Full Contact (Redemption #3)(28)

With a groan, I fist his shirt in my hands and pull him toward me. Ray’s hand drops, his mouth finds mine, and then we’re kissing with a fierce intensity that takes my breath away. Tongues tangle and clash, lips bruise, teeth nip. His hands glide over my body, but when he pushes up my T-shirt, I freeze. And in that moment, Ray’s hands become Luke’s hands, his fingers cold and brutal as he shoves up my shirt. A violent tremble shakes my body. There’s a reason I’ve never let any of my boyfriends undress me, but it’s been so long since I let someone else take control, I had forgotten why.

“Sia?”

“I…thought I heard someone outside.” Cringing inwardly at the lie, I place my hands over his and tug up my shirt, hoping that if we do it together, the PTSD will go away. “As you were,” I say, mocking a frown. But Ray has been watching me too intently to fall for that kind of trick.

“I hurt you.”

“No.” I almost shout the word, terrified he’ll turn into another Charlie or James, so afraid of hurting me that they treated me like I was made of glass.

From the set of his mouth, I can tell he doesn’t believe me, and when he takes a step back, a sob wells up in my throat. Why can’t I be like everyone else? Why can’t I have what I want without the past getting in the way?

Maybe he just needs some encouragement.

Closing the distance between us, I slide my hands over his chest, and around his neck pulling him down so I can run my tongue along the seam of his lips. He groans and slants his mouth over mine, his kiss warm and deep and filled with passion.

“You wanting something, beautiful girl?” Ray grinds the steel of his erection against my stomach as I nuzzle his neck, breathing in his scent, tasting sex on his skin.

“You. I want you.”

Ray covers my hand with his and draws it down, over his chest, skimming the taut muscles of his stomach, past his belt, to the bulge in his jeans that has grown significantly since the last time I looked. He squeezes my hand around his shaft, so hard I can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt, and whispers, “Bite.”

So I do. I sink my teeth into the tender flesh at the join of his neck and shoulder blade, just a little nip.

Ray groans. “Harder.”

Swallowing hard, I bite harder. His cock stiffens beneath my palm, and his obvious arousal almost makes me come right then.

He pants his breaths, and I curl one arm around his neck, pressing my chest against him, and bite so hard my teeth pierce his skin.

“Jesus f*cking Christ.” Ray rips himself away with a shout that echoes through the studio, and I am at once shocked by his outburst and mortified by my behavior, and the tang of blood on my tongue.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve never done that before. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I babble my apology, stumbling back until I hit my chair, and then I freeze. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

A curious expression flickers across his face. Self-loathing? Disgust? But it disappears so fast, I wonder if I’ve imagined it. He scrubs a hand over his face as if to wash away the sight of me. “’S’okay. My fault. I shouldn’t have…”

But, clearly, it’s not okay. What the hell was I thinking? This is the side of me that got me into trouble in the first place. Sia the thrill seeker. Sia the danger queen. Sia who has always wanted it rough and dirty and didn’t learn her lesson the first time. Tag is right. Ray isn’t the right guy for me, although not for the reasons he said. He’s the kind of guy who makes me lose control, and that’s not something I can do. Control is how I survived after Luke. Control over my life. Control over my emotions. Control over the men I chose to be with. But with Ray, control is just so damn hard, because the more he takes, the more I want to give.

“Lights are going out in the gym.” I gesture to the door. “They’re closing up for the night. You should probably get going.” I draw in a ragged breath and will him to leave before I break down. “Rampage will be waiting. He offered to take me home.”

“Rampage. Okay.” He nods, but he doesn’t move.

“I just have to pack up my equipment and put it in the autoclave. You don’t have to stick around.”

I imagine he flinches the tiniest bit at my awkward dismissal, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“Going out of town again tomorrow.” A pained expression crosses his face. “Might not make it back for the fight on Friday.”

Pleaseleavepleaseleavepleaseleave. Can this get more awkward?

“I probably won’t make it anyway.” I straighten the ink caps on the tray, grateful for an excuse to keep my eyes averted. “We’re booked solid for the next few weeks, and I’m doing overtime because I need the extra work.”

When I look up into the silence, his face has smoothed to an expressionless mask.

“Got it.”

My stomach churns as he grabs his shirt and tugs it over his head. The tat on his shoulder has got to hurt, but if it bothers him, he gives no sign.

Still, I can’t leave him with just an outline. I am a professional, after all, and although it will be incredibly awkward to see him again, I want to finish his ink. “Whenever you want me to finish up your tat, just call Rose. I’ll tell her to squeeze you in.”

“Sure.” He turns and walks toward the door, eating up the fancy marble tile with easy strides of his long legs.