Page 68 of On the Ropes
She was teasing, seemed almost nervous. I kept my expression serious. “You know I’ve been, Tabitha.”
Her throat worked, eyelashes fluttering. The wind caught her hair again. I reached forward and tucked the strands behind her ear. Cupped her face and swept my thumb across her cheek. The world ground to a screeching halt. It was as if the gong had gone off again—there was no sound, no movement, no storm clouds overhead.
“I’ve been strict about a lot of things since I retired,” I said, voice raspy. “It’s not only my diet. Or training. I haven’t allowed myself to give in to anything that I want. To take what I want.”
She swallowed again. Her skin was trembling beneath my fingers. I slowly, slowly dipped my lips until they hung suspended over hers. Our breath mingled. My vision flickered, every muscle taut.
“What do you want to give in to?” she asked on a whisper.
“Pleasure.” I gently placed my other hand on her other cheek, until I was gripping her face.
“And what do you want?”
I brushed my lips over hers. Once. Twice. “You.”
I kissed Tabitha, and everything changed. I’d been wrong about this moment being like a right hook. That implied pain, when the sensation roaring through my body was lust. The only thought I could form was finally.
And then I quit thinking all together. I didn’t hold back. Couldn’t. Our first kiss grew wild within seconds, Tabitha holding my wrists and opening for me with a throaty moan. The kiss deepened. Became hungrier, almost starved. My tongue met hers as her hands twisted in the collar of my shirt. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into my lap. Tabitha Tyler was straddling me on the top of the art museum steps, a storm threatening over our heads, in a public place where anyone could see us.
Like I fucking cared.
Our lips parted, and we shared a gasping, ragged breath. Until Tabitha kissed me again and I grabbed fistfuls of her hair. Her nails scratched across the back of my neck. My fingers slipped beneath her shirt, hands coasting along the smooth skin of her waist before yanking her more firmly against me.
A soft, warm rain began falling all around us.
We didn’t stop. Tabitha’s lips roamed away from mine, along my jaw. My right hand held the back of her head as she trailed kisses down my neck. She licked my skin, moaned against it. The sound tore a ragged groan from the back of my throat. I tipped my head back, rain in my hair. I wondered how I’d gotten so goddamn lucky to have Tabitha savoring me,to have a combination of her breath, lips, teeth moving up and down my throat.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to taste this good, Dean,” she panted. She reached down for the end of my shirt and pushed it up and off me. For as long as I lived, I would never forget what she looked like as she stared down at my body. Rain trickled through my chest hair, and Tabitha licked her lips like she had an actual thirst.
My sexual experiences before this moment were mostly in the dark, with pretty strangers who knew my name and my victories in the ring. That was it. And of course, the second I retired, those same women didn’t look my way again. Sex was usually fast. Fumbling. More about her orgasm and my orgasm—and nothing else. Each time was mechanical. Impersonal. Some part of me knew I was probably wanted in this way. Even admired, for a short time.
But Tabitha put her lust and attraction to me on full display. It wasn’t a shameful secret. Or dependent on how I performed in a match.
I pressed my forehead to hers as I slid my hand across her belly, then cupped her breast over her sports bra. She hissed in a breath. I swiped my thumb across her nipple and growled as it pebbled. My other hand tangled in her hair, tugging until she exposed her throat. I kissed and nipped the skin there. Nudged the strap of her top down with my nose, kept palming and squeezing her breasts as her body trembled in my arms.
The rain fell harder. My remaining clothing stuck to my skin. Our next kiss was nothing short of sloppy groping, of teeth and groans and a desperate need. Her hands on my chest were pushing. Pushing. I could feel what she wanted. There was a steady roar all around us—the rain, the thunder, the wind. I dropped back on my elbows and felt the twinge of an old break there. Tabitha fell with me, hair in thick ropes, water on her eyelashes.
She ground against my cock, and I pictured tearing her shorts off and letting her fuck me here, on the stairs, in the middle of a raging storm. Notions of safety or propriety crumbled in the face of our lust. I didn’t care if it was wrong. I didn’t care if my body hurt or if I’d have to skip training because my muscles were sore.
What if I said yes to pleasure instead of always saying no?
I pushed back up to a sitting position and pulled her tight against me. I buried my face in her hair just as a crack of lightning had us both jumping.
And then it started to pour. Pour like a flash flood was imminent. We were too stunned to move at first. Tabitha held out her hands and then burst into a peal of laughter. “Your point about it raining earlier is duly noted.”
I pushed the hair from her ear. “We need to go. Now.”
She shifted off my lap. I gripped her hands, kept her steady. The sky was terrifyingly dark. Tugging her against my side, we made our way down the slippery steps as carefully as we could. Down below, tourists ran under umbrellas. People shouted for taxis. The skyscrapers looked dull and watery.
Squinting, I wiped the rain from my eyes and fished the keys from my pocket. I reached the back of the car and practically wrenched the side door off.
I shoved Tabitha inside and followed, slamming the door shut.
Seconds ticked by as we caught our ragged breath.
The only sound was the rain hammering against the car and bursts of thunder. Tabitha pressed her hand to the window as the water fell in sheets. I crumpled up my wet shirt and tossed it in the front. Pressed my bare back to the corner, where the door met the seat. The only light coming in was from whatever the streetlamp was throwing off through the rain.
Tabitha ran a hand through her hair, eyes heavy-lidded. I could see her nipples through her wet shirt, all that pale, freckled skin exposed, clothing wrinkled and falling off.
