“Impossible. The title will always be there. The fight is replaceable. You’re not.”
Closing my eyes, I bury my face in his neck. “I love you.” It’s the only thing I can think of to communicate my appreciation. But it’s not enough.
“I love you too.” He repositions me at his side.
I lean up and give him my lips. It’s in this kiss that two truths penetrate and soak into my soul.
First, Jonah loves me.
And, second, I don’t know what the future will bring, but whatever happens, I won’t be facing it alone.
Eighteen
Raven
I shiver as cool air washes over my back all the way down to my thighs. Surfacing from my deep sleep, I reach for the blanket to ward off the cold when I feel something warm pleasantly teasing my hip. Little by little, the cold is chased away and a tingling heat moves through my body. I blink my eyes open, aware of the slight shifting of the bed and the soft touch that makes its way up my back. Jonah. Like last night, he’s kissing a trail along the path of my tattoo.
Last night! My eyes pop open as impassioned memories tear their way through my sleep. I lost my virginity. A giggle erupts from my throat.
He smiles against my shoulder. “Tickle?” His deep, gravelly voice against my skin raises goose bumps down my arm.
“Mmm, no. Feels good.”
“You’re laughing.”
Shaking my head, I refuse to divulge my schoolgirl thoughts.
“I didn’t think waking up to you in my bed could get any better. But waking up to you, with your hot little body, naked and pressed against mine?” He nibbles and licks at his spot on my neck. “The shit dreams are made of.” Groaning, he pushes himself up to my ear. “I hate to leave you like this, but I have a phone interview. Go back to sleep, baby. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Interview? But it’s still dark out.”
“Mm-hmm.” His face is buried in my neck and his fingers graze my breasts.
I moan and arch my back, pressing into him.
“Fuck.” The word rumbles against my skin. “Don’t move. I want to get right back to this when I’m finished.”
With one last kiss to my shoulder, I feel him get out of bed. I hear him slide on his drawstring pants. “Stupid fucking interview.” He shuts the bedroom door behind him.
One deep, contented sigh later, my eyes drift close.
~*~
Jonah
“This sucks,” I say under my breath as I drop down into my desk chair in my home office.
I check the clock. Five fifteen in the morning. I sip my coffee and curse my publicist for setting up these interviews.
I’m at my desk when I should be wrapped around Raven. My girl’s flawless bare body molded to mine, surrounded by her smell, it was nearly impossible to walk away.
I log into my email and open the one from my publicist. This is the absolute worst part of being a fighter, the publicity shit. Some guys get off on it, but most of us hate it. The radio station interviews are the lesser of the publicity evils. At least I get to do it from home in my flannel pants. If I had my cell I could do this from my bed with Raven in my arms. I shake my head and make a note to get myself a new phone first thing.
Scanning the email, looking for the number, I notice I’m fifteen minutes late. I shrug. Fuck ’em. I made love for the first time in my life to the girl of my dreams. They can wait.
I punch in the number listed on the email. I give the producer my name and wait, my thoughts drifting back to last night. I’ve never had a sexual experience like that. Owen wasn’t fucking around when he said sex was different when you do it with someone you love. And Raven, the girl had zero experience, but damn if she didn’t light up like a fucking Roman candle. Those panties, her moaning, body arching, begging for my attention. I groan and readjust my pants.
And here, I thought I’d lose interest? Once would never be enough—shit, a lifetime would never be enough of Raven. She just gave me a taste of what she has to offer, and I’m famished, completely starving for more.
“To all our radio listeners out there, we have a special treat for you today.” The voice on the phone rips me from my happy place. “Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade is taking a break from his rigorous training schedule to give us an exclusive interview. His fight with Heavyweight Champion Victor Del Toro for the belt is September fourteenth at Mandalay Bay. Jonah, thanks for taking the time to talk to us.”
“Of course, thanks for having me.” I roll my eyes.
“Victor Del Toro has been the reigning Heavyweight Champion for over six years. Are you confident that you can beat him?”
