Fighting Jacob

by Shandi Boyes

  “Here we go again.”

  Since the tap came from my side of the car, I manually roll down my window. I don't slide it down far — only an inch. I'd rather be arrested again than let a wannabe cop see Lola's tits.

  A pair of worldly eyes peer at me through the crack. “Move along.” He taps his baton on Lola’s door. “If you’re not gone in five minutes, I’ll call the cops.”

  Stealing my chance to reply that we’ve been there, done that, he saunters back to his security golf cart parked one spot up. His swagger is cockier than his attitude.

  As I roll back up the window, Lola’s giggle echoes around the interior of her car. “Move along.”

  I grin at her impersonation of the security guard’s accent. My smile doesn’t linger for long. She’s doing up the buttons I just finished unbuttoning.

  “He has no clue how lucky he is to have survived forty-five seconds in your presence.”

  Only once her blouse is done up does normal function return to my brain. “What are you talking about? What forty-five seconds?”

  I tempted to tell the guard he can screw his five-minute warning when Lola says, “From what I’ve seen, you’re over and done with in forty-five seconds.”

  My brow cocks. “You sure as hell know I last longer than forty-five seconds.”

  With a giggle, she slaps my chest. “I didn’t mean in the bedroom.”

  My ego is loving the stroke she’s giving it nearly as much as I enjoyed her stroking my cock, but my deflated chest sinks when she murmurs, “I meant in the boxing ring.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lola

  Jacob raises pads to his face before stepping closer to me. “Come on, stop being a girl; put some effort in.”

  “You weren’t complaining about me being a girl last night.”

  His chuckle stops bouncing around the gym we’re working out in when I throw a right hook into the protective pad sheltering his jaw. Ever since we rekindled our “friendship” weeks ago, he relentlessly nagged me to join him for a session at his favorite gym. He made out it was for a bit of fun, but I know the real reason he brought me here. He wants to teach me how to defend myself in case I have a run-in with Callum again.

  His motives are sweet, but I wish he could have picked a location that didn’t make my stomach revolt when we entered. I’ve smelled some funky things in my time, but nothing compares to the stench that hit me when we burst through Hank’s Gym’s doors. Jacob swears I’ll get used to it. I’m not so sure. Some things are unforgettable.

  Take Jacob’s face when I let slip I knew he was fighting in an illegal circuit as an example. He was panicked out of his mind that I was mad. He had no reason to be worried. He might be the size of a truck, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not once since Callum revealed Jacob’s secret have I been concerned about my safety. In all honesty, his video turned me on. From the day we met, I was adamant Jacob was too nice for me, so finding out he isn’t as squeaky clean as his boy-next-door looks convey add an additional thrill to our relationship.

  From the videos I’ve watched on YouTube, it doesn’t take a genius to realize Jacob isn’t arrogant like his competitors, but there’s an edge of confidence not even grainy footage could take away. Fighting might seem brutal to some, but Jacob loves it, so that’s all that matters.

  “If I agree to the bi-weekly training sessions you’re suggesting, will you let me watch you fight this weekend?” My words are breathless. I had no clue how demanding boxing is until now. I won’t need to go running for a month.

  Jacob pulls the pads off his hands before handing me a half-empty bottle of water. “I don’t know, Lola. I reaped the benefits after you watched me on YouTube, but knowing you’re all hot and bothered in the stands watching me live might be too much of a distraction.”

  I don’t know whether to kiss the spunk out of him or punch it. I go for the latter when he friskily winks. He’s loving my response.

  I’m about to back up my hit with a kiss when a mannish voice outside of the ring stops me. “Looks like you went and got yourself a weak spot?”

  When I swing my eyes to the voice, I’m met with a middle-aged African American man with a bright, beaming smile. He’s peering at Jacob with a mischievous glint in his eyes, forcing him to admit, “You could say that.”

  After Jacob pulls apart the ropes to assist him into the ring, he heads my way to offer up an introduction. “Hello, pretty lady, I’m Hank.”

