Fight For Her (MMA Fighter Romance Book 1)

by Vanessa Vale

  I turned, eyed her. Damn, she was pretty, her perfect breasts with those pink nipples. I sighed, wanting to get lost in her, not taint her with the truth.

  She tilted up her chin. “Tell me. I want to know. I need to know.”

  I gave a stiff nod and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I grabbed the top of the sheet and lifted it up. She somehow knew I wanted her covered. Maybe it was the grim set to my jaw or the pissed-off glint in my eye.

  “It’s time I told you about my past. My dad.”

  EMORY

  All of the heat that had been in Gray’s eyes was gone, and what was left was icy and empty. I held the sheet up over my breasts and leaned back against the headboard. While Gray was naked and sitting sideways on the bed, it felt better being covered for this, wanting only the other Gray, the eager-for-me Gray, to see my body.

  “My father was, is, an asshole.” Gray leaned down, resting his forearms on his thighs. He wasn’t looking at me, but at the far wall, although I wasn’t sure if he was even seeing it. He was looking into his past, into his memories and I dreaded what he was going to say.

  “He used to hit my mom. All I remember from when I was little is them shouting, the sound of the slaps, her crying. I would hide in the closet.”

  The words came out short and clipped, dark and laced with grit. I wanted to ask him questions, but knew it was hard enough to get the words out without prodding. He’d held them in, probably, for a long time. Having him tell me this meant just as much as every promised look and kiss.

  “In the morning, she’d be making me pancakes and she’d have a black eye or a split lip. Sometimes she’d still be in bed and I’d get her cereal. I…I knew what he was doing and I did nothing to stop him.”

  Sadness and anger filled me, overflowed, thinking of Chris when he was small and him having to deal with that. “You were just a boy.” I wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was too far away, too far in the past.

  His head moved back and forth slowly. “I was. But I knew. Then one day I’d had enough of hiding and stood between him and my mom.”

  He turned his bleak eyes on me. “That was the start of my fighting career.” Then, from one heartbeat to the next, he changed. His gaze sharpened, his jaw tightened, his fists clenched. “It was one of the last fights I lost.”

  It was so quiet in the room I heard the air conditioning coming through the vents in the floor.

  “My mother died two weeks later.” He dropped his head and looked at the carpet. “Car crash. I was in the backseat. The story is that she was so drunk she drove right into a tree. What I remember is that my father was driving. When I woke up in the hospital two days later, my father didn’t have a scratch. I’d broken my arm and had a concussion from the accident, but my mother had died instantly.”

  My eyes widened and I licked my lips. “Are you saying your dad moved your mom so it looked like she caused the accident?”

  “All I know is my dad was driving when we got in the car, but no one believes a kid. I had a head injury and my dad said I didn’t know what I was talking about. After that, when I got home, he turned his anger on me.”

  My eyes filled with tears. Tears of sadness and horror. “How…how old were you?”

  “Eight.”

  My eyes widened and I forgot about the sheet, crawling across the bed to kneel behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and place my head against his strong back.

  He placed one hand over my forearm and gripped tightly. “By the time I was in seventh grade, I had enough anger in me to start fights in school. I was suspended all the time but couldn’t tell my dad, so I left the house in the morning, pretending to go to school. My gym teacher, God,” he sighed. “Mr. Jahn. He saved me. He recognized what others missed, that something was going on at home. At gym class, he made me do extra laps to burn off the angst. After school one day, he took me to a boxing gym.”

  “He just took you?” I thought of Chris’ private school gym teacher just driving him to a boxing gym. He’d get fired and possibly arrested for the action.

  “My dad didn’t give a shit where I was as long as when it came time for a happy family photo I was there. It was different back then anyway. I went with Mr. Jahn, grudgingly, but found an outlet in the structure of boxing. The rules, but the ability to use my hands, to beat the shit out of someone and not get in trouble.”