“Absolutely. I think my record speaks for itself. I haven’t lost a fight yet and don’t plan on losing one now.” I grimace at my blatant lie because that’s exactly what I plan on doing.
“Del Toro has what you call a glass jaw. Can you explain what that is to our listeners?”
“Sure, glass jaw refers to someone who gets knocked out easily. It’s Del Toro’s Achilles’ heel. But the guy is the reigning Heavyweight Champion and has been for six years, so he’s no pansy. Weak jaw or not, the guy can fight.”
“Now, you, ‘Assassin,’ have a mean right hook. We can assume that your powerful right hook combined with Del Toro’s glass jaw means he has very little chance of winning this fight?”
“No, not necessarily. The key to a great fighter is to know your weakness. He trains to protect his jaw at all costs. I could throw a dozen killer right hooks, but they only work if I land them. He’ll be on guard the entire fight.”
“Last question, you have a reputation of being . . . how should I say . . . friendly with the ladies? Rumor has it you’ve been seen around town with a sexy brunette. Our sources say it’s Raven Morretti, a local car mechanic.” The interviewer and his co-host laugh before finishing. “Is ‘The Assassin’ settling down?”
No, he fucking did not.
I grind my teeth and my muscles tense. Leaning forward, resting my elbows on my desk, I speak clearly to keep from being misunderstood.
“Not gonna discuss my personal life, guys, but I will say this.” My voice sounds low and menacing even to my ears. “You talk about Raven, I’ll pay a personal visit to your studio and we’ll have words. You get me?”
“Whoa! You heard it here, folks. Sounds like The Las Vegas Casanova is finally settling—”
Click.
Shit. How did I not think about this? This fight is huge for Vegas. She’s going to get thrown into the middle of the media firestorm. As if the girl doesn’t have enough to deal with already. I need to protect her. But how? I’ll make sure we lie low until the fight’s over. Briefing Raven on the situation should help to prepare her for what she’s up against.
Running away with her and living out the remainder of our days on some deserted island doesn’t sound like a bad idea after all.
I make a few more calls: two for interviews and one for a new cell phone to be delivered to my house. It’s eight fifteen, and I haven’t heard a sound come out of my room. Raven must still be asleep. I plan on crawling back in bed with her when I hear the water running in my bathroom. Or a shower? I smile as visions of shower sex with Raven infiltrate my mind.
“Don’t be an insensitive prick.” I shake the wet fantasy from my head. She’s got to be sore. I can’t have sex with her for a day . . . or two. Okay, a day. Give her a chance to recover.
No way can I go in the room when she’s wet and naked in my bathroom. I won’t be able to give her a break if I see her like that. Killing time, I pay a couple bills online, check my email, and play a game of solitaire before I head back to my room.
I stroll down the hallway with purpose and a smile. Sex might be off the agenda for today, but I can think of plenty of other things we could do to occupy our time.
~*~
Raven
I open my eyes to bright sunlight. Stretching my arms above my head, my muscles object. Gosh, I’m sore. I roll to my back as a sm
ile tiptoes its way across my face.
“This is awesome.” I stomp my feet on the bed under the sheet.
The faint smell of coffee crashes my private party. I throw my legs over the bed, gripping the sheet to my naked chest. I search the floor for my panties, and remember that Jonah destroyed them last night. My lips roll between my teeth to muffle my excited squeak. I’ll make sure to fit a panty-replacement shopping spree into my schedule this week. Maybe I’ll get a few extra pairs of those—
A warm rush of heat seeps from between my legs. My jaw drops open as my hand flies to my mouth.
“Oh no! My period? Crap!”
Wrapping the top sheet around my body, I run to the bathroom and jump in the shower. I do the mental math while scrubbing my body, making sure to be gentle with the tender areas. Ten days early? Impossible. I haven’t missed one pill—my breath hitches.
Not my period! No, that would be embarrassing enough. What just happened, on Jonah’s fancy sheets no less, is a direct result from last night.
