Love T.K.O.

by Pamela Yaye

  Yasmin’s eyes were laced with awe. “I don’t know how you did it. Lipenski’s so big and strong. He’s fearless.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, never mind, that didn’t come out right.” Yasmin gave him a peck on the lips. “Were you scared?”

  Rashawn answered with confidence. “Fear is a quality every good boxer needs. It’s what makes you alert, what makes you aware, what pushes you to keep fighting when you’re ready to throw in the towel. It’s a rush of adrenaline more potent than any street drug.”

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re okay. Don’t ever put me through that again.”

  “I won’t. Next time I’ll knock him out in the first round, okay?”

  Yasmin laughed. “I’m serious, Rashawn. Now I understand why your mom doesn’t come to your matches. It’s a little too intense for me. I’ve never experienced that many emotions in the space of an hour.”

  “Are we going to talk about the fight or about us?”

  “I like us.”

  “Me, too.” He lovingly brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Did you get the basket I sent?”

  “Yeah, I finished all of the candy on the plane!”

  Rashawn chuckled. “I figured you would. Do you like your suite?”

  “I love it.”

  “How much?” he asked, trailing the border of her dress with his finger.

  He was daring her to make the first move, so she did. Pressing up against him, she locked her hands around his neck. Moved by the intensity and ferocity of her feelings for him, she held his gaze. “I’m glad I’m here, Rashawn. Thanks for inviting me. Now that I’ve seen this side of you, I think I understand you better.”

  Closing her eyes, she parted her lips and invited his kiss. Yasmin felt his arms circling her waist, pulling her, urging her closer. She caressed his shoulders and grew aroused by the strength and definition of his upper body. His chest was layered in muscle, firm and hard. Yasmin stroked his neck, his arms, his back. Her mouth strayed from his lips. Burying her head in his neck, she pressed her lips against his collarbone. The world around them ceased to exist. They weren’t in a packed nightclub, surrounded by friends and family, they were alone, oblivious to the activity swirling around them. But when Rashawn snaked a hand up her dress and tugged at her panties, she sobered quickly. “Not…here. Someone…might see us,” she panted. Bracing her hands against his chest, she forced him to look at her. “Slow down, honey. You’re moving too fast.”

  Despite the darkness, she could see the apologetic look on his face. “My bad. I’m always amped up after a fight,” he explained, feeding her a smile. Brushing his fingers across her cheek, he buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair. His hands swept over her arms, then stroked her back. Tilting her head to the right, he gently coaxed her tongue out of her mouth.

  “Bro, what you doin’ out here?”

  Yasmin broke off the kiss, but Rashawn wouldn’t relinquish his hold.

  “Oh, I see. Gettin’ a little action before the party takes off?” Armondo took a swig from his Heineken bottle. Glancing over his shoulder, his wanton eyes roved over the cluster of scantily dressed women at the bar. “I like how you think, bro. I’m gonna find myself a piece of ass, too.”

  Rashawn’s eyes caught fire. “Don’t ever disrespect Yasmin like that. You hear me?” he demanded, his voice caked in anger.

  “Yeah, all right, bro. Take it easy.”

  Clapping his brother on the shoulder, he pointed him in the direction of the lounge. “Now, go inside and don’t come back, got it?”

  Wincing in pain, he rolled his tongue over his teeth. “Got it.”

  Armondo left and Brody entered. “There’s the man of the hour!” his trainer announced, marching over. “Champ, I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.”

  Groaning inwardly but concealing his frustration, Rashawn said, “Hey, Brody. What’s up? Yasmin and I were just talking.”

  Brody squinted. “You’re the therapist lady, right?”

  “Guilty as charged,” Yasmin said, smiling.

  He raised his champagne flute in the air. “My boy thinks mighty highly of you and, now that I’ve met you for myself, I can see why.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Do you mind if I steal the champ away for a moment? We have some important business to discuss.”

  “Not a problem.” Yasmin squeezed Rashawn’s hand. “I’m going to look for Imani and Dean. Come find me when you’re done.”

