Meet Till
& Eliza in Aly Martinez’s newest fighter series!
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Excerpt #1
FIGHTING SILENCE
"That wasn't yours to take
away," he exploded into the otherwise silent night. His words echoed off
the surrounding buildings, each wave slicing me to the quick all over again.
"That was our place. Not
yours." His voice cracked right alongside my heart.
"Yeah, well, there was a lot of
stuff that wasn't yours to take either." I held his gaze, desperately
trying to be strong, but as his eyes grew wide, I whimpered.
His long legs strode forward, stopping
only inches away from me. He was crowding me, but he still leaned in closer to
my face. "There is nothing in this world that was ever more mine than
you," he stated. Though it was the absolute truth, I wished with all my
heart that it were a lie.
"Till," I cried, swiping the
tears from my eyes.
"Why!" he shouted, causing his
muscles to tense under the force. "Goddamn it! I needed that place."
Porch lights flashed on from the
surrounding apartments, illuminating not only the dark but also my rage.
I shoved my hands into his chest.
"What about what I needed? You left! I waited in that fucking apartment
for weeks."
He didn't budge, but my bare feet
slipped, sending me toward the ground. Impossibly fast, Till's hand snaked out
and caught my arm. I didn't let his chivalrous gesture douse my fire. I had six
months’ worth of words to say to the man I was irrevocably in love with.
"You took what you wanted. Then you
left me."
"Doodle," he whispered.
I had been perilously close to the edge
of insanity, and with one single word, he’d pushed me over.
I lost it completely.
Pounding my fists against his chest, I
screamed at the top of my lungs, "It's Eliza! My name is fucking Eliza!
Not Doodle!" I spun to march away, but Till's arms folded around me,
lifting me off my feet to restrain me.
I was miniscule compared to him. There
was no use in fighting, but I still kicked my legs, irrationally desperate to
get away from him—but only because I knew I couldn't keep him for forever.
"Stop it!" he growled into my
ear. "I know your Goddamn name—probably better than I know my own."
Excerpt #2
*Sexy Excerpt*
“Hi.” I stood up off the bed as he
started climbing through the window.
His eyes went wide when he saw me,
causing him to momentarily lose his balance on the windowsill and go crashing
to the floor. “God. Damn,” he cursed as he rose to his feet while taking in my
new wardrobe. “You… I…um…” His hand went to his lip.
He was rooted in place only a few steps
away, but his eyes traveled over every inch of my body and back again.
Till was speechless. I had never felt so
empowered in my life.
“Are you okay?” I feigned concern as I
slowly approached.
“Not even close,” he told my breasts,
making me giggle.
After sliding a hand under the edge of
his T-shirt, I raked a fingernail over each of his abs before dipping it into
the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m sore today,” I announced, closing
the distance between us. My breasts were pressed against him, but he still
hadn’t even attempted to touch me yet. I had plans to remedy that. I smirked
then stood up on my tiptoes, kissing the base of his neck. “Make me sore for
tomorrow too.” At the last second, I darted my tongue out to the hollow dip at
the base of his neck. It was meant to tease him, but as the taste of his skin
hit my tongue, I was flooded with memories of taking more of him in my mouth.
The moan escaped before I’d even felt it coming.
A loud rumble shook his chest, but that
was the only warning I received. Suddenly, I was off my feet and sailing
through the air. Just as I landed on the bed, Till crashed on top of me. His
mouth roughly landed on mine.
“Tell me we can’t do this again,” he demanded
as his hands found my breasts.
“We’re definitely doing this again.” I
arched into him.
“It’s gonna get so messy, Eliza. Please.”
He groaned as I reached into the front of his jeans.
“I’m okay with messy,” I breathed,
guiding his hand from my breast and into my panties.
“Fuuuuuck” he cursed when he discovered
just how thorough I’d been with the razor earlier. His finger pressed inside me
as his body traveled down the bed and settled between my legs, stripping my
panties off during his descent.
He added another finger in a less than
gentle but overwhelmingly intoxicating, rhythm.
“Tell me to stop, Eliza. We can’t do this
again.” He grazed his teeth on the inside of my thigh.
“We’re already doing it.”
“Tell me to stop.”
“No.”
“It’s going to ruin us.”
“If you don’t stop talking, you’re going
to ruin this.”
