Fighting for Forever

by J. B. Salsbury

  My fists clench. A fucking porn producer approaching my girl while we’re on a date? Nope. Not happening.

  I step up into his space and try like hell to say what needs to be said without embarrassing Trix any more than I need to. “Listen, fuckface. You’re going to turn around right this motherfucking second and walk away, you hear me?”

  “You misunderstand. I’ve seen her dance and she’s got talent. With those moves, she could make millions on screen.” He steps back and tries to look at Trix to address her, but I catch his chubby fucking chin in my hand.

  “Don’t fucking look at her.”

  “Mason, it’s okay,” Trix says, her voice shaky with emotion.

  “If I could just leave my card—”

  I grip the asshole by his suit jacket and drag him the few yards to the front of the restaurant. The hostess sees me coming and opens the tall glass door, probably to avoid me shattering it when I toss this fucker’s body through it. Two steps outside and I shove the prick with enough force that he lands on his ass.

  “Stay the fuck away from her,” I growl and turn around, passing the slack-jawed hostess. “We’ll take our check.”

  Once back at the table, I find Trix visibly shaken. Her gaze darts around the room, and her earlier confidence is non-existent. She looks terrified.

  I move to her and pull her from her seat and into my arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her body melts into my hold. “It’s not your fault, Mason.” The defeat in her voice makes my chest tight. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

  I release her enough to get her eyes. “You could never embarrass me, Trix. Ever. Nothing makes me feel more proud than to show up with you on my arm. I don’t love what you do for work, but you deserve respect at all times and from all people, and what that fucker did tonight was unacceptable.”

  A few women pass by us, whispering something about purple hair. Trix watches them pass before peering up at me with watery eyes. “I’d like to go home now.”

  Fucking bitches. I glare at the women, silencing them immediately.

  “Of course.” I grab her purse, hook her around the shoulders and lead her to the hostess, who has our bill.

  “Would you like me to box up your leftovers, Mr. Mahoney?” she says in true kiss-ass form.

  “No.” I shove cash at her and hold Trix close until the valet pulls up with my truck.

  This night was supposed to be perfect for her, and instead of feeling like a damn queen on a throne, she was made to feel like she was wearing a big fat scarlet “A” on her chest.

  That was not the plan.

  I pull the truck from the restaurant, vowing to never go back there again. Trix is turned with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, staring out the window.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” We’d only had a few bites of our food before that dickhead ruined it.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice sounds almost robotic.

  She’s far from fine.

  And I’ve seen the girl eat. No way two bites of lobster is going to fill her up. I pull onto the freeway on-ramp.

  “This date stuff isn’t as fun as I imagined it would be.” Her voice is so quiet and directed toward the window, and I can barely figure out if what she said was for me or just her.

  “It wasn’t ideal, but being with you is all I care about.”

  She scoffs. “Welcome to the world of dating an exotic dancer.”

  Is that all she thinks of herself? That her worth is tied to her chosen career? “I’m not dating an exotic dancer. I’m dating you, Beatriks.”

  She sucks in a quick breath and turns to stare out the front window.

  I exit the freeway and pull into a drive through.

  She blinks up at the glowing red-and-yellow sign. “You’re taking me to In-N-Out Burger?” The spark of a smile twitches her lips.

  “I know you’re hungry, and this is a date so . . . is that okay?”

  “I love In-N-Out.”

  “Good.” And I love doing things she loves. “And this time we’re eating at my place where no one can bother you.”

  “Except you.” She lifts one eyebrow.

  “That’s right. Except me.”

  Trix

  As nice as that restaurant was, and damn, it was incredible, it wasn’t anything compared to the prospect of a couch picnic with Mason. I can’t help feeling like shit about the way the night has gone. That lobster cost a fortune, and we just left it all there.

  That jerk from the porn company ruined it all. It’s not that I haven’t been approached with similar requests in the past, but it’s only ever been done at the club. There’s nothing worse than finally feeling like you belong, only to have the harsh reminder that you don’t shoved right into your face.