  I kissed the warm skin of his back, urging him without words to continue, that I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I started to box competitively, but that wasn’t enough. The gym added karate and Muay Thai classes and I took them all. It was better to hang out at the gym than at home. My grades improved, my fighting at school stopped. I owe it all, including graduating, to Mr. Jahn. The week after graduation, I went into the army. I couldn’t get any farther from my dad than where the army could send me. The Middle East was easy.”

  I didn’t think that was the case, but based on what he was sharing, perhaps he was right. “If you were able to get away from him, why is he calling you now?”

  “He’s followed my career. My tours overseas. Everything.” He released my arm and turned so he could face me. “Kept tabs on me. I’m the only person who can truly hurt him, his career. He can’t kill me like he did my mom, but he can fuck with me. Ruin any happiness I have.”

  He turned his head so his eyes met mine. Lifting a hand, he stroked his fingers over my cheek. “He’s trying to get to me through you.”

  I grasped his hand and held it in place. “Why? I don’t understand. You haven’t done anything to him, even joined the army to get away. Why doesn’t he just leave you alone?”

  His eyes narrowed in frustration. “Heard the name Edward Green?”

  I frowned, the name meaning nothing, then I remembered. “Holy crap, Gray. You mean Green Acres, the retirement homes?”

  He nodded. “Nursing homes, retirement communities, memory care centers. He’s cornered the elderly care market on the East Coast. He’s big time, but not so big on his own. No one cares about a guy who’s made a fortune in taking care of old people. Those are his words, not mine.” He paused before he continued. “I think it pisses him off that I made it big, bigger than he’ll ever be.”

  “He’s making you mad though, and that’s got to worry him. Retribution from an MMA fighter with your connections has got to be something he has to consider. That makes no sense. Leaving you alone, forgetting you exist is a better strategy.”

  “In the past, he just called every once in a while to fuck with me, reminding me that he was around, watching, even from far away. That’s it.”

  I looked at him, really looked at him. I was missing something, the missing piece that stirred up his past, that had his dad back in his life, pestering him, annoying him, making him angry and tense. It had to be something important to him and—

  Of course. I froze, my eyes going wide, so wide at the realization. I could see in his eyes that I was right that there was more. Pulling back, I climbed off the bed, not caring I was naked. “It’s me. I’m the reason he’s calling. He knows about me.”

  I talked as I paced back and forth on the far side of the bed while Gray sat motionless, only his eyes following.

  “He’s using me to mess with you.” I pointed to myself, then at him. “This isn’t fair to you, what he’s doing.”

  “I know,” he said, resigned. “It’s more than that. He texted you.”

  I froze in place, a slice of panic cutting through my concern for Gray. “Texted me?”

  He nodded, reaching for my cell on the bedside table. “Last night when you were in the shower. I heard it ring from your bag and pulled it out to make sure it wasn’t Chris. I recognized the number, Emory.”

  I took my phone from him, slid my fingers over the screen until the text came up. Read it. My stomach plummeted. While my son was fully grown and legally an adult, that didn’t make him any less my baby. No one messed with my kid, and now Gray had the extra weight of this on his shoulders as w
ell. I glanced at Gray’s hard eyes. “Your dad knows about Chris.”

  He nodded.

  “I…I have to go. You shouldn’t have to deal with this or with him after what he did to you.” I moved quickly around the bed for the door.

  “What? Wait!” He used his swiftness to jump to his feet and grab my arm, halting me in my tracks, spinning me to face him, confusion on his face. “Where are you going?”

  My heart was racing and I was frantic. “Where am I going? He knows about Chris,” I repeated. “I can’t stay here, be with you like this with that…that crazy man. Jesus, Gray, you’ve been through so much. God, the horrors you had to deal with when you were just a child and now you’ve got the added weight of me. But messing with Chris is where I draw the line.”

  “He won’t touch Chris. He’s just being a fucker and pushing your buttons, which pisses me off. That’s what he wants! He wants you to leave. He’s winning,” he said, his voice snapping, his hand gripping my arm.

