Knock Out (The Billionaire's Club: New Orleans) (7 page)

“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “It’s like you burn for me the way I burn for you.”

She whimpered, lifting her hips in non-vocal demand. Holding her breath, her body tense with anticipation, she waited for the first brush of his mouth against her aroused flesh.

She didn’t have to wait long. Her body arched off the bed at the first warm slide of his tongue over her clit. Gentle forays over and into her folds, simultaneously soothing her and firing her passion. Her arms trembled with the effort to maintain her grip on the headboard as his sensual ministrations ramped her higher and higher. Desperate for release, she lifted her hips to his questing tongue, his name wanting to burst from her lips.

A shuddering groan swept through him, then his hands slipped beneath her buttocks, lifting her so that he could feast on her. She cried out at the sensual assault, buffeted by electric sensations as he alternated sucking her clit with tonguing her slit. She wanted to hold on, wanted to make the pleasure last longer but Bas was a relentless expert, pushing her up, up, up the peak then shoving her over.

She broke, his name tearing from her throat on a groaning cry as her body shattered with orgasm. She didn’t come back to herself until she felt him prying her hands free of the wrought-iron headboard.

He massaged her hands, his expression at once stern and tender. “Are you all right?”

She smiled up at him, feeling punch-drunk. “Yeah, but I know how you can make ‘all right’ even better.”

He dropped kisses into the center of her palms. “You need to rest.”

“Please, Bas,” she begged, need making her desperate. “I don’t need rest, I just need you.”

A better man would have walked away, let her recover. He’d stopped being a better man when he’d walked away from her the first time. How the hell could he refuse her? How the hell could he ever walk away from her again when she held his heart and his balls in her hands?

Rising to his knees, Sebastian reached across her to open the nightstand and grab a condom. With quick, efficient movements he sheathed himself then covered her. “You have me, Renata,” he told her. “You always have.”

He fit himself to her opening then entered her with a long, slow glide that took every bit of his control. In, in, in, then he lowered himself onto his forearms until they were fused chest to toes. Tilting his head, he kissed her, a melding of lips and tongue he echoed with slow rolls of his hips.

She moaned into his mouth and he drank it in, her taste, heat, and scent invading every part of him, once again laying claim. He made love to her as thoroughly and gently as he knew how, possessing every inch of her. Wanting to possess her just as thoroughly as she possessed him. Wanting her to want him as much as he wanted her. Wanting her to want forever.

He clasped her hands above her head, keeping them fused together head to toe, keeping his gaze locked to hers. He saw the passion in her eyes and the glimmer of more, knowing he’d put it there. Saw the moment it became too much, when she let orgasm take her. Only then did he let go, let the sweet heat of her rippling body sweep him up and catapult him headlong into ecstasy.

No, there was no way that he’d ever let Renata go. He just had to find a way to convince her that she belonged to him, with him, and he’d never leave again.

“Thanks for meeting with me today, Ms. Lovelace,” Renata told the stunning redhead who owned Choux, the upscale restaurant they’d met in.

“First of all, call me Macy.” The woman, who sported bright green eyes and looked to be close to Renata’s age, gave her a generous grin. “And second of all, are you kidding me? The Girls Up Foundation is ecstatic to have you on board.” She paused. “We do have you on board, don’t we? If not, I can reply you with more bourbon-laced praline pie.”

Renata, full from lunch and the possibilities of working with the charity, smiled back at the ebullient woman. “Absolutely. I’m really looking forward to being part of the foundation.”

“You’re perfect for helping us expand our active living outreach. Your story is so inspiring. A female boxing champion?” Macy shook her head. “The girls will eat it up.”

“Well, I don’t do it alone,” Renata said modestly as they headed for the entrance. “And that’s part of the story I’d share. Even with an individual sport like boxing, you need a team. I’m hoping that my team will be willing to donate.”

“Oh really?” Macy turned to her with electric eagerness. “Who’s your team?”

