Tap Out (21 page)

He drew in a long breath. Desire flickered in his eyes, like a summer storm passing over fresh cut grass.

“Do it.”

The material slid from beneath her fingers. Her breasts bounced free, brazenly bared for him.

“I wanna see all of you,” Caden growled. He stepped forward and reached around her waist. Her breasts brushed up against his chest and her nipples turned to pebbles. A groan caught in her throat.

He unzipped the back of her skirt and smoothed the material from her hips. It fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her sleek black heels and red thong.

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek, and her heart accelerated.

She wanted him. Now. What had happened in their past, whatever the future held, it didn’t matter.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice deep and husky. His big hands touched her waist. Lifting her up, he turned her around and gently set her back onto her heels. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” His hands roamed over the curves of her buttocks and gave them a squeeze. The spread of his fingers left a hot trail as they shifted to her hips, then beneath the side string of her thong.

Biting her lip, she anticipated his next move, and wasn’t disappointed when he moved the strings down, over her hips. Wiggling, her thong slid down to her ankles.

“Step,” he demanded.

She lifted one foot, then the other. For good measure, she kicked the material away. “My heels—”

“Leave them on.”

She heard his soft tread on the carpet as he moved away. The zing of a zipper undone. The rustle of his clothing being removed. Her anticipation mounting with each slight sound.

With his palms, he caressed her bare cheeks. A sensual, intimate gesture. But brief. Her skin went cool when he removed one hand and reached around to cup her breast. Gently, he massaged her, catching her nipple between two fingers. His lips kissed the sensitive tendon on her neck, just below the ear.

She shifted up on her toes, wanting more.

“Hungry yet, chili cheeks?” His tone wasn’t playful. Before she could reply—
yes
,
sweet
—he moved.

His bare chest pressed against her back, forcing her closer to the wall. He pinched her nipple and she shuddered as hot, slick moisture coated her folds.

Lips parting, she arched her head back, savoring the feel of his lips on her skin, as the gentle caress of his fingers trailing across her hip and into her trim nest.

His lips lifted and she felt his breath on her ear. “Spread your legs.”

She did so, leaning forward and pressing her elbows against the wall.

He rewarded her by spiraling a finger over her nub. Tiny starbursts flickered across her bare skin. Shifting, she widened her stance.

His laughter rang out, so sexy, so guttural and raw with need, it caused a second burst of pleasure within her. This time, however, it ignited deep within her heart and grew stronger with his every touch, leaving her breathless.

He repositioned the hand on her breast between her legs, distracting her from the sudden swell of emotion before she had time to consider it further. He played with her slick folds, making sure she was thoroughly drenched before sliding two fingers inside. His thumb rotated in slow circles over her highly sensitive pearl.

She groaned.

He pulled away and she arched her hips back. The sound of ripping foil made her want to thank the heavens. She wanted him inside her. Fast.

She heard his grunt.

“What...?”

He didn’t answer, but he lifted her and cradled her in his arms as he strode toward the bed. She bounced on the mattress where he dropped her, arms and legs wide. Shifting onto her elbows, she opened her mouth to speak, but swallowed her words.

He stood at the side of the bed, shaking his head.

She didn’t have time to process the emotions playing out on his face because her attention was drawn lower, and lower still. She swallowed hard. Sure, she’d seen him shirtless. Devoured him, inch by delicious inch. His taut, muscled chest. Eight-pack abs, with its rolling curves and valleys. That sweet spot just below the hip bone. But his full-blown erection made her want to lick her lips. And then, him.

He was enormous. Swollen and ready with need.

Clearly, this was not the reason he hesitated.

Reluctantly, her gaze shifted back to his face. Her breath hitched, as she caught the look on his face. His eyes slid closed, briefly, then reopened. As if he’d come to some sort of decision.

“I can’t fuck you against the wall like I’d planned.” He moved forward and dropped onto the bed, pulling himself over her and wedging himself between her legs.

She reached up and cupped his cheeks, dragging him down to her lips. She couldn’t grab a taste of him quick enough. Plunging her tongue into his mouth, she devoured him. Hungry with want, and need.

His manhood pressed against her core, using his hardness to coat her with her own juices as if readying her for him
.
Like she needed it.

He groaned, or maybe it was her, the sound swallowed whole by his mouth.

She ran her tongue over his teeth.

He did the same, before breaking their kiss.

She spread her legs wider, and her pussy quivered as the broad head of him slid a fraction of an inch inside of her. Her folds clenched and unclenched around his massive girth.

“I want to watch you as I make you come.” In a smooth thrust forward, his entire length filled her tight, slick channel.

She gasped in pleasure, surprised at how completely he filled her.

True to his word, he was watching her. His pupils darkened as he withdrew and thrust. Again, and again.

She wound her legs around his waist, lifting her hips for him.

