Kicker (DS Fight Club Book 1) (11 page)

Charlotte held her breath while she carefully placed the roasting pan into the oven. Tonight was the culmination of all her hard work with Em: Tig was coming over for dinner, a dinner she had prepared all by herself.

The phone rang, again, just as she put on the potatoes to boil, and she ignored it just as she had been doing for the previous three hours.

“I don’t have time to deal with you tonight, David,” Charlotte muttered to herself. “I’ve got to feed a fighter with a huge appetite.”

She set the timer, poured herself a glass of wine and sat down to rest for a few moments until the potatoes were ready. She had new respect for people who worked in kitchens. She could not imagine doing this day in and day out for hours at a time.

She was just warming milk and butter in a saucepan when her father burst into the apartment.

“Charlotte, why the hell aren’t you answering the phone?” he barked at her, startling Charlotte enough that she jerked the saucepan off the stove and splashed lukewarm sauce all over the front of her shirt. She shot him a hostile look but did not say anything, just proceeded to wipe off the front of her T-shirt and face.

David Markham stomped into the kitchen and jerked Charlotte’s arm. “Charlotte, answer me,” he demanded.

Charlotte looked at her father’s hand on her arm and then looked at him with an expression he had never, ever seen her wear.

“Excuse me? You don’t get to grab at me like that, ever,” Charlotte said, wrenching her arm out of David’s grip.

“And
you
, missy, you don’t make me come to your apartment to make sure you’re not dead.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Please, it’s been what, eighteen hours since I last spoke with you? I go
weeks
without talking to either of you if it suits you. You’re just mad because I’ve been ignoring you.”

When her father’s mouth dropped open with shock, it dawned on her how she had just spoken to him, and she realized that she just might not care if he was offended.

David took a deep breath and seemed to regain his normal, cool composure.

“I wanted to go over what’s going to happen on Sunday,”

Charlotte snorted. “Please. How long have I been going to these things? I’ll put on a suit and my best face, and I’ll smile and nod and talk to dirty old men about their investments while their wives pinch the waiters and get drunk, just like I have for the past eighteen years.”

“Charlotte Louisa Markham, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but . . . what on earth is that stench?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.” Charlotte snatched the now smoking pot of potatoes off the stovetop. “They’re ruined.”

“Charlotte, are you even listening to me?”

“No, I’m not. I’m trying to cook dinner.”

David stopped and looked at his daughter. “Why on earth are you doing that?”

“I’m learning how to cook. I need to do something well besides what I do for a living.”

“Why?”

“Just because I do, David. And now it’s ruined.”

“Just order in then.”

“But I was supposed to have someone over. . . .”

David waved her off. “If it was that important, you’d have Chef come and prepare everything early. This is no way to impress anybody.”

“You just don’t get it. I wanted to make dinner
myself
. It’s the
process
that’s important, David.”

“Well, apparently you can’t cook, so just get over it and move on. I just wanted to make sure that you were going to be there on Sunday, and on time.”

“Yes, David. I will be sure to be there at least twenty minutes early, appropriately dressed and with my best princess smile on my face,” Charlotte spat.

“Good. I’m glad that you aren’t being difficult about this,” David said, completely oblivious to Charlotte’s mood. He smiled at her and then patted her arm. “I’ll see you on Sunday, then.”

Charlotte stood in the kitchen in shock as she watched her father leave the apartment. She eyed the wine but then shook her head. It would not do any good to be drunk before Tig arrived. She scraped the scorched potatoes into the trash can, and after she surveyed the damage to the sauce pan, threw that in as well.

The timer went off for the oven and Charlotte inhaled deeply, then blew out the air. “Now it’s time for the moment of truth, Charlotte,” she said. “Let’s take a look.”

She peeked in the oven, barely opening the door. It smelled good at least. She took another deep breath, pulled the chicken out, and almost cried. The front half of the bird was not brown at all, and the top and back were burnt almost to the point of looking like charcoal.

And, of course, Tig rang the doorbell at that exact moment.

Charlotte looked forlornly at the chicken and then went to greet Tig.

When she opened the door, Tig greeted her with a big bouquet of mixed flowers and an even bigger smile. Charlotte immediately burst into tears.

“Charlotte, darlin’, what’s wrong?” Tig said gently as he stepped into the apartment.

“There’s no dinner,” she whispered.

“What, sweetheart?” He stepped closer to her so he could hear her soft words.

“The potatoes got burned to a crisp, and the chicken is both raw and burnt. It’s a nightmare.”

