Shattered (10 page)

In the week leading up to the next match,
that same arousal was met and satisfied again and again. I was
insatiable for this fighter who had saved my life, taken me by the
hand and led me into a world beyond the reaches of my wildest
imagination. If my hands left his body for more than a moment or
two, I could feel a wonderful ache begin to creep through me. I was
addicted to him, constantly needing to be with him, to feel him
around me, inside of me.

Thankfully, my insatiable hunger was never
left unmet for long. One of the best aspects of Anderson’s life was
the fact that, during the week leading up to a fight, he had no
responsibilities besides a bit of maintenance. He hit the gym for
three hours a day, no question, but apart from that stretch of
time, he was all mine. We barely left the apartment during that
first week. Every moment he was home with me was pure bliss. Not a
surface of that abode was safe from our feverish lovemaking. I’d
never been so satisfied, so overwhelmed with sensation.

What was so incredible about making love to
Anderson, among many other things, was the fact that he got turned
on my pleasing me. He would lay me out before him, run those strong
hands over my body, and watch as my every cell responded to him in
the most glorious ways. He touched in me in ways I didn’t even know
were possible, and my body reacted to him as if on command. As I
came again and again for him, he would become more and more
aroused. Finally, when he could no longer stand it, we would
reunite in ecstatic bliss.

Between the near constant sex, the utter
luxury and comfort of Anderson’s home, and the incessant flow of
fine liquor and delectable food, it was no wonder that I felt
blissfully high all day, every day. How could such a carefree,
satisfying life be sustainable like this? Was the rug about to get
pulled out from under me? Such fears would cross my mind like storm
clouds through the blue sky once in a while, but I quickly
dispersed them. I was determined not to question my good fortune.
The last thing I wanted to do was worry my happiness away.

But as hard as I tried to keep the cloying
dark thoughts at bay, there was one matter that refused to leave me
be. When I thought back to the night of the fight, I kept picturing
those bright, seething eyes of Robert Hunt. He’d been so kind to me
upon my arrival. As soon as we met, he had been the perfect
gentleman and escort. But at some point in the course of the
evening, all that kindness had seemed to evaporate. Out of nowhere,
he began to treat me like scum on the bottom of his expensive
loafer.

I couldn’t account for the sudden change in
his demeanor. I thought, at first, that he might be upset with
Anderson’s choice in companions. But that wouldn’t make any sense.
If he’d simply been displeased with me upon meeting me for the
first time, surely he would have made his disapproval known right
then and there. Robert Hunt didn’t strike me as the sort of man who
kept his opinions to himself. Maybe I had offended him during the
course of the fight. Maybe I’d asked too many questions or proven
to be a pest. Maybe if I just apologized to him, everything would
be righted again.

Though troubled thoughts about Robert
continued to plague me, I couldn’t keep my excitement at bay as the
next match drew ever nearer. I couldn’t wait to be whisked away to
that secret underground ring, to be back among the electric joy of
human experience. This time, I wouldn’t be an outsider anymore.
When Anderson and I had left together the week before, whispers had
followed us out. With a week’s worth of gossip at work, I had a
feeling that the crowd wouldn’t treat Anderson Cole’s main squeeze
as the odd girl out. I felt like royalty, in Anderson’s
company—like I was free to go about wherever and however I pleased,
and I felt safe.

And it wasn’t just at the ring that I felt a
new boost of confidence. During our very few trips outside of the
apartment that week, I’d basked in Anderson’s glow. He had insisted
that we get me a new wardrobe and whatever else would make me feel
at home in his apartment. We strolled through the city arm in arm,
and I watched a thousand eyes alight upon my man. And even though
gorgeous women, and quite a few gorgeous men, stared lustily at
Anderson as we made our way through the streets, I never once felt
jealous. After all, I was the one he’d chosen to be with. Plain old
me. I didn’t feel defeated by the fact that everyone was in love
with Anderson, I felt empowered by it. I was like the moon to his
sun, illuminated by the pure, celestial light of his spirit. I’d
never felt more confident in my entire life. And I certainly never
felt sexier than when Anderson would turn his desirous attention
toward me.