He thickened deep inside her, and bells chimed sweetly in her head. He was too beautiful for words. Her body hummed with pleasure as the root of him filled her completely.

He quickened his thrusts and she lost her mind.

“So fuckin’ tight, my sweet chili bean. Look at me.” He thrust deepened and he cursed beneath his breath.

Her eyelashes fluttered open as the tension inside her swelled and crested.

“Let. Go.”

Wave after wave of pleasure spread through her. Her ears rang with sweet bliss.

The tempo of his hips increased, his thrusts deep and long. She ground against him, her release a sweet, agonizing peak.

Caden let out a shout, shaking slightly as he climaxed hard.

His big body blanketed her and pressed her into the mattress. She didn’t mind. For the first time in her life, she felt complete.

Moments passed by. The sound of his breath whispered in her ear.

She sighed, contently.

“You okay?” he demanded, coming onto his elbows and gazing at her intently.

She raised her head and kissed his lips. “Perfect.”

His lips twisted up into a smug smile. He rolled off her, climbed out of the bed, and strode into the bathroom, glancing at the bedroom door.

She lay back in his bed and snuggled beneath the sheets, her mind relaxing along with her body. Sex with Caden had been everything she’d expected. And more. So much more her heart danced.

Sometime later, she heard the water running in the bathroom. “Are you okay?” she murmured, her voice heavy, her words jumbled.

He didn’t respond, likely didn’t even hear her. She wondered about it, then at her own dang satisfaction, and her corny reaction to it. A good-loving kind of daze washed over her as she relaxed back into bed. Heck, if she were a smoker, two cigarettes would be dangling from between her lips. Maybe she’d offer one to Caden or better still, she’d make him work for it.
What is he doing
,
anyway?
Her eyelids drifted shut. Instead of sheep, she counted the passing time of Caden’s growing absence. A minute. Two. Three, until she frowned, a second before all her thoughts quieted.

Chapter Fifteen

STREETFIGHTING: A kind of fighting learned on the streets—like battling it out for a cab or parking spot

Sophie gave him a wink, then put the Aston’s top down as the car began its winding incline into the cooler climate of the Sedona mountains. Sexy,
satisfied
minx. Caden kept his sunglasses up on his head, not wanting to spoil the view. And it wasn’t the scenery that held his attention.

Today, Sophie looked younger, more relaxed and playful. Less formal than usual, yet still tidy and neat. She was wearing a crisp white blouse with tiny pearl buttons and a stiff, starched collar. The white set off the brightly colored flowers on her short, flowing skirt. Still the reserved professional, with no outward signs—except for the soft glow about her—that he’d fucked her six ways to Sunday.

At first glance, you thought you had her all pegged. But if you looked closely—and man, Caden couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her—her spiciness shined through. Like her flame-colored fingernails. Fuck me nails that stood out against the creamy skin of the thigh where she’d rested her hand. Like the fact she wore no hosiery on her long legs. Like the tiny thongs and sheer teases of bras she was fond of wearing.

His cock stirred in his shorts and hardened further at the sight of her bright red toenails, playing peek-a-boo with him out of her open-toe heels.
Damn.
He was losing his mind, getting all worked up over her toes. He pulled his gaze away, knowing it wasn’t just her toes. Sophie was the whole package. She was the real deal.

Shit
.

He forced his focus to the subtle beauty of the Northern Arizona landscape. The crimson buttes and majestic rocks were something, nature’s subtle way of claiming a man’s soul. Guess Mother Nature had a fight on her hands, because the woman beside him had already...

Freakin’ love-drunk idiot.

His heart balled up tighter than a boulder. This was not what he needed. Or wanted.
Don’t forget don’t deserve
, he reminded himself, as if he’d ever forget.

He avoided looking her way. Instead, he studied the sun reflecting off the mountains until the emotional twattle inside his head settled.

“You be my sweet pea. I’ll be your bumble bee,” Sophie sang out sweetly, extremely off-key, with the lyrics all wrong. His jaw relaxed its tight hold. Man, this woman had a way of calming him and making him smile. Even if she was responsible for stirring up all of his better-left-dormant emotional shit.

Though she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life.

But, man oh-man, how she could make his body hum. The third time—in the wee hours of the morning—he’d been so deep inside her, it felt like he’d already won Tetnus. The satisfaction in her eyes as she peaked caused him to come so hard the bed shook. Something he’d never forget.

He felt a weak smile on his lips. “Honey bee, not bumble bee. What kind of guy would be harping on and on about a bumble bee?”

“What kind of fighter loves country music so much?” she replied, leveling him with a look.

“I spent time in Nashville.”

“Finally! Something personal. Are you volunteering a tell-all?”

Caden arched an eyebrow, then murmured, “Guess you haven’t watched the videos.” He heard her sigh.

“The sex tape? I briefly skimmed over it. Unfair move, you taking a video of me sleeping.”