  “Lola. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hank.”

  When I accept the hand Hank is holding out, instead of shaking it, he uses it to twirl me around. Most women would be peeved by his avid assessment of my body. I'm not most women. Furthermore, his gaze isn't intrusive. It's more inquisitive than anything.

  “Definitely a weak spot.” He gives Jacob a look as if he’s pleased for him, and perhaps a little worried, before returning his focus to me. “Has my boy taught you anything, or has he just been fooling around in my ring?”

  My lips curl high. “Fooling around. This is Jacob we’re talking about.”

  Jacob’s laughter picks up when Hank grumbles, “True,” with a roll of his eyes. “Can I give her some pointers?”

  After taking in my wide eyes and sweat-dotted forehead, Jacob nods. “Be my guest.”

  “First, your stance is all wrong. You need to spread your legs wider.” Hank kicks my running shoes until he’s satisfied I’m standing correctly. “Your feet should match the width of your shoulders, but you need a heel-toe stance.”

  He lifts my hands until they’re right up close to my cheeks. “The most important rule when fighting is to protect your face. We don’t want this pretty little face getting any marks on it, so keep your arms up high, and your elbows tucked in.”

  A squeak pops from my lips when he cozies up to me from behind. He’s close enough I can feel his raging heart, but not close enough I feel uncomfortable. “Elbows in; chin down.” After making his arms extensions of my limbs, he displays what he means with actions instead of words. He brings my elbows in close to my body before lowering my chin nearly to my breasts.

  “Good girl. Now step closer to Jacob.” When Jacob holds out his palms, Hank uses my fisted hands to strike them. “Left, right, left, right.” He's puppeteering my movements, but it allows me to see how my stance was wrong when sparring with Jacob earlier.

  My hands flop to my chest when Hank releases them from his grip. “Hands up; protect your face.” His shouts mimic ones I heard while watching Jacob’s fights on YouTube. “Elbows in and get on your toes. You don’t want clumpy feet like Jacob.”

  Ignoring Jacob’s snicker, I do as instructed.

  “Now hit. Left, right, left right. Duck.”

  I bob down in just enough time to miss Jacob’s loosely swung hand soaring above my head. We practiced this move for an hour this morning before Hank arrived.

  “Good, now back up on your toes!”

  Over the next thirty minutes, Jacob, Hank and I try a number of boxing techniques. I won't lie; my cheeks are hurting from how hard I'm smiling. Boxing is hard, but I have a better understanding of why Jacob loves it. I’m a newbie, yet I loved every friggin’ minute of our session.

  After removing the last of the tape from my hands, Hank raises his eyes to me. “You did really good today, pretty lady. If you ever want a career in boxing, let me know.”

  My narrowed eyes stray to Jacob when he murmurs under his breath, “No fucking chance.”

  My glare has his throat working hard to swallow, but Hank acts oblivious to the tension brewing between us. With a laugh, he walks away, leaving Jacob defenseless to the ass-whooping I’m about to give him.

  “Who died and made you my boss?”

  “No one, but I don’t need to be your boss to tell you there’s no chance you’ll ever accept Hank’s offer.”

  The cheekiness in his reply swallows some of my sass. “Why not? I’d make a good fighter.”

  “You would, but this isn’t the career f
or you. For one, you don’t follow instructions—”

  “I followed Hank’s instructions today without so much of an argument!”

  Jacob's grin picks up. "Yeah, why was that? I almost lost my nuts for opening your car door, but Hank can boss you around and not be in fear of his life! What the fuck?"

  The jest in his tone makes me smile. “My relationship with Hank is different than ours. I like him.”

  I try to hide my smile when his jaw drops to the floor. “What are you saying? You like him more than me?”

  When I nod, he snaps my backside with the towel he’s holding. Its loud crack echoes around the deserted gym as quickly as it makes excitement rush to my womb.

