Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) (5 page)

“Alcohol
does
have the power to make everything hurt a bit less,” I agree. Wrapping my arms around myself, I offer him a smile. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days,” he answers, shrugging. His splayed fingers pass through his thick hair. “Nothing could’ve prepared my family for this kind of shit.”

“It’s unimaginable. You have my deepest sympathies, all of you. I just wish there was more I could do for your lot. I imagine the ongoing investigation will wear you down over time.”

“You want to know what I think?” He steps closer, encasing me in a musky, sandalwood scent. It’s lovely, but it does nothing for me the way the sweaty, raw scent of James did. Head titled to the side, Hunter’s eyes dance when he flashes a dimpled smile. “You’ve already done
plenty.”

I fall back a step. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ev said you’re the first person she’s ever seen talk James down from one of his moods. When your name comes up or he catches Braden flirting with you, he gets surlier than usual. And last night when I asked Katie if you were single, he said he was going to Cupp’s and stormed out of the room.” Closing the distance between us, he laughs and shakes his head about. “I’ve never seen anything like it. My brother’s a hard nut to crack. You must’ve cast some kind of spell on him because I’ve never seen him act this way before.”

As I’m wracking my brain for some sort of a reply, deciding if I should tell him to bugger off or delve more into his brother’s history, his eyes flash to something over my shoulder and he laughs. “Speak of the devil, here he is!”

First I hear the dull thud of footsteps on the outdated linoleum floor, then James is suddenly at my side, casting a colossal shadow of severity. It’s difficult to ignore how fit the dark gray suit, crisp oxford, and black tie make him. Jaw freshly shaven and hair neatly combed down, I have to remind myself the poor bloke just finished burying his dad, so I won’t leap into his arms. Yet there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop the longing from climbing up into my throat, making my body heady for more of James Kendall. I’m unable to miss the flash of jealousy that flickers through his stormy gaze when he glances between me and his twin.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Just taking a moment to sort out the differences between you and your other half,” I say, reaching up to stroke his thick arm. He withdraws a little beneath my touch. Whether it’s because he’s angry, confused, regretful, or whatever the reason, I don’t care. Knowing he needs someone to show him that he doesn’t have to carry everyone else’s burdens as his own, I wrap my arm around his waist and nestle myself against his hard frame in a way that hopefully appears nothing more than friendly to anyone watching. “Have you had anything to eat or drink since this morning?”

The thick tongue that had me soaking my knickers days ago appears to wet his dry lips. Though he becomes notably less rigid, the tempest in his eyes refuses to clear. “Don’t worry about me.”

“The girl clearly
wants
to worry about you, bro,” Hunter tells him, snickering. “No one ever said you had to be the guardian of the family.” He claps his brother on the arm and steps away. “I’m off to gather the guys and head out. We’ll meet you up at the bar.”

Looking up into James’s hardened gaze, my heart staggers with unsteady beats. I regret not stepping forward the past couple of days and forcing him to let me in past his stony exterior straightaway. He’s merely lost in the chaos that followed after having his family’s cornerstone unceremoniously ripped from their lives. He simply needs a gentle reminder that it’s okay not to be in control of everything, that it’s okay to let go and feel the raw burn of pain every once in awhile.

“Your somewhat skewed mirror image is absolutely right,” I say once we’re alone. “Let down the fortress you’ve built around yourself and let me storm the castle while I’m here. What can I do for you, James? How can I make it hurt a little less?”

When his eyebrows draw together, I’m struck with a nagging desire to curl up inside his embrace and make the rest of the world disappear. There isn’t a thing I wouldn't give to see the rare, rather bashful smile I’ve been given the privilege of seeing only a few times before.

The tension is palpable when he bends his head down and nudges my chin back with his hand. I stutter on a sharp breath, anticipating what’s to come as I steady myself on his thick hip. The intoxicating scent of clean-shaven James surrounds me with a cloud of lust.

I close my eyes when his warm, thick lips brush over the skin below my ear. “The things you can do for me can’t be done inside a church,” he whispers.

