Sweet Abduction (10 page)

“Thank you,” Leah says quietly just before we get back to the house.

Later that night, I bed down on the couch with just a lumpy pillow and a sheet. I hear George move through the house heading to the kitchen, and he sees me and comes over, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Comfy?”

Not hardly. The couch isn’t near long enough and my feet stick off the end. When I helped Emily with her furniture shopping, it never occurred to me to get her a couch that I could sleep on. I grit my teeth, thinking of Leah tucked into the king-sized bed in my room. She’s probably sleeping like a baby.

“Very comfy,” I growl. “Thanks for asking.”

“Both Em and I really like Leah. She’s feisty. Her daddy was the same way. Real ass-kicker. That’s probably why he didn’t get a second term. Because he wasn’t political.”

“I’m pretty sure no one’s ever called Leah an ass-kicker.”

He points to his head. “It’s the red hair. If you wanted a woman you could boss around, you shoulda married a brunette.”

Great. Just what I need. Marriage advice from the man who married the only girl he ever kissed.

“Well, I’m sorta stuck now.”

He laughs at this, so hard that his shoulders shake. I’m sure he loves the idea that Leah’s giving me hell. He doesn’t even care what the reason is, not that I’d tell him. He just loves that my ass is out on the couch and it’s because some hundred and nine pound woman told me how it was going to be.

“I’m just giving you a bad time, Riley. Leah’s a cutie-pie. I’m glad you’ve found someone who’s not afraid to stand up to you.”

“Leah’s clearly not afraid.”

“What does she think about your fighting?”

“She hates it.”

“Good girl. Like her even more. Need a blanket or anything?” he offers.

A blanket is not what I need. What I need is to be in my bed. With Leah. Anything less than that is going to mean a shit night of sleep. I’m tired of being around her and not being able at least be able to hold her or touch her.

I sigh with irritation. “No blanket. I’m good.”

“All right then. Good night, son.”

“G’night, Pops.”

Leah

The next morning I get up early and help Emily with breakfast. She doesn’t believe in cereal or something simple for the most important meal of the day. No, it’s eggs, sausage, and biscuits. I pour a cup of coffee, black, the way Riley likes it, and head into the den to see if I can rouse him.

Riley is sprawled on the couch, dwarfing it with his immense frame. He sleeps in a pair of pajama bottoms that hug his narrow waist. His chest is bare and this is the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt. Ever. The expanse of his chest invites my touch and I want nothing more than to caress him and trace the grooves of his abs.

Everything about him demonstrates power and strength. When he moves he has the grace of a cat. Even though he’s big, his motions are fluid and graceful. He sleeps with one arm over his head. His jaw is stubbled with a short beard and he looks dangerous even though he’s sleeping. I know he’s mad at me and I worry that he’s going to give me grief. Suddenly, waking him doesn’t seem like a good idea.

Yesterday I tossed him out of his own room. And I slapped him. I was angry. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life and don’t really approve of smacking people, but Riley knows how to push my buttons.

His eyes open and he stares at me while a growl rumbles through his chest.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask.

“No.”

I bite my lip and let my gaze wander down his body. He doesn’t look comfortable. Not at all. I should have offered to be the one sleeping on the couch.

“I don’t want to sleep with you before the fight,” I tell him. The idea of staying away from women before a fight seemed like pure superstition, but now that I watch him prepare for a fight, superstition sounds just fine to me. I’m in. Totally. I’ll do anything to have his last fight end well.

We eat breakfast together in the big sunny breakfast room. The walls are filled with photographs of Riley, starting when he was in middle school. He scowls in all the early pictures, glares into the camera as if daring the photographer to suggest he smile. The older pictures show a different story. In those images, he’s smiling. A few are from football, one is of him reeling in a fish, and one is with Emily and George at the Grand Canyon.

Emily and George are so sweet together and touch each other often, clasping each other’s hands or patting each other on the knees. I can’t help but smile when I look at them and the way they light up around Riley. I imagine they made the perfect home for Riley. Where would he be if they hadn’t extended a hand to him?

“You ready for your last fight,” George asks Riley as we finish up breakfast.