“This is so humiliating.”
I can’t imagine what the proper protocol is for a girlfriend who bleeds virgin blood on her boyfriend’s sheets. One thing’s for sure, I need to get those off and get them in the wash before he sees.
Dressing quickly in one of Jonah’s T’s, I throw my wet hair up in a towel and put Operation Virginity Devastation into action.
I race around the bed and toss the comforter to the ground. Ripping pillowcases off one by one, I pile them on the floor along with the sheets. I’m frantically scooping up the soiled linens when I hear the bedroom door open. Frozen in place, I squeeze my eyes shut.
Darn it!
Head down, I sneak a peek, silently hoping I’d imagined it.
“Hey.” He studies the load in my arms, eyes lingering a bit on my legs.
Nope. I’m caught. I hop to standing, losing a few pillowcases on the way, and force my most innocent grin.
“What’s going on?” He tilts his chin to the sheets in my arms. “I have a maid for that.”
His sexy half grin almost makes me forget my all-consuming embarrassment. Almost.
My mind spins, trying to come up with a plausible reason why I’d be doing Jonah’s laundry. His gorgeous body, uncovered from the waist up, does nothing for my concentration. I run my hungry eyes over every muscular curve.
I blink in a flutter, clearing the optical orgasm. Concentrate, Raven. “I, uh, thought I’d help out. Um, do my share since I’ve been living here?” My excuse comes out a question.
Jonah reads me with narrowed eyes. He knows I’m lying.
My eyes dart around the room unable to focus on his penetrating gaze. On a sigh, I drop my shoulders along with the sheets, defeated.
I can’t lie to Jonah. “This morning, when I woke up, I, uh . . .”
He lifts his eyebrows for me to continue.
“When I sat up, I guess gravity or something took over and I . . . um . . .” I drop my face, concentrating on the floor in front of me. “Bled . . . on your nice sheets.” I confess and rub my forehead to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’ll wash them, and if it doesn’t come out, I’ll buy you new ones.”
I don’t hear him move, but his bare feet move into my line of sight. Standing less than a foot away, he pulls me into his arms. They flex around me and he places a kiss on my head. I relax and snuggle into his hold.
“Let me take care of the sheets. You go get some coffee, and I’ll throw these in the wash.”
He leans back, searching for my eyes. I direct my stare past his shoulder. He cups my cheek, holding my face prisoner, demanding my attention.
“I love you, baby, but I don’t love you thinking that I care about some stupid sheets. I hope it does stain so that every time I sleep on ’em I’ll be reminded of our first time, not that I’ll need the reminder. Last night is burned into my brain, permanently.”
He did not just say that. My cheeks heat and my nose wrinkles. “Eww. That’s gross.”
“What? That last night is burned in my brain?”
I break eye contact to focus on his neck. “No, that you’d want to sleep on sheets stained with my blood.”
His fingers bring my chin up as he bends down. “Not gross to me, baby.” His voice is close and rough. “It’s sexy.” His breath caresses my lips and smells like coffee. My tongue darts out to see if I can taste it. His eyes focus on my mouth and I watch his eyelids drop.
Oh boy.
“I need you to walk away now. Go get your coffee.”
I nod, but my body pushes closer to his.
“You’re probably sore from last night, and I want to give you time to heal. If you stay here, looking at me like that, smelling the way you do, inches from my bed, I won’t be able to let you.”
I shiver.
“That’s right, baby. Coffee. Now.” His demand is gentle, but still no less a demand.
I blink my eyes quickly. “I’ll go get my coffee.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll be there in a few.”
Moving past him, he lightly smacks my butt. Shaking my head, but smiling ear to ear, my mind processes his words.
Not gross to me, baby. It’s sexy.
He really must love me.
Nineteen
Jonah
Raven left for work a few minutes ago. And with her absence came my crushing reality.
My scalp is numb from fisting my hands in my hair. Sitting at my breakfast bar, I stare mindlessly at the black granite countertop, as I attempt to sort out the jumbled thoughts in my head.
