Knockout (Tapped Out 4)

He was so proud of Emerson doing so well in MMA, though he had to turn a blind eye to the illegal underground scene. Considering my dad was a cop, that was hard for him to do. But he’d gotten Emerson into MMA in the first place, so he took some personal responsibility. Plus, he hoped he might make it out of the local scene altogether and go pro.

He loved Emerson enough he couldn’t look down on him for anything. Not even technically breaking the law.

Full of nervous energy, I jogged down the three flights of stairs from our apartment to the lobby, then rushed out into the night. Emerson sat in his dark sedan at the curb, one wrist thrown over the wheel, the other hand probably thumping on his leg like it always did. He never managed to stay still. He was obscenely physical in a way that made a girl’s thighs press together.

Especially a girl like me, who’d gotten to watch him grow up from a bo

y into a man. Such a gorgeous, broody, amazing man.

“Hey.” I bent and stuck my head in his open passenger window. “How much for a ride?”

It was a flirty statement, but he only smiled in that benign way he always reserved for me. The gesture held affection, definitely, but not an ounce of heat.

Dammit, I wanted him to burn like I did every time I was in his presence.

“For you, I’d pay.” He leaned across the seat and pushed open my door. “Get in already before I get towed. Illegal spot.”

“Oops, sorry.” Cursing myself, I slid inside the car and snapped my belt into place. He veered into traffic and I stayed silent, studying his profile.

His eyelashes were ridiculously long, his nose crooked from being broken once or twice. He had full lips, the kind that were meant to smile easily and often. But he didn’t. He saved them for special occasions, like when we were alone. Though he probably didn’t see me as a woman in the strictest sense, I knew he didn’t like to share me. With anyone. I was pretty sure that was out of some kind of weird sense of obligation or possession. He was obsessed with keeping me safe.

Probably something he’d picked up from my father. The two stubborn, prideful men I loved more than life.

Now I loved JC too. He made me laugh and never took anything too seriously. As hard as he worked, he was always up for a party. I needed that new sense of perspective. For so long, I’d lived in a box with barely any airholes, building tiny houses for inanimate creatures. My work fulfilled me in many ways. It connected me with my long-gone mom, reminding me of the days we spent decorating my dollhouses, and eventually, it might even grant me financial freedom if the current resurgence lasted. It would require focus and dedication, two things I had in spades.

What I hadn’t had nearly enough of, until JC, was fun.

“You’re thinking loud enough to give me a headache. What’s up? Problems with an order?”

No, I want sex. I want to let loose. I want to live before I’m not young anymore.

I didn’t say any of that. I flipped my fingers through the ends of my hair and stared out the window. “Nah, just kind of stressed.”

“No wonder. You work too hard.” He reached over and cupped my knee, rubbing the side with his thumb. From anyone else, that gesture would mean something. In Emerson’s case, it was just about kindness and concern.

“Not hard enough. I’m still trying to come up with the cash for that stupid transmission.”

I knew it was the wrong thing to say when he stiffened. It had been a kneejerk reaction, some kind of mental defense against him somehow reading my sexual thoughts.

“Let me give you the rest of the money. A loan, if you insist,” he said, raising his voice above my objections. “I don’t like the idea of you riding the subway at all times of the day and night, anyway.”

“No way.” I wasn’t budging. “You’re not much less strapped than I am. Besides, if I wanted a loan, I’d just ask JC. He’s got money coming out of his ass.”

He remained silent for a beat. “He’s rich, is he?”

“His family is, and they love to share the wealth. He just doesn’t use their money much. He wants to make his own. That’s why he’s always busting his hump on job sites.”

“Hmm.”

I sighed and shifted toward him. “Why do you dislike him so much?” This topic wasn’t any better than the last, but I couldn’t keep shoving everything down. If I did, the rock-solid foundation between us would eventually crack. And I’d never be able to live with that.

He was my touchstone, my rock, and every other hokey thing. I couldn’t imagine him not in my life.

That I kept picturing him in my bed too was my problem, and mine alone.

Emerson’s jaw tightened. “Who said I did?”

“It’s kind of obvious, don’t you think? You barely look at him. You always snarl in his direction. I know you didn’t want to come tonight either.” I cupped his hand on top of my jittery leg. “I also know you did it just for me, so thanks.”