As Charlie showered, she was acutely aware of Bass just a couple of rooms away from her naked, wet body. She dressed in comfortable jeans and a tight women's-style Bears jersey, and wore just enough makeup to be cute but still sporty. She left her hair down in damp waves to air dry.

When she stepped back into the kitchen, Bass was alone. He rose to his feet to meet her. "Miles?" she asked.

"Left for work," he answered, as they stepped into each other's arms, pulled by a force as natural and undeniable as breathing.

Much as she wanted to kiss him, lose herself in him, Charlie made herself say, "You didn't call."

Bass squeezed her into him, looking down at her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. "I had two nights of fights. They were pretty brutal, and I was just exhausted. But I'm sorry. I should have called." Only then did Charlie see the various lacerations on Bass' face, neck and arms. The small cut on his lip. She reached her hand up and ran her thumb over it. In response, he sucked her thumb into his mouth, then released it, moving his lips toward hers.

Even in this middle of the day, stone cold sober, in her uncle's very unsexy kitchen, kissing Bass Monroe made Charlie feel like she might lose her mind. The kiss quickly deepened as their tongues tangled. Their hands groped each other, and their bodies pressed together, unable to get enough of each other. After a few minutes, Bass pulled away from her with a groan.

Ruefully, he said, "Much as I'd love to spend the afternoon here fucking you, if we don't actually go to this game, Miles will wonder why."

Charlie was mildly shocked at his vulgarity, but it thrilled her too, hearing him baldly state his intentions, how much he wanted her. As much as she wanted him. "Guess we better go, then," she said, knowing he was right.

Instead of releasing her, Bass pulled her into one more urgent kiss. Just as it, too, threatened to spiral out of control, he broke away again. "Fuck!" he muttered. "Okay, we really need to go."

Charlie laughed a little and let him lead the way, locking up behind them as they left. Bass was parked on the street outside the building. Charlie raised her eyebrows at him as he stopped at a black 7-series BMW. She wasn't really into cars, but she knew enough to be impressed. Bass pretended not to notice, opening her door for her so she could slide in.

The football game was amazing. Charlie couldn't remember ever having such a good time on a first date. Even though, she kept reminding herself, this wasn't a date. Bass had basically taken her because he didn't have anyone else to go with. But whatever the reason for it, she was enjoying the time they were spending together.

Bass was actually really funny. And the Bears were playing terribly, which just made him funnier as he grew more and more disgruntled. Charlie cracked up when he referred to the defense as "a bunch of useless shitheads." When the Bears running back managed to score a touchdown to bring the game a little closer, he grumbled cynically that, "He's so good, he can outrun any Buccaneers defense in the league." The more Bass complained, the more Charlie teased him, until she was sure he was exaggerating his discontent for her amusement.

Better yet, the Bears started to turn things around toward the end of the game. The stadium stayed packed full and energized, the fans hoping for the team to come back. Charlie and Bass were on their feet, cheering. At one point, out of the corner of her eye, Charlie saw Bass watching her, his face a mixture of thoughtfulness and sadness. When she turned to look at him, the expression was gone, replaced with an easy smile.

The Bears did pull out the win, and Charlie and Bass filed out with the massive crowds leaving the stadium, in no hurry to go anywhere. Once they were finally back in the car, the sun was setting. Bass pulled onto the highway and said, "Want to go grab dinner somewhere?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm not really hungry."

"Alright, then… I'll take you back to Miles' place."

Charlie said in a rush, "You don't have to. We could go… back to your place." She couldn't believe how nervous she was, after their effortless banter all afternoon.

Bass stared ahead, shifting gears on the car. "Charlie…" he said. "I want to. Believe me, I do."

"So let's go."

Bass sighed. "I'm trying to figure out what to do here. You're Miles' niece."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "You didn't seem too concerned about that when I was blowing you in an alley the other night," she snarked.

Bass cut his eyes over toward her, then focused back on the road. "I know. I wasn't. But it hit me today. Miles trusts me. Trusts me with what is most precious to him in the world, which by the way, just happens to be you. As it is, if he knew what I'd done..."

"So what are you saying?" Charlie said, dreading the answer she could sense was coming.

"I don't think we should keep seeing each other. It was a mistake for me to let this go as far as it has," Bass replied, his voice carefully controlled.

Charlie felt like she'd been punched in the gut. Laughing to cover up how devastated she was, she said, "Wow. I've had bad first dates before, but usually the guy waits at least a day before telling me he never wants to see me again."

"You think this was a bad first date?" Bass asked, reaching over and taking her hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he kissed each of her fingers softly in turn, sending her head spinning.

"You don't?"