I notice the look on Emily’s face. She flushes and excuses herself from the table to take care of dishes. When I make a move to rise, she shakes her head, but I follow her anyway.

“I just can’t stand to listen to him talk about his fighting.” She rinses off the dishes.

“This is his last fight.” I sound like I’m defending him or something. Or acting like the fighting is fine by me, but I can’t stand the look of misery on her face because I know just how she feels.

“Thank God. I worry about his headaches. He went to the doctor but he said he needs to see a specialist or something.”

I’m returning juice and milk back to the fridge and come to a stop.

Emily gives me a look and something in her eyes tells me not to press the issue. To my surprise, she goes on.

“I think it would kill George if something happened to Riley,” she murmurs.

I hear George and Riley get up from the table and go out to the garage. George had been talking about an engine he wanted to lower back into a 1970 Mustang. Apparently they work on the car when Riley comes down to visit.

I hear them laughing out in the garage and a moment later music drifts into the house. Country western music. My mind can’t wrap around the idea of Riley listening to that. He was always a fan of older hard metal and tortured my eardrums with Metallica and AC/DC all the way to Vermont.

“He’s not fighting after this,” I tell her. “I made him promise.”

Emily smiles. “I’m just so glad to see him settling down. He’d told us plenty about you of course, but we never knew he was ready to pop the question. He said that after the fight you two will have a proper wedding with a reception.”

I school my features into a look of agreement. A moment ago Emily almost gave me a heart attack when she mentioned Riley’s headaches, but now my emotions flip and I’m furious that Riley has told this poor, sweet lady that he and I are going to have some fabulous wedding one day.

I’m also having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that he’s been talking about me to Emily and George. That little bit of information makes me happy for about two seconds and then I’m back to thinking he’s promising them a wedding. A big wedding.

Excusing myself from the kitchen I head out to the garage so I can talk to my better half. When I push out the door, George looks up from what he’s doing, and I suppose he can tell I’m on a mission because he mutters something about needing to look for something inside.

Riley stands by a car that has its hood open. He wipes his hands on a rag. His white teeth contrast with the stubble on his face. “S’up?”

I cross the garage and after glancing over the project they’re working on, I fold my arms across my chest.

“Emily says you need to see a specialist?”

He shrugs. “So? You worried about me or something?”

“Tell me about that.”

“They think I get headaches from four to six-hour workouts. That’s all.”

I squint as I study his features, wondering if he’s telling me the truth. I’m not sure if I trust him entirely. He’s good at leaving out important parts.”

“Are you in danger?”

“Of what?”

“Fighting this last fight.”

“Every fight is dangerous.”

“Then why don’t you quit now?”

“I want twenty-one wins.”

His smile has vanished and he’s giving me a resolute look, lips thin, jaw set and eyes unwavering. I might as well be arguing with a tree stump. Even though he’s giving me a no-nonsense look I want to reach up and run my fingers through his hair and pull him down to a kiss. This man makes me feel a hundred different emotions in less than ten seconds.

He sees the need in my eyes and takes me by the hand, leading me around the corner to a workshop. There he kisses me, pulling me hard against him. His hands cup my ass and I push hard against his erection. When he grabs my hips and sets me on the table, I cry out in surprise. His kiss muffles most of the noise. I listen for George to return but he doesn’t but I can’t help feeling Riley and I are like two kids sneaking around his parents.

Nuzzling my neck, he speaks softly, “Why did you come out to the garage?”

“I don’t remember.”

He laughs and pulls me to the edge of the table, so his cock is pressed against me intimately. I imagine George coming back and when I squirm, Riley growls his approval.

“No, Riley. Let me go.”

He grabs a fist full of my hair with a force that’s new. The tension in his fist tugs at my hair, stopping just a degree away from painful. The look in his eyes is fierce and I can feel his piercing gaze ripple across my skin. Positioning me where he wants me, he whispers, “Let you go?”

A brush of his lips across mine sparks fierce need deep inside me.

“Never, Leah. You’re mine.”