“I’m training with Sebastian Delacroix and endorsing the Hard Knocks line of ladies’ athletic gear. I think anything I do with the foundation will be a good fit for them.”

“Sebastian Delacroix?” A strange expression crossed Macy’s features, surprise and a good deal of trepidation. “You’re training with the Bourbon Street Brawler? I thought he was on the West Coast.”

“He lives here now.” Renata frowned. “Do you know him?”

“Know of him, but who doesn’t? He and his friends are the most eligible bachelors this city’s ever had. I don’t know any women who don’t want a piece of them.” Macy raised a brow. “Your name’s going to be a curse on everyone’s lips when the word gets out that you’re seeing him.”

“We’re not seeing each other,” Renata protested. “Not really. We kinda have a history. And a present. Hell, it’s complicated, is what it is.” Heat stained Renata’s cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m saying all of this to you.”

“Hey, we’re friends now, we’re supposed to dish to each other. Besides, I know all about having a history with a guy like Delacroix. No, not with him,” Macy hurriedly added. “Another athlete, all intensity and focus and testosterone. When it’s turned on you …” She shuddered.

“Yeah,” Renata agreed. “That.”

She could still feel the effects of her morning with Sebastian, both physically and emotionally. The tenderness had surprised her. The care and concern had drilled through the last of her defenses, causing her heart to surrender. In that soft dawn interlude, her love for Sebastian had reignited, burning brighter and hotter than it had before.

She’d thought he was going to tell her that he loved her and ask her to stay with him after the Vegas bout. Their early morning connection had been that deep, that earth-shattering. He’d taken her body with such gentleness she could almost feel love pouring off him and into her. The worship in his eyes, the way he’d held her gaze as he’d entered her repeatedly, she’d believed to her marrow that he was truly making love to her.

She shook her head. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. When they’d come down from the orgasmic high, the intensity had receded, leaving room for the doubts to come back. Damn doubts, they intruded every time she was apart from Sebastian. Doubts all the more painful for how much she loved Sebastian, knowing he didn’t feel the same way.

They were on a timer and it was rapidly running down. She knew it. They were working toward the goal of getting her the championship. In a couple of weeks they’d have to shift to Vegas and deal with the interviews, the pomp and hype leading up to the match. When that was done, when the belt was won or lost, it would be over. She’d have no reason to return to that beautiful Audubon Place mansion. No reason to see Sebastian again.

She couldn’t swallow the whimper of pain at the idea. Macy noticed. “Are you all right, Renata?”

Renata pasted on a smile. “Yes, thanks. Just thinking about all the things I have to do before my fight. And what I can do for the foundation in the meantime.”

“Of course. If there’s any way you can document your training and your mental approach to it, I think it will be helpful—holy hell.” She stopped abruptly, causing Renata to bump into her. “It’s him.”

Renata looked over Macy’s shoulder. There at the curb, leaning against a cobalt-blue 1965 Shelby Daytona Cobra Coupe, sharp as a blade in his navy suit, stood Sebastian. People had stopped to stare at him and the rare car, smartphones clicking away, but he paid them no heed. Like a boulder in a stream, he was an unmovable force. You either went around him or resigned yourself to breaking against his will.

He looked up from his phone and smiled at her, a slow smile of pleasure, secrets, and promises. She felt the change in her body as his attention rolled over her—the rush of endorphins, the sharpening of her senses, the tingle in her extremities as if his gaze had the weight of his touch. “Sebastian,” she murmured, needing the feel of his name on her tongue.

“Good God, that man is lethal,” Macy breathed. “How do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered as he pushed off the car and approached them.

“Hello, ladies.” He nodded at Macy, then his sky-blue gaze returned to Renata. “I happened to be in the neighborhood, and thought you could use a lift.”

“Sure you did.” She turned to Macy. “Macy, this is Sebastian Delacroix. Sebastian, this is Macy Lovelace, owner of this restaurant, head of the Girls Up Foundation, and my new best friend.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He slid an arm around Renata’s waist, and she tried to suppress the thrill of being publicly claimed by him. “If there’s anything my company can do to help, we’re quite happy to partner with Ms. Giordano to make it happen.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Macy turned back to Renata. “I’ll call you later, new best friend. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” With a wink and a wave, Macy returned to the restaurant.