Setting her hand back in her lap, he said, "No. I don't. Of course I don't. You're the first woman in a long time that I've-" he cut himself off, squeezing his hand hard on the steering wheel.

"That you've what?"

"It doesn't matter," he said in a low voice. "Today was fun, and I'm grateful to Miles for suggesting it. That's all."

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Bass pulled over, throwing the car into park. Charlie felt helpless. She didn't want the day-any of this-to end, but she saw she had no choice. Searchingly, she looked at him. "Bass," she said.

He turned to her, staring her down, his eyes full of pain that mirrored her own. "Don't do this," she whispered. He turned away without answering. Charlie opened the door and slid out of the car. The evening air that had felt merely brisk when they had gotten in now seemed intolerably cold. She shivered and went inside, not looking back.

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The next Thursday, Charlie was hanging out at Miles' bar again. She couldn't get Bass out of her head. How it had felt to kiss him, to have him hold her, how much he turned her on. But more than that, how happy she'd been just talking to him, spending time with him. She'd never felt such an immediate connection with a man before. And then he'd just yanked it away. Even Miles had noticed how miserable she was, but she convinced him it was because of stress about school.

Her misery alternated with anger. How could Bass be such a coward? If he didn't want to be with her, he shouldn't use Miles as an excuse. And if he did, he should own that, too. It was really simple, even if he wanted to make it complicated.

It had been four days since she saw him. She couldn't believe how hard it was to get over someone who she'd only really been out with once. But Bass Monroe had gotten under her skin. She wanted him back. Wanted him so badly it hurt.

Charlie took another long pull of her beer. Despite her best efforts to get drunk, to dull the pain, she was still clear-headed. Bored, she glanced around the bar. It was nearly 2 a.m. The place was practically empty. Miles would be closing soon, and she could finally go home. She'd ridden over with him that afternoon and had hung out for his whole shift. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a distraction.

Charlie jumped as the phone behind the bar rang, shrill in the quiet room. Miles strode over and picked it up. Charlie watched him grow agitated at whatever the person on the other end was saying and respond with a few terse words before slamming the phone back in its cradle. Quickly, he walked over to the bartender on duty, and they talked briefly. Miles handed him a key before returning to Charlie.

"I have to go get Bass," he said. Charlie's heart soared at the sound of his name, at the possibility of seeing him.

"Okay, let's go," she said, hopping off her barstool, picking up her purse.

"Not you. He's at the bar where he fights. I'm not taking you there."

"Uh, what exactly am I going to do, then?" she said, annoyed. "Wait around here alone at two in the morning? Pay a fortune to take a cab halfway across the city? I'm coming with you."

"Charlie, no, it's out of the question." Miles frowned, glancing at the door, impatiently fingering the car keys in his hand.

Charlie crossed her arms stubbornly. "Your friend needs you. Do you want to waste time on an argument you're going to lose anyway, or do you want to go get him?"

Miles couldn't have known why she was so determined to see Bass, but her tone must have conveyed that she was serious. He jerked his head backward. "Okay, come on." They hurried through the bar, out the back door to Miles' beat up SUV.

The roads around them were quiet and got more deserted as they drove further from downtown. Charlie took mental note of their surroundings in the unfamiliar neighborhoods. She prided herself on her skill at navigating and finding places, not that it was so terribly useful in the age of GPS.

"So what happened?" she finally asked.

"That was Flora," Miles said. "She tends bar at the place where Bass fights. Says he's fought every night since Sunday, which is just insane. Usually he does maybe a couple nights in a row at most." Miles' face was etched with worry. "Anyway, Flora said he's about to do his second one tonight." He pressed the accelerator harder. "She's afraid he's going to get seriously hurt. Or killed."

"You really think it's that bad?" Charlie asked skeptically. "Don't you think Bass can handle himself?" She wanted to believe he would be fine, that there was nothing to fear.

"Well, in all the time Bass has been fighting there, Flora has never called me. I don't even know how she found the number for the bar. So yeah, I'd say it's pretty bad."

Charlie was silent. As they continued driving, the buildings and streets grew shabbier around them, the street lights more spread out. There was trash piled everywhere, boarded up windows, rusted out signs. Charlie noted every street sign, every turn, instinctively. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help thinking, she was going to find out where Bass fought. She was going to know where to find him.

Finally, they stopped. Charlie saw Bass' car gleaming down the street, sticking out like it had a spotlight on it. She also saw a teenage kid lurking nearby, watching them warily. Miles parked haphazardly. Charlie scrambled behind him as he made his way up the block to an unmarked door with a lantern-style light above it, its buzzing audible on the otherwise eerily silent street.