  With his arm slung back and his smile the biggest I’ve seen, Jacob says, “Tell me you like me more.”

  “Or what? You’ll spank me until I relent?”

  My knees curve inward when he nods. The Jacob standing before me now is the Jacob I get wet over while watching YouTube videos of him fighting. He’s confident, yet cheeky, an unusual but highly craved combination.

  When he arches his brow, warning I’m seconds away from getting my butt whipped, I murmur, “I like you...nearly as much as I like Hank.”

  The last half of my sentence comes out in a flurry from my mad dash to the women’s locker room. I think I’ve made it to freedom when I enter the domain that smells like sweaty socks, but Jacob is quick to prove me wrong. He bands his arm around my waist before tugging me back.

  Any wishes to flee him fly out the window when I feel his cock hard and heavy against my back. I'm trapped by a lust haze in under a second. Nothing is on my mind but wondering how long it will take to spring his cock out of his gym pants and get it in my mouth.

  “Jacob...”

  My words trap in my throat when he drags his tongue along my neck. As he continues walking us into the women’s locker room, my eyes stray to Hank's office. The blinds that were open only moments ago are now closed, and his door is shut. He's either accustomed to gym members shredding extra calories in his showers, or he felt the chemistry bristling between Jacob and me the past hour.

  I can only hope it's the latter, and not because this is something Jacob often does. I'd ask how many women he's fondled in the showers, but when his lips are on mine, not even something as extreme as envy can steal my focus away from him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jacob

  Six months later...

  When I enter the living room of my childhood home, Emily greets me with a hug. “Merry Christmas, Jacob.”

  I return her embrace. “Merry Christmas, Em.”

  Just as she pulls back, I spot Noah entering the living room from the other end. With my playfulness at an all-time high, I tug Emily back in for a second embrace before raising my eyes to Noah.

  “So hot,” I mouth to his murderous glare.

  He’s not pissed about me hugging Emily. It’s Christmas; even the Grinch hands out hugs on Christmas. He wants to kill me because I’m humping Emily’s leg like a dog in heat.

  After slapping my chest, Emily slips out of my embrace. Although she’s dying of embarrassment, she places herself between Noah and me before Noah can act on any of the inane thoughts in his head. I’m not worried. He’s my little bro; it’s my job to rile him up.

  I flash him a quick smirk before sealing my tease with a wink. “Merry Christmas, Noah.”

  He gives me a stern finger point. It’s the same finger he uses every time I piss him off. “I’m going to kick your ass one day.”

  I chuckle. His threat holds no steam. You can’t threaten someone you love.

  After soothing Noah as only she can, Emily shifts on her feet to face me. Her cheeks are pinker now than they were when my crotch got friendly with her leg. For some ridiculous reason, she only has eyes for Noah—that’s why using her against him is so much fun.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? My mom has gone overboard; we’ll be eating leftovers for a week.”

  Her eyes say the words she refuses to say: and you can see Lola.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good. It’s always been the old man, Patrick, and me for Christmas. I don't want to break tradition."

  Furthermore, although I'd love nothing more than to see Lola today, I understand our arrangement, even if those around us don’t comprehend it.

  “Would you mind giving Lola something for me?”

  Not waiting for them to reply, I rush into my room to grab an envelope off my bedside table before hot-footing it back to the living room. Emily's brows inch together when I hand it to her.

  “It’s her Christmas present,” I explain to her confused expression.

  When Emily shakes the envelope to make sure it isn’t empty, Noah snatches it away with a chuckle. “Stop snooping.”

  The confusion on Emily’s face jumps to his when he takes in the inscription on the envelope. “CT? Who’s CT?”

  “Just give it to Lola; she’ll understand.”

  I band my arms around both their shoulders before forcefully walking them to the door. The quicker they get out of here, the faster I'll get Lola's response to my gift.

  Approximately an hour later, the text I’ve been dying to get finally arrives.

  Lola: I love it! Thank you.

  Smiling like she told me she loves me, I reply:

  Me: You’re welcome.