  And all in front of Mason.

  God, even thinking about it now makes my face flame. He couldn’t have been cooler about it. Even when confronted by Blake and Layla, his friends, he stuck up for me. I’m not sure I even deserved that, and yet he was there defending me.

  I slip off my shoes and tuck my feet under me with a bag of greasy burgers and fries in my lap. We turn off a few main roads and into a newer part of town where all the strip malls and gas stations aren’t more than a few years old.

  “This is where you live, huh?” I scoot forward to peer out the front window at the rows of two and three-story condos, each boasting their own private garage. “These are really nice.” They just don’t seem like him. I don’t know what I was expecting, but these places look uptown. I expected Mason to live somewhere with a big backyard, a garage full of tools, and a dog.

  “Best the UFL has to offer.” He turns down one of the winding roads and hits a button on his visor. A garage opens and he pulls the truck in. “Home sweet home.”

  I hook the straps of my shoes and grab my purse while Mason manages the food. He opens the door that leads to a staircase so narrow I wonder if he has to turn sideways to walk through it.

  The top of the stairs opens to a sprawling living space, open kitchen and living room combo, and more stairs off to the side.

  He drops a kiss on my head as he passes me. “Sit. I’ll grab some plates.”

  I drop my shoes and purse by the stairs and sit on the large overstuffed couch. On the coffee table, there’s an elongated tray that’s covered in different-colored polished rocks. It’s like something I’d see at one of those fancy décor stores in the mall or some doctor’s office display that’s meant to calm. None of this seems at all like the Mason I know.

  “It came with the place.” He watches me poke at the shiny stones. “I didn’t pick out any of this.” His hand motions to some framed art and a decorative mirror on the wall.

  “How long have you lived here?” I call out to Mason, who’s busy pulling plates and napkins out of the cupboards.

  “It’s been a year. I made enough from my last fight to get a place of my own, just haven’t had the time to look.” He’s unwrapping burgers, and my chest swells with warmth.

  It’s such a simple gesture, plating up my food, but it communicates something so much more. He balances two plates in one hand and grabs my drink with the other.

  “Need some help?”

  “No, I got it.” He slides down beside me on the couch, and I relieve him of my chocolate shake so he can set down our food.

  I eyeball the burgers, stuffed with lettuce and tomato and dripping special sauce. My mouth waters. “Mm, this looks really good. Thank you.”

  “You gonna say grace for us, Miss Trixy?” He winks, and a playful grin pulls at his lips.

  “I’d love to.” I reach over and grab his hand then bow my head and close my eyes. “Dear Father in heaven, thank you for tonight, for Mason, and for this bounty of food you’ve provided for us. I pray, God, that you’ll bless this food for our bodies. It’s in your name we pray. Amen.”

  Mason squeezes my hand, and when I open my eyes, the look on his face would’ve knocked me off my feet if I’d been standi
ng. It’s as if he’s seeing me for the first time or maybe seeing past this shell of a human body and into my soul. Like he’s reading my thoughts, my secrets, even my heart.

  I blink and focus on the food, hoping to shake this sudden vulnerability. “Please, don’t look at me like that. Whatever it is that you think you see, it’s . . . don’t.”

  “What do you think I see, Beatriks?” His voice is thick and heavy with an emotion I can’t name.

  “You look at me like I’m bigger and more important than I am.”

  “Who’s to say you’re not?”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s my call to make, not yours.”

  I peek up at him, and his lips are curved in a lazy smile. The moment has seemed to pass, and I relax and pop a few fries in my mouth, almost moaning at the greasy salty combo. In-N-Out fries might run a close second to lobster.

  We eat and share childhood stories about Cowell Beach. I tell him about the time I was in high school and lost my bikini top while dipping under a wave. I had to sit out there in chest deep water until I got Lana’s attention. When she’d finally realized what had happened, she’d laughed so hard I thought she’d bust. She was always so serious; it was rare to see her completely overtaken with laughter. The day she laughed so hard she cried is one of my fondest memories of her.