Miles opened the door, and the din of a mass of people immersed in conversation and hours of drink hit Charlie's ears. There was no bouncer, no one checking IDs, just a crowd snaking its way back toward the bar in the back of the room. Next to the bar, there was a door painted glossy black, with a rendering of a grinning red devil above it.

Wasting no time, Miles pushed through the crowd toward the bar and called out, "Flora!" The bartender turned around. She was a tiny black woman with delicate, beautiful features, toughened by several facial piercings and a neck tattoo. Her skintight leather pants and bustier left little to the imagination. Charlie fought down her jealousy, realizing that this was the Flora that Bass had referred to on Sunday.

Catching Miles' eye, Flora pointed toward the black door, and Charlie saw more than heard her say, "He's back there." Miles nodded, waved his thanks, and pushed his way over to the door. This one did have a bouncer, a mountain of a man who glowered at them as they approached but said nothing.

"We're here to see Bass Monroe," Miles said impatiently, pulling out his wallet, seemingly having done this before.

"Hundred," the bouncer said shortly. Miles pulled off the bills and handed them over. The bouncer shifted back almost imperceptibly, indicating they could proceed.

As they entered the back room, they were accosted by the sound of rowdy drunks, and the smell of weed, booze, sweat, and blood. Charlie coughed slightly. Her presence caused a ripple in the crowd, and she quickly realized she was the only woman in sight.

"Hey babe, how much for me to suck your pussy?" a leering guy a few feet away called in a scratchy voice. The guy next to him turned and, catching sight of her, said, "Forget him, girl, I'll give you a ride, where you want to go," and cracked up at himself. Beyond them, about ten feet away, a red-faced man with a bushy gray beard let out a loud wolf whistle, patting his thigh appreciatively and nudging his companion, who also turned to gape at Charlie.

Miles looked positively murderous as he flung a protective arm around Charlie and steered her over to the bar in this room, the mirror image of the one in the front. Sure enough, as Miles had seemed to expect, that was where they found Bass, sitting with his back toward them at the end of the bar.

"Bass," Miles said to his back. Bass tensed visibly before turning around and standing to face them.

Charlie had not been prepared for this. For Bass Monroe, the fighter. Even had Flora not told them, it would have been obvious he'd already fought that night. He was covered with sweat and blood. And shirtless, wearing only gray slacks that hung low on his hips. Charlie's mouth fell open slightly as she took in the sight of his bare chest, arms, abs-all cut muscle and smooth skin. He was perfection. Charlie's fingertips twitched as she longed to touch him, to press herself against him, the way she had the week before, but with far fewer clothes.

Bass' face had been resigned as he turned around, but when he caught sight of Charlie, his expression morphed to one of absolute fury. "You brought her here?" he demanded of Miles, clenching his fists. "What the fuck?"

"What the fuck is, Flora called me," Miles half-shouted, just as furious. "Five nights in a row fighting? Are you insane? Is this," Miles gestured at Bass' battered body, "why you haven't spoken to me all week?"

Charlie looked closer and saw what he meant. There were nasty purple and yellow bruises running up and down Bass' torso. One of his hands was bandaged. Cuts and scrapes and scratches were scattered across his flesh.

"You shouldn't be here," Bass said darkly. "Just get the fuck out."

"Bass, you've got to slow down," Miles pleaded. "You're going to get yourself killed. Whatever's going on, this self-destructive bullshit isn't the answer."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what it was." Bass stared straight at Miles, but Charlie could feel his awareness of her presence, same as hers of him.

Miles stepped toward the door. "Come on. We're going. Now."

Over their heads, an ancient PA system crackled to life and announced, "Monroe and Carpenter. Now in the arena. Monroe/Carpenter. Last call for bets."

Monroe raised his eyebrows at Miles defiantly. "Looks like you're a little late, brother. Enjoy the fight." Addressing Charlie but not quite looking at her, he added, "It's not too late to get a bet in."

"Fuck!" Miles exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the bar once Bass had gone. Charlie watched Miles, waiting for a cue as to what they should do next. Shaking his head, he walked over to the area that constituted the "arena," really no more than a cleared off patch of concrete around which the crowd pressed eagerly.

From the beginning of the fight, it was obvious there was something wrong with Bass. Charlie had never seen him fight before, but she could see his jitteriness in the way he moved, rocked back and forth between his feet. He and Carpenter started toward each other, and Bass ducked half-heartedly as Carpenter swung at him. Bass ducked once, twice, not returning a blow. Finally, on his third try, Carpenter landed a crushing blow to Bass' ribcage. Bass careened back a couple steps, a grim smile on his face. He took another couple of blows to the side and stomach, barely moving to defend himself.

