The Final Fight (Fighting Series Book 8)

by JB Salsbury

  “Dallas, Texas.”

  “I knew it.”

  “Whatever, dude.”

  “Did you just call me dude?” He chuckles. “Here we are.”

  ~~~

  Braeden was right. That really was the best pulled-pork sandwich I’ve ever had. And I’m from Texas, the home of slow-roasted swine.

  My muscles are exhausted, belly full, and after the pitcher of beer Braeden and I split, I’m feeling long past ready for bed. Even though I’ll have to wake up a little early to log some extra gym time after that meal, it was totally worth it.

  “. . . they have two kids: my niece, Axelle, who’s getting married if you can believe that shit, and my nephew Jack, who’s almost five.”

  “Wow, they took a long break between the two, huh?”

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and he hasn’t all night. Even with the distraction of sports on multiple TVs and plenty of attractive women flashing skin, he’s only ever looked right at me. “Axelle is Layla’s from her first marriage, but my brother adopted her, so . . . she’s ours now.”

  “That’s sweet.” I run my fingertip around the rim of my empty pint glass. “What does your brother do?”

  “He fights for the UFL.”

  I sit up taller and stare. “Your brother is a UFL fighter?”

  “He is. One of the best, actually.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Blake Daniels.” He says it with pride and a little wariness as if he expects me to flip out and fangirl.

  “Never heard of him.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “That’s awesome. I can’t wait to tell him that.”

  “Don’t tell him!” I’m smiling too. “I feel stupid. I just . . . I know it’s a huge sport. I just don’t really follow it.”

  He doesn’t respond with anything more than a half smile.

  “You didn’t want to be a professional fighter like him? You’re big enough; I bet you could have.”

  He leans in with his elbows on the table. “Did you ever play with GI Joe or those little green army men?”

  I laugh. “No.”

  “Well, I did. As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be in combat. My dad made going into the Corps a non-negotiable that my brother had to fight like hell to break free of. Me?” He shakes his head. “I wanted to go. My dad’s a general, and he expected me to spend four years at the academy to graduate and become an officer like him, but I always thirsted for battle. I wanted to be on the front lines.”

  “That sounds . . . dangerous.”

  He frowns. “It is, but I’m pretty good at what I do.”

  “Which is . . .?”

  “Classified.”

  I gasp and feel my eyes widening. “Really?”

  “No, but it’s boring, and I’ve been dying to ask you something all night.” A few beats of silence stretch between us and thicken the air until I’m fighting to take a full breath.

  “What is it?”

  He leans in with his elbows braced on the table, so I do the same. His eyes roam over my face and settle on my lips. “How does it feel to be the most beautiful woman in the room?”

  I wish I could say I responded with something witty, maybe even flirty, or hell, I’d settle for quirky. But I didn’t.

  I snorted.

  So hard I felt it in the back of my throat.

  Braeden recoils at my response, but his answering chuckle makes me laugh.

  “That, Mr. Daniels, is a line if I’ve ever heard one.”

  He paints on a face of pure innocence. “Not true! I’m being dead serious!”

  Our waitress comes and drops a check at our table.

  We both reach for it.

  “No fucking way, muffin face.” He snags the small black folder. “This one is on me.”

  “Did you just call me muffin face?”

  “I did.” He tosses a few bills onto the top of the check and stands. “Let’s get you home before you fall asleep at the table.” He holds his hand out to pull me up and I allow him.

  But once we’re both standing, we stay.

  Me looking up at him.

  Him looking down at me.

  And it seems we’re both helpless to pull away.

  I study his green eyes, noticing now that they are peppered with bursts of yellow. He blinks slowly, his dark lashes making a hesitant trip down then back up, and I’m drawn to his lips. The upper and lower are identical in size, totally symmetrical, and his Cupid’s bow is the kind of thing women pay plastic surgeons a ton of money for.

  “AJ . . .”