The morning of the next match dawned bright
and crisp. I woke light, as I’d taken to doing, and noticed with a
little jab of disappointment that Anderson had already headed to
the gym. He was usually awake hours before I was, and though I
longed to greet the day wrapped up in his powerful arms, I
understood his commitment to staying in shape. He liked to hit the
gym first thing in the morning so that the rest of the day could be
devoted to me. Waking up alone was a small price to pay for a day
of glorious attention.

I rolled out from under the plush white
comforter and padded toward the kitchen. A wonderfully savory smell
greeted me as I made my way through the apartment, leading me by
the nose. When I made my way into the kitchen, I let out a little
sigh of joy. Sitting on the stove was a plate piled high with
freshly-baked croissants. As I looked closer, I spotted a little
note that simply read, “From A”. This man could seriously not be
any more of a godsend if he rode around in a winged chariot,
pulling the sun across the sky.

With a warm glow of satisfaction radiating
out from my very core, I snatched up a buttery pastry and made
myself some coffee. The early afternoon sun was splayed out across
the kitchen floor, dappling the tiles. Being a kept woman was
definitely not what I had envisioned when I first moved to New
York, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying the ride. I perched
on a stool before the kitchen counter and noticed that the morning
paper had been left open. I glanced absentmindedly toward the
publication as I nibbled on the flaky croissant. As I was skimming
the front page, a tiny headline in the bottom right corner caught
my eye.

“Illegal Fighting Ring Linked Back to Mob
Boss,” the paper read. My curiosity was understandably piqued. I
leaned over the newspaper, my eyes scrambled to take in as much
information as they could. “The New York City Police Chief reports
today that the infamous underground fighting rings in town might
have one important thing in common: they’re all being bank rolled
by one high-ranking member of the Mob.”

I gaped at the page, alarmed to see even see
talk of underground fighting in such a mainstream newspaper. This
wasn’t a tabloid, but a highly respected news outlet. And the fact
that the fighting rings were being mentioned in the same breath as
the Mob? Not exactly what I wanted to be hearing about first thing
in the morning. It was one thing for Anderson to be competing in a
dangerous, cut throat league. If the Mob was really involved, that
was a whole other story in my book. For the first time, I felt
uneasy about my involvement in this world. More so, I found myself
worried for Anderson’s sake.

As if he’d known that my thoughts had strayed
once more to him, Anderson happened to arrive home at that very
instant. I heard the elevator car slide up to our floor, listened
as the doors slid open and a key was fitted into the front door
lock.

“Hello?” Anderson called from the elevator
door, “Kaela, are you awake?”

“In here,” I replied, my voice tight.

Anderson rounded the corner into the kitchen
with a big smile plastered onto his face. Despite my new batch of
worries, a surge of desire rushed through me as I took in the sight
of him. His face was flushed, his hair tousled and just a little
sweaty. He was clad in his workout outfit, with sinfully
tight-fitted shorts. I longed to peel those layers right off his
amazing body and taste the saltiness of his skin. His muscles were
swollen and rippling after his workout, and his eyes danced in
anticipation of the fight later that evening.

“I love coming home to find you here,” he
said, coming towards me, “Especially when you’ve got nothing but
one of my tee shirts on.”

My body responded to his every word, and I
could feel my nipples getting hard under the thin cotton of my
makeshift pajamas. I shook off the sudden surge of desire long
enough to point to the newspaper on the counter.

“Did you see this?” I asked.

He peered down at the front page and took in
what was printed there. He rolled his eyes and let out a groan.
“Kaela,” he said, “I don’t want you worrying about this kind of
thing. It’s nothing. Nothing but media trash.”

“They quote the New York City police chief,”
I said pointedly, refusing to let the matter drop, “That doesn’t
sound like nothing to me.”

“People have been speculating about the
leagues like crazy for years,” he told me.

“But Anderson,” I said, “You’ve told me that
you don’t have any idea who runs the operation over there. Could it
be that—?”

“Hey,” Anderson said, taking my hands in his,
“Don’t worry about it, OK? Whatever goes on at the top has got
nothing to do with us. Why sweat it?”

