Against the Ropes
Page 60

“Nina Simone’s, ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me.’”
“Of course it is.” I grin. “And you had nothing to do with the fact they decided to play it right here, right now.”
The band segues into something soft and sultry. Max pulls me into his arms. He slides one hand under the jacket and caresses my back. His other hand intertwines with mine, and he holds them pressed against his chest. So damn sexy.
The beat slows, and I press my cheek to the smooth cotton of his shirt. “What’s this one?”
“‘Listen to Me’ by Buddy Holly.”
I snort a laugh. “How much did you pay them?”
Max chuckles and spins me around the dance floor. His hand massages its way up my bare back with firm, gentle strokes. My muscles relax into his warm caress until his questing fingers dive into the side of my dress to fondle the curve of my breast. I stiffen in his arms.
“Bad Max. I’m wearing the jacket to assuage your overly jealous nature, not so you can surreptitiously feel me up.”
“You can’t show me something all night, baby, and not expect I’ll want to touch.” His fingers slide farther into my dress and brush over my nipple. I gasp and try to pull away.
Max holds me tight and leans down, covering my mouth with his own, drowning my moan of displeasure. Or is it pleasure? I can’t tell. His lips move, easing mine apart, and he kisses me, deep and tender. “Shhh, baby.”
“I’ll shhh when you stop being naughty.”
“Can’t. You’re wearing a naughty dress. All I can think about is getting inside it.” To emphasize his point, he slides his hand down my back and inside my dress to cup my bottom. He gives my ass cheek a squeeze and runs his finger along the inside of my thong before giving it a tug. “Don’t need this.”
“I do need it. I am not going commando at a swanky party.”
“You won’t be wearing it by the end of the night,” he rasps in my ear. “I promise you that.” He squashes my hips against him and his arousal presses into my belly, sending tiny shivers of need down my spine.
The band plays yet another old tune, and Max easily catches the beat. The music is not as bad as I thought, especially with Max caressing me into a frenzy of lust under his jacket.
He croons along with Sinatra, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. My body thrums with desire and the painful pleasure of unfulfilled need.
“You’re in the mood for fighting,” I correct him, when he pauses to take a break after the famous first line. “You’ve decided to throw away the opportunity to get Makayla out of her dress so you can indulge in a late-night pissing contest with Doctor Drake. I have to work tomorrow. There’ll be no loving for you.”
“Sassy girl. It works both ways. Do you really want to spend the night alone?” He feathers kisses along my jaw. I roll my eyes and pretend flames of need are not licking through my body.
“I have a Rabbit.”
Max freezes and thrusts me away from him, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”
What did I just say? I take a little trip down memory lane. I do not like where I arrive. My hand whips over my mouth. NO. I did NOT just say that. Please, please, please let it not be true.
Max’s eyelids lower to half-mast and he licks his lips. “We’ll go to Redemption. I’ll deal with Drake. Then we’ll go to your place and play with your Rabbit.”
I did say it. “Uhhhhgh.” My voice catches in my throat. “I don’t…you know—”
“You do now.” His voice is warm, rich, and filled with promise.
“Can’t you just forget about Doctor Drake?” I murmur. “We could go to my place—”
“He challenged me. I don’t turn down a challenge. This is who I am, baby. I’m a fighter.”
I stroke my hand along his jaw, trying to ease his tension. “It isn’t who you are. You are so much more. I don’t want you to fight with him. Please. Just walk away. Come home with me.”
He shakes his head and draws my hand away. “Don’t do this. Don’t ask me to choose.”
My heart sinks, weighted down by his unspoken words. If forced to choose, he won’t choose me.
***
An hour later, I huddle in the backseat of the limo outside Redemption. Despite Max’s best efforts, I refuse to go inside. If not for the fact it is impossible to get a cab at this time of night, I would not even be here.
Lewis turns around and holds up a flask. I shake my head. I might be patching up two morons tonight. I’ll need a clear head to treat them, and my wits about me to scold them.
My phone buzzes and I take a call from Dr. Drake. He isn’t coming. Big emergency at the hospital. He sends his regrets. Hooray! I might get some loving tonight after all.
I race into the club and find Max shadowboxing in the practice ring. His fight shorts cling to the curve of his ass, and his back glistens with sweat. I catch the fresh, lemon scent of cleanser and raw musk of hot, sweaty male.
“He’s not coming.”
Max shakes his head and jabs at the wall. His muscles ripple and swell as he lands each imaginary punch. Maybe he didn’t hear me.
“Doctor Drake isn’t coming,” I yell. “He was called to the hospital to consult on an emergency heart surgery.”
He lowers his arms and turns to face me. “Do you believe him?”
“Yes. If he wanted out, he would have thought up an excuse that wouldn’t be so easy for me to check when I go to work tomorrow.”