  The second best present I could ever be given arrives in my inbox two seconds after my phone whooshes, announcing my text has been sent.

  Lola: I miss you, Jacob.

  While smiling the biggest grin I’ve ever smiled, my fingers fly over the screen of my phone. They may not be the three little words I was seeking, but they’re pretty fucking close.

  Me: I miss you too, C.T.

  My eyes float up from my phone when my dad asks, “Who has you grinning like the cat who ate the canary?”

  I wait for him to sit in his favorite reading chair before replying, “A girl.” I try my hardest not to grin, but I can’t help but smile. I knew Lola would understand my gift the instant she opened it.

  My dad balances his backside on the very edge of his chair. “Is it the same girl you mentioned a few months back? What was her name again...?”

  “Lola.” Even saying it for over a year hasn’t dampened the sexiness of her name. “And, yes, she’s the same girl.”

  “Sounds serious.” The look on his face reveals he’s moments away from giving me one of his infamous long lectures.

  “Can we skip the safe sex lecture? If it hasn’t sunk in by now, hearing it for the fiftieth time this year won’t make any difference.” I’m joking—not that he’s aware of that.

  “You should be thanking me. If I didn’t give you the birds and the bees talk as often as I did, who knows how many women would have come forward, announcing you’re their baby’s daddy.”

  After giving me his don’t mess with me look, he slumps into his chair before picking up his latest read. As he disappears into the world of fiction, I think about what he said. As much as it kills me to admit, he’s right. His “talks” were drummed into me so often, any time I sampled a cookie jar, I always used protection. If I didn’t wrap it, I didn’t have it. Plain and simple. So, in some ways, I should thank him.

  When I do precisely that, he grunts, acknowledging he heard me, but his gaze remains on his book...until I say, “Can I ask you something?”

  That’s the equivalent of an untapped goldmine to my dad. Talking only comes second to lecturing. Faster than I can snap my fingers, he slips a bookmark into place, closes his book, then drops it onto the coffee table. I regret my decision for a heart to heart when he wiggles his recliner until he's sitting across from me like a therapist would a patient.

  “Okay. What did you want to ask?”

  I’ve come this far, so I may as well continue. “What was your relationship like with Mom at the start?”

  My question catches him unaware. He thought the focus would remain on
me like it did when we chatted months ago.

  “I know you don’t remember much about your mom, but when she walked into the room, it was like the sun rising in the morning... but that doesn’t mean she was a pushover. She was as strong as they come. She had to be for what she endured when she was a child.” His voice falters at the end of his statement.

  “Did you know right away that you loved her?”

  The sadness in his eyes disappears when he nods. "From the instant I met her. Although she took a lot longer to realize it than I would have liked.” He locks his eyes with mine; they’re brimming with suspicion. “But you already know this, so why are you asking about it again?”

  I only scratch my brow for half a second, but it tells him everything he needs to know. “She got to you, didn’t she? And now you can’t get her out of your head?”

  “You have no idea.” I take a few seconds to figure out the best way to explain my relationship with Lola. When I’m left with only more confusion, I go with straight-up honesty. “She’s different from the other girls I’ve dated. Half the time, I want to strangle the sass straight out of her, whereas the other half, I want to wrap her in a cocoon to keep her safe and protected. She’s the most stubborn, beautiful girl I’ve ever met, but I can’t get enough of her—when she’s not lumping me in the friend's zone.”

  “Is what she’s giving you enough? Because if it is, take what you can get and enjoy it while it lasts. If it isn’t, walk away. Not every love story is epic, Jacob. Some start slow; others rage out of control, and then there are the ones that dwindle over time. Every relationship is unique, so no one can dictate exactly what’s right for one couple. What works for one may not work for another. Only you can decide what you can accept.” My eyes float up from the ground when my dad places his hand on my bobbing knee. “Do you love her?”

  I nod without pause for thought. I’ve loved Lola from the moment I laid my eyes on her.