“New best friend?” Sebastian remarked as he guided her to the low-slung car.

Renata leaned her head against Sebastian’s shoulder for a moment. “She is. I’m going to enjoy working on the foundation with her, and having a BFF.” She stopped in front of the car. “This is what you tool about town in?”

“Only when I want to impress a beautiful woman,” Bas said as he handed her into the coupe.

She waited until he got in to retort. “Right. I’m surprised you don’t have one of those flashy million-dollar imports.”

“I always had a thing about classic American cars. There were only six of these made. It’s worth more than I’m comfortable admitting to you but I smile every time I drive it.”

“I can see why. Bet it’s great on the open road.”

He grinned. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

He maneuvered the car into traffic and soon enough they’d made their way to the interstate westbound to Kenner. She watched him drive, enjoying the capable way he shifted gears, remembering all too well how he’d handled her body with those same expert hands.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to have to pull over.”

“And that’s a problem, why?”

He cut her a glance. “While I’d like nothing better than seeing you spread naked on the hood of my Shelby, that’s not the way I prefer to end up on TMZ. Or in jail. It would be worth it, though.”

She lightly punched his arm as he pretended to slow down. “How did your meetings go?”

“Good. Our international division had a minor hiccup but we smoothed it over. Gabriel doesn’t have to head overseas but he will anyway.” He frowned. “There are some underground tournaments over there that are a little more … unrestrained.”

She could hear the concern in Sebastian’s voice and didn’t blame him for his worry. She knew the clandestine fights could get truly vicious. “He’ll be all right.”

“If I wasn’t sure of that, Raphael and I would strap him down and lock him up.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “We’re all expected over at Duparte’s house for Sunday dinner next week when Gabriel gets back. Duparte likes to make sure we’re all still more or less together every once in a while. It’ll be a way for the company to formally celebrate our new headquarters and the success of your endorsement deal.”

She snorted. “We just started. I don’t think you can call it a success yet.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of the Internet. You’re trending on social media sites.”

She groaned, remembering what Macy had said regarding her involvement with Bas. “Good or bad?”

“Mostly positive. Chris has several interview requests for you already and not just from sports outlets. The fight promoter is ecstatic. I’m guessing it’s going to be a circus by the time we get to Vegas.”

“I suppose that’s part of being linked to a billionaire bad boy player.”

“I’m not a player,” he said, tacitly agreeing with everything else. “You know I’ll do my best to shield you from the worst of it, but the gossip magazines like getting into my business—which means they’ll get into yours. They also have no problem with making things up from ‘reliable sources.’ Do you think you can handle it?”

She had nothing to hide, but she hadn’t considered what being with Bas would truly entail. He was her Bas, but he was also Sebastian Delacroix, a young billionaire bachelor who had the added bonus of being jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Of course he and his equally rich and single friends would be on everyone’s radar.

She managed a weak smile. “Hey, all I have to do is make it to Vegas, right? Once the fight’s done, this will all be over and I’ll get my quiet life back.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, but she noticed his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Yeah,” he finally said, his voice flat. “They’ll find someone else to hound soon enough.”

Renata turned to look out the window. She’d obviously said the wrong thing, but it was the truth. There wasn’t anything beyond the end of the fight. Win or lose, once the bout ended, her deal with Sebastian was done and her time with him would be over. She had to remind herself of that. All she had right now was the next few weeks. She’d enjoy them while she could but when the time came, she’d walk away.

Arnand Duparte lived in the Garden District, a neighborhood of lovely old homes lush with history and landscaping. Sebastian eased his car into the cobbled drive, careful not to bump the other two sports cars already there, one low slung and black, the other a flashy cherry red. She had no idea what they were, which meant they were probably incredibly expensive.