  “Don’t go far!” he called, as she sailed through the terrace doors. Rashawn didn’t want her to go, but he couldn’t blow off his manager. His career was bigger than just him. And as much as she was his woman, he needed the freedom and space to hang out with his friends, and tonight they wanted to drink the night away. Beating Lipenski had been the proudest moment of his ten-year career. It had been a hard-fought match and though he’d never admit it to anyone, there was a point in the fifth round when he’d thought he wouldn’t win. But he’d dug deep and in the end his perseverance had paid off.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet, champ.” Brody beckoned over a bearded man wearing a pinstripe suit. “This is the Las Vegas promoter I’ve been telling you about. Let’s hear him out. He’s itching to make a deal, but don’t agree to anything.”

  “Mancinii’s the name, boxing’s my game,” the stranger announced, with a hearty laugh. “You looked good out there tonight, kid. Like a heavyweight contender.”

  “Thanks. I put my heart into that fight.”

  “I believe you. By the end of the match even the diehard Lipenski fans were rooting for you. If you let me, I could make you a major force in boxing. Like Hearns, Lennox and Oscar. They were nobodys until I got ahold of them.”

  “Really?” Rashawn said, his face lined with skepticism.

  “I’ve been a promoter for over three decades and I can spot a superstar a mile away. You’re the complete package, kid. You have talent, charm, charisma and a smile that will make the ladies cream.” Sneering, he smoothed a hand over his cleft chin. “Think you could go twelve rounds with Vito ‘Terminator’ Garcia and make it interesting?”

  Rashawn brushed off his competition. “It’s not a matter of could I, it’s a matter of will I. I’ll fight anybody, if the conditions are right.”

  “December first, the MGM Grand, a million-dollar purse.”

  “We’ll take it,” Brody said, nodding vigorously.

  Rashawn shook his head. “It’s too soon. I can’t get ready for a title match in four months,” he admitted. It was a tempting offer, but he wasn’t going to be enticed by dollar signs. Vito ‘Terminator’ Garcia had a stellar record and trained with the biggest names in boxing. If Rashawn was going to beat the Spanish phenom, he needed adequate time to prepare. “Make it March and we’re on.”

  “Sorry, kid, it’s a nonnegotiable deal. A one-time offer. Take it or leave it.”

  Brody pulled Rashawn aside, his face alive with excitement. “Did you hear the man? You could be among the greatest of the greats. Think about what that money could do for your future, your family, the team. It’s a short turnaround between fights, but I believe in you, champ. We all do.”

  His trainer was right. This was his chance, his break, the fight that would catapult him into the international spotlight. Squelching his doubts, he gave Brody a terse nod.

  “We’ll take it,” Brody said, pumping Mancinii’s hand. “I’ll call you next week to finalize the details.”

  The promoter grinned. “Let’s toast to our new partnership!”

  As Rashawn followed the two men inside, he couldn’t help thinking he’d just made a deal with the devil.

  Chapter 19

  “You ready, Doc?” Rashawn glanced at his watch. Every time he went upstairs to check on Yasmin she said she needed five more minutes. Thirty minutes later and she still wasn’t dressed. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

  “I’ll be right down.”
/>   Deciding there was no use getting angry over something he couldn’t control, he went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of juice and climbed the staircase. The scent of cinnamon assailed his nostrils and enticed his stomach. He’d had a big dinner, but these days he had the appetite of three men. Training six hours, seven days a week could do that to someone.

  Rashawn poked his head into the bathroom. “You’ve gotta hurry or we’ll miss the show.” Grinning, he smacked her bottom. “If you’re not ready in the next ten minutes I’m tossing you over my shoulder and carrying you out of here.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Don’t taunt me, Yasmin. You know I’ll do it.”

  “Bring it on, boxer boy!”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “I don’t understand what the holdup is. Just throw some clothes on and let’s get out of here.”

  “You want me to look my best, don’t you?” she asked, applying a coat of eye shadow. “I’m almost finished. Go watch TV until I’m done.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, he strolled into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed. It felt good putting his feet up. These days, he had all sorts of aches and pains. Since returning from Miami, his days and nights had been consumed with training. And when he wasn’t at the gym, he was at home, watching tapes of Garcia. The Mexican-born fighter had patterned his game after Sugar Ray Leonard. Unlike Lipenski, he had power, agility and speed. Garcia fought in a very calculated way, punishing his opponents before knocking them out in the later rounds. Supporters labeled him the Top Dollar because he gave fans what they wanted to see: an entertaining, twelve-round fight. Rashawn had never boxed twelve rounds, but he wasn’t worried about going the distance. Sparring, running and weight training gave him the stamina he needed to defeat Garcia.