With a quiet moan, my throat and my vagina contract tightly in a move that would make synchronized swimmers envious.
“Please
tell me it’s possible for it to be done in a hotel room, no matter how tacky the decor may be.”

James pulls away without any sort of answer. When I open my eyes, he’s moving back toward the reception area with a hurried gait that would suggest he can’t get away soon enough. How could I have
possibly
misread his suggestion? A shameful pang of rejection fills me.

Then he looks over his shoulder with a dark look that takes my breath away. “Meet me by my truck in ten minutes.”

That’s
more like it.

Evelyn is so caught up in everything that she doesn’t think to ask
how
when I let her know I’m stopping by the hotel and will meet them at the bar. Not that the town is too big nor are my heels too high that I couldn’t walk the mile or what have you, but I believe her head’s still spinning from watching them lower her last surviving parent into the ground.

As I’m sitting beside James in his large pickup truck nearly fifteen minutes later, practically hugging the door so he won't be forced to answer any unwanted questions of anyone who spots us, I war with my conscience that reminds me he’s still in mourning. How much of what we’re doing will he come to regret later on? What’s to say he won’t storm out of the hotel room once more? Then again, why do I care? The sex was phenomenal and well worth the threat of rejection.

Following James’s lead, I don’t say a word on the short ride, nor do I open my mouth to say we should stop when we’re outside the hotel and he comes around to open my door. I don’t utter a sound until we’re inside my utterly minuscule room, surrounded once more by the dreadfully outdated patterns of cheap bedding and polyester curtains. The only logical fix to the decor would seem to be a torch and a bulldozer. I anxiously glance at the small bed, wondering how James and I could both possibly fit if he decided to stay the night.

Hearing the chain on the door, I look up to see James stalking toward me like a feral beast, shedding his suit jacket before unbuttoning his oxford along the way. I release a quiet squeal of surprise when my back hits the wall. All at once I’m made breathless by the variety of emotions swirling through his eyes as they devour me. Square jaw tense, broad shoulders straight and back, tongue wetting his thick lips, he’s ready to attack.

Bloody hell, how I adore the brusque, savage side of this man who has already shown me exactly what’s been absent from my life. When he releases his belt buckle and yanks down the zipper, letting his dress pants drop to the floor, I know I’m in for the shagging of a lifetime and can’t get my dress and undergarments off quickly enough. My knickers are still hooked on one foot and my heels are still in place when he hoists me into the air and slams me into the wall before sealing his hot mouth over mine.

I wrap myself around him and bury my fingers in his lush hair, meeting every stroke of his demanding tongue and strong lips. He tastes like the best kind of combination of danger and goodness all wrapped together in a confusing bundle of lust. Filled with his manly scent, the stale odor of the old hotel room all at once disappears. Heaven knows how on earth I’ll kiss another man again without comparing it to this moment, without remembering the way he sends an eager hand up to flick my nipple while the other digs into my bare bum like he’s claiming me as his prize. I release a gasp inside his mouth before sucking his tongue with all I’ve got.

There’s so much barbarity behind his end of the kiss that before long, my head is spinning about. Only mentally, of course. But James is relentless. He doesn’t stop, once again releasing the beast lying dormant within. I reach down between us to stroke his hard length over his boxer-briefs, finding it as strained and angry as James himself.

“Let yourself
feel this
,” I whisper. “Let me take on some of your burden.”

With my coaxing, it’s as if his resolve has literally broken and he loses every last bit of control. His mouth and hands are everywhere at once with no promise of being gentle or stopping any time soon. On my lips, in my hair, on my breasts, between my legs, biting my neck, bruising and hard. He even breaks the clasp on my string of pearls, sending them scattering to the floor. It’s the most erotic moment of my lifetime. So much that I swear my skin is literally consumed in fire, singeing against my bones.

Before I can process anything, he literally
growls
against my mouth and enters me with a ferocity so grand that I’m unable to make a sound when I gasp for air. I’m incapable of doing anything beyond sinking my fingers into the corded muscles of his fit body and holding on for dear life while he thrusts into me again and again, fucking me senseless.