“Boys and their toys,” she murmured as Sebastian came around to help her out of his own low-slung pricey hunk of machinery. “I take it the other Lost Boys are already here, or is Duparte trying to reclaim his youth?”

Sebastian grinned. “Duparte’s an Aston Martin kind of guy. And you already know I go for the classics.”

She arched a brow at him. “You don’t expect me to believe that you only have one car.”

“I only have one car. Here.”

Renata shook her head in mock resignation. “I obviously should have had Duparte manage my money for me.”

“Well, now you’re in my hands,” he told her, resting one of them at the small of her back as he guided her to the front door. “I’m confident enough to think you’d prefer my hands to old man Duparte’s.”

“He’s not that old,” she felt compelled to point out. “And he’s got great hands.”

“Then I guess I’d better improve my hold.” His hand slipped down to cup her ass. “After all, practice makes perfect.”

“Bas!” She slapped at his hand. “What am I going to do with you?”

Wickedness sharpened his grin. “All sorts of sinful things, I hope.”

The front door opened, saving her from further comment. The housekeeper greeted them warmly then led them into the parlor where Duparte and the other Lost Boys were already enjoying a before-dinner whiskey.

“Ah, here they are at last.” Duparte’s smile was wide as he came to meet them. He gathered Renata’s hands in both of his, then pressed kisses to each of her cheeks. “Renata, it’s good to see you again. I trust that Sebastian isn’t working you too hard?”

“No, sir,” she answered.

“She’s the one doing the pushing, not me,” Sebastian said, shaking Duparte’s hand. “We’ve got just over a month to go. She needs to pace herself.”

“She looks to be in fine fighting form to me.” Raphael Jerroult rose from one of the club chairs, giving her a dazzling smile. He took her hand then leaned over it, pressing a long kiss to the back. “Mighty fine fighting form.”

She blushed despite herself. She knew Raphael Jerroult was a player to the extreme, and had never met a woman he didn’t like, but that didn’t mean she was immune to his charms. “Thank you.”

Sebastian growled like an alpha male marking his territory. “Think you can let go now? She’s going to need to use that hand to eat, you know.”

Raphael straightened, giving her a wink. He didn’t release her hand though. “That sunny disposition must be a real motivator for training. Keep it up, Delacroix, and you’ll take the Mr. Sunshine title from the Bayou Beast here.”

Jerroult guided her over to Gabriel, who rose like an approaching thunderstorm. The Bayou Beast moniker suited the large man. He looked as if he’d been in a fight or two since she’d last seen him. Sebastian was good with his fists, Jerroult was too, but Gabriel Devereaux was a master in the cage. He didn’t just win his cage matches, he dominated. Rumor had it there were some fighters who refused to face off with him. He simply had that level of viciousness.

The taciturn man gave her a nod. “Hello, Renata.”

She smiled at him. “Hi, Gabriel. It’s good to see you again.”

She turned to Duparte. “Mr. Duparte,” she said to the older man, “Sebastian told me that you put on a mighty fine spread.”

“That I do. Though we always have our traditional dishes, I make sure to keep in mind that someone at my table is always in training. You’ll have no need to feel guilty for indulging yourself. What would you like to drink?”

“I’m not much of a drinker, but if you have some tea or lemonade, I’d be thankful.” She didn’t drink during training, and since Sebastian didn’t drink for obvious reasons, she usually didn’t imbibe around him.

“I believe we have both. Sebastian, the ginger ale’s in the wet bar. Renata, if you’ll come with me?” He offered her his arm.

She took it, then turned to the other men. “You should all take lessons from him. This is charming in full effect.”

Jerroult frowned. “Hey, old man, you said you taught us everything you know.”

“About fighting, yes.” Duparte winked at her. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He turned to Renata. “Shall we?”

“Thank you.” Renata allowed Duparte to guide her out of the parlor and into the spacious kitchen, where a friendly older woman prepared a variety of delicious-smelling dishes. “We’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Thanks, Anne.” At Duparte’s urging Renata slipped onto one of the bar stools at the center island then sighed.

