Fight or Fall (16 page)

I took a big gulp of the shake. Yummy. It had pineapple, mango, strawberries, and other fruits mixed in it. But the best thing was that he made it for me.

“Your sister.”

“Ah.” One word. I felt the tension surround him as he slowly lifted me up, leaving my side. He walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a block of cheese. He opened a drawer and took out a paring knife and started slicing the cheese into smaller pieces.

“Bee is the best cook and baker.” Sadness lined his voice. His jaw ticking as he bit on the cheese. “I agree, she makes the best stuff.
Momma
, our mom, taught her… But Bee, she’s got that gift of making everything taste good.”

He loved his sister very much. I didn’t doubt it.

I stood up from the chair, and he lifted his arms so I could encircle his hips with my arms. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”

“Just after Shanghai. Before I got on the plane to come home.”

Brynn has cried on my shoulder about her brother framing Kieran for drugs. I saw how torn apart she was when she stood by Kieran, even after Kieran almost left her just for being Milo’s sister. But she loved Milo. I heard it in her concerned voice every time she asked me if I had heard anything about him, knowing he was in Vegas. It was difficult to say “no” because I knew where Milo was. At least, I knew when he showed up in my father’s fight club. But I couldn’t come between them. It was between brother and sister. I could, however, bridge the gap that has formed during the past nine months and counting.

“That’s almost nine months ago,” I said without censure or accusation. I wished he’d talk to Brynn. Brynn has told me that Milo texted but never called. When we were in college, he and Brynn talked every day.

“I know.”

Resting my chin against his chest, I flexed my neck, catching the faraway look in his eyes.

“I feel lost, you know…” his quiet words held so much value. He has always been the honest type of guy. When he was happy, he showed it. When he was angry, he didn’t hide it. He’s often been labeled as the badass of the swimming world when he competed because he didn’t hesitate to swear in front of the cameras after he had a bad swim. I’m sure he got fined for this but that was it – he didn’t hide his emotions.

He put the block of cheese and paring knife against the granite island in the middle of the kitchen and continued, “I feel like I’ve shamed her, let her down, brought so much shit to my family’s name.”

I couldn’t say anything. This was his personal demon, the dead weight he’s been carrying around.

“How do I fix everything, Ava?” His eyes focused on a blank spot on the wall, the muscles in his shoulders slumping, the weight of his words hanging in an invisible scale, hopelessness pulling optimism down. This was a man who could
break
bones with the strike of his fist, make another person
bleed
with the power of his kicks, yet he sounded like he was bleeding from the inside, his soul, unknown to the world, was breaking.

I hugged him tighter, refusing to let go, his answer was to drop his chin against the top of my head. I’ve taken care of wounds, superficial wounds that heal with the passage of time. I’d helped stabilize broken bones, torn ligaments, and fractured body parts. But how do you fix, how do you care for and stabilize a guy whose wounds are self-inflicted, his conscience and his thoughts tearing him down, causing what could be an irreparable fracture?

My eyes burned at his question. I had no answer for him.

So I said the first thing, the only thing that came to mind, “I don’t know Milo. But you can start by talking to her.”

“Can we hang out tomorrow instead?”

What the hell?

I haven’t seen her in four days. She was in Thailand for some ribbon-cutting shit. The last time I saw her was after my latest fight. One that I won so quickly that my opponent, a Bulgarian boxer, barely threw a punch before I finished him with a combination of a jab, an uppercut, a few front kicks, and roundhouse kicks. I was on the edge while fighting. I just wanted the night to be over. Maxwell and his richie rich friends were a bit miffed that I ended the fight so quickly, but I had no energy for the drama, and I wanted to end the fight quickly knowing Ava was flying out early the next day.

During the days before the fight, Ava was busy with some things her father had asked her to do, she was also always on the phone with a woman named Naomi. I could tell something was bugging her, but whenever I asked her she would just kiss me and I’d get distracted and forget my question. Or I pretended to forget my question. She’d tell me when she was ready.

Now this. Six words she sent through a text message. Her plane had just landed twenty five minutes ago. When I called Daria yesterday, I had asked for Ava’s schedule and it looked like she was clear in two weeks. I wanted to tell her tonight, ask her to go with me. It was disconcerting to talk to an assistant about my girlfriend’s schedule, yes, she was my girlfriend, I didn’t ask for her consent or opinion, but her pussy in my mouth and my dick in her hands made her officially mine. Of course it wasn’t like that with every girl, but I made my own rules with Ava. Plus it felt right, me calling her my girl and she seemed happy about it too. Daria was a cool chick. I saw her a few times at Ava’s condo. She gave me tidbits on what Ava liked – Tic Tacs and diamonds. Tic Tacs, the orange kind, I could buy in boxes. Diamonds would have to come later.

I hit send, and she answered on the second ring. “No. Either I’m coming over or you’re coming over. Tonight.” My command clear, I didn’t even let her say hello.

She was pissing me off. We’ve talked every night on the phone. She was fully aware that I missed her and I was horny as hell for her. There was only so much a man could take facetiming his beautiful, sexy girlfriend.

“Hello to you handsome,” her breathy voice broke through the line. “Why do you sound so upset? Was it the traffic? Did a driver cut in front of you?”

She wasn’t fooling me. She was trying to distract me.

“No.”