“Oh, honey,” Tig said, gathering a now sobbing Charlotte in his arms. He kissed her head and held her until he felt her calm down, and then he stepped back a half step and tilted her chin up so he could look in her eyes.

“Can I see?”

She nodded, and they walked into the kitchen together.

He looked at the chicken.
Yep, raw and burnt. That takes a special kind of talent.

“I think your stove needs to be calibrated.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to cook something if your stove is acting up.” Tig smiled gently at her, desperately hoping that his excuse would make her feel better.

When she did not say anything, Tig looked desperately around the apartment. The table
did
like nice, albeit a bit sterile, but that was the apartment in general. Tig still did not think that the apartment looked like Charlotte lived there.

“The table looks really pretty.”

“I hate it.”

“What?”

“I hate the table. I hate this apartment. I hate every piece of furniture in it except for my bed because I bought that myself. I hate it.” Charlotte felt some hysterical laughter bubbling up, trying to escape at her confession. “I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. David bought the apartment for me before I started my first job, saying it was appropriate for someone like his daughter. My mother decorated it. It was all set up when I got home from a cruise that I didn’t want to go on. And I’ve just been living here since, because . . . well, just because.”

“Well, why don’t you fuckin’ move, Charlotte?”

“I don’t know.”

Tig tossed his hat on the counter and leaned on his elbows. “Charlotte, look at me.” When he had her eyes, he smiled. “Is your name on the deed?”

“Yes.”

“Well, fuck. Sell this apartment and buy something else, something that you love. Hell, I bet your credit is perfect, isn’t it?”

Charlotte shrugged a shoulder.

“And I bet you’ve been putting fifteen percent or whatever people who don’t live paycheck to paycheck put into savings since you’ve been working—and probably bonuses, too. I bet you could buy something tomorrow, cash, could not you?”

Charlotte shrugged again, but a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, I see that smile, Charlotte. I bet you know exactly where you’d live, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Charlotte said in a tiny, quiet voice. “I might have bought furniture, too. That’s sitting in a storage unit that David doesn’t know I have.”

“Charlotte.” Tig’s voice and eyes softened. “Life’s too short to surround yourself with things you hate, and people that make you feel like you’re wanting.” He sighed and shook his head.

“I’m a coward,” Charlotte said quietly. “I’m thirty-six years old, and I’m still trying to please . . . well, just about everyone.”

“Well, cut that shit out,” Tig said, and he put his hat back on his head. “Pack a bag, girl.”

“What?”

“Pack a bag. We’re going to my place.”

“What . . . what should I pack?”

Tig shrugged. “Something to wear tomorrow. I like the way you smell, so bring some of whatever that stuff is because I sure as hell don’t want you smelling like my soap.”

Charlotte nodded, stunned, and walked into her bedroom. As she was packing a small quilted tote bag, she heard Tig call her name.

“Yeah, Tig?”

“Don’t bother packing pajamas, Charlotte; there’s not going to be any need for those tonight.”

Charlotte looked around Tig’s small studio apartment with interest because for all the time that they had been spending together, Tig did not really share a lot about himself. She did not think he was keeping secrets, but he had not volunteered much information.

The apartment itself was small, much like a college dorm room, with cinder block walls and a shared bathroom. But the furniture was moveable, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one long wall while a smaller bookshelf served as a nightstand on one side of the narrow bed.

“Look at all these books. So many books . . . ,” she murmured, slowly inspecting the spines. New best sellers, classics, nonfiction—Tig’s library definitely had variety.

Tig snorted. “Just because I’ve been punched in the head a bunch of times doesn’t mean I’m illiterate.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean that at all. Surely you don’t think I—” Tig stopped her babbling with a kiss.

“No, I was just giving you a hard time, Charlotte.”

She kneeled by the small bedside bookshelf.
Ah, these are his favorites.
Well-thumbed paperbacks with worn covers lined these shelves.

Tig scratched at his neck. “I got stomped on by a horse when I was in middle school, and I couldn’t run around or anything. I was driving my mama crazy, so she just shoveled books at me the whole time I was laid up. The habit just stuck.”

“Did you keep all these books in your truck?”

Tig barked a laugh. “No, not quite. I moved the majority of them up here when I moved out permanently. I might have kept a box or two in the truck, though. Still do, just in case.”

Charlotte grinned at him and laughed. “You’ll never get bored that way, that’s for sure.”

“That’s right.”

She continued looking around the room, taking it all in.

“C calls it a ‘studio apartment,’ but I know it’s really a dormitory,” Tig explained. “It’s not much, but it’s mine, so . . .”

