance floor. His hand massages its way up my bare back with firm, gentle strokes. My muscles relax into his warm caress until his questing fingers dive into the side of my dress to fondle the curve of my breast. I stiffen in his arms.

“Bad Max. I’m wearing the jacket to assuage your overly jealous nature, not so you can surreptitiously feel me up.”

“You can’t show me something all night, baby, and not expect I’ll want to touch.” His fingers slide farther into my dress and brush over my nipple. I gasp and try to pull away.

Max holds me tight and leans down, covering my mouth with his own, drowning my moan of displeasure. Or is it pleasure? I can’t tell. His lips move, easing mine apart, and he kisses me, deep and tender. “Shhh, baby.”

“I’ll shhh when you stop being naughty.”

“Can’t. You’re wearing a naughty dress. All I can think about is getting inside it.” To emphasize his point, he slides his hand down my back and inside my dress to cup my bottom. He gives my ass cheek a squeeze and runs his finger along the inside of my thong before giving it a tug. “Don’t need this.”

“I do need it. I am not going commando at a swanky party.”

“You won’t be wearing it by the end of the night,” he rasps in my ear. “I promise you that.” He squashes my hips against him and his arousal presses into my belly, sending tiny shivers of need down my spine.

The band plays yet another old tune, and Max easily catches the beat. The music is not as bad as I thought, especially with Max caressing me into a frenzy of lust under his jacket.

He croons along with Sinatra, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. My body thrums with desire and the painful pleasure of unfulfilled need.

“You’re in the mood for fighting,” I correct him, when he pauses to take a break after the famous first line. “You’ve decided to throw away the opportunity to get Makayla out of her dress so you can indulge in a late-night pissing contest with Doctor Drake. I have to work tomorrow. There’ll be no loving for you.”

“Sassy girl. It works both ways. Do you really want to spend the night alone?” He feathers kisses along my jaw. I roll my eyes and pretend flames of need are not licking through my body.

“I have a Rabbit.”

Max freezes and thrusts me away from him, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

What did I just say? I take a little trip down memory lane. I do not like where I arrive. My hand whips over my mouth. NO. I did NOT just say that. Please, please, please let it not be true.

Max’s eyelids lower to half-mast and he licks his lips. “We’ll go to Redemption. I’ll deal with Drake. Then we’ll go to your place and play with your Rabbit.”

I did say it. “Uhhhhgh.” My voice catches in my throat. “I don’t…you know—”

“You do now.” His voice is warm, rich, and filled with promise.

“Can’t you just forget about Doctor Drake?” I murmur. “We could go to my place—”

“He challenged me. I don’t turn down a challenge. This is who I am, baby. I’m a fighter.”

I stroke my hand along his jaw, trying to ease his tension. “It isn’t who you are. You are so much more. I don’t want you to fight with him. Please. Just walk away. Come home with me.”

He shakes his head and draws my hand away. “Don’t do this. Don’t ask me to choose.”

My heart sinks, weighted down by his unspoken words. If forced to choose, he won’t choose me.

***

An hour later, I huddle in the backseat of the limo outside Redemption. Despite Max’s best efforts, I refuse to go inside. If not for the fact it is impossible to get a cab at this time of night, I would not even be here.

Lewis turns around and holds up a flask. I shake my head. I might be patching up two morons tonight. I’ll need a clear head to treat them, and my wits about me to scold them.

My phone buzzes and I take a call from Dr. Drake. He isn’t coming. Big emergency at the hospital. He sends his regrets. Hooray! I might get some loving tonight after all.

I race into the club and find Max shadowboxing in the practice ring. His fight shorts cling to the curve of his ass, and his back glistens with sweat. I catch the fresh, lemon scent of cleanser and raw musk of hot, sweaty male.

“He’s not coming.”

Max shakes his head and jabs at the wall. His muscles ripple and swell as he lands each imaginary punch. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

“Doctor Drake isn’t coming,” I yell. “He was called to the hospital to consult on an emergency heart surgery.”

He lowers his arms and turns to face me. “Do you believe him?”

“Yes. If he wanted out, he would have thought up an excuse that wouldn’t be so easy for me to check when I go to work tomorrow.”

Max grabs a towel and wipes himself down. His hair is damp and curls just above his neck. As he moves, his tattoos undulate over his skin. Broad back, tight ass. All man. All hot. My mouth waters.

As if sensing the stirring of my desire, Max spins around, dark eyes hooded. “What are you thinking, baby?”

I put a hand on my hip. “I’m thinking it’s time to go home.”

His wicked grin shoots straight to my core. “I’m thinking it’s time you came into the ring. If you aren’t here in five seconds, I’m coming to get you.”

I kick off my shoes and climb through the ropes. As soon as my feet touch the mat, he backs me into the corner and licks his lips.

“You look like you’re about to devour me.”

“I am.” His mouth slants over mine and he kisses me. Hot. Wet. Hungry. I don’t even try to resist. I curl my hands around his neck and pull him down for more.

“You know the rules of the ring,” he murmurs. His tongue flicks against the seam of my lips, forcing them apart.

“No eye gouging. No biting. Nothing below the belt. No fish hooking,” I say with pride.

Max chuckles. “Not the rules I was thinking about. Especially since there may be some biting and there will definitely be attention focused below the belt.”