  The way he says my name sounds like a prayer, or a plea, or a groan of agony. I’m not sure.

  I suck in a cooling breath and rip my gaze from his mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened there. I think I’m just tired.”

  He slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls my forehead to his. “And there’s the accent.”

  “What?” I shove against his chest, laughing. “I do not have an accent.”

  “You sure as fuck do. You’re just ty-rd.” He grabs my hand and guides me toward the door.

  I can’t stop laughing at how funny he sounds with his exaggerated southern drawl.

  I haven’t known Braeden long, and he already feels like one of my closest friends. And how pathetic is that?

  Four

  Braeden

  I wasn’t going to do it, but now I have to.

  I’m going to kiss AJ.

  At first, I thought I could hold it back and simply take her out for a meal, get to know her a little better, and then call it a night. But no, she had to lock me up in that sexy stare-down as if I were the last source of oxygen left on the planet, and fuck if I didn’t feel that shit everywhere.

  If she were the easy type, the kind of woman who wouldn’t think twice about a quick no-strings-attached roll in the hay, I’d be all over her in a heartbeat, but AJ isn’t that kind of woman.

  I can spot them from a mile away.

  She would’ve propositioned me already. Would’ve tried to touch, grope. Hell, even AJ’s flirting is innocent compared to what I’m used to.

  I like her, and I like the chase she’s giving even more. Funny thing is she doesn’t seem to be aware she’s even giving it.

  Once we’re to my car, I open the door for her and she drops in. I circle the hood and slide in then turn and hope what I’m about to say doesn’t ruin the fun we’ve had tonight.

  “I’ll take you to your car, but I’m going to be honest. I had one beer out of that pitcher, which means you had about three.”

  “Oh.” She covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers and smiles. “That’s embarrassing.”

  “You feel buzzed?”

  She seems to search her mind for a moment. “Maybe a little.”

  “Do you want me to swing you home? I’ll come back in the morning and take you to your car.”

  Her eyes dart to mine. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t, but seein’ as I’m the one who accidentally got you drunk, it’s my responsibility to get you home safely.”

  “Okay, that’s fine, but you don’t have to pick me up in the morning. I can take an Uber.”

  “What time do you work?”

  “I have three shows tomorrow. One, four, and seven. Oh!” She holds up her hand. “And I have to hit the gym early to work off that food you just bought me. But I suppose I could just go for a run.”

  “What time do you need to be at the hotel?”

  “Eleven thirty.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick you up at eleven. Now . . .” I throw the car into drive. “Tell me where you live, sugar pits. I’ll get you home.”

  Her nose scrunches up at my pet name, and she gives me a quick rundown of the directions to her pad.

  “How long have you been in Vegas?” I hit the blinker and merge onto the freeway heading south.

  “About a month.”

  “Did you move here for the show?”


  “No, I moved here with zero prospects. I would’ve taken any job that allowed me to perform. I lucked out with Eros.”

  I peek over at her at the lack of confidence in her voice. How could she believe she’s anything short of amazing? “I saw you jump and flip three times in the air.”

  “That’s nothing—”

  “I also saw you do this . . .” I can’t even explain it. “Corkscrew thing.” I twist my fingers and swivel my wrist and then give up.

  “You’re sweet.”

  I look over at her and she’s staring at me. God, she’s so fucking pretty. I have to pull my eyes away and get them back on the road or I’ll get us both killed. “I’m not lying, AJ. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  Still can’t, apparently.

  A few turns off the freeway and the roads get dark. The buildings that run along the street are tall business and high-rise apartment structures. I lean forward to see the occasional light, but it seems most of them are burned out or broken.

  “Up here on the left.” She points to a towering building with a double-door entrance, and again, no lights.

  I pull the GTO as close as I can and then throw it into park as she scoops her backpack into her arms.