Charlotte turned to him, beaming. “I love it. I never got to live the in dorms at college; David insisted that I live off-campus, by myself.”

Tig snorted. “Yeah, it’s awesome when there’s eight guys trying to prep meals at one time and only counter.” He gestured to a small refrigerator. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got a few beers, water, and some sports drinks.”

“Whatever you’d care to serve. Water’s fine.”

Tig opened two beers and started to hand one to her. “Oh, would you like this in a glass?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and took the beer from him. “I’m not that prissy,” she said and took a deep pull from the bottle, which made Tig laugh.

Charlotte watched him watch her drink from the bottle. Tig was leaning, shoulder against the wall, one booted foot crossed over the other. He tipped his head back to drink his beer, the hat on his head tipping back as well.

Charlotte watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, and she unconsciously blew out a breath, which made him chuckle.

“You all right, Charlotte?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”

Tig whistled through his teeth. “Damn straight, you are. You are mighty fine.”

Charlotte snorted and shook her head. “You are so corny, Tig.”

Tig shrugged, but he was still grinning. “Nah, no corn anywhere on me. I’m a peanut farmer, sugar. I’m a little nutty.”

Charlotte finally laughed out loud, which is exactly what Tig was hoping for.

“You are, though, Charlotte, even if you’ve been so blinded by some asshole that you can’t see it.”

“Wow.”

Tig moved from his place on the wall and walked toward Charlotte. She swallowed, hard, her eyes open wide, as he crossed the small room in three easy, rolling strides.

Tig stood in front of her, his eyes roaming over her face, and then he finally lifted his hand and stroked the small rim of her ear. With a tiny smile tugging at his mouth, he dragged his finger over her hair until it came to rest on her ponytail. He wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled her to him.

Tig lowered his mouth to Charlotte’s, but right before their lips met, he whispered, “I hope you’re okay with staying with me tonight because I don’t think I could stand for you to leave.”

Charlotte’s lips curled up, and she plucked his hat off his head and placed it on her own. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He huffed a laugh and pressed his lips against hers. Charlotte squeaked when Tig palmed her ass and pulled her tightly against him. She could feel his hard-on through those tight jeans, and as his hand snaked under her blouse and his fingers flicked open her bra, she sucked in a breath but did not move away from him.

“Need to get these clothes off you,” he growled.

Charlotte panicked. “Please turn off the lights.”

Tig froze with his hand curled around one breast. “What?”

She licked her lips. “I . . . I need you to turn off the lights if we’re gonna do this.”

Tig searched her eyes. “Charlotte . . .”

“Nuh-uh. If we’re gonna do this, and please, God, let us do this, you’ve got to turn off the lights.”

Tig shook his head, completely baffled by her, but then nodded in reluctant acquiescence. “All right, you win for tonight. But next time? They stay on.” And Tig pushed his mouth against hers, kissing her so hard and hot and sweet that she could not think about anything else.

“Okay,” she whispered when he finished kissing her.

“Okay, Charlotte. Ima go turn out the light, darlin’.”

He took two steps, flicked off the light, and turned toward his shy girl. He could see her curvy figure backlit against the window.

“Hi.”

He chuckled. “Hi. Come here to me, girl.”

Charlotte took two steps toward him, and he immediately took her in his arms and covered her mouth with his. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, and her lips parted. He darted his tongue around hers, over her teeth, and then kissed her like she’d never been kissed before.

While Tig moved his mouth to her throat, her chin, to that cute little earlobe, she sucked on his neck and his jaw, pawing at his back and shoulders, desperate to come into as much contact with his body as she could.

He moved his head away. “Charlotte, one thing: tomorrow morning? I’m gonna look at you. All of you. I’m gonna watch as I bury myself in you, and I’m gonna love every minute, and you’re gonna learn to love it, too. That’s a promise.”

Charlotte was so shocked that she just nodded, and she could see Tig’s white teeth as he smiled.

“Okay, Charlotte. Now where were we?”

Tig was torn between pulling her around by that ponytail or ripping the tie out and running his hands through all that dark hair. He ended up compromising by pulling her tightly to him by the hair and
then
ripping the tie out. He combed her thick tresses with his fingers, loving the way the silky heaviness of her hair felt in his hands.

Her hair hung down to the middle of her back, thick and heavy, and Tig had one hand buried in it as he attempted to undress her with the other. Charlotte made quick work of
his
buttons, both shirt and jeans, and she felt the rumble of his laughter as she wrestled his shirt over his shoulders.

