Shadowboxer (Tapped Out 1)

“Unless you hate it, then no. It was all Slater’s idea.”

She laughed and knelt to scoop up sand. “Do you blame him for everything?”

“Only things like romantic gestures and gifts for women. Otherwise, I’m completely manly and accept blame as it comes.”

Sifting sand into the bucket, she gave me a smile and ducked her head, letting her curtain of dark hair hide her face.

“Vey’s at my parents’ for the weekend since I’m having surgery, so we don’t have to worry about him eating sand. He tends to put everything new in his mouth.”

“Oh. Good.” I waited for her to say more, but apparently that was the sum of her thoughts.

“Don’t be so effusive. Really, I don’t need praise. The glow from a job well done is praise enough.” I crouched in front of her. “Lame? Not lame? Give me a frickin’ bone here, Anderson.”

“It’s amazing. I can’t believe you did all this for me. Just so we can have sex.” A muscle ticked along her jaw. “I’m a sure thing, you know.”

“Ha.” A dry laugh croaked from my throat. “No, you aren’t. You’re so far from sure that I spend my time on ground like this sand, trying to keep my balance.”

She continued filling the bucket slowly and methodically before dumping it out. “Why? What makes me worth it?”

Every time she made me answer that question, I worried I’d get it wrong. I couldn’t tell her the simple truth. She was everything. My everything.

She’d never understand.

“You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known.” Her silence prodded me to dig beyond the nerves. She was the only woman who made me constantly fear rejection. The only one I’d risk it for. “I was jaded and bored before you walked into my life. You challenged me. You woke me up.” Exhaling, I pulled off my stupid eye patch. After this weekend I wouldn’t have to wear it anymore. “I suck at this. I’m no fucking poet.”

“You’re doing fine. Better than I am.” She grasped a handful of sand, letting it trail from her fist. It seemed to fascinate her. “You make me want to be normal. To try.”

“ I want you just as you are.”

“You say you do, but you don’t know what—”

“Mia.” I covered her hands with mine, closing my fingers so the sand squeezed between them. As much as I’d tried to tamp down on the physical side of our relationship over the past two weeks, I’d never be able to share how I felt otherwise. “Let me show you.”

She rose on her knees and slid her arm around my neck. With her other hand, she traced the skin underneath my injured eye, her touch more soothing than the salve she’d rubbed on my chest when I’d been sick.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” she murmured, a hint of a tease in her tone.

I loved that she felt comfortable enough to taunt me now. I treasured those moments almost as much as her smiles and laughter. “Don’t worry ’bout me, baby.”

“You’ve got a big couple of days ahead of you, and so do I,” she continued as if I’d never spoken.

“Uh-huh.” I wound her hair around my knuckles, using it to tip back her head so I could suck on her lower lip. “So I should make sure you don’t come, right? Okay, if you insist.”

She let out a baffled laugh. “What?”

“You know, how you aren’t supposed to bust a nut before a fight. Holding on to that tension is supposed to be beneficial.” I sucked her lip harder, earning a moan. “Though I know it’s a lie, because you had me fucking hard for a week before mine, and I still lost.”

She frowned. “I don’t think that rule applies to women. Since we lack nuts and all.”

“Ah, good to hear. Since I intend to make you come until you’re limp.” I met her gaze. “It’s not showing up for the match that matters, but what you’re fighting for.” I caressed the long sweep of her hair, driven to keep touching her. Reassuring myself she was still here. Still in my arms. “Let me give you a good reason to come back to me.”

She trembled. “You already have.”

I reached behind my head to pull off my T-shirt. It went flying, landing on top of the log.

Eyeing it suspiciously, she cocked her head. “Is that actually real?”

Pretending to misunderstand, I patted my chest. “No pectoral implants here.”