Throwing a fight isn’t as easy as it sounds. I can’t just walk into the octagon and stick my chin out. I have to fight. Just not fight good enough to win.
How the fuck am I supposed to do that?
I’m undefeated because I go ape shit when I get hit. It’s impossible to reason with the primitive part of my brain. That, along with the roar of the crowd and shouts of encouragement from my team, is a violent combination, a winning combination. Fuckin’ hell, if that isn’t the problem.
I’m going to have to be completely retrained. I have one week to figure out how the fuck to lose a fight.
I grab my new cell phone that was delivered and punch in a few numbers.
“Blake, meet me at the training center in ten.”
Ending the call, I head out.
Blake is a red belt jiujitsu master. He earned the name Blake “The Snake” at seventeen when he constricted a guy in a cage fight and had him out cold in less than thirty seconds. If he can’t help me, I’m fucked.
I pull up to the UFL training center right behind Blake.
“Hey, man. You ready to figure this shit out?” He heads my way through the lot.
“Yeah. I have a few ideas. Wanted to go over a couple techniques with you. That cool?”
Blake shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever helps. This shit’s fucked. Still can’t believe you’re,” he looks around to make sure we’re alone in the parking lot, “really gonna do this.”
I lean against my truck. “You sure you’re up for this? I don’t want to drag you into my shit. Not gonna lie though, I could use your help.”
He rips his sunglasses from his face and leans in. “Don’t start this shit with me. You fuckin’ know I got your back. I’ll give you that one, but you say that kinda fucked up crap again, I’ll kick your ass myself.”
I suppress a grin. “Then let’s do this.” I give him a chin lift and we walk to the center’s doors.
Once geared up, we hit the octagon. It’s quiet, just a few guys working at the heavy bags a dozen yards away.
“The key is to avoid this motherfucker’s jaw like a two-dollar hooker,” he says, then cringes. “Sorry, bad joke.”
I shake my head, thinking I may just have to slide one solid punch in during this training session.
“Right, I know that, fuckwad. What I want to know is how the hell do I keep from flippin’ the switch on his ass when he punches me?”
“Easy
. Submissions. Take him to the ground and lock him down. Milk the clock until the ref breaks it up.”
That’s not a bad idea. If I can get him in a solid hold where he can’t get the ground and pound, I should be able to buy some time.
“That might work. Let’s work on some submissions that keep his fists away from my face.”
Blake nods.
Without time on our side, we get to it. Modifying a few key holds isn’t easy, but we manage to come up with a couple strategies. A few take-downs and pinning techniques will help, but I’m going to need more.
“I need to go at least three rounds, and I can’t just sit on the mat holdin’ him like a newborn baby. The fans are expecting some stand-up. If I keep my punches to body shots during the stand-up, that should help.”
Blake shakes his head. “Yeah, until he strikes back and hits you hard enough to bring out the beast, but not knock you out! I’m telling you I’ve seen you fight. You need to stay grounded as much as possible. Protect your head, and keep that fine piece of ass in the forefront of your mind. Then, pray for a miracle.”
And now, I remember why I’m friends with Blake.
After a couple hours of training, I hear a voice call my name. I peer through the octagon chain link to see Taylor Gibbs, the owner of the UFL. He’s in his usual dark suit, wearing his usual schooled expression.
“Taylor. What’s up?”
“Need a word with you in my office when you’re done.”
“Give me five.”
He nods and walks away.
I turn to Blake. “You know what this is about?”
Blake looks at the space Taylor recently vacated then back to me. “No clue.” He shrugs.
We make plans to continue training tomorrow, and I head to Taylor’s office.
He probably wants to talk to me about the fight, but I feel like a kid called to the principal’s office. There’s no way he could know about my deal with Dominick. Dominick isn’t stupid enough to go flapping his gums. Blake and Raven are the only other ones that know. Blake seemed just as caught off guard as I was, and Raven, well, there’s no way she’s talking.
1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen Page 76