Finally, he seemed to have taken enough. Bass sprang into action, pummeling Carpenter quickly in the face. Carpenter gave it back, then quickly swept his foot under Bass, trying to take out his legs. Bass sidestepped him neatly, then pounced on him, tackling him to the ground. He and Carpenter wrestled for several seconds, fighting for the upper hand. Carpenter pinned Bass, closing his hands around his throat for several seconds. Bass swiped at him, once, twice, then grabbed his arms, pulling Carpenter off him, flipping him down onto the ground. Quickly, Bass rained blows down on him, shouting with pain and stress. Finally, Carpenter went limp below him, and Bass rolled off him, lying on the ground panting.

Slowly, Bass staggered to his feet, and the short man who served as the referee grabbed his wrist. Raising his arm in the air, he announced, "Your winner, Sebastian Monroe!" Bass nodded wearily, pulling his arm back. Then, his knees buckled and he collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Miles sprang forward. "Shit," he said, running to Bass' side. Charlie was close behind him and watched as he revived Bass enough to get him back to his feet. "Who has his stuff?" Miles demanded of the referee, who looked at him blankly. "His keys, his wallet, where is his SHIT?" The man held up a finger and scurried off.

Charlie and Miles supported Bass and took him out to the truck, laying him across the back seat. The referee brought his stuff out to them, and they got out of there as quickly as possible. "What about his car?" Charlie asked.

"Fuck Bass' car," Miles said. "He should have fucking thought of that before he got himself beat unconscious." He was clearly livid.

They were silent for the entire drive back to Miles' place, each lost in their own thoughts. Charlie couldn't help thinking that Bass had been fighting because of her. It was wrong, it was twisted, but she was perversely glad to know that he felt something. That he hadn't just walked away and forgotten about her. That maybe he was as torn up about it as she was.

As they pulled up in front of Miles' place, they heard Bass groan from the back seat. "What the hell? I thought you were taking me home."

Miles spun around to look at Bass in the back seat. "No. I don't know what you're punishing yourself for this time, but I'm not letting it happen. You're staying here until I know that the next call I get to come pick you up won't be from the morgue."

Bass had no response. Slowly, painfully, he got out of the truck and followed them upstairs. He collapsed on the couch when they got upstairs and closed his eyes. Charlie cast him a concerned look, hoping he was okay, wanting to go to him, to hold him. But of course, she couldn't.

Miles misinterpreted her look of worry. "Charlie, it's fine. He's only a danger to himself. He won't hurt either of us." Astonished, she couldn't respond, keeping her eyes on Bass. He appeared to have fallen asleep.

"'Night, Miles," Charlie said, going to her room, suddenly feeling very tired.

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Despite her fatigue, Charlie couldn't sleep. She was tormented with thoughts of Bass, lying just one room away. She needed to see him. Throwing her covers back, she slipped out of her bed and opened the door to her room. Moving as quietly as possible, she crept down the hallway, then stopped in the shadows at the entrance to the living room, listening for Bass' breathing.

"You might as well come the rest of the way in," he said. As Charlie moved closer, she saw he was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Standing over him felt awkward, so she crouched down, sitting on her heels.

"What is it?" Bass said, still not looking at her.

Charlie didn't know how to respond for several seconds. Then she asked quietly, "It's me, isn't it? That's what you're punishing yourself for." She bent forward and laid her head on Bass' chest, praying he wouldn't push her away. Bass sighed and curled one arm loosely around her waist but didn't answer. Charlie protested, "You didn't do anything wrong."

Bass cut her off. "Don't. Your uncle told you earlier tonight that I would never hurt either of you. He believes that. But what he doesn't know is I already have." He suddenly dropped his arm from around her and added, "I am not a good man, Charlie."

"You didn't hurt me. Being apart from you hurts, but it's not the same thing. But if you're doing all of this because of Miles… do you think this is what he wants? You getting beat up every night as some kind of penance?" Bass breathed in and out deeply but didn't answer.

Charlie continued, "And what about what you want? What about… what I want?" She lifted her hand, resting it gently on his bare stomach, slowly rubbing across the taut muscle there.

When Bass didn't object, she gave in to a sudden urge, turning and licking his skin with the flat of her tongue. He tasted amazing: like sweat and salt and musk… like him.

Bass groaned and squeezed her waist tightly. "Stop." Ignoring his plea, she licked his chest again, trailing her tongue up over his collarbone, up his jugular, finishing behind his ear. She took his earlobe and flicked it with her tongue, then sucked it into her mouth, humming softly.

Bass threw his head back and pleaded, "Charlie, fuck. Stop."