  “Braeden, thank you—”

  I’m already out of the car and moving around to the passenger side, so I miss the rest of whatever it was she was going to say. She climbs out and eyes me warily. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking you to your door.” I jerk my head impatiently and then force myself to be gentle because I don’t want to be a dick, but I’m not digging her living arrangements at all.

  She falls into step with me, dragging her keys from her bag. “I live on the ninth floor. You don’t have to walk me all the way—”

  “It’s alright. I want to.” I grit my teeth as she goes to slide in the key to the security gate, only to find it already propped open. Fucking fabulous.

  And what’s worse is she doesn’t seem at all surprised. Clearly, this isn’t the first time the gate to keep the unwanted out has been left open. Son of a bitch.

  The smell of urine and mold assaults my senses as I follow her to a small, rickety elevator.

  She hits the up arrow and must sense my unease as she refuses to look at me. “It’s kinda gross, but it’s only temporary.”

  “Hey, it’s a roof over your head.” And an open fucking door!

  We step into the elevator, which’s barely wide enough to hold us both comfortably, and I imagine AJ coming home late at night and being stuck in this tiny fucking thing with some piece of shit who snuck through the open motherfucking door.

  “You’re growling.”

  “What?”

  She readjusts her backpack, her eyes still cast forward. “You’re making a growling noise in your throat.”

  I cough to clear it and force myself to relax. “Huh, weird.”

  The elevator pings and the doors stutter when they open. I follow her into a long hallway and am thankful when she stops in front of the third door because the deeper I get into this place the more uneasy I feel.

  903.

  I commit the number to memory and hold my breath, waiting for her to get safely inside with the door locked before I can turn away in good conscience.

  When she opens the door, the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon comes wafting out, not the kind from a fresh baked apple pie, but from those air fresheners you get at the grocery store. It’s dark inside, so I can’t see what the state of her apartment is, but from the smell, I’d guess AJ is a girl who takes pride in her living space, even if the outside of it is a towering health-code violation.

  “Thanks again for tonight.” She leans a shoulder against the doorframe. “When do you head back?”

  I’m so busy scoping out my surroundings I hardly hear the question. “A couple of days.”

  “Well, if I don’t see you again . . .”

  Now she’s got my attention. Her lips are moving, but I’m deaf to whatever it is she’s saying, and even though I swore I’d keep my hands to myself, I hook her around the neck.

  She gasps as I pull her close and lower my lips to hers. I wait to feel the resistance, watch closely for the cues, no matter how subtle they might be, that she doesn’t want this.

  But instead, she leans toward me. Her hands brace on my pecs, and the heat of her palms is like a shot of lust to my head. I’m practically dizzy with it.

  I press closed lips to hers and—fuck me—they’re softer than I imagined. Just that one chaste kiss and she smiles against me. I risk pushing it a little farther and part my lips just enough to tug her silken flesh into my mouth.

  Her head tilts and it’s as if a button is pressed.

  She pushes her hands up over my shoulders to lock around my neck, her mouth opening just enough to invite me in to explore.

  Never having been the kind of guy to say no, I grasp her hip and draw her closer until our bodies are pressed together.

  She moans and falls limp in my hold, which ignites my primitive brain.

  This woman wants me.

  I step forward, and she hurriedly steps back until I’m inside her apartment. I kick the door shut and then lean back against it, taking her sweet mouth and body with me.

  I don’t have the time or the patience to figure out how to lock the POS, so this impromptu make-out session is going to have to happen with me holding the damn door shut.

  Her kiss is hot and demanding as she practically crawls up my body. Her leg hitches up where I catch it at my hip, and I’m reminded again of how flexible she is. I want her naked in every position I can imagine. As if that thought alone isn’t enough to make my dick hard, the knowledge that she absolutely can get into any of my imaginable positions makes the rod between my legs turn to granite.

  “AJ . . . this isn’t what I came here for.” I’m panting as I run my lips along her jawline to her neck.