Armand chuckled as he headed for a cabinet. “Better?”

“I can breathe again, so yes. Are they always like that?”

“They’re always testing to see which one is the top dog,” Armand explained as he took a glass over to the built-in french-door fridge. “It’s pure fun for them. Keeps them on their toes. But if any one of them needed the other two, there’s no question that they’d stand together. For a while, they only had each other.”

“But I thought Bas had his mom. She bought him his membership to your gym, right?”

Armand placed a glass of lemonade in front of her. “Their relationship was strained at that point. He was spending his time in every kind of backyard and underground fight he could. He wanted money to take care of his mother, and she thought he was trying to channel the rage he’d inherited from his father. Along with his looks.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Sebastian’s mother, surviving an abusive husband, protecting her son until he became the protector—a protector who was the spitting image of her abuser. “But they’re good now, right?”

“They seem to be. All the boys are better now than they were when they first came to Hard Knocks, but even they would tell you they’re still works in progress. Why don’t we get out of Anne’s hair and I’ll give you a tour?”

They made a slow meander of the first floor, then stepped out a side door to a beautiful courtyard. “So tell me, how are things going with you and Sebastian?”

Though Armand’s voice was casual, Renata wasn’t sure whether the older man meant the training or the nonexistent relationship. Deciding discretion was best at the moment, she went with the safest topic of conversation.

“Better than I imagined,” she finally said. “Sebastian’s a good trainer and I’m now a Hard Knocks girl for life. I’m in the best shape ever.”

Armand gave her a long, measuring look, but what he was looking for, Renata didn’t know and he probably didn’t find. “Sebastian’s a good man, very dedicated to whatever he sets his mind to. You could do worse than have him as your trainer and manager.”

“I realize that,” she said softly. Then because she couldn’t keep it contained, she added, “I know exactly how dedicated he is. After all, he wouldn’t be where he is today without that focus on his career. And neither would I.”

She had to remember that. Helping her train for and win the belt benefited them both. Professionally, life was great. Personally, uncertainty gnawed at her. She and Bas had fantastic sex, but she needed more than that. Especially now.

“Renata?”

She jumped at Duparte’s soft query, then pasted on a smile. “We should return to the guys. Somebody’s probably got someone in a headlock and they need you to referee.”

Dinner was a delicious arrangement that would put any four-star restaurant on notice. Renata gave in to temptation and allowed herself to indulge in a couple of traditional New Orleans dishes that she knew she’d have to work extra hard to work off later, but it was so worth it.

“I want to hug Anne, that meal was so good,” Renata said with a contented sigh. “If I hadn’t already decided to stay in New Orleans, this food would definitely convince me.”

All four men turned toward her. “You’re staying?” Bas asked, his voice soft.

Raphael interrupted with a delighted laugh before she could reply. “So the Bourbon Street Brawler convinced you to stay already? Congrats man—that’s some quick work.”

Renata glanced from one man to the next, noting the knowing look on Raphael’s face and Bas’s tightening features. “Bas didn’t have anything to do with my decision.” He hadn’t asked her to stay with him, anyway. He hadn’t asked her anything, he’d only demanded. “Staying in New Orleans was always part of the plan.”

“Oh, so there’s a master plan beyond winning the women’s welterweight championship?” Raphael asked her, waggling his eyebrows at Sebastian. “What’s next for you?”

Renata took a deep breath, then dove into the deep end. “Retiring from boxing.”

“Retire?” Bas gaped at her. “Why? You still have some good boxing years left.”

“Thanks for saying that, but I’ve done my time and I’m ready to move on.”

He shook his head, his frown deepening. “I’ve watched you train, throwing your whole self into it. You want this fight.”

“Of course I do.”

“Yet you want to just stop after you win it?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Doesn’t sound like the Renata Giordano I know.”

She pushed back from the table then stood, her hands settling on her hips. “I haven’t seen you in five years. I’d say you don’t know me as well as you think you do!”