A soft “oh” escapes my lips. “I didn’t know there were other rules.”

“Our main rule is that no one leaves the ring unless someone goes limp or gives up. Which will it be, baby? I think we should go for limp—the replete with sexual satisfaction kind.”

My lips part with a moan, and he dips inside, coaxing me open with his talented tongue. He tastes of whiskey and coffee. He tastes of me.

I slide my hands around his powerful torso and explore the hard ripple of muscle down his back. “You must have me confused with someone else,” I tease. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl are you?” He sifts his hand through my hair and cups my head, holding me tight as he deepens his kiss.

“Hot kind,” I whisper against his lips.

“What else?”

“Wet kind.”

He slides his hand down my bare back, then lower until he kneads my bottom, sending a shock wave of pleasure over my skin.

“What else?” he demands.

I pull out of his grasp and step away. Before he can protest, I put my hands behind my neck and undo the clasp of my dress. The front falls to my waist, revealing its secret built-in bra cups and baring my breasts. Max’s hungry gaze rakes over me, but before he can touch, I undo the clasp on my lower back and let the dress sweep down my body into a pool of silver sparkles. “Naked kind.”

Max stares at me, his gaze traveling the length of my body and back again, so intense I feel the heat in my toes.

Boldly, I step forward. My breasts brush against his hot, hard chest, and my nipples tighten in response.

“I like naked kind. But you aren’t entirely naked.” His hands glide down my sides to my hips. His thumbs hook into the band of my lacy thong and he tugs. The thin fabric parts with a graceless ripping sound and then flutters to my feet.

Raw lust streaks straight to my core. “Animal! You tore off my panties.”

Max cups my ass in his palms and squeezes lightly, rolling my cheeks. “I told you it would come off tonight.”

“Is that how you seduce a woman? You rip off her clothes?”

“I thought you were seducing me,” Max murmurs. He presses tiny kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “Best seduction technique is to get naked.”

I rub my hip against the hard line of his erection. “Is it working?” I ask with feigned innocence. “I’ve never seduced a man before.”

“And you won’t again.” His voice is deep and sexy, and I can’t help but smile.

“That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

Max lowers his head and captures my lips in a hard, demanding kiss. Deep in my belly, need unfurls and licks softly through my body. I glide my hands over his chest, but when they move lower to trace the ridges of his six-pack, he stops me.

“No, baby. My turn.” He pulls my arms behind my back, bracketing my wrists with one hand.

My body arches into him, my breasts brush against his chest. His free hand glides up my curves, and he cups my breast in his palm and squeezes gently. I moan and wriggle in his grasp. How can hands that are capable of such violence be so gentle and sensual on my skin?

“I’m not sure who is seducing who anymore,” I pant.

“Maybe we’re seducing each other.” He turns his attention to my other breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it peaks. A groan rips out of my throat.

“Then one of us isn’t doing a good job, since he still has his clothes on.” I trail a finger along the elastic of Max’s boxer shorts and then freeze. Suddenly shy, I give him a questioning look from beneath my lashes.

His brown eyes smolder beneath heavy lids. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want to touch you,” I whisper, dropping my gaze downward. I want to feel his desire in my hand, taste it in my mouth, and feel it inside me. Only then will I know it is real.

“Where?”

Heat sizzles through me. I bite my lip and press my hand over the erection straining beneath his shorts. “Here.”

Max hisses in a breath and eases his shorts over his tight hips, sighing audibly as his erection springs free. He kicks them aside and I take a step back and stare at his incredible body—the lean contours of his muscles, the deep cuts of his narrow hips, the ripples across his abdomen, the tight, hard planes of his chest, and the trail of soft, dark hair leading down to his thick, heavy shaft.

“Touch me, baby.”

Hand shaking, I circle my fingers around his girth and marvel at the contrast between his hard desire and the silky softness in my palm.

I slide my hand up his length, stroking lightly. Max groans. Sweat beads on his forehead and his hands clench and unclench by his sides. No man has ever been so aroused by my touch. Emboldened, I sink to my knees on the cool rubber mat. I press a kiss to his swollen head, and then a lick. Salty. Sweet. Sensual. Everything that is Max.

“You taste good.” I open my mouth and slide my lips along his length, taking him as far as he can go.

“Makayla, baby. Stop.” He threads his fingers through my hair and gently eases my head back. “I won’t be able to hold out. I’ve wanted you for so long, and seeing you like this…here.” His voice breaks. “A man can only take so much.”

“But—” I want this. I want to taste him. I want to give him what he gave me.

He hooks his hands under my arms and yanks me up. I groan when his fingers slip between my legs.

“You’re so wet.” His voice deepens, thickens. “You liked having my cock in your mouth.”

I should be shocked, maybe offended by his words. Instead, I am incredibly aroused. “I’ve been wet since you walked onto the stage at the gala. It seems to be my normal state around you, but yes, I especially liked having you in my mouth.”

“My turn.” Max nudges my legs apart and drops to his knees. He isn’t going to…he can’t—

He nuzzles my mound and my breath hitches. Oh God. He is. He can. I take an involuntary step back, but before I hit the ropes, Max grabs my hips and holds me still, his thumbs sliding to the juncture of my thighs. Fire races through my veins. He spreads me wide and his breath, hot and moist, whispers over my aching nub.