Fighter's Heart: A Hot Sports Romance (Crown MMA Romance)

by A. Rivers

  “You look fucking amazing,” I tell her, laying my palms on her shoulders carefully, because she’s so soft and my hands are rough. I don’t want to mark her beautiful skin before we leave. “Every guy there is going to wish they were me tonight.”

  She smooths her hands over my chest, and I wonder if she can feel my heart thundering through the jacket. “And every woman is going to wish they were me.” Her teeth catch her lower lip, scraping through the lipstick. I can’t take my eyes off them. “It’s not fair how good you look. Aren’t fighters supposed to have cauliflower ears and crooked noses?”

  “Not all of us.” Although, as she knows, I have my share of scars and flaws.

  “I love the way you’re looking me at,” she whispers. “Like you want to eat me up. But we should probably go inside and get ready to leave.”

  “Later?”

  “Yeah.” She worries her lip again and watches me with those big, gorgeous eyes. “Later.”

  She tries to move past me, but I hold her tight. I need to have a taste. Just one, then we’ll do the responsible thing. I take her mouth with all of the savage desire that’s been growing within me since I first opened the door. With a sigh of surrender, she softens against me and parts her lips. My tongue plunges in, finesse long gone, and I consume her like I’m starving. In contrast, she’s gentle and relenting, letting me take what I want, giving me what I need, her whimpers muffled by my greedy kiss.

  Chest heaving, I draw back. Her lips are plumper than before, the lipstick gone and natural color shining through. Groaning, I kiss her once more, softly, then back away from her.

  “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. You just…” I make a helpless sound, and she nods.

  “I get it.”

  Thank God one of us does, because I don’t. I’ve always had a healthy libido, but I’ve never been so overwhelmed by need for a particular woman. My cock is straining against my pants, desperate to bury itself in her, but we both pretend it’s not there and eventually it begins to behave.

  “Come in. Nick is already here.”

  She moves past me, then whips out a pocket mirror and reapplies lipstick before we continue to the living room. Why that disappoints me, I don’t know. Perhaps I wanted my manager to know exactly what we were doing. As far as Lena goes, I want everyone to know what’s between us, even if I don’t fully understand it myself yet. Unfortunately, that’s not in the cards just yet. She’s determined to keep us quiet until I’m not her client anymore, and I respect that decision.

  “Hi, Nick.” Lena greets him with a handshake, then perches primly on the edge of an oversized armchair. Most of my furniture is super-size, because otherwise my brothers and I wouldn’t be comfortable. We make them look normal, but the chair dwarfs Lena. She meets my eyes. “Do you have your speech ready?”

  I nod.

  “He’s been practicing,” Nick says. “He’s ready to go, even if he doesn’t believe it himself.”

  Her expression softens, and I become a gooey marshmallow on the inside.

  “You’ll be great.” She touches her hair, which is arranged in ringlets over her shoulders. “You’ve got this, Jase. I have absolute faith in you.”

  Okay, so that makes me feel ten feet tall. “Thanks.” My voice is gruff. I’m not comfortable talking about shit like this, but I appreciate her words more than she’ll ever know. When was the last time someone else told me they believed in me? I search my mind, but I’m not sure that anyone ever has—apart from Seth, perhaps. Not a woman, certainly. “That means a lot.”

  And it makes me want to screw her senseless. When this fundraiser ends, Lena LaFontaine is getting really lucky.

  She shrugs. “It’s just the truth. Shall we get going then?”

  “Guess so.” There’s no one else holding us up. Although I must say, she’s worth every agonizing minute of the wait. With more nerves churning in my stomach than I’ve ever had before a fight, I take Lena’s hand and tuck it into my elbow, holding her close. We head out to the driveway, where a limo is waiting, and I help her into the backseat, then climb in after her. Nick sits opposite. He’s left his laptop behind but pulls a phone from his pocket and starts typing. I swear, the guy is permanently glued to technology. I bet he’s even found a way to channel his sleepwaves into productive communication.

