Fighting for It

by Jennifer Fusco

  “Shakes. Stamina. You.”

  “I like being on your mind, but I like being other places, too.” He clasped her hand in his. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.” He escorted her through his dimly lit apartment, leading her to the bedroom. It was as if he wanted nothing more than to get her naked, put himself inside her, and make her come in order to watch her stress fall away. Her heart thumped. Anticipation tightened her stomach. The hard thumping inside her body told her sex was exactly what she needed.

  The second she crossed into his apartment, he had his hands on her shoulders, smoothing over her skin, rubbing out the stress. Hard knots rolled underneath his fingers. He pressed harder, deeper, soothing her.

  She leaned in to his touch. “You make me feel so good.”

  “I can do better. Let me show you.”

  They walked to his bedroom.

  Her body temperature climbed a few degrees as his gaze traveled over her. Instantly he covered her mouth with a quick kiss. Oh God, how she ached for his strong lips touching hers. Not needing further invitation, Jack lifted the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the floor. But before they crawled inside the bed, she said, “Jeans, too.”

  He made fast work of the belt and zipper. A sly grin spread over his face as his clothing fell into a heap on the floor. Clad only in his boxers, he took her to bed, and immediately went to work on undressing her.

  With a gentle tug, her shorts slid down her thighs.

  She helped him peel her shirt from her, exposing her bra. And with a snap, the lace between them joined their heap of clothing on the floor. He lowered his head to her neck and slowly kissed his way down her body. Pleasure rocked her as his lips latched on to her nipple. He sucked and pulled and teased her nub with a gentle bite.

  She moaned in response, as if she might climax from his mouth alone.

  Her head lolled back, sinking deeper into the pillow as he worked her into a frenzy.

  His hand trailed lower, past the waistband of her panties, stopping between her legs. Oh, how he rubbed. She pressed herself against his touch, needing the friction, needing more.

  Desire to be completely naked with him filled her. Skin to skin, she wanted his warmth, his strength.

  He wore a look of fierce hunger, one driven by primal need to connect and release. And he wanted it, too. She knew by the way he ripped her panties from her body with a snap.

  “Stay,” he growled, peeling his body away from her long enough to add his boxers to the pile.

  With a hunger that matched his, she followed his orders and waited until he lowered his finely sculpted torso down to her. The bed shifted under their weight.

  She opened for him and the rock-hard length of him pressed inside. He took her, captivated her. Driving the space between her legs, she rocked with his every motion. Once he was deep inside, he fucked her like he owned her. And she wanted to be owned. To be wanted and possessed.

  Every kiss, bliss. Every stroke, pure pleasure.

  Deeper he pushed into her, another inch. A collective moan filled the air. Then he pulled out, teasing her.

  “No.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded almost panicked. Jack slid back inside, getting comfortable. Taking her in the way he wanted. Taking her the way she wanted to be taken. She gave him everything in return.

  What she felt for him was more than a jumble of feelings, more than physical desire or a mild flirtation. No. She needed him like she needed air; he filled her soul. And she swore to God she loved him more than anything in the world.

  Her climax built each time he drove deeper inside her. Her orgasm threatened to shatter her.

  He must’ve felt her shaking because he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Come with me.”

  She wrapped her legs around him and he thrust deeper inside. Every glorious inch of him filled her. Teased her. Took her to new states of awareness. Oh God, he felt so good. Jack hit spots she didn’t know existed. She couldn’t hold back any longer. All her love. All her passion was right here. He covered his mouth over hers and she came apart underneath him.

  Jack quickly followed and released into her. Hot, sweaty, and sated, Jack kissed her softly and satisfyingly.

  Once her breathing had returned to normal she said, “I love you, Jack.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Jack instantly regretted not saying he loved her, too. Admittedly he took the guy way out. After her admission, he covered her mouth with a kiss, stroked her hair, and tried to fill the enormous void where his words of “I love you, too” should’ve surpassed the massive amounts of cuddling.

  Lame.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. He did. But to tell her? No. Three simple words couldn’t begin to say how much she meant to him. He showed her instead. Orgasms rocked her body because of him and she responded in the way no other woman had.

  Saying I love you didn’t mean a damn thing.

  Words were words. Jack Brady was a man of action. She felt his love. He meant it. End of story.

  Maybe he could do more to convince her of how he felt. But what?

  At eight thirty that night, the team from Stamina would board a red-eye to London. She might love him now, but he didn’t know if her feelings would be the same on the backside of their round-trip flight. He knew firsthand that anything could happen in London. A champ today could quickly turn to a chump tomorrow.

  Daniella moved in closer to him and the sounds of her breathing evened. With the threat of London off in the distance, his body grew restless. Agitated. Because the only way he knew to show her his love was to win the Cortez fight.

  * * *

  Sixteen hours and a few minor delays later, the tin can with wings cruised at forty thousand feet nonstop to London. When he wasn’t keeping Dani entertained or trying to distract her from the book she read, Jack tried to catnap, but sleep eluded him. Nine hours and forty-five minutes was too long to strap yourself to a chair.