  Swiping the remote control off the side table, he pointed it at the TV screen and hit the power button. He flipped channels and struck gold when he landed on a Miami Heat preseason basketball game.

  In the bathroom, Yasmin examined her outfit. Her look was simple but sexy. A tube-top dress, flirty accessories and heels. Peering into the mirror and noting the circles under her eyes, she added a thin layer of concealer. After another demanding week at the office, the only thing Yasmin wanted to do was relax at home. She would much rather cuddle on the couch with her man than go watch Armondo and his band perform at the Bamboo Club, but Rashawn insisted they go. His brothers and cousins would be there and it would look bad if he didn’t show up.

  Smiling at her reflection, she considered their relationship. Yasmin had never dated someone as affectionate as Rashawn. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. It didn’t matter if they were visiting family, working out at the gym or driving in the car, he was always touching her, kissing her and whispering in her ear.

  Eric had been nothing like that. Her boyfriend was thrilling, exciting and wonderfully naughty. He had elevated flirting to an art form and knew precisely what to say and do to get her in the mood. Their hearts and minds were connected and she felt safe in his love. Rashawn didn’t have a doctorate degree, he didn’t come from money and she never would have imagined herself with a boxer, but he was good for her. Like hazelnut coffee. Chocolate fondue. And massages. They’d only been dating for six months but Yasmin couldn’t picture her life without him. Rashawn had an incredible capacity to love and he didn’t shy away from expressing his feelings. Yasmin knew exactly where she stood. No guessing, no wondering, no insecurities. Rashawn spoiled her and there was no question in her mind how he felt about her. He loved her deeply, fully, completely.

  That morning they had slept in, had lunch and then driven to Clearwater Beach. Teens stopped Rashawn for his autograph, seniors chatted him up about the Lipenski fight and bikini-clad women boldly ogled him. They had strolled along the shore, arm in arm, talking about everything and nothing.

  Yasmin shut off the lights and closed the door. Rashawn was lounging on the bed, yelling at Dwayne Wade to pass the ball to Shaquille O’Neal. Grinning, she propped her hands on her hips and sauntered confidently into the room. “Well, what do you think? Was I worth the wait?”

  “You look hot.”

  Her forehead creased. “Rashawn, you didn’t even look at me.”

  “I don’t have to. You’re gorgeous,” he praised, stealing a quick glance. “You’d look good in a Halloween costume.”

  Laughing, she swiped her clutch purse off the bed. “I’m dressed and ready to go whenever you are.”

  “Cool. Hang tight. There’s only two minutes left in the game.”

  Yasmin stared down at Rashawn. He was the picture of calm. Head back, hands folded, legs crossed. Ten minutes ago he was barking at her to hurry up, and now he was so caught up in the game he didn’t want to leave. As she watched him, something stirred within her. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to feel his heat. He loved when she took control in the bedroom, so why not give him his heart’s desire? Seduction in mind, she sashayed over to the bed. Yasmin lifted her dress high enough for him to see her thong, then sat down on his lap. Obscuring his line of vision, she placed soft kisses on the side of his exposed neck.

  “I know…what you’re up to…but…it’s not going to work,” he choked out as she flicked her tongue against his ear.

  “I’m not up to anything,” she lied, donning a look of pure innocence.

  “Oh, yes you are…you’re tying to seduce me into some freaky-type mess.”

  Smiling seductively, she zigzagged a finger down his chest. “And why would I do that?” Yasmin pressed her lips to his and pulled back before he could savor the feel of her mouth. “Want more?” When he nodded, she gazed at him through her extra-long fake lashes. “Did you know the body is made up of a series of meridians?” she asked, massaging his shoulders.