Despite the chill to the airless hotel room, our bodies become slick with sweat as they slap together and the strong musk of James amplifies my already wanton desire. The beast inside peering out from those warm, brown eyes clearly wants more than I can give, though I do my best to please and match its hunger. The grand build of pleasure is divine against my neglected clit, and I break apart like a vase thrown against a wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces beyond repair.

I’m completely dependent on his powerful arms to hold me up as I collapse, shivering against his hard chest as he continues his torturous pace, too blind with want to understand the need to become gentle. Then,
finally
with a deep grunt, his hips meet mine for one final thrust before his rigid body softens and he practically collapses on top of me, trapping me against the wall. The moment I feel a trickle of warmth filling me, my heart nearly gives way with a stunning realization too potent to ignore.

I haven’t bothered with birth control since I sent my ex packing.

And neither of us stopped to think about a condom.

Bloody hell.

O
nce I’m
able to catch my breath and blink past the dark spots hovering behind my eyelids, the complexity of everything comes into focus. I’d never set my dark side loose on a woman like that. I normally reserve that shit for the ring, where it belongs. But Sharlo somehow lured it out, allowing me to transfer every misplaced feeling of aggression on her instead of letting it fester. Something about the gorgeous little blonde ball of fire makes me feel more alive and free than I’ve ever felt wearing a pair of boxing gloves. And damn it, the burn was sensational.

“Let me down,” she says, her face suddenly pale. I feel her quivering in my arms. She’s so upset she can’t even look at me. I’m a goddamned
monster.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask, carefully placing her back on her feet.

She slips away to the bathroom without answering, closing the door with a soft
click
. I fist my hair and look down, ready to throttle myself for losing all control on someone like her. Then the sight of my half-hard dick in the wild, drizzled with cum, shoots a bolt of fear down my spine.

Motherfucker.
I wasn’t seeing straight when I rammed into her like a caveman. Hearing the sound of the shower churns my stomach. The last time we were together she mentioned she wasn’t interested in having sex without a condom. What if she isn’t on birth control? I was so caught up in my own world that I didn’t once stop to think about the sweet girl I was using for my warped pleasure.

I grab a few tissues off the sink-top and clean myself before getting dressed. The sight of the clothes I wore to Dad’s funeral, rumpled in a pile on the floor has the effect of a hard blow to the stomach. I’ve managed to make the shittiest day of my life even worse, something I won’t ever be able to forget.

As I’m throwing my coat on, Sharlo comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her damp body, dry hair secured behind her head.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I wasn’t thinking.”

A forced smile surfaces when she catches my weary glance. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Clearly neither of us were thinking properly.”

“But it’s my responsibility. And it still will be my responsibility if you get pregnant. I wouldn’t let you raise the kid on your own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This was nothing more than a good time. And it’s not a viable option to co-parent with someone who lives light-years beyond the subway route.”

Until this moment, it never occurred to me how much I want children. I figured I’d have a family eventually if I ever found the right woman and didn’t put much thought into it otherwise. The idea of her denying me the right to my kid, even if this
was
a fling, creates a tight band across my chest.

“We’d figure something out,” I say.

“It’s too soon for this sort of conversation, yeah? The little nugget would hardly be a living thing this early on.” She tightens the towel under her arms and pulls her shoulders back. “Please, give me a moment of privacy while I hide any evidence of what just transpired. Your sister’s a clever one and will have questions. If it’s all the same to you, I’ve had enough drilling for one day.”

A small swell of anger surges inside my gut as I cross my arms, unwilling to sweep the subject under the rug. But she moves over to open the door, tapping her bare foot against the thin carpet, leaving no room for any more argument.

“Off you go, then. I’ll be down before long.”

I close the distance between us, unable to stop myself from caressing the smooth skin on her cheeks. Though her jaw remains hard, her eyes close and she leans into my touch. She’s far from being someone fragile in need of protection, but the constant defender in me screams that I need to take care of her all the same. And I managed to fuck that up by acting like a selfish bonehead.

When I bend down, her lips part with a silent sigh before meeting mine for a slow, meaningful kiss. My cock hardens when she reaches up to twist her fingers in my hair and pushes her soft body against mine. There’s nothing I’d like more than to make gentle love to her all night, but I’ve already done enough damage and she made it sound like what we did was meaningless to her, so I pull away. Her eyes are still closed when I mutter, “I’ll be waiting in the truck.”