“Isn’t that what happens to celebrities?” He saw her stiffen, clearly uncomfortable. Such a different reaction than what one expected of her. He changed the topic. “I wanted you to see the smile I put on your face, chili cakes.”

He wanted to groan as she grinned. It was a mixture of shyness and sweetness, with a hint of embarrassment.
Interesting
. Man, he liked getting her all riled up, though.

“Come on, Caden,” she prodded, “you promised. Tell me something no one knows. So, you spent some time in Nashville...”

Nashville.
Fuck
. “You really wanna hear all my shit?” he ground out.

“Your shit is what’s going to sell my documentary.”

“Tell you what, if I spill my guts to you right now, you let me do what I got to do in Vegas.”

She nodded.

Instantly, he regretted his promise. Man, maybe he’d come so hard it rattled his brain, his common sense. What was it about her that made him want to roll over and bare his soft side?

“Don’t you dare back out now,” she threatened, sensing his hesitation.

What the hell—it’s not like it mattered. Not anymore. “I lied. I wasn’t four. I was eight. Not much of a stretch, huh?”

“What? Are you talking about your first fight? Now it’s eight?”

He ground his teeth. Perfect. This is what he wanted, right? Mercilessly, he forged ahead. “I’m telling the truth. My first fight was at eight. Behind Wilson Elementary School after dismissal. My foster mother was dating a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu instructor.”

“She arranged for a slug fest behind the school?” Sophie’s tone was disbelieving.

Caden laughed, but it came out hoarse. “Nah. She arranged for a few freebie lessons at her boyfriend’s mixed martial arts school. Thought it might help get a scrawny kid into shape, build muscles and stamina. Plus, it was a good way to blow off some anger.”

“Oh my God. You’re serious. You were in foster care at eight years old? And fighting? I never imagined...” She paused, probably realizing her questions were more like declarations—outraged declarations on his behalf. Inhaling sharply, she continued in a softer voice, “I’m having trouble understanding it all.”

“Hmph, I’m still trying to get a grip myself,” he muttered, flashing back to the fight and to the memory of Mickey, the biggest bully and strongest puncher at Wilson, spitting out mouthfuls of playground sand. Caden was instantly the kid no one fucked with. Too bad it was short-lived.

“Did you win?”

“Yep. Guess you could say I won. The class bully seemed to think so, anyway.”

“What was your foster mom like?”

“The kindest of the bunch. Desperate, but nice. The tree hugging type, anti-violence. Honest to a fault.”
Kept her hands to herself
. His mouth tightened. “Guess her hiring a trainer to teach an eight-year-old to kick ass so she could get laid wasn’t her wisest move, with all the trouble I caused afterward.”

“You’re a fighter. Clearly, she got over her dislike for the sport.”

“Nope.” He tried to keep the bitterness from his tone, not wanting Sophie’s pity. Give her the facts—that’s all.

“Did her boyfriend teach you these mad skills I keep hearing about?”

He grunted. “Mad skills, huh? But, yeah. He was a decent guy. Taught me the basics, and laid a foundation, though I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I was tough.”

He’d learned the hard way how weak he’d really been.

Taking the water bottle out of the cup holder, he took a chug, then moved on to a safer topic. “Do you know what Jiu-jitsu is?”

“Sounds like a kind of juice you drink at Girl Scout camp.” She winked at him.

His lips curled briefly.

“Do you think you’re dealing with an amateur here?” she tossed his own words back at him. “I did my homework.” In a more serious voice, she said, “I want to make MMA accessible to everyone, from the hardcore fans to the average viewer who won’t understand the nuances of this sport. Cover both perspectives, mine and yours. So tell me in your own words, where does Jiu-jitsu fit in among the other skills an MMA fighter must learn?”

Her hair was pulled off her face, neatly piled in a stylish bun. He resisted the temptation to reach over and mess it up. Keep things light before he shed more rain on their already washed-out parade. Thank the fuck for the change in topic. Little did she know how close the drizzle was to being a full-fledged downpour.

His eyes fell to her heels, shifting his thoughts from the past back to the present. Who in their right mind but Sophie would take to the road to cover these animals wearing three-inch heels? You’d think someone invested in teaming up with a group of fighters would be in comfortable sweatpants or shorts, T-shirts, Nikes.

“Do I have something on my skirt?” she interrupted his thoughts.

He wiggled his pointer finger at her, and she blushed. He gestured to her heels.

“America should see the shoes you’re marching around in. Those are sexy as hell.”

“We’re discussing Jiu-jitsu, not my choice of footwear.”

He decided to cut her a break and help her out. Hell, help himself out—a safer topic, one he could handle without giving too much away. “Jiu-jitsu uses the manipulation of joint locks and choke holds to make the opponent submit. The theory is that a less-muscular fighter can force a more traditionally trained one like a boxer, wrestler, or karate master to tap out.”