  I sighed because he was right, but held fast to my decision. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that horrible, horrible man and he’s going after you because of me! It’s all my fault.” I tugged at his arm.

  “Your fault? Are you serious?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Em, baby, I’m the one who should be letting you go. I told you I was trouble. I told you I was no good for you. My dad, he may be behind the break-in.”

  I froze. His dad? His dad didn’t have anything big to bother Gray with until I walked into his life. He may have messed with him, pushed his buttons, but a break-in? Gray didn’t need any of this. “See? I’m just adding to your mess. Before me—”

  Instead of releasing me, he picked me up none too gently and tossed me on the bed so I was on my back, his hands on either side of my head. I had no chance to resist his actions as he was so damn strong. “It is not your fault.” His dark eyes pierced into mine as he said it and I squirmed, rolling onto my belly, but that afforded me nothing, no way to escape.

  Like the fighter he was, Gray settled on top of me so that I was pinned, the length of his body pressing mine into the bed. I couldn’t get up if I tried, but I knew he’d never hurt me. My head was turned away from him and I looked at his hand pressing into the mattress, his corded forearm.

  “Before you, I…I, shit, I didn’t know that something was missing. This is what he wants,” he said in my ear, his breath fanning my neck. “He wants us to fight. He wants to see us ripped apart so I’ll be torn to shreds. If he can’t hit me anymore, he’ll get at me another way. You’re just a casualty to him and he knows how to shove the knife into my back using you. He knows you’ll panic by mentioning Chris. But, Emory…you and me? This is one fight I refuse to let him win.”

  I felt his forehead lower and rest on the back of my head. “Baby, you’re mine. If you say you don’t feel this between us, then go. But you’re right there with me. I know it, so you can’t leave me because I won’t let you go.”

  It wasn’t just his words that had me stilling beneath him, giving up. Giving over. It was his voice, his tone, the pleading, the need, the longing, the intensity. He was right. If his dad was trying to rip us apart, he was doing a fine job of it.

  “You still want me even with my troubles?” I asked.

  His body relaxed and settled against me in an entirely different way. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t so upset that I felt every sinewy inch of Gray’s body pressing into mine. Even his cock nudged against my hip, full and thick. My body softened and warmed to the feel of him, recognizing his scent. My body knew him to be the man who wrung pleasure from it. My body craved him, wanted him again.

  He nuzzled his nose into my neck, slipped soft kisses along the tendon then up to my ear. “You don’t have any troubles, baby. They’re mine now. You don’t have to worry about my dad or the house. You don't have to carry it all. You’re not alone any more.”

  He shifted slightly and kissed along my shoulder, letting me know he was right there, above me, around me, surrounding me. It was as if he were shielding me from the world with his body—and I knew he would. The thought that I didn’t have to solve every problem by myself felt…good. I’d thought I had that with Jack, but it had been fake. I’d taken care of everything while he worked, and worked through all his secretaries and paralegals.

  My breathing deepened and my skin came alive beneath his lips.

  “I don’t know how to give someone my troubles,” I admitted, my eyes slipping shut as he started kissing down my spine.

  “Neither…do…I,” he replied, kiss after kiss. “There’s one thing we do really well together.”

  When a hand gently nudged my legs apart, I murmured, “Oh?”

  I was lost, completely and totally lost in Gray. I heard more than saw him reach down for his pants and pull out another condom, then nudge my thighs wide with his knees. “Most people keep those in their bedside drawer,” I commented.

  “I’ve never been with anyone here before.” He worked the condom on then leaned over me, his skin hot against the length of my back. “I’ll pick up a box later.”

  “Gray,” I groaned, my hands curling tightly around the sheets. Our being together hadn't been a foregone conclusion. Being in his bed truly hadn't been planned. There really hadn't been any one before me.

  “I can’t be gentle this time, baby.” His knee nudged my right leg even wider and I felt his cock prod my opening, the head slipping in.

  I gasped at the hot feel of the way he stretched me open.