“I just...Don’t want anything bad to happen
to you,” I said quietly, taking back my hands. “I mean, they’re
saying that what you guys do is illegal!” Anderson was quiet for a
long moment. I left my heart beat begin to pick up. “Anderson,” I
said slowly, “You’re not...The league isn’t doing
anything...illegal, is it?”

He straightened up, looking away from me. The
answer to my question was written all over his face. “I thought you
would have just assumed...” he said finally.

“Assumed what?” I asked, standing up to face
him. “What I assumed was that the league was top secret. Exclusive.
I didn’t think that it was anything illegal.”

“It’s not necessarily illegal,” Anderson said
haltingly, “It’s just not...purely legal, either.”

“Right,” I said, “Huge distinction there.
Thanks for clearing it up.”

“It’s like this,” Anderson said, “What we’re
doing is not inherently bad. Right? But if we were to get
permission from whatever governing body, there might be unnecessary
restrictions put on us. A bunch of bureaucratic nonsense and red
tape. We just don’t want to deal with any of it.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” I asked, “I thought you just
showed up to fight?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, “That’s all I
mean.”

“I don’t know, Anderson,” I said, “I don’t
know how I feel about all of this.”

A pained looked crossed his sharp features.
“Kaela,” he said, “If you’re having second thoughts about all
this—”

“It’s not that,” I said quickly, going to him
and laying my hands on his firm chest, “I’ve never been so sure of
anything in my life. I’ve never been more sure of anyone than I am
of you. I just got scared is all. This is all so new to me.”

“I know,” he said, pulling me close and
wrapping his arms around me, “It’s no wonder that you’re a little
overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it,” I laughed.

“I promise you, Kaela, I won’t let anything
happen to you. As long as we’re together, you’ll never get hurt. No
matter what, I will protect you.”

I looked up into his deep, dark eyes and knew
that I could trust him implicitly. “OK,” I said.

“OK,” said Anderson, giving me a squeeze,
“I’m going to go wash off.”

“Sounds good,” I said, keeping my arms firmly
around his waist. Our sudden closeness had sparked a blaze of
desire inside of me. Anderson looked down at me, read the need in
my steady gaze. A slow smile spread across his lips as he caught my
meaning.

“You look like you could use a scrubbing down
as well,” he said, letting his hands travel down to my ass, “It
looks like you’re mind has gotten even dirtier.”

“You might say that,” I said, my voice low
and lusty. I took a step back from Anderson, noting with mounting
desire the bulge in his tight workout shorts. Meeting his gaze, I
grabbed onto the hem of his tee shirt and pulled the garment up
over my head. I tossed the shirt aside and stood before him,
utterly naked. His eyes raked over my bare skin, lingering on my
ample breasts, the dip of my waist, the throbbing, hot place
between my legs that was begging for his attention.

“You’d better get yourself into the shower,”
he growled, tugging off his sweatshirt, “Or else I’ll have to take
you right here on the kitchen floor.”

I let out a little yelp and bolted from the
kitchen, sprinting through the apartment with not a stitch of
clothing on my body. My hair flew out behind me as I tore through
the living room, Anderson’s heavy footfalls echoing behind me. I
loved the thrill of the chase—especially when I knew what awaited
me on the other side. I pivoted through the master bedroom door and
raced into the bathroom, flipping on the hot water just as Anderson
burst through the door behind me.

In a moment, I felt my body sailing through
the air as Anderson grabbed me by the hips and hoisted up onto the
bathroom counter. I shivered as my bare ass hit the cold marble.
Anderson spread open my legs and stepped between them. He’d
discarded every article of clothing save for a pair of black boxer
briefs. I could feel his staggering erection through the thin
material. I let out a moan as the hard length of him pressed
against me, exactly where I wanted to feel it most. Anderson
lowered his lips to my neck, kissing me deeply. I groaned as his
lips caressed my sensitive skin, and wrapped my arms around his
broad shoulders. The entire bathroom was covered in mirrors, and I
caught sight of us across the room. The image of Anderson pressing
himself between my parted legs made my head spin. The muscles of
his back were rippling gorgeously as he covered me in deep,
insistent kisses.