  He countered my topless beach story with a similar one where Drake was depantsed in front of a group of girls he was trying to impress. I guess it was cold that day, and needless to say, the guy didn’t impress them as he’d hoped.

  I slurp down the last of my milkshake, still grinning. “It’s hard to believe we’d both spent time on the same sand but it took us moving to Vegas to actually meet.”

  He grabs our plates and takes them to the kitchen. “Guess Fate had plans for us, yeah?”

  “Hm.” Fate. I’m not sure I believe in that anymore.

  As a child, it’s easy to trust that there’s something bigger than yourself. That God is leading you on a path through life with your best interests in mind. Being adopted by American parents and rescued from the life of an orphan only proved that belief.

  But my sister being brutally murdered squashed all that. After all, God could’ve saved her if he’d wanted to, right? If my best interests were of any concern to him at all, she’d still be alive today.

  Guilt presses down on me, and I slump deep into Mason’s couch.

  “You tired?” He plops down on the couch next to me, his powerful arms spread wide across the back of the couch, and eyebrows lowered in concern.

  “Not really. You?”

  His gaze sweeps over my body. “No.” He blinks and reaches for the television remote. “You up for a movie?”

  The screen lights with a movie rental company that displays multiple movie options and a search box.

  “Sure.” I shift on the couch, trying to get comfortable despite my short dress.

  “Wait.” He hops from the couch and takes two stairs at a time up to a second floor loft.

  I grab the abandoned remote and flip through screen pages of movies. A guy like Mason probably prefers something with blood and explosions; I’m more of a romantic comedy kind of girl. I chew my lip and flip to the horror movies. Would it be too obvious to pick something that would force me to curl close and bury my face in his chest?

  “Here.” He hands me two folded-up pieces of clothing, and I resist the urge to rub my face in them and inhale. “Thought you might want to get more comfortable.”

  I shake out the soft white T-shirt and light blue boxers. “Huh.” I lift an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a boxer man.”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not, but I have a few pairs lying around.”

  “Thank you. These are perfect.” I scoot to the edge of the couch and pull off my bangle bracelets, earrings, and necklace to set them on the coffee table. Ah, I already feel lighter. I stand to pull my dress over my head and figure, while I’m at it, axing the strapless bra would restart proper circulation to my arms. I hate these damn things. Tossing it all to the table, I reach for the shirt only to have Mason grip my wrist.

  “Trix . . .” The guttural sound of his voice calls my eyes. He’s peeking up at me from beneath heavy eyelids, his eyebrows low and hunger radiating from his gaze. “What’re you doing?”

  I shake my head, not fully understanding his question. “I’m . . . I thought—”

  He yanks my arm and grabs my hips, pulling me over to straddle his lap. “You thought you could strip naked and I’d just sit back and admire?”

  Heat floods my cheeks. “I didn’t realize—”

  He flexes his hips, and a low groan falls from his lips. I gasp at the feeling of him hard between my legs.

  “Realize it now?”

  I nod quickly. “I’m sorry?” I’ve gotten naked in front of countless men and women, and never have I felt so exposed.

  He cups the side of my neck, his thumb brushing against my jawline. “Don’t apologize.” He drops his hand slowly so the backs of his knuckles skate along the side of my breast. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I think . . .” God, what do I think? Feel? My head swirls with conflicting emotions, part of me wanting to hold on and the other terrified of acknowledging too much. “I’m so used to being naked.”

  “Mm, I get that.” His hands make long and gentle passes up my sides, around my back and over my shoulders, avoiding my breasts completely.

  I ache all over for him, wanting his touch to be firmer, secretly hoping he’ll lose control and get rough. I want him to take from me because then I won’t have to feel. I won’t have to think and second guess. If he were like all the others, after me for one thing, this would be so much easier. But this tenderness, his touch against the inside of my elbow, the flare of my hips, and my collarbone, it’s all too much.