  He’d made a habit of bothering her at least once an hour. This time he leaned over to Dani, sitting against the window, and said, “Hey, you want to join the mile-high club?”

  She blew him off, swiping her finger across the face of the tablet, not looking up from her device.

  Rejected.

  Eh, no harm done. He’d try again in another hour.

  The seat belt sign wasn’t illuminated, so he decided to get up and stretch his legs. Knotted and tense, his thighs burned. He lifted himself over the lucky bastard sitting in the aisle seat, and told Dani he’d be right back. The only thing worse than flying coach was flying coach in the middle seat. Damn, his muscles ached. Walking off the stiffness, he stepped back a few rows and hovered over Shakes’s chair.

  Shakes looked up from his copy of Tuff Sports magazine to see Jack looming over him.

  “Get any sleep?” Jack asked him.

  “Maybe an hour. You?”

  “Nah.”

  “We should be landing soon. Are you going to be all right?” Shakes asked.

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  “Good. I’m here. Dani’s here. We’re not going to let anything go wrong.”

  Jack patted Shakes’s shoulder and walked back to his row. In the few strides back to his seat, London crossed his mind. The fight. The deception. Jay Clarke. Even if R. L. had been with him on that trip, he doubted there would have been much his manager could have done to change the outcome. Sure, if R. L. had worked his corner, the water wouldn’t have been spiked. But Clarke and the London promoters would have found another way to secure the outcome they wanted.

  They always did.

  This time he was ready. Prepared. This time the London crew wouldn’t get their way. It was time for him to regain what he’d lost. His win. His dignity.

  Tension released and traveled down his legs, and the tightness from his back eased. He stood, letting his muscles stretch and relax until the flight attendant made an announcement for everyone to take their seats. The flight started descending. I
t was time to land.

  Buckling himself in, Dani finally glanced up at him. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  She placed her tablet in her bag, pushed it under the seat, and grabbed Jack’s hand.

  “You okay?” he asked when her grip tightened.

  “I hate landings.”

  He held her hand tightly. “Nothing to worry about.”

  The plane touched down with a thud and whirred along the runway. A few people clapped, while others grabbed for their belongings even after the announcement to stay still.

  He and Dani stood and waited for their turn to deplane. Once inside Heathrow, they found their bags riding along the carousel.

  He lifted the suitcases from the turnstile when a familiar voice floated over his shoulder, “Ah, I see you remembered the place, right, mate?”

  With a glance over his shoulder, Jack’s body froze. Clarke reached out his hand. “Let me help you with those?” He reached for the bag closest to Dani.

  “Don’t touch a fucking thing,” Jack growled.

  Turning his body around, his gaze landed hard on Clarke. Benedict fucking Arnold. His jaw tightened. A wash of acid rolled through his stomach. And a moment of heat flashed through him. His bicep bunched. Fingers curled into a fist. There was nothing more he wanted than to take the bastard out. The last thing he wanted was help from a traitor.

  Jack turned to his companions. “Dani, Shakes, meet Jay Clarke.”

  No one extended a hand.

  “And here I thought you’d be grateful to be back,” Clarke said. “Second chances are such a rare gift.”

  “You got a purpose for breathing my air?” Jack stared him down.

  Clarke smiled.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Clarke?” Daniella asked.

  “I wanted to make sure you had these.” Clarke extended his hand, which was filled with papers. “Didn’t trust cyberspace to take care of our unexpected guests.”

  Dani took the papers. “We don’t want anything from you. No room reservations, no taxi fare, no meals, and especially no drinking water.”

  Jack looked over her shoulder and scanned the pages. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t knock you out right here?”

  Dani returned the papers to Clarke. Then she curled her hand around Jack’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t let me see your sorry ass again.” Jack lifted the suitcases, and with a nod to Shakes, escorted Dani out of the airport as Clarke stood in his wake.

  Silence filled the cab ride to their hotel. He didn’t know if no one spoke because they were clueless as to what to say, or were afraid of his reaction. The silence had stretched past the moment they’d checked in to their hotel to the elevator ride up to their floor, and ballooned after Shakes had bid both of them good night.

  “Say something,” he said to Dani, once they’d closed the door to their own room.

  “I thought you handled that remarkably well. I probably would have hit him.”

  A rush of air left his lungs. “Wait. You’re the sports therapist. You’re supposed to be the calm one.”

  She shook her head. “Not once I laid eyes on that prick.”

  Her support dampened the growing fire in his belly. He wrapped his hands around her bicep and squeezed. “Well it’s a good thing I didn’t let your big guns loose on him. Poor bastard wouldn’t know what had hit him.”

  They both laughed.

  “We still have a problem.” Dani walked across the room and sat on the king-size bed. “We’re still vulnerable when it comes to Clarke. He’ll have access to you before you step in the ring. I don’t trust him.”

  He sat down beside her. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know. But before you step into the ring, we need to make sure a fight official inspects everything.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Don’t worry.” Dani pressed a light kiss on his cheek. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I know you will. Now come here.” He pulled her dangerously close. “It’s time I take care of you first.”

  She giggled. “What do you mean?”

