“Have you been able to…” he trailed off, losing a fraction of his cocky edge. He was genuinely interested. Plus, the heat of her nearness had scrambled his brain, and if she leaned in any closer, she’d feel what he had going on in his trousers.
“Have I been able to do what, Erasmus? Masturbate to completion? Have I jumped into bed with another guy and spent the night in a state of orgasmic bliss?” she tossed back, eyes blazing.
Her touching herself was one thing. The image of this woman spread out on a bed with her hand between her thighs, working her sweet spot, had him rock-hard in a bloody second. But the thought of her with another man was a different story. He shouldn’t care what or who she did in her spare time. She wasn’t his, and she never could be. But that didn’t stop his jaw from clenching as he gnashed his teeth together. They’d be dust if he didn’t get the notion of Libby Lamb screwing some idiot bloke out of his head.
She huffed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t attempted any of the benchmark activities. I haven’t had time.”
“Busy with your nanny life?” he bit out, keeping his emotions in check. He couldn’t let on how bloody relieved he was that she hadn’t been with anyone else but him.
He held her gaze as the blush on her cheeks intensified. He’d hit a nerve.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she answered, gathering more of his shirt into her fist. She jerked his head down to look her straight in the eyes.
Crikey, she was strong!
“I’ve been extremely busy caring for your son, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but you have an amazing kid—a kind and intelligent soul. And you can’t spare a second for him. Do you know how much he wants to be like you?”
The fire in his eyes matched hers.
“Yeah, I do,” he rasped, the words tasting of ash and iron.
“And he misses his mother. He thinks he makes you sad because he reminds you of Meredith.”
Every muscle in his body tensed.
She’d gone there.
He figured Sebastian would have mentioned his mum. The boy carried that picture of her in the watch everywhere he went. But he didn’t have the emotional capacity to discuss his wife—not with Libby and not with the fight of his life looming over his shoulder. A fight he had to win for Meredith.
“Don’t bring her up,” he growled. This was the voice he used in the ring when he wanted to instill a shit ton of fear into his opponent. It worked every time, except bloody now.
Libby lifted her smug little chin. “It’s your son’s mother’s name. You can’t banish the memory of her. It’s not your call.”
He leaned in and could feel her breath against his neck. “You want to know about Meredith?” he dared—was he challenging her or himself? Christ, he didn’t know.
She held his gaze. With her lips pressed into a hard line, she gave him space to talk.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I loved her. She believed in me. We came from nothing. She worked two jobs so I could train full time with Augie. I owe her this win. It’s an affront to her if I fail.” He glanced away. He should button up his gob and shut the hell up. He had to hold back the emotions he’d kept locked inside.
“Erasmus,” she whispered, and her voice, her angelic voice, opened the floodgates to his heart.
“I’ve only ever been good at one thing, plum. That’s putting on gloves and knocking men down.” He steadied himself because he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it. He exhaled a slow breath. “I’m fighting for Meredith. I do it so Sebastian can have a better life. That’s what Mere and I wanted for him.”
Yeah, he’d dropped one hell of a truth bomb, and with the emotional turmoil in the air near palpable, he’d expected that to be the end of it. That’s what she wanted, right? A sad, pathetic excuse to explain his failings? A little insight into his cracked psyche. But her expression didn’t soften. No, the fury in her eyes burned brighter.
“You’re hiding behind that excuse. That’s not why you’re fighting. Do you think no one can see behind that smug beefcake exterior? News flash, I can.”
The breath caught in his throat. Could she see everything? He’d wondered the same thing when she’d charged into Aug’s gym a few months ago. And he knew the bloody answer. Those damn eyes saw into his soul. But he wasn’t about to cop to it, and he sure didn’t need her take on why she believed he fought. He couldn’t budge, and he couldn’t waver—too much was at stake.
What would he do if he were in the ring, knowing that his opponent was about to steal the advantage?
He’d turn the bloody tables.
“Speaking of excuses,” he snarled. “You’ve got some nerve to call me out.”
Confusion marred her fierce expression. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve walled your heart off, Libby Lamb. Somebody hurt you. That’s why you’ve written off love and relationships. You’re no different from me. No, that’s not right. You’re worse.”
Her bottom lip trembled, just slightly, but he caught it. It was her tell.
“Worse?” she shot back. “You don’t know anything about me.”
He’d gambled and was right. She’d been hurt badly. Was he a bastard for coming at her weakest point? Yes, but that’s what he did in the ring, and that’s what he’d have to do if he had any chance of getting out of this damn funk and getting her out of his head.
Now it was time to go in for the knockout.
He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re worse, Libby Lamb, because you hide your pain behind a mask of serenity. My pain and aggression are out there for everyone to see. You pretend like yours doesn’t exist.”
Her lips parted, and she stared up at him, those pools of amber threatening to swallow him whole. The raw honesty in her gaze cut right to his heart. The fight to hold himself back from her weakened. His defenses shattered. He’d started this tête à tête with his gloves up. Now, completely exposed, his hands were at his bloody sides.
They were back to this place—a place where he knew better than to lose himself, but he couldn’t gather the resolve to pull away. The energy, the force propelling them toward each other, was too powerful. She gripped his shirt with both hands, holding on to him. Had she done it to stop herself from using her free fist to clock him in the chin for mouthing off like a bloody prick? It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. Or had she done it to anchor herself to him?
That was it.
Deep within, he knew this to be true, but it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t have her. He should take her hands and remove them from where they rested against his chest, but that blasted violet-blue haze was back, clouding his vision, muddling his thoughts. No, that wasn’t it. What he’d tried to peg as confusion wasn’t confusion at all.
It was clarity.
A terrifying clarity.
He wanted her. He wanted her like he’d wanted…
“Raz, you’re right, I…” she whispered, but he couldn’t allow her to go on.
He drew his thumb across her bottom lip, and she trembled at his touch. His arrogant exterior was no match for her words—words that resonated with such searing honesty that he had no other option than to make it stop. There, in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar town, time stood still, and every reason to turn away from Libby’s light disappeared. In a desperate move to quell the ache in his chest, he crushed his lips to hers, silencing her with a kiss that calmed and shattered him all at once.