1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

  No one has ever claimed me like he has—stood his ground, willing to fight, just so he could have me. Our future depends on that fight. I may lose my future. I won’t take his down with me.

  His attention shifts from my breasts, and he kisses down my body. My knees fall apart. He settles himself between my legs, teasing my inner thigh with his tongue. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow night, but for now, tonight, I am his and he is mine.

  Completely.

  With one finger, he traces the seam of my panties from my hip down. He slides the delicate fabric to the side and, without hesitation, dives in. A groan rumbles in the back of my throat. He slides both hands beneath my butt, pushing me deeper into his mouth. I rock my hips against him, unable to stay still.

  My body ignites at his attention. With the slightest touch he brings comfort and, with a little more, intense ecstasy. But this time there’s an extra layer of emotion. Belonging.

  A powerful urge to bond rockets through my veins. Power, need, passion all mix into a potent cocktail and I’m overcome with desire to take him. I use my foot to push his shoulder back. He looks up at me, eyebrows pinched, hands up in surrender. Something that looks like concern etched in his face.

  I want to give him a reassuring smile. Let him know that everything’s okay, but animalistic yearning wins out.

  With a quick flip of my thumb, I unhook my bra, sliding the straps down my arms and tossing it across the room. I lie back and lift my hips to rid myself of my panties. His eyes go dark, forehead dropped so he’s looking at me from beneath his thick eyelashes.

  If I don’t move fast, he’s going to pounce.

  Hopping from the hood, I reach for the waistband of his boxers. He watches as I slide the cotton down his sculpted thighs to his ankles, where he kicks them to the side. In a crouch on the floor, I take advantage of my position and take him deep into my mouth.

  “Aww, damn.” He groans and rakes both hands into my hair.

  I look up from my position on the ground and watch the ripples of his muscles contract with every thrust of my mouth. Here on my knees, in a position of submission, I’ve never felt more powerful. His body responds to every flick of my tongue, every pull of my mouth. My heart swells with the love I see in his face as he looks down at me.

  “Baby, enough.” He hauls me to my feet.

  My hands on his chest, I press him back to sit on the hood of the car. He’s stronger than I am and capable of protesting, but he allows my control. And if I’m not mistaken, I think it’s turning him on.

  With his back against the hood, I climb above his body, and straddle his hips. He cups my breasts. I give him a moment to play before I take his wrists in my hands and push them above his head. He smiles at me as if my attempt at domination is cute. I give him the wettest, sexiest kiss I can muster, wiping that smile right off his gorgeous face.

  “Fuck, baby.” He runs his hand through my hair, and rests his hand at my throat. “You’re amazing. My sexy, shy girl one minute, sex crazed vixen the—”

  I take him in my hand, lift up on my knees, and bury him. He groans so deeply it vibrates our connection.

  “Mine.” My possessive claim tapers off into a moan.

  And with that, my dominance is over. His hands tangle into my hair and his back leaves the car. His kiss is deep, proving the word I’ve just said.

  Yes. I’m yours.

  Exultant tears burn behind my eyes. I fight to hold them back. My hips roll in waves and Jonah matches my pace. I kiss his jaw, neck, and shoulder, pushing him back against the hood. Bracing my hands on his brawny chest, I thrust harder, pressing down deep, reaching.

  “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love watching when I’m inside you.”

  I’m beyond words as pleasure coils in my belly. His thrusts become urgent and powerful, spurring on my frenzy. My body is overflowing with sensations, begging for release.

  His eyes spark beneath heavy lids. “Let yourself go, baby.”

  My body obeys his command. Tiny explosions fire from low in my belly and shoot up my spine. I grip his shoulders and throw my head back. He holds my hips steady as reverberations rock through my limbs.

  Lost in the foggy aftershocks of my climax, our positions flip. I lie flat on my back on the hood of the car, and absorb the heat from where Jonah’s body was. My heels brace on the bumper, my knees fall open. I bring them back up, but lack the strength to keep them there.

  Jonah leans down and drops a tender kiss on my lips. I kiss him back with lazy strokes of my tongue.

  He straightens and grips my hips. Entranced, I watch the slashes of his muscles roll as he finds his release. He bites his lip, and I gasp at the blissful pinch of his fingers digging into my skin.

  His pace quickens moments before he groans my name. Goose bumps race across the planes of his chest and ecstasy floods his face. He slows to a glide, sending delicious sensations to my belly. He falls forward, braces himself with his arms, and kisses me.

  This kiss isn’t fast or deep, not a beginning to a desperate end. His lips are firm, molding against mine. We explore each other’s mouths in tender strokes. Patient and meaningful, expressing the love between us with every swipe and passing nip.

  He breaks the kiss and looks at me. His eyebrows knit together and he looks over his shoulder.

  “How many times has this song played?”

  My face heats as I try to think of a way to get out of having to explain my song choice and the fact that it’s been on repeat.

  Your iPod must be broken. I accidently hit a button. I don’t know why the same song keeps playing. Remember, I only own tapes. The list of excuses keeps growing. I settle on indifference. “I think it’s Beyonce.” I shrug.

  His eyes narrow at me. Darn it! He sees right through me every time.

  “Yes, I know who it is. I remember putting it on the iPod for you.” His eyes dart to the side as he listens to the words. He hits me with the deadly one-dimple smile. “I guess you like it?”