  “Mason, I—”

  “I wanted to kill him,” he says so softly I wonder if I misheard. “The night at the hotel room you were straddling Jayden like this, and he touched you.” His eyes flash to mine with steely resolve as his hands continue to move over my skin. “I wanted to rip his arms off his body.”

  “Why? You hated me.”

  “I never hated you, baby.” His fingers fork into my hair, and his lips are so close I can feel his heated breath. “I was a goner the second I laid eyes on you.”

  I push him back and tilt my head, lowering my mouth to his. He opens to me with a low growl that jacks my hips forward. His fingers dig into my scalp as his tongue lashes against mine.

  My heart races with a desperation I’ve never felt before. The burning urge to get beneath him, to feel the weight of his body between my legs as he fills me, is overwhelming. I’ll ask for it, beg for it, because in this moment, I need it more than air.

  He takes control of the kiss, tilting my head in the opposite direction as if he wants to taste me from every angle, explore every inch of my mouth. He nips and sucks at my lips, as if doing so will produce more of what he wants as we drink from each other’s mouths with gluttony.

  I arch my back, pressing my breasts into his chest, searching for the friction that will surely detonate me. He moves, pushing me to my back on the couch and taking position between my legs. His hips move in a slow rolling rhythm that mimics love-making. Hard and long he rubs against me, the scrape of denim against my lace panties so good and yet so mind-numbingly frustrating.

  He runs the tip of his hot tongue down my neck to my breast, sucking one nipple deep into his throat. A zap of pleasure shoots down my torso, and I cry out for more. More of him, more of everything.

  I reach down and unbutton his shirt, my fingers fumbling as nerves and excitement race through my veins. He helps by sliding his arms from the sleeves and sitting up only long enough to rip his undershirt off over his head.

  My mouth instantly floods as I adjust to the sight. Mason drops back down on top of me.

  “Wait.”

  His body freezes,
and his lips still at my neck. “What? Did I—?”

  “Get up.” I wiggle to get out from under him, but it doesn’t take much because he pushes back with his hands held up and sits back on his heels.

  His chest is rising and falling faster than I’ve ever seen it and his blue eyes are dark with lust. “I’m sorry, is this too fast?”

  Ha! If he only knew, not fast enough. “No, not at all. I just . . .” I push up to my knees on the couch and move to him. I place my palm flat over his heart and soak in the furious pounding of his heart behind warm smooth skin. “I just want to take a second to see you.”

  He lets out a long breath and drops his chin, his hand coming over mine. “Fuck, I thought I’d done something wrong and you were about to bolt.”

  Relief washes over his face as I run my hand over the swollen muscles of his abdomen and chest. So soft and yet incredibly powerful. “I’ve never seen you with your shirt off. I wanted to get the hands-on experience.”

  He cocks his head, and a tiny grin tilts his lips. “If you let me take you to bed, I’ll give you the all-night experience.”

  I scrape a nail over his nipple, and he groans then scoops me up off the couch. My arms hold tight around his neck as he crosses the living space to the stairs and carries me up as though I weigh nothing. Once there, he lays me on the bed then clicks on the lamp at his nightstand.

  The single light in the dark room plays against his massive form, making him look dangerous. Even when I know he’s anything but.

  Seventeen

  Mason

  She’s here. Trix, my woman, is sprawled out on my bed in nothing but a pair of panties and smiling at me like I own every fucking inch of her body and she’s begging me to take it.

  I want, more than anything, to lose myself inside her, burrow so deep into her soul she’ll never be able to get rid of me. I told myself I’d take it slow: prove to her that I’m not like Lane and fucking Talon. She’s so much more than a piece of ass, and her body is a damn treasure. Any man lucky enough to have it should have to spend a lifetime searching, slowly digging away with patience for the pleasure of making love to her.