  “You told me, when I jumped you and begged, you wouldn’t turn me down.” There’s a challenge in her voice that further heats my blood.

  “I’m nothing if not a man of my word, but . . .” God, she smells so good. “Are you sure?”

  She rubs against me like a hungry cat and nips at my mouth. “It’s been so long since I’ve thought of anything other than work.” Her hand slides down my abs to grip me over my jeans. We groan in unison. “With you, tonight, this is all I’ve been thinking about.”

  “Well, fuck.” I push off the door and find the deadbolt to lock it. “Show me to the bed, muffin.”

  With a tiny hop, she wraps both legs around my waist. I grab her by the ass, and fucking hell, it’s nothing but hard muscle surrounded by the softest flesh. Logic takes a hike, and I forget all the reasons I shouldn’t fuck AJ until her legs give out.

  As the lust rages through my veins, disappointment trickles in.

  One-night stands I can do.

  They’re what I’m best at.

  But I’m kinda enjoying spending time with AJ.

  After the orgasms, what happens next?

  ~*~

  AJ

  I don’t know if it’s the beer or the man, possibly a combination of both, that has me climbing him like a chain-link fence.

  Braeden’s hands cradle my ass, and caging me between his enormous arms, he carries me through my dark apartment. Our lips fuse together in a mess of tongue and teeth while my hands attempt to grip the short hair on the back of his head.

  “Ow—fuck!” He stumbles backwards, knocks into something, but his hold is secure.

  Visualizing the layout of my place, I’m pretty sure he just cracked his shin on my coffee table. I swallow his growl as he hits the side table, and the sound of things crashing to the floor echo around us.

  “Babe.” He dips his tongue into my mouth as if it’s almost painful for him to take a break from the passionate kiss just to speak. “Bed.”

  At this rate, we’ll never make it there.

  I wiggle in his hold. “Here�
�s fine.”

  He allows me to slide my feet to the floor, and I lean over, swiping my hand through the darkness in search of the side-table lamp. He must be crouching low because his mouth is on my neck, licking and sucking and—whoa! I tip too far.

  He darts to catch me but loses his footing, and we both tumble to the floor. Thankfully, he pulls me close so I fall on the big cushion of his body, but the thump of us hitting the floor is so loud the neighbors below thump back.

  “Be quiet!!”

  I bury my head into Braeden’s big ole chest and giggle. His hands sift through my hair, and he brings my lips up to his.

  “Thin floors in this joint.” He devours my mouth so my low-hum response gets lost in our kiss.

  The hard tile must be killing his back, but he doesn’t complain as he pulls me on top of him. I gasp at the feel of his hard-on as he spreads my knees wide to straddle his hips.

  “AJ . . .” He flexes and rubs himself against me. “This wasn’t the plan.”

  A hint of worry laces his voice, and I fully believe he had no intention of having sex with me tonight, but he can’t deny his body’s reaction or the palpable chemistry between us.

  I rock my hips and nuzzle his neck, breathing in the fresh clean scent of his spicy aftershave. “And yet, here we are.”

  “Just . . . I don’t want this to be it.” He cups the back of my head, tilting his chin up to give me more of his throat. “Tell me, if we do this, this won’t be it.”

  My lips freeze against his skin. “You mean . . .?” He wants more than one night? “You want to hang out again?”

  Big fingers curl around my hip, holding me in place. “Yeah. I want to see you again.”

  “Isn’t this more of an after-sex talk?”

  I can’t see more than his outline in the dark, but I feel his shrug. “Is it?”

  “Yeah, I mean what if the sex sucks and—”

  “No way is the sex gonna suck.”

  “—you regret it—”

  “Impossible.”

  “—I become clingy and—”

  “You don’t strike me as the type.”

  “—you change your mind.”

  His body shakes with silent laughter, and I’m grateful he can’t see how my eyes almost roll back in my head at the pleasure his huge, shaking body brings.