  I nod and turn my face away. Avoiding his eyes will help the red coloring my cheeks to fade.

  “I like this song. It . . .”

  “It what?”

  The softness in his voice tells me he’s well aware of why I like it. Why does he need to hear me say it?

  I exhale a heavy breath and meet his eyes. “It reminds me of you. You’re my saving grace, Jonah. My angel.” I wiggle my arms between our bodies and cross them over my chest. “Happy?”

  His teasing smile dissolves. His dimple is replaced by a slight tick in his jaw. He doesn’t look angry. More like, confused.

  I feel stupid and exposed after my sappy comment. “Can we go inside now?” I hope to get that intense look off his face or at least get me out from under it.

  He blinks and his expression softens. “It’s funny, this thing between us.” He flicks his finger back and forth from me to him. “Every concern or emotion we feel, it’s mutual.” He laughs in a short burst. “Here you’re thinking I’m saving you, when all this time it’s been you who saved me.”

  My heart swells to the point that I’m choking on it. “Jonah—”

  “I was cold. Dead on the inside from the time I heard about my dad’s accident. Never felt anything outside of kicking ass or a killer hit in the octagon. Fighting gave me my breath, but you brought me back to life.”

  I whimper and cover my mouth.

  “This whole time I thought I was living. But the day I met you, the lights came on. You fill me with things I thought I’d never feel again.” His hand tugs at my wrist, freeing my gaping mouth. He kisses my lower lip. You’re my angel, baby.”

  With my world split in two, ultimate devastation runs parallel to blessed elation. And I’m stuck in between. My future uncertain, staring into the hazel eyes of everything I’ve ever dreamed about. And more. More than I deserve, but I’m taking it.

  I’ll hold on with a grip so tight, that even if they take my body, they’ll never take Jonah from my heart.
r />   Twenty-eight

  Raven

  “What’re you doing here, Ray?” Leo walks into Guy’s office as I’m putting my stuff in a locker. “Thought you’d be spending the day with your man? Big fight tonight.”

  I suck in a shaky breath. Big fight is right. That’s why I’m here on my day off. Jonah has to go to the training center, and there isn’t enough work left to do on the Impala to keep my head in a good place until tonight.

  “Nah. He’s got official UFL stuff to do all day. I’m going to meet up with him after the fight.” I put on my most unaffected face and stroll past Leo into the garage. “What have we got?” I motion to the few cars in the bay.

  “You can run a diagnosis on the Tahoe. Said it’s making some clinking noise. Check the alternator.” He goes back to working on a Toyota.

  Greatest thing about working with guys, they never ask too many questions.

  I start work on the Tahoe, my hands moving through the procedures, but my head wrapped up in tonight. Flutters of nervous energy turn my stomach and tighten my chest. My phone rings in my pocket, making me jump three feet in the air, and earning me a lowbrow look from Leo.

  “Hey, Eve.” I greet my friend loud enough for Leo to hear. He rolls his eyes and disappears back beneath the hood of the car.

  “Rave. Ugh, I’m so pissed right now.” Her voice sounds genuinely pissed, and she’s huffing and puffing like she’s just run a marathon.

  “Why? Are you okay?” I head back to Guy’s office, close the door, and flop down in his chair.

  “Hillary came in two nights ago with the stomach flu. I told her to take the night off, but did she listen? Noooo.” She grunts loudly and I hear something heavy drop. “So here I am, forty-eight hours later with six, six people short for dinner service tonight. On one of the busiest nights of the summer.”

  I know where this conversation is going. My nervous flutter turns into a throbbing pound. She’s not coming.

  “I have to work. There’s no way around it.”

  Darn it.

  “I understand. It’s a bummer, but you’re the manager. What can you do?”

  “Um . . . I could kill that bitch Hillary for starters.” More banging.

  “What are you doing? It sounds like you’re trashing your house.”

  “Oh, what am I doing?” Her voice is high and dripping in sarcasm. “I’m setting up the bar. By myself! I have one bartender tonight. One! Man, I need a drink.”

  I rub my forehead. How am I going to get through this night without my best friend?

  “Where’s the after party?” Her question gets my attention.

  “After party?”

  “Well, yeah. Duh. The heavyweight champion throws an after party following a big win. Jeez, Rave, how long have you lived in this town?”

  “Right. Um . . . okay.” There will be no big win, therefore, no after party, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “I’ll be off by eleven and I’ll meet you guys out. Just make sure to have Mr. Pecs-n-Abs put me on the list.”

  Her mention of being put on the list reminds me of Vince. “Hey, have you heard from Vince?”

  Her throat clears followed by an even bigger bang that has me pulling the phone from my ear. “Nope.”

  One word answer. Translation: I don’t want to talk about it.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  One word again.

  “I’ll text you after the fight.”

  “Sounds good. And Rave, I’m really sorry.”

  “No worries. I’ll see you tonight.”

  I end the call as a new layer of dread falls on my shoulders. At least I’ll have Katherine there with me. He’s going to lose this fight. Everyone will be devastated, but at least I’ll be free for us to be together. That’s all that matters.

  I punch out a quick text to Jonah.

  Eve called. Emergency at work. She’s not going to make it. (

  I’m