  “Huh?” his voice was drowsy, weak, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

  “According to the principles of Chinese acupressure, meridian points are a series of interconnected communication channels that run throughout the body. For example, the spleen meridian runs from your big toe to your groin to your chest,” she told him, licking his bottom lip.

  “Ah…go on…I’m, ah, listening…”

  “Each channel controls how well a specific system works. If you stimulate the muscles in any given channel, the corresponding body parts will loosen and increase blood flow to that zone.” Caressing his chest, she showered long, sensual kisses on his face. His muscles quivered under her touch and his excitement soared when she unzipped his jeans and put a hand inside his boxer briefs. “When the right amount of pressure is applied, it can cause an intense physical reaction.”

  “Ohhhh, I believe!” he crooned, grabbing her hips and grinding himself into her. Open-mouthed, he watched her unzip her dress. His eyes sparkled, his lips were moist and she could feel him harden between her legs. He wanted this as much as she did. The smile in her heart spread to her lips. Arching her back, Yasmin lifted her hands and undid the clasp on her strapless bra. Her breasts spilled out, enticing him, teasing him, beckoning him. Placing his hands on her breasts, she swiveled her hips with the confidence of a porn star.

  The noise of the TV created the perfect background, loud, invigorating, frenzied. Yasmin tugged off his T-shirt, exposing his abs. Voyaging down his neck with her mouth, alternating between soft and wet kisses, she stroked his chest. She moved a hand to his groin and stroked his shaft. Yasmin sucked his nipples, magnifying his desire. She needed more of him. All of him. Helping him out of his jeans, she tossed them onto the carpet. Her eyes raked boldly over his physique. Fingering the fine hairs sprinkling his stomach, she kissed the trail down his chest. Pitching his head back, he dug his fingers into her hair, hollering her name.

  Rashawn couldn’t take it anymore. The onslaught of pleasure was more than he could stand. He wanted to be inside her; wanted to feel the sweet release only the melding of their bodies could provide. With the sounds from the TV urging him on, he flipped Yasmin onto her back and used his mouth to ta
ke off her thong. He sprinkled kisses on the inside of her thighs, the back of her knees and her legs. Careful not to put his full weight on her, he put on a condom then lowered himself between her thighs. Thrusting slowly, patiently, he resisted the urge to go faster until their bodies moved in tune. They kissed, whispering words of love and adoration, as their passion intensified. Yasmin locked her legs around his waist and he increased his movements. His eyes bore down on her, full of promise, hope and love. Riveted by the sight of her naked body, he held her protectively in his arms. Yasmin was a vision of beauty, his own private portrait, a heavenly work of art. Never before had he known a love so sweet, so pure, so real. She was his Nubian queen and he would love her for always.

  Rashawn plunged deeper inside. She stroked his hair, rubbed his back, gripped his butt. She never knew lovemaking could be so erotic, so zealous, so damn sexy. Yasmin wanted to please him and was so overcome with emotion, she hid her face in his chest so he wouldn’t see the tears pooling in her eyes.

  His skin pricked from the heat of her touch. He couldn’t disguise his body’s reaction and didn’t try to. He was drowning, falling, losing himself to the splendor of their love. A guttural moan ripped from his mouth. Clinging to him, she rolled her hips forward. Yasmin cried out as she reached the height of pleasure, blanketing her in a thick, sleepy haze. Seconds behind her, Rashawn shuddered as he released his seed. Laying kisses on her damp face, he rolled off and gathered her in his arms.

  “Guess we won’t be going out after all,” he said, his voice cracked and jagged. “Armondo’s gonna kill me.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t apologize. I’d gladly do it again.” He grinned. “And we will.”

  Nestling her face against his chin, she drifted off to sleep, a smile of sheer contentment on her lips. In her dreams, she was in an opulent church with a host of stained-glass windows. A short man stood before them, holding an open Bible. Friends and family, dressed in expensive suits and gowns, sat in shiny wooden pews. Rashawn was handsome in a crisp white suit. He held her gaze, communicating the depth of his love with his eyes. Yasmin’s gown was a combination of modern and traditional design. Diamonds sprinkled the bodice, the train spilled down the aisle and the veil kissed her back. Her hair was scooped up off her shoulders, a bed of loose flowing curls, held in place by a crystal tiara.