* * *

A
s the subdued
bar attempts to celebrate Dad’s life with his favorite Johnny Cash tunes blasting from the jukebox, Sharlo carries on like nothing happened between us, capturing the attention of every dick within swinging distance just by being her cheerful self. Though I’d like to knock every single one of the pricks on their ass for even giving her the time of day, I sulk behind a pitcher of beer instead, watching her from a bar stool. When the second one is gone, I tap it against the bar top.

Patsy, the bar’s long-time manager, appears with her hands on her hips. I’m grateful to see her eyes narrowed skeptically. It beats the dopey, sympathy-filled looks I’ve been getting all day. “I know you’re hurtin', hun, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you drink this much. Are you sure you don't want to take it easy?”

Someone claps me on the back so hard that I almost reel around to take a swing at them.

“Six shots of Jose, Pats!” Asher hollers at her, taking the empty stool at my side. The dickhead looks completely out of place in a dress shirt and pressed pants instead of the usual jeans and rock band T-shirt he wears when serving drinks. Meeting my hardened gaze, he pats my arm. “You look like you could use it, buddy.”

“No shots for me,” I insist, shaking my head.

“It’s for
Dad,”
Braden says, moving in on my other side. “It wouldn’t be right if we didn’t salute him with his favorite.”

“You’re not twenty-one,” I remind him before pressing my lips tight.

“Like that ever stopped
you?”
Hunter asks from over my shoulder.

As Patsy pours tequila into six shot glasses on the bar in front of me, I grumble to myself. I’m going to have one hell of a headache in the morning. The shots are handed out to my best friend and brothers, as well as Charlie, who hands me the last one.

Asher holds his shot glass high. “To Frank Kendall, one hell of a father, friend, and mentor. You’ll be sorely missed, buddy. This town will never be the same without you.”

The other guys answer with an “Amen” and other agreeable cheers. Moisture stings my eyes as I clink glasses with a couple of the guys before chugging the searing liquid down. I swipe the sixth drink off the bar and slug it down too, welcoming the warm glow in my gut.

“That was
Dad’s,”
Braden says quietly, sounding as if I just kicked a puppy.

When I discover the others staring at me with the same kind of disbelief as my little brother, I shrug. “Not like he can
drink
it.”

“That was a
dick
thing to say,” he snaps, slamming his empty glass on the bar. “Stop acting like the world owes you a favor! You’re not the only one who buried their dad today, jackass!”

“No, but me and Hunter are the only ones who stuck around to make sure he was taken care of,” I answer. “Unlike everyone else in this family, we didn’t do the selfish thing by moving as far away as possible.”

“Come on, JD,” Asher says, pulling on my arm. “Don’t be starting that shit tonight.”

I shrug him off as Braden leans over me, nostrils flaring. He’s big enough to be in my weight class and the little shit has enough spirit to put up a good fight. “If you have a problem with me signing up to protect this country, then say it to my face!”

Anger at myself sears my veins. I
don’t
have a problem with him fighting for our country—in fact I’m even prouder of him than Dad ever was—and I never should’ve implied that. But I welcome the surge of adrenaline that comes with the idea of fighting my cocky little brother who thinks he has the entire world by its horns. I stand suddenly, sending the bar stool to the floor with a loud
thunk,
and meet him eye-to-eye. “Let’s take this outside and see what you’ve got,
tough guy!”

As Braden and I stand ready to go, the song ends and the place becomes silent as everyone watches on. Hunter wedges his way in-between us, eyes narrowed with a stern look. “Not the time nor the place for this, brother. Everyone’s here to honor Dad.”

I shake my head slowly in warning, jaw clenched and hands clenched at my sides. “Step back. This doesn’t involve you.”

“You’re wrong!” he answers, shoving my chest with both hands. “This involves all of us! He’s
family,
James! The same family you’re always bending over fucking backwards to protect! We all know you’re pissed that someone murdered Dad and we know you like to punch things to make yourself feel better, but this isn’t the way you do it! Especially not today!”