“And joint-manipulation works?”

“Hurts like hell, unexpectedly so. You think a punch to the muscle causes damage, but throwing a joint out of whack can be agonizing.”

“And your stepmother’s boyfriend taught you how to do that?”

“Yep.”

“He must have taught you a lot of useful skills?”

He shook his head.

Sophie frowned. “Why not?”

“They broke up. She bailed, said she couldn’t handle me. I got shuffled to another home. Wilson seemed like a country club in comparison.”

“How many foster homes were you in?” Sophie demanded, unable to censor the alarm in her voice. “I thought you’d grown up with your brother.”

Damn.

“Caden?”

“Six.”

“Six? Then what? You got your freedom at eighteen?”

He snorted. “I got my freedom way before then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I took off.”

“To?”

“Nowhere. The streets. Until my brother Bracken tracked me down.” He felt her eyes on him so he plucked his sunglasses off his head and put them on. Safer that way. “Look, that stuff’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important. Your past is what molds you into the person you are today.” Her voice cracked, teeming with emotion.

Her pity was like a solid strike to the abdomen, then a tight squeeze. It hooked into him, took hold and yanked everything out, leaving one freaking hellhole of a mess. He should’ve known she’d zoomed right in on his weaknesses. Fuckin’ scary how she’d seen right past his bullshit. At least she hadn’t gotten it on video.

“That’s what Anthony meant by you being streetwise. You lived on the streets with your brother.”

Anthony.
Hearing the fighter’s name coming from her lips was like tossing dry wood onto the emotional bonfire already raging in his head. He struggled to find another topic before he lost it completely. And failed miserably.

“We’re survivors, you and I,” she added softly.

He glanced at her. She was gazing up at the sky. That asshole Hank had done a number on her. Caden planned on returning the favor.

Man alive, what had he been thinking? Two people with this much baggage would never be able to haul it around for the long term.

Sophie must have come to the same conclusion because she was mercifully silent.

Her leg flexed as she pressed the gas pedal.

He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes.

End of discussion.

Sophie held the Aston at a solid eighty miles per. Guess he wasn’t the only one eager to hit Vegas.

* * *

When it came to talking sex, Caden was in the driver’s seat. It was the kind of verbal foreplay he excelled at. The perfect wall to throw up between them—keeping the conversation light, the tension that had been like a third passenger at bay, and as they crossed the Nevada state line, leaving any lingering thoughts about his misspent youth back in Arizona. Relief washed over him when she took the bait, and started sassing him back.

Her clever responses made him grin, but the flush on her cheeks his sexy promises had put there was what was really turning him on.

Ironic how she was going tit for tat with him, yet seemed so innocent. Matter of fact, he’d was pretty sure her
Late Night
persona was a lie.

“Let’s talk about the kinky things I’m gonna do to that hot body of yours.”

He could tell she liked that by the way she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.

“Let’s talk about how you better put your money where your mouth is, sugar.”

“My mouth, huh?”

He heard her inhale sharply as she caught his look of unadulterated lust. “I meant the rest of the interview.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Ohhh, yeah.” She extended the
oh
, making it sound sexy and passionate.

“Wish I’d caught on tape how you looked with my mouth between your thighs and my tongue working over your clit.”

She wiggled in her seat and grasped the steering wheel tighter. Her widened eyes were focused on the roadway. A shame. He wanted to see the fire burning there. Yep, he was the one doing the driving, and he was loving every minute of it.

He paused, giving her time to gather her thoughts. He loved her mind, the way she always had a quick comeback. G-rated compared to his R-rated, he noted, further proof that she wasn’t the person people expected her to be. Her reaction to him turned him on, big time. Not that he needed any help in that department.

“As soon as we get situated in Vegas, I’m deleting your sex tape.”

“Better watch it first, chili bean.”

She blushed a pretty shade of pink. Still, he knew what it was like to be in the celebrity spotlight, and made it a point to reassure her.

“It’s not a sex tape. Or sex tapes—I recorded myself three times.”

“Three? When? What did you say?”

“Not much substance in your first recording, that one was more a narrative on fighting in general. In the second, there’s a bunch of bullshit the public will want to hear. My sponsorships and what it was like being the body for Ultimate American Man.”

“Oh my God. Really?”

“Yep. Even gave you a real exclusive, how I’m ending my contract with them, and how I’ll be focusing all my energy on fighting.”

“You are?” She turned to peer at him.

“Yep.

“Why?”

He knew that was going to be her response. Silently, he thanked the heavens she didn’t ask about the third recording. The footage he’d shot earlier this morning like some besotted moron. What the fuck had he been thinking? Somehow, he had to get his hands on her camcorder and delete it. One major sentimental blood-letting. It would lead to nothing but broken hearts and tears.