“Ooh, burn!” Raphael cooed. “This is better than any blockbuster—and we’ve got ringside seats!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sebastian growled. Standing, he reached for Renata’s hand. “Come on. We need to have this discussion without an audience.”

Ignoring her protests, he guided her through Duparte’s home and out to the garden. He knew something bothered her. He’d noticed the change when she’d returned from the kitchen, and her mood hadn’t improved. He’d already planned to talk to Duparte but now … he needed to know what was wrong so he could fix it.

Darkness had crept in during dinner, but soft lighting in the landscaping and the stone fountain provided enough illumination. He sat her on a bench then turned to face her. “All right then, enlighten me. Why I should spend the next few weeks training you for a title just so you can walk away afterward? Why accept the shot in the first place?”

“To prove myself.”

“Prove yourself?” he echoed. “You’ve been a champion. What the hell do you have to prove, and who do you have to prove it to?”

“To myself!” She shot to her feet. “I need to prove that I don’t need Roddy to win! I need to prove that I’m good enough without him.”

“Are you kidding me?” he roared. “Of course you are!”

He stopped, red splashing across his vision. “Holy fuck. Is that what that pissant told you? That you couldn’t make it without him?”

Renata’s shoulders drooped. “He was there when Dad died. I leaned on him, I trusted him. He helped me keep it together when my world was falling apart. I was grateful to him for that. So yes, I thought I needed him. I felt like I owed him. He wanted me romantically and I thought I wanted him that way too.”

She pushed her hair back from her forehead, her expression tired. “When he asked me to marry him, I automatically said yes. It seemed like the right thing to do. But I couldn’t set a date. I kept coming up with reasons to delay, even in Vegas, the town of quick marriages. I remember how much Mom and Dad loved each other, and how Mom still says that Dad was her one true love and how important it was to not settle. I felt like I owed Roddy, but I owed my parents more. I owed it to them and to myself to have the closest thing to their marriage I could possibly get. So I gave Roddy back his ring and asked if we could revert to our professional relationship.”

She snorted. “To say it didn’t go over well is an understatement. That’s when he unloaded all this crap on me about how I was nothing without him, how he sacrificed everything to make me a success, and … and other things I’d rather not remember.”

She looked down at her hands, and his heart ached for her. He could well imagine what a weak-spined ass like Cooper would say to make Renata doubt herself.

“Renata.” He waited until she looked at him before continuing. “You were good before Cooper. You know that. And you’re good without him. Hell, if we stop training now you’ll still be the best boxer out there.”

“That’s why I’m going to do things my way from now on.” She placed a hand over her heart. “Not your way, not Dad’s, not Roddy’s, I’m going to win that title, claim the purse and the belt, and then I’m going to retire.”

“And do what?”

“More work with the Girls Up Foundation. They like the results of what I’ve done for them so far, and they’ve asked me to come on board permanently.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, her dark eyes serious as she faced him. “I’m going to accept, find a nice place here to settle down, move my mom back, and then I’m going to start a family.”

Bas took a step back, feeling as if he’d been on the receiving end of a punishing bout. “You … you want to start a family?”

She nodded. “I want to have my own child. It’s going to take some time to recondition my body from boxing to birthing, which is another reason to retire now. If it doesn’t work, I’ll look into surrogacy or adoption. But I’d really like to have kids. I feel ready and I don’t want to put it off for much longer.”

An image of Renata rounded with child assaulted him. He had to clench his hands to hide the sudden tremble as his world threatened to topple off its foundations. Longing, pure and potent swept through him, overpowering his senses. He wanted her to have her family, wanted it with everything within him. But he’d be damned if he’d let her have it with anyone besides him.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve left you speechless,” she wisecracked, though her voice had a trembling edge to it. “I’d write this down in my diary if I kept one.”

It took him a moment to speak. “I think you’d be a fantastic mother, and the opportunity to work with the Girls Up Foundation sounds like a perfect fit for you.” He took her hand. “You won’t have to adopt unless you want to. And you won’t have to use a surrogate either.”