“Milo, please babe…” She was so sexy, so hot, even over the phone.

I put my pen down, scribbling on the paper in front of me. I was trying to figure out how to change the mechanics on the heating system that Jeff had sent me so that H-TEC, the company we were designing it for, would be able to utilize fresh air from the outdoors thereby reducing the need for air conditioning at all times and increasing their capacity to save energy.

“No. What time are you coming over?” I questioned, ignoring her request. It was final; I was seeing her tonight. “Or do you want me to drive over there?” Her condo was a thirty minute drive, but I could make it in fifteen. Traffic was light at seven in the evening.

She sighed. “It’s just that I’m tired.”

“Okay, then I’ll drive over there.” Why was she making excuses anyways?

“No. I can drive there. I’m okay.” Now she could drive here?

“Ava, what the hell is going on?” I breathed out, tapping my pen against my head. Sometimes she really irritated the shit outta me. She just couldn’t get to the point. One time, she talked about a pair of shoes for almost an hour only to end up telling me that she hated the sole. Another time, she sent me picture after picture of scarves just to ask me if I wanted one. What kind of guy wore frilly-ass scarves with colors that should be hanging in someone’s window? I can’t even get started on how she doesn’t use coasters, didn’t do her dishes until they’re almost at two loads, and how she thinks she’s going to run out of purses. She makes me want to tear my hair out, but she also makes me appreciate the smallest things - the way she touches me like she always doesn’t want to let go, the look in her eyes when I say something funny, or the sexy way she counts in French.

“Something, umm, happened to me in Thailand.” She rushed as she said the words.

“Something?” I was already standing up and grabbing my car keys, ready to get out of the house. “Did someone hurt you?” I was flying over to Thailand and beating the shit out of the fucker who hurt her. My blood boiled at the thought of anyone manhandling her.

I paused. “Last night you were fine on the phone. When did this happen?”

In a weary voice, she mumbled, I could barely make out the words, “Ihadafacialandnowmyfaceisorange.”

“Orange?” This was crazy. “Did you say your face is orange?”

“Not super orange,” she defended. “Maybe more like a sherbet type of orange, lighter than pumpkin orange, and a shade darker than melon.”

She was flipping crazy. “Okay, so your face is like an Oompa Loompa?”

She let out a small whimper.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore – I busted out in laughter. “Fuck baby, you’re crazy.”

“It’s not funny Milo!” Her voice stern, she rambled on, “I bought these super nice silky kimono and nightie slip set with matching thong undies hand woven by the best of the best for you. And now my orangey face will distract you from that.”

Silk? Nightie? Thong? I could care less if her face was as orange as a carrot, just those three things would make it up for me.

“Are you driving here or you want me to come over? You have two seconds to decide.” My voice was gruff, hoarse. I missed her. Feeling her body close to mine wasn’t the same as talking on the phone, sending naughty texts, or e-mailing her.

“I’m coming over,” she stated with a finality. “I missed you too.”

As soon as the white Tesla parked in the garage, I carried her to my bedroom and pounced on her.

I’d never been so wound up, so tightly coiled, so horny for anyone but her.

I didn’t even notice how orange her face was. Sure, it looked orange, but not as bad as she made it sound.

All I knew was that she was here. Her gray eyes brimmed with happiness and her lips accommodated my hungry kisses. She was wearing a short yellow dress under a jacket and flat sandals that had some strings wrapped around her long legs.

“Someone missed me,” she said playfully as she took off her jacket. My hands were already trying to find a home under her bra.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tugged on my loose-fitting black shorts and pulled them down. I lifted my legs one at a time to get out of them. Before I knew it she was cupping my balls and greeting my cock with her hand. My black boxers weren’t even halfway down my legs as she started sucking on my cock.

I wrapped my hands around her head, watching as she licked, sucked, and ran her teeth around my erection.

“Baby,” I groaned, pulling on her hair. “I’m not gonna last…I missed you so much.”

As much as I wanted for her to continue, I had different plans for her tonight.

I pulled my cock out of her mouth, her lips opening up, waiting for me to put it back in.

I dipped the head inside her mouth, teasing her, making her want for more.

Her mouth felt so good, it took everything I had not to sink back into that warmth.

I shucked my boxers to the side and my shirt followed shortly after.

Lowering myself to her level, I unwrapped her legs from the straps of the brown sandals she was wearing. Ava’s skin was burning, her body was so responsive to my touch.

Throwing her sandals aside, I lifted her legs so I could kiss the back of her knees, then slowly worked my way up.

She was now laying on top of my blue and red comforter. The sight of her, her dress lifted up showing her nude thong, her pussy soaking my sheets, her hands splayed above her head, her body arching up anticipating my touch, and her eyes heavy lidded with desire – if this was heaven, I didn’t want to ever go back down to earth. She was beautiful. An angel wrapped in a body made for passion.

I touched a finger to her clit. “Baby, I want to be inside you tonight.”

Her response was a prolonged moan. “Ohhh…”

I undressed her slowly, kissing every part of her body. By the time I unsnapped the back of her yellow lacy bra, she was delirious for my touch. The smallest friction of my thumb against her clit made her scream.

I unwrapped the foil packet with shaking hands. I had almost lost it earlier when she bit down on my shoulder.

“Put it on me.” Even my voice was shaking with my eagerness to sink inside her.