“Whoa, honey, you need to slow down,” Tig said as he finally peeled her blouse and bra off. He ran his hands down her arms until he grasped her hands. “A body like yours needs to be savored.” He gave her hands a squeeze and then moved his to rest on her hips. He stepped closer, to where his chest barely brushed her breasts. She sucked in a breath, the rasp of his coarse chest hair tortuous against her aroused nipples.

“We have all night,” he whispered. “All. Night.”

She could feel his breath brush her face as he placed the softest, sweetest kisses on her cheeks.

“Charlotte . . .”

She felt his hands, rough with calluses, slide under her panties and pull her close. Slowly working her panties and yoga pants down, Tig continuously peppered light kisses on her neck and shoulders. He ran his nose along her neck, subtly inhaling her scent.

“Charlotte . . .”

A little nip to the shoulder made her gasp and shot a pulse of heat directly to her core, intensifying as he slid her pants and panties over her hips and rump. She felt him work his way down her body, undressing her lower body as his lips traveled across her breasts and down to her mound. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue dancing across the sensitive nub as he eased one foot and then the other out of her clothing, using the opportunity to thrust his tongue deep in her core. Charlotte pulled his face against her pussy, and she could feel him chuckle, the vibration increasing the pleasure that she received from his talented mouth and tongue.

She jolted when he nipped her clitoris, and Tig began to kiss his way back up her now naked body, his hands roaming over her bare thighs, ass, and back.

They were face-to-face again. Charlotte could barely make out his features, but she could see him smiling at her. Then he gently kissed her, and she could taste the salt of her own pleasure on his tongue.

“Tig . . .”

He sucked in a shuddering breath as she plunged her hands into his jeans and grasped his heavy balls. Tig groaned in Charlotte’s ear as she snaked two fingers behind the sac, stroking that most sensitive area and applying just the lightest bit of pressure.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “Goddamn, that is awesome.”

Charlotte caught his mouth in a kiss as she brought both hands forward to grasp his length.

“Holy crap, Tig.” He was not especially long, but his cock’s girth was enough that she could barely encircle it with her fist. She could feel him shrug and give a little chuckle.

“That’s why I need you completely ready, baby,” he rasped in her ear. He grunted when she twisted his cock in both hands. “Oh, hell. I can hardly wait to be inside you.”

Charlotte pushed his jeans and underwear down with one shove and moved nearer to him, close enough to drag the sensitive tip of his cock through her curls.

She heard him curse and then felt him bend, one of his arms going under her knees as he began to lift her off the ground, cradling her against his chest.

“Tig, be careful, I’m too heavy for you—” she started to protest, but he silenced her with a kiss and proved that she was not too heavy by scooping her up and shuffling across the small room toward the bed, his legs hobbled by his jeans.

When he reached the edge of the bed, he tossed her down. He could barely see her in the light that came through the blinds, but what he could, looked beautiful. She had her arms extended, calling him to her. Tig struggled to get his jeans the rest of the way off, but she was not helping because she had one hand on his cock and the other on his balls, stroking, twisting, and tugging.

Tig fell forward, his arms braced on either side of her head. He lowered his upper body toward her, hovering above her with arms supporting his weight.

“Charlotte,” he gasped her name a third time and was surprised when she pulled him down and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Fuck me right now. With your boots and jeans on. I have to feel that cock inside me now, Tig.”

He could feel her writhing, rubbing her wet heat against his length. Tig slid his hand between their bodies and cupped her mound, slowly sliding a thick callused finger inside her.

“Charlotte.”

She arched her back, thrusting her breasts up toward him, wordlessly offering him their lush fullness. With a soft growl, Tig caught a hard nipple in his teeth and applied the softest of bites. Charlotte squirmed and cried out, and Tig thrust another finger in her, pushing as deep as he thought was safe. Her breath hitched when he slid his fingers out, and she gave a little whimper at the loss before emitting her own growly cry when he pushed three thick digits inside her slick core.

Charlotte spread her legs wide and rocked her hips up, not caring if she seemed wanton. Tig’s breath rasped in her ear as he pushed his hand against her mound, his thumb flicking her clit in rhythm with her thrusts.

“Tig . . .”

“Want to be inside you now, Charlotte.”

“Please . . .”

She felt Tig move between her legs and bend down over her to whisper in her ear. “Baby, I’m gonna take my fingers out and suit up, and then you’ll get something even better.” He kissed her again, hard and hot this time, and slid his fingers out of her core.