Riley

The house is quiet when I return from the pre-fight press conference. Usually, the housekeepers are gone by the time dinner is tidied up and that means I’m used to coming home to an empty house. Not tonight. Leah is somewhere and my breathing changes as I search the downstairs.

Sometimes she reads in the den but she’s not there. She likes to work in my study so she can use my computer, but the study is empty. Miranda’s ivory stationery catches my eye. The letter sits in the middle of the desk which tells me Leah has read her stepmother’s rant. It’s a wall of text, a list of all the things Leah will lose if she doesn’t annul our marriage.

The goodies include but aren’t limited to the beach house in the Florida Keys, the penthouse in New York, and some other properties.

The letter was addressed to me and made me smile. I fucking loved to see Miranda unraveling. I know she’d never hand over one dime of the estate unless she could somehow benefit.

Leah’s schooling was top-notch because anything less would be a black mark against the family’s name. Leah’s cars and clothes had to be the very best for the same reason. Everything is arranged to bring glory to the Mathews family and especially Dane. Miranda probably expects to be named Vice President one day. It will be the Mathews and Mathews ticket.

I tuck the letter back into the envelope and toss it aside. When I go upstairs, I see the light on in her bedroom. Knocking softly, I imagine her lying in bed asleep, but there’s an answer and I let myself in.

Her room has a sitting area by the windows and I find her curled up like a cat, leaning her head against the armrest at the end of the couch. She’s in a gown and her hair is cast about her. A moment ago she was asleep and she blinks and stretches.

She waited up for me. I know she wanted to go to the press conference, but I didn’t want her there. Those circuses are filled with rough men and testosterone and swagger. I want to shield her from that part of my life. I know she worries about me and what I do. I used that to get her to agree to the marriage. But there was another reason I didn’t want her there. I don’t want those people to see her or know anything about her. She’s my angel and my good luck and everything I want.

I cross the room and she makes a move to stand, but I coax her back down to the couch. “No.”

She sinks back and looks up at me with wide, curious eyes. I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around her, resting my head between her breasts. I can hear her breath, her heartbeat and when she threads her fingers through my hair, I hear the soft murmur that slips from her lips.

Since she’s been in my house, I’ve felt restless, and easily aggravated. Ivan pisses me off every day and when I spar, I knock the guy on his ass in seconds. I feel ready to explode. Tonight Vronsky started talking smack about me, saying it’s time for me to retire and settle down and let the younger men have some glory.

When I responded I told the press that Vronsky needed to learn math. I’m only fifteen months older than him. I suggested he needed to go back to school. Then I offered to buy him a calculator. The press loved that and laughed even harder when I promised to teach him what the numbers meant. The man’s a beast but I’m more dangerous. I promised to knock him out in seconds and he stated an offer made by one of his countrymen, to double the purse if he sends me to the hospital.

After the press conference, Vronsky came up to me to throw out a few more threats. He said that he’d keep my pretty wife company while I recovered from the fight. He must know something about me staying away from her, probably because Ivan’s all about celibacy before a fight. Vronsky went on to say he’d be happy to break Leah in for me.

Wrong thing to say. Now I need to not just beat him but I need to teach him a lesson in respect. There’s a difference between trash talking and threatening family members. That’s the way these things go. A ton of shit talking. I used to love it, but tonight all I wanted was to be back here with my girl. I’d rather spar with her than anyone else.

One more night. That’s all. Now it’s just a waiting game.

I draw in a deep breath and the tension rolls off my body. She always makes me feel better. Safe harbor in a storm. But she makes me need to fuck her as much as I need my next breath. Her fingers work their magic on me. A shudder of pleasure makes me groan.

Rising to my feet, I lift her in my arms. She’s small and delicate and melts into my hold. I walk to her bed and she looks into my eyes. Wondering. Questioning if I’m going to press to sleep with her. But I won’t. Not because I don’t want to but because of Vronsky’s words about going after Leah.

It’s funny how when someone tries to tear you down or hurt you, they just help narrow your focus. I’m entering my fight zone. It’s the space in my head where all I think about is what I face. The cage is my universe. I’ve never been afraid in the ring. Not once, and I’m not afraid now. Not even close. But for the first time I have something I can’t lose.