“I’m serious.” He kissed the inside of my
other thigh, his fingers never faltering in their steady pace.
“So am I. Stop trying to talk yourself
out of this while your fingers are buried inside me.” I threaded a hand into
his hair and gave it a gentle tug.
“Goddammit. Tell me to stop!” he demanded
one last time, but his fingers sped before twisting in the most delicious way.
I decided to give him what he wanted, but
only because I knew he wouldn’t follow through.
“Stop.” I rolled my hips forcing him even
deeper.
“Well, it’s too fucking late now.”
I would have laughed, but his mouth
sealed over my clit and stole my breath, words, thoughts, and orgasm. My body
shook as he pushed me higher even while I was falling. It shouldn’t have worked
like that, but whatever voodoo magic Till Page was working with that night was
all right with me. He didn’t stop swirling his tongue until I used his hair to pry
his mouth away.
“Too much!” I cried.
He looked up with a wickedly proud grin.
His hand disappeared, and seconds later, his cock replaced it.
Excerpt #3
“I swear to fucking God,” I snarled as I stomped a pattern
around Eliza’s hospital room. She had just been wheeled out, but my anger and
anxiety filled the room in her absence.
“Calm. Down,” Slate said from the doorway. “It’s no big
deal. I’ll get it back.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, get your shit together and remember
who the hell you are talking to.”
Eliza didn’t have insurance, and she had freaked when the
doctor told her that he wanted to run a CAT scan because of the trauma to her
face and head. She’d flat-out refused, spouting off some crap about not going
into debt by racking up a huge hospital bill she’d eventually have to pay.
She’d sworn she was okay, but I’d absolutely not been anything even resembling
okay.
So I’d lost it. I’d snapped at her like a fucking asshole.
Then I’d shouted at the doctor for reasons that didn’t even make sense. In
turn, he threatened to call security, which only pissed me off more. It was a
clusterfuck in that room until Slate came in and physically pinned me against
the wall. While I was trying to get my shit under control, Erica was apparently
informing administration that she and Slate would be financially responsible
for Eliza’s hospital visit. While I was relieved as they wheeled her out of the
room, I was sick and fucking tired of feeling like a broke-ass, worthless dick
all the time. As it often was, my anger was aimed in the wrong place, and Slate
was the only man in the room.
“Get my shit together?” My heart pounded in my chest, and
every muscle in my body strained under the mounting stress. “I’d like to see
how the hell you’d react if Erica looked like that and there wasn’t a fucking
thing in the world you could do to help her.”
Slate’s eyes turned dark as his jaw clenched. “It was
different. But I’ve been there,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It was the worst
day of my life. I wasn’t even the one who got to make the piece of shit pay
either. But honestly, Till, sometimes you have to accept that it’s not the way
things get done or who does them. As long as, in the end, they are done. She’s getting that CAT scan right
now, and you can sleep easy tonight knowing that she’s okay. It doesn’t matter
one bit who signs the check that pays for that kind of peace of mind.”
“It matters to me. You have no fucking idea how it feels
to be so goddamn helpless all the time. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve only
truly had her for less then twenty-four hours and I’ve already failed to
fucking protecting her and provide
for her. My boxing trainer had to pay for her medical bills. It’s
embarrassing!”
“It’s only embarrassing if you let it be.” He shrugged and
settled into the chair next to the door.
I continued to pace. I couldn’t get over the heavy weight
of failure compressing my chest. “Why the fuck would she want to settle for
someone like me? I failed out of high school. I work sixty-three hours a week
for minimum wage so that I can barely pay the bills on a shithole apartment.
For fuck’s sake, I have two brothers I want to give the world, but last week,
she had to buy us groceries. Oh, and
there is always that fun fact that I’m going deaf. One day, she really will
have to take care of me! I can’t handle knowing that she has to settle for a
future filled with struggles just to be with me. I love her. I really fucking
do. But at what point do I let her go because I know she’d have a better life
with someone else?” I finished my rant on a yell.
“Wow. You have a really gone off the deep end. She’s not
some puppy you can find a better home for.” He stretched his legs out and
crossed them at his ankles.
If possible, it managed to piss me off more. I was in
emotional upheaval and he was getting comfortable.
“Just leave me alone. I can’t deal with your shit right
now.”