  He lowered her back onto the bed. “The mile-high club has nothing on us, baby.”

  She reached her hand over to the lamp beside the bed and switched it off. “Damn straight.”

  Jack climbed on top of her and the bed shifted underneath their weight. As a growing warmth spread through his body, he knew that he was filled with lust and love. His cock throbbed, wanting to be inside her. And he wanted it, too. He longed to show her that being here in London didn’t change anything. Not the way he felt about boxing or the way he felt about her. He peeled off her clothes in quick succession, starting with her shirt, then her pants. Freeing her, he left her in her bra and panties to remove his own clothing.

  He stepped off the bed and got naked.

  He swore he heard a pant come from her direction, a seductive needy little breath of air that told him how much she wanted him to rock her body.

  With a finger he pulled at the G-string on her hips. “Take it off,” he nearly growled, unable to hold back his primal need.

  She responded by teasing him. Taking the thin material in her hand, she worked it down her body, nice and slow.

  The woman was trying to kill him.

  His mouth watered, craving the taste of her skin in his mouth. Gently, she lifted her hips and slid the underwear further down her thighs, letting the material skim over all the places he wanted to kiss.

  Seeing her undress tortured him. He fought against the urge to ravish her and take her on the spot. But there was something about watching her take off her clothes that got him hotter than any sensual kiss or intimate touch. Observing her half-naked and ready to rock made him as hard as he could fucking get.

  She lifted her hand and tapped a finger to the clasp on the front of her bra.

  “Take it off.”

  Daniella’s second hand rose to meet the first. With a tiny snap, the bra fell away. And he looked down on her and licked his lips.

  “Gorgeous. You’re so beautiful, baby.”

  A blush crept over her face, but he didn’t care. What he said was true. No other woman had a body like Daniella’s. Unable to keep himself from touching her, he went to the bed and caressed his hand up her thigh.

  She spread her legs just enough to give him access to whatever he desired. She was his personal playground, but he’d make sure she’d be the one who had fun first.

  Dipping a finger inside her, he said, “You’re so wet.” He couldn’t suppress his pride. Undressing for him had gotten her hot, too. He knew it would.

  He returned his finger to her warm center and worked her, gently massaging her clit. A little groan escaped her. His fingers moved in a rhythmic motion, tormenting her with pleasure. Her back arched. Hips tilted upward, rocking.

  He worked her hard. Deliberately. At the sound of her tiny cry, he removed his fingers and lowered his mouth to her. With a few licks to her center, she came for him, as cries of pleasure left her throat.

  At her moans, he leaned up, then readjusted and thrust himself inside her. He pumped hard, knowing he was also seconds away from orgasm. He felt her squeeze her muscles, drawing him deeper inside her.

  Oh God. He joined her in sweet release. Finishing, he rubbed his hands appreciatively over her body. As long as he lived, there’d never be anyone else besides Daniella.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The alarm clock on Daniella’s cell phone buzzed right beside her ear. She woke with the heaviness of jetlag settling deep in her stomach. She didn’t know if she needed to eat or barf. Sitting up, she grabbed her cell phone and allowed herself a few moments to let the day that awaited her sink in.

  The weigh-in, press conference, and her first opportunity to lay eyes on Cortez were only hours away.

  She outstretched her hand and placed it on Jack’s bare hip.

  “Babe, wake up.”

 
“Huh?” He stirred.

  “The press conference and weigh-in are this afternoon.”

  Jack stretched.

  She pushed the covers back and stepped out of bed. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she strode over to her suitcase and took out some clothes. Black pants, white shirt, and a black jacket. That’s how she wanted to pass herself off to Cortez’s people. All business. And she’d wear her sunglasses inside for just the right amount of fuck you.

  Weigh-ins were used as an opportunity for drama. The press used them as a photo opportunity to build up anticipation for the fight. Officially they were formal documentation of the fighter’s weight, an important statistic of record needed before a fight began to ensure a proper match-up.

  Holding her clothes, her managerial side took over. “On the flight, I was thinking that at the press conference, they might ask you about your last fight. If they do, frame your answer in response to this fight. Tell them the past is in the past, and you’re looking forward to taking on Cortez. Your opponent and his people are going to try to intimidate you. Don’t let them get inside your head. Stay cool.” She opened his suitcase. “What do you think about wearing your navy blue trunks? They’ll show up nicely on camera, right?”

  Jack’s footsteps padded along the carpet. The weight of his hands rested lightly on her shoulders.

  “Here.” She turned around to face him, holding his trunks and robe. “Go put this on.”

  He slid his hands down her arms, pulling her in to him. And her whole world slowed down. Gently, he lowered his mouth to hers and covered it in a soft, warm kiss. She nearly melted against him.

  “I’ll do whatever you want. Everything’s in control because of you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “In that case, kiss me again before you change.”

  He did, then he took his clothes from her hand and left to change.

  Jack quickly closed the bathroom door behind him and Daniella sprang into action. Gathering her hair into a ponytail, she twisted it into a knot on the top of her head. She slid into her pants, pulled on her shirt and jacket, and by the time Jack had emerged, she wiggled her feet down into her heels.