I flinch with the feel of small fingers wrapping around my wrist.
“James,”
Sharlo pleads in a patient but stern tone. I turn to face her. The simple act of looking into her mesmerizing blue eyes softens the hard ball wound tight inside my gut. “The only one kicking any ass tonight will be me if you don’t come along for a breath of fresh air.”

That confusing feeling I get whenever she’s around makes a comeback, transforming every irrational thought inside my head into a white fuzz. Gazing into her ocean-colored stare, tension falls from my body like a snake shedding its skin. When my shoulders relax and I inhale a deep breath, her lips quirk with a smile as she slips her hand into mine. My gut coils tightly with her touch.

“Carry on, gentlemen,” she tells my brothers and Asher. They watch on with variations of parted lips and wide eyes as she pulls me toward the exit.

Outside the chill of the early spring evening greets us in a gust of wind. With a shiver, Sharlo drops my hand to wrap her arms around herself. My eyes drink in the curves underneath the black dress she’s been wearing all day and I suddenly want nothing more than to get her naked again. My balls throb with the idea.

“Eyes up here,” she sings, clearing her throat. When our gazes meet, she smiles in a way that makes her blue eyes sparkle underneath the bar door’s light. “Now then. I still may not know you from Bob at this point, but it’s abundantly clear you’re struggling with your dad’s death—as you
should
.
No one
should have to endure the grizzly sight of their parent having been stabbed to death. It breaks my heart whenever I wonder what it must be like for you, knowing his killer is still out there somewhere. It’s perfectly normal to be angry and hurt. That’s to be expected. But unless you’re in a
ring
with a
willing
opponent, you mustn’t resort to violence. It’s not okay to unleash your beast on your loved ones who are depending on you to help them through this.”

Eyebrows drawing together, I shake my head. “Unleash my
what?”

She steps forward to place a hand over my heart and then tilts her head back to look me in the eye again. “I truly wish I could stay and help you through this because it’s clear you need someone in your corner. But I’m flying out to California tomorrow to visit with my dad and I promised your sister I’d be there for Charlie’s first concert in LA on Tuesday. She’s going to need all the support she can get with all the dreadfully rabid paparazzi that will want an exclusive on your father’s murder. I’d suggest you put serious thought into either finding a therapist who can help you through this, or finding a way to isolate yourself long enough to
properly
work it out with your fists. At the rate you’re going, you’re bound to end arse-up in some random alley with missing teeth and a banged-up head.”

After all she said, the only thing I can focus on is the fact that she’s leaving. The only good thing to come along after losing my hero is going away. I’ve come to rely on the sight of her beautiful smile to pull me out of the darkness, the sound of her sweet voice to ease the pain. Once she’s gone, there won’t be anything to distract me from my sinister thoughts.

Sharlo tugs on my arm until I lean down enough for her to wrap herself around my neck in a warm embrace that somehow seems more intimate than just a hug. I snake one hand around her waist and the other inside her thick hair, pressing my fingers against the smooth, soft skin on her neck to hold her close. Though I’ve never been the touchy-feely type, something about having her in my arms feels natural. Like we are meant to somehow fit together.

Knowing I probably won’t have the chance to see her again for a long time, I relish in the feel of her soft breasts pushed into my chest, the steady flutter of her heart. I nuzzle my face into the sexy curve of her neck, committing her vanilla scent and the tickle of her silky hair on my face to memory. Wishing I had the courage to ask her to find a way to stay and to give me another chance, my arms tighten around her little frame instead. She clings to me in return, reigniting the constant pull I feel when she’s close.

“If you find out you’re pregnant, I’ll be there for you,” I whisper.

“Oh,
James,”
she sighs in a tone that sounds both pleading and desperate.

I pry her shaking shoulders back far enough to stare into the pacific blue depths of her gaze. My heart pounds so hard inside my chest that I’m sure she can feel it shaking my entire body. There’s so much I want to say—to thank her and apologize for fucking up, to ask her to return to the hotel one last time and tell her I don’t want this to end. But the words stick in my throat.