“You want to go pro?” he asked randomly.
“What I want is for you to leave.”
“Is that a no?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Nothing has changed.
I still don’t have the time. Honestly, I think I need to give up boxing
altogether. Maybe try to find another job or something.”
“I’ll bankroll eight hundred a week. Quit your jobs and
come work for me in the ring. It comes with health insurance for you and the
boys too.”
I stared at him, awestruck. That was double what I was
bringing home each week.
I’d always heard that you couldn’t judge a man’s character
by the balance in his bank account. Thank fuck for that because character might
be the only place I wasn’t overdrawn. And right then, Slate’s offer sounded a
whole lot like pity. No matter how appealing it sounded, I wanted to make it
without having to rely on anyone else. I couldn’t afford to sacrifice
character.
“Why are you doing this right now? What part of that
conversation confused you? I don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity. I’m gonna make a shit-ton of money off
your ass. This isn’t a free ride. I’ll get all of your winnings until you’ve
paid me back. Then anything you make over that, I get thirty-three percent.
Erica’s been eyeing this condo on the beach in Florida. I’m hoping you can help
me out and buy that for her.”
Outstanding. Slate wants to buy a condo
on the beach and I just want to keep the electricity on.
“It has to be hard being you.” My voice dripped with
sarcasm, but it only made Slate smile.
“I guess you won’t know until you try. I made every single
penny I have from boxing. If you think money will solve all your problems, then
put whatever preconceived notions you have about my motives aside and take my
offer. But if you decide to refuse, you should know I won’t make it again.”
“Why now? Less than a month ago, you told me I wasn’t
ready. Where was your offer to bankroll me then?”
“I’m not going to lie to you. You’re not ready. Not if you
want to be great. But with enough
time, I can get you there. You’re raw right now, and despite whatever you
think, you’re driven by something greater than the almighty dollar or dreams of
stardom.” He stood up and walked over to me. “To answer your question about why
now, I was wrong. You’re not hungry for more in life. You’re fucking starving. I can work with that.
“Did you even
listen to yourself while you were talking? Not one single thing you said was
because Till Page wanted more money or a nicer car. You were concerned about
Eliza and the boys…but never Till.” He poked my chest right over my heart. “I’m
making an investment in you, Till. It’s no handout. I believe you’re going to
set the boxing world on fire, because every time you put on those gloves,
you’re doing it for them. Say yes.
Accept the offer. Quit your jobs. Take a week off to take care of her. Then get
your ass in my ring.”
I had no words. If I spoke, I was going to look like a
sniffling little bitch. So I nodded instead.
“Good. I’m going to find Erica and get some coffee. I’ll
send over the contracts and your first paycheck in the morning.” He turned and
headed for the door.
I stood in the middle of an empty hospital room where my
fantasy and reality had collided. Finally, I had the break I had dreamed of,
but it had taken almost losing Eliza to get it. I would forever remember the
way I felt in that moment. Cracking my neck and shaking out my arms, I decided
I was done letting the world run over me.
Slate had just handed me my one chance to make a better
life, and I was going in with gloves blazing. For the first time in my fucking
life, I was climbing through the ropes.
Sound is
an abstract concept for most people. We spend our lives blocking out the static
in order to focus on what we believe is important. But what if, when the
clarity fades into silence, it's the obscure background noise that you would
give anything to hold on to?
I've always been a fighter. With parents
who barely managed to stay out of jail and two little brothers who narrowly
avoided foster care, I became skilled at dodging the punches life threw at me.
Growing up, I didn’t have anything I could call my own, but from the moment I
met Eliza Reynolds, she was always
mine. I became utterly addicted to her
and the escape from reality we provided each other. Throughout the years, she
had boyfriends and I had girlfriends, but there wasn't a single night that I
didn’t hear her voice.
You see, meeting the love of my life at age
thirteen was never part of my plan. However, neither was gradually going deaf
at the age of twenty-one.
They both happened anyway.
Now, I'm on the ropes during the toughest
battles of my life.
Fighting for my career.
Fighting the impending silence.
Fighting
for her.
Every night, just before falling asleep, she
sighs as a final conscious breath leaves her.
I think that's the sound I'll miss the most.
About the Author:
Aly Martinez
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a
stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of
twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she
has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a
glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to
add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she
shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re
hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
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