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't get enough of you." Pulling back to look into his eyes, she saw mirrored in them her own overwhelming desire. Her lips were just millimeters from his, so close she could feel her own breath as she whispered, "Don't you think you've punished yourself enough?"

Hesitating for a few seconds, then moving almost imperceptibly closer to her, Bass finally pressed his lips to hers, tentatively at first, then with growing intensity. Charlie felt dizzy as the kiss deepened, every cell in her body crying out that, yes, this was what she needed. She pulled herself up onto the couch beside Bass, rolling half on top of him. Shifting his body, he moved her so her body covered his, flesh pressing into flesh as she sprawled across his bare chest. Suddenly, her nightshirt felt so thin it was nonexistent.

Bass seemed to be making up for the days they had spent apart, touching as much of her as he could reach, plunging his tongue into her mouth, crushing her tightly against him. Charlie relished the feel of his muscles beneath her, holding her as if she weighed nothing, coiling and flexing as he moved.

"Is this it, Charlie?" Bass asked in a growl. "This is what you want? Me? Here? Now?" She could feel his hardness between them. There was no mistaking what he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I want you, please," she begged. Bass captured her mouth in another kiss, moving his hands down her body, up under the hem of her nightshirt, over the curve of her ass. He groaned when he felt that she wasn't wearing any panties and reached his hand around behind her, penetrating her folds, feeling her. She leaned into his touch, letting out a soft cry of pleasure.

"You're so wet," he said roughly.

"For you, Bass," she said, arching her body into him, dragging her breasts across his chest, desperate for friction. "Always, for you."

Reaching between them, Bass opened his pants and pulled them partway down his hips. Charlie raised herself off him, giving him room to maneuver out of them. When he was naked, she lowered herself back down, centering his cock between her legs, rubbing him against her slit. Back and forth she moved, coating him with her moisture, feeling him stiffen even more beneath her. Bass had his hands on her ass, holding her as she moved against him. His cock below her felt hot and impossibly hard.

Staying bent close to Bass, Charlie reached down and wrapped one hand around his cock, pulling it toward her. Lifting herself up slightly, she lined him up with her entrance and sank down, finally filling herself completely with him, taking him into her core. She was so wet, so ready, he slid in smoothly, like they were made for each other. Charlie spread her legs she grinded down into him desperately, wanting him as deep as possible.

For a few seconds, she let her body adjust to his size, then she moved, rolling her hips on him, firing off new sensations of pleasure. She rolled her hips again, fucking him, catching her clit on his public bone, causing her to let out a shuddering "ohhhh" of ecstasy.

Charlie looked at Bass. He was staring her, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted, like a man seeing the sun for the first time. Like he was afraid to blink because it might all be a dream. She stared back for a beat, her heart thudding in her chest. Then she quickly bent to kiss him again, moving against him urgently.

Finally, Bass moved too, pushing his cock deeper inside her, pulling her ass into him as he thrust up, making her feel like he was filling every inch of her, like he might break her in half, except it felt so good. Charlie shifted slightly, and he was hitting that place inside her that she needed him most. As she got close, she began to moan. He warned her.

"Quiet, Charlie. Come for me, but quietly." She did. Her body shook as she came on his cock, shuddering and grabbing into his biceps for support, the only sound she made her gasps for air. She worked herself up and down on him, riding the aftershocks of her orgasm, soaking them both in her juices.

As she slowed down, he sped up and wrapped both his strong arms around her waist, pumping into her hard, relentless. She could feel him getting rock hard inside her as he got close, his movements growing more frantic. "Come inside me," she murmured in his ear, pushing down on him. "I want to feel your cum inside me."

Pursing his lips hard, squeezing his eyes shut, Bass swallowed a groan and thrust his cock up into Charlie one last time as he came. She felt him pulsing inside her, felt his muscles contract and then relax as he finished. They lay there for several minutes, staying as close to each other as possible, Bass' cock still inside her, Charlie resting all her weight on him.

After a few minutes, Charlie raised her head up and looked at Bass. He was giving her that awestricken look again. "Are you done feeling guilty?" she asked him with a teasing smile.

His eyes flashed with pain. "I don't know."

"But you're done saying no to me."

Bass groaned, dropping his head back into the couch pillow. "Somehow I keep thinking of the phrase 'give me my sin again.'"

Charlie took that as her answer and smiled, falling back onto him, promising, "I will."

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A/N: I love your reviews, thank you so much, I read and appreciate every one. It's so nice to know what is working, especially taking Charloe AU… it's a lot of fun. I've got at least one more chapter already written, and several more twists and turns planned out. Can't wait to share it with y'all!