  “I usually go and work off this restless energy in the ring, but fucking you is much better of a workout.”

  As he started to fill me, I moaned, snagged the sheets so my knuckles turned white. “Don’t hold back,” I pleaded, needing the connection with him probably as much as he did.

  With one arm, he scooped under my belly and pulled me up on to my knees. As his right hand cupped my breast, he slipped in all the way, settling, and I heard him groan. I knew only Gray could make me feel complete, feel possessed, and very, very soon, feel the most intense orgasm of my life.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GRAY

  I came out of the shower and went into my walk-in closet to get dressed and couldn’t help but listen to Emory on the phone.

  “I’m fine. Everything is good here so you don’t have to worry about me.”

  All was quiet as she listened and I pulled on some boxers.

  “Really? You have to memorize the entire meal and yell it in the hallway? What on earth does that have to do with the Navy?”

  Her son. Chris. I was glad she was talking to him. I knew she was a mother and she’d mentioned him often enough, even saw pictures of him around her house, read his name in that fucking text, but having him be on the phone with her made him real. The sound of her voice changed when she talked to him; it brightened and softened. She laughed at something he said and was obviously reassured he was fine. “How many pushups? Your grandfather was right about the mashed potatoes, then?”

  Her laugh had me smiling and leaning against the wall of the closet, just listening. It made me, God, it made me happy to hear her laugh. I wasn’t eavesdropping, because she’d tell me about Chris in time, but hearing the way she talked to her only child had me learning about her—her inflection, the obvious love for her son, her warmth. “Yes, I’ll come down for parents’ weekend. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  I stood, went to a drawer to pull out a T-shirt.

  “All right. Nine o’clock. Sure. I’m…I’m going to bring someone with me. No, not Simon. He said he’ll see you at the end of the year because he doesn’t talk to mere Plebes.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. Shit, I was crazy, smiling because she was pulling me in, letting me get closer to her son, to Simon. Her family.

  “I met someone and I want you to meet him. Yes, a man.” I froze, my shirt forgotten. She wanted to bring me to meet Chris? “No, he’s not a doctor. No, it’s not the radiologist that hit on me at your g
raduation.”

  A radiologist hit on her?

  “His name is Gray. Yes, like the color. Yes, he’s nice. Yes, he’s nice to me.”

  She didn’t say who I was. No, she had. She said I was Gray. She hadn’t told Chris I was Grayson Green, The Green Machine. To Emory, I was just Gray. Unless she saw one of my fights on the Internet, my past was just that. The past.

  “Okay, go. I understand. I’m glad you’re doing well. Good. Yes. I love you, too. Bye.”

  I left the closet. She sat on the side of the bed in the dress shirt I’d worn the night before, the sleeves rolled up and the tails of it brushing over her thighs. I liked it on her much better than on me.

  “Radiologist?”

  Her head came up and she looked me over. “Didn’t you go in there a while ago to get dressed?”

  I was still wearing just my boxers and even though I grinned sheepishly, I didn’t want to get off target. “Radiologist?” I repeated.

  She rolled her eyes. “He sits in a dark room all day looking at films. He’s harmless.”

  “What’s his name?”

  She furrowed her brow. “His name? Oh no.” She held up her hand as if to stop me. “Are you planning on beating up all the men in my past?”

  “If he hurt you, he might have to check his own x-rays for broken bones,” I grumbled.

  She shook her head as she came to plant a kiss on my cheek. A sweet kiss. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

  I heard what she didn’t say. “Your ex then. Can I beat the shit out of him?”

  This time when she kissed me, it was on the mouth and there was nothing sweet about it. When her tongue met mine, it was sexy as hell. “Yes, you can beat him up.”

  I pulled back from the kiss enough to take a deep breath. “You’re distracting me from our conversation.”

  She grinned against my mouth, her hand resting on my bare chest. “You noticed.”

  “I notice everything about you. Do you really want me to go with you to Parents’ Weekend?”