  I mentally run through my speech again. I feel like such a goddamned fraud to be speaking at an event about literacy when I can’t remember the last time I read anything that wasn’t on social media, but Lena’s presence steadies me. She wouldn’t have signed me up for this if she didn’t believe I could do it. Reaching over, I take her by the waist and lift her onto my lap.

  “Stop manhandling me in front of your manager,” she mutters, leaning close so Nick can’t hear. Not that he’d notice if she yelled it out of the sunroof. He’s absorbed in whatever is on his phone.

  “You don’t really want me to stop,” I reply, more confident than I actually am.

  Sighing dramatically, she settles into my lap and loops one of her arms around my neck. “Okay, maybe not. But don’t mess with my hair, or we’re going to have a problem.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Although I’m having fantasies about tugging on those curls while she rides me. My dick stirs again. She raises an eyebrow. What can I say? I’m a horny bastard where she’s concerned.

  I keep her on my lap until we arrive at the fundraiser, where Nick pockets his phone and waits for me to leave the limo first. Apparently I’m expected to make a big entrance. I take Lena’s arm, bringing her along with me, so when I step into the flashing lights of a dozen cameras, she’s by my side. We cross a paved pavilion and walk up a staircase lined with reporters and photographers. None of them can get close to me, which means this is my jam. I can handle public displays just fine from a distance. It’s when they want me to talk that my confidence plunges.

  Lifting a hand, I wave to a guy I recognize from one of the big sports channels, and nod to a popular YouTuber who once did a flattering feature on me. They’re rabidly curious about Lena, I can see it from here, and she must be able to as well because she flattens herself to me as though she’s trying to make herself small and inconspicuous. Fuck that, she looks like a million bucks and she deserves to know it.

  “Guess what?” she murmurs as we reach the top. “There’s a big difference between knowing thirty different media outlets will be present and being on the receiving end of all that attention.”

  Planting my hand in the small of her back, I simultaneously guide her inside and stake a claim on her in case any of the other assholes here decide to look her way. “Welcome to stardom.”

  She makes a noise that could be a laugh, but sounds more like a squeak from a terrified rabbit. “I prefer being on the other side of the rope.”

  Pausing, I press a kiss to her temple, ignoring the buzz below. “Thank you for coming. You’re doing great.” Strangely enough, helping her cope with her nerves eases mine. “Let’s find our table.”

  Unfortunately, as soon as we enter, someone whisks me away from Lena and I glance over my shoulder to see her wide eyes disappear into a sea of faces. I’m taken to a back room where a guy in a designer suit barks instructions, and next thing I know a half hour has passed and I’m being ushered onto a stage, in front of more than fifty tables full of people. They all have their faces turned toward me.

  I swallow, then clear my throat. “Good evening, everyone.” My voice is too loud in the sudden silence, and sweat breaks out on my upper lip. What am I doing here? Who am I kidding? This isn’t the place for me. I check the notes I wrote on my palm earlier, but the ink has smudged because my damn palms are sweating, too.

  “It’s great to be here,” I say, improvising. The tie is too tight around my neck and I’m not sure I can breathe. But then I catch sight of a brilliant black and red dress, and a beautiful head of curls, and the pressure on my throat eases. Lena smiles at me, and nods. I nod back, and stand straighter. I’ve got this. Lena believes in me
, and I’m all over this speech. I’ve said it a dozen times over the last few hours. So I open my mouth and let the words fall out. Lena’s grin widens, and I talk directly to her. People laugh and applaud, but I don’t hear them because all of my focus is on my girl.

  When I come to the end of my speech, someone claps me on the shoulder and my gaze tears away from hers. I reel back, feeling like I’ve stumbled out of a pleasant daydream. The audience are standing, and for the life of me, I can’t even remember what I said. But I smile and step back, seeking Lena out again. She’s looking away, talking to Nick, but she’s beaming and I’m so fucking pleased to be responsible for that expression.

  The MC takes over, and I’m excused. All of my instincts scream at me to run to Lena’s table and kiss the hell out of her, but instead I find an empty room, shut myself inside and close my eyes. In my mind, I can still see her as clearly as if she’s right in front of me, and it fills me with warmth.

  I’m in trouble. Because not only am I crazy attracted to Lena and more than a little possessive of her, but I think I’m falling for her, too. And that isn’t okay. I don’t have time for a girlfriend. Not one who deserves a man who’ll conquer the world for her. But fuck, I wish I did because everything about her feels right, and I want her with me forever.

  14

  Lena

  I’m so proud of Jase. I know how nervous he was, but the crowd loved him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easily the sexiest guy here, with his broad shoulders, smoldering eyes, and confident swagger.

  “Hey, Lena, is that you?”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Travis, a linebacker for the new Vegas football team, who’s also a former client of mine. Another former client, hockey star Brent Wallace, is standing beside him, both of them with drinks in hand. We’re free to mingle until the dinner service, and Travis has a glint in his eye that says he wouldn’t mind mingling with me in ways I’d rather not think about. He heads toward me, people scattering in his wake, and brings Brent with him.

  I scan the room, but there’s no way I can dodge them, so I resign myself to brushing off Travis’s lame-ass pickup lines. In a lot of ways, he isn’t a bad guy. There are many worse. But he’s spoiled, self-centered, and never learned to take “no” for an answer. Especially where women are concerned.

  “Nice to see you, gorgeous,” he says, ducking to kiss my cheek, where he lingers long enough for me to grow uncomfortable. He gives me a once over, pausing on my chest. “You look great, as always. Do you know my buddy Brent?”

  “Yes.” I offer a hand to Brent, who shakes it. He’s quieter than Travis, more the brooding type, and while he’s easier to deal with, he unsettles me. “Good to see you.”

  “What are you doing here?” Travis asks, crowding closer. “Brent, why don’t you get her a drink?”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine, thanks.” I’m not drinking anything either of these two give me. Not that I necessarily think they’d slip me something, I just don’t fully trust them. They’re accustomed to doing whatever they want, and having someone else clean up their mess. Someone like me.

  “So, why are you here?” Travis persists, sipping his wine. “Did you decide you want in on some of the action yourself?”

  “Hardly.” I laugh. “You know this isn’t my scene.” I don’t want to reveal too much personal information to them, but I’m getting the impression I should dissuade Travis’s interest as quickly as possible. “I’m here with someone.”

  “With someone.” He tests the words, as though they’re unfamiliar. “Like a date?”

  “No. Yes.” I sigh. “He’s a client.”

  If anything, the interest in his eyes intensifies. “I thought you liked to keep your personal life separate from work.”

  Generally, I do, so I can’t argue the point. But then an arm is circling my waist and I’m being pulled into the shelter of a male body.

  “Cutie pie.” A masculine voice rumbles beside my ear, and I shiver. Jase. Thank God. “Introduce me to your friends.”

  Turning in his arms, my hands go to his chest. His jaw is tight, eyes narrowed on the two men across from me, who are staring, rapt. Smoothing a hand on Jase’s cheek, I redirect his face down to me. Immediately, his jaw loosens and he smiles.

  “You were great up there,” I tell him, and after glancing around to make sure no one has a camera aimed our way, I stretch onto my tiptoes for a kiss. I only intend for it to be a brief touching of lips, but he secures me against him and ravages me so thoroughly I know I’ll need to fix my lipstick. When he pulls away, there’s a smear of red in the corner of his mouth and I wipe it off with my thumb. I want to be annoyed at him for kissing me like that in full view of everyone, but it’s hard to be mad when my body is zinging with attraction and my hormones are going crazy.

  “Thanks, baby.” He turns back to Travis and Brent, wearing a cocky, challenging grin. “Sorry, remind me what your names are?”

  To my utter surprise, Travis sticks his hand out, eyes wide with hero worship. “Travis McMillan, pro football player. It’s such an honor to meet you. I saw your fight against Jarrod Hamilton live. So. Fucking. Savage.”

  Some of the tension fades from Jase’s body, and I stop worrying he’s about to grab one of them in a stranglehold and undo all of the good we’ve accomplished tonight. “Always nice to meet a fan. You ever fought?”

  “Nah.” Travis shakes his head. “I’ve considered it, but football is more my speed. Doesn’t mean I don’t love watching though. How are you feeling about the championship bout next week?”

  Jase shrugs. “Can’t spill my secrets ahead of time.” He jerks his chin at Brent. “How about you? What’s your story?”

  Brent grabs Jase’s hand a little too eagerly. “Brent Wallace. I play for the Golden Knights in the NHL.”

  “Huh. A hockey man.” The way he says this, it’s impossible to tell if he’s impressed or not. “What position?”

  “Defense.”

  “Nice.”

  Travis glances my way, expression incredulous. “You’re dating Jase Rawlins?”

  “Yeah.” There’s no point lying now, although I feel like I should be insulted by his incredulity. “It’s just new.”

  “But it’s good,” Jase adds, pulling me closer. His hand, now free from the manly shaking, settles on my hip in a way no one could mistake for friendly. I manage not to roll my eyes, but it’s obvious he’s marking his territory. Frankly, it’s a little ridiculous. The moment he appeared, neither of the men could have been less interested in me.

  Brent leans in, his expression something other than blank for once. “How did it feel to fight Rory MacIlraith?”

  Jase replies, but I don’t hear him because I’ve zeroed in on the man approaching from behind Travis and Brent. My blood turns icy, and I dig my fingernails into my palm. I’d happily never see that man ever again, but he walks steadily toward us, his dark blond hair brushed back from his face, emphasizing sharp cheekbones and a cleft chin. People hurry to get out of his way. No one wants to get between Killer Karson Hayes and his destination, which appears to be me. And that’s when I notice the woman at his side. Jase’s ex, Erin. Well, fuck. That can’t be good. Especially since I haven’t come clean with Jase about who my ex is or why I ended things. I break out in a cold sweat.

  “Rawlins.”

  My jaw locks in place. I can’t open it. Can’t speak. Karson has this way of talking as though everyone is beneath him. It’s a bored, condescending drawl.

  Asshole.

  Jase meets his eyes, and the guys he’s been speaking to step aside, watching excitedly, like they expect a brawl to break out right in front of them.

  “Hayes,” Jase replies with a nod. I’ve always thought the way men do that is stupid. What’s the point of it? His gaze lowers to Erin, who is dressed spectacularly, in a short black dress and stunning heels. She leans into Karson, looking like the gold-digger I suspect she is.

  Girl, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yoursel
f into.

  Even though I don’t like Erin, I want to warn her that Karson is bad news. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of his shitty behavior. But I can’t exactly say that right now.

  “Erin,” Jase continues, his tone chilling further. “You’re a piece of work.”

  Erin doesn’t reply—she doesn’t have the chance because Karson gets there first. “I see you’re enjoying my cast-offs.” Vengefulness glimmers in his shark-like eyes. “You look fresh from the trailer park, Lena.” His brow quirks. “Have I seen that dress before?”

  Oh man, I’m in for it now. I wish like hell the floor would dissolve beneath me so I don’t have to hear what’s coming.

  He cocks his head, relishing my obvious horror. “In fact, I think I bought it.”

  Yeah, there it is. He shoots, he scores. Jase stiffens beside me, but he doesn’t give away his shock—a fact I appreciate immensely. But then I notice his hands are fisted, and he’s poised and ready to pounce. Oh, shit. He’s not going to get into a fight on my account, is he? Pain throbs behind my temples. No, no, no.

  “I traded up,” Jase says, stroking a hand over my hip like he’s trying to reassure me. I don’t find his expression reassuring in the least. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you traded down.” He gestures at Erin. “You’ve got to watch that one. She’ll have a knife in your back the minute you turn it.”

  Karson bares his teeth in a frightening grin. The one I see in my nightmares. “I like girls with a little fight in them. Makes it even hotter when they break.”

  I try not to cower. I try so damn hard. But he gives me a cold, calculating look. He knows he’s getting to me, and he likes it. Fucker. Jase must sense it too, because the hand that’s been stroking me stills, and he curves his body around mine, shielding me from my ex. I turn into him, and he gently touches my chin, raising my eyes to his. They’re soft and concerned, but there’s fire flickering behind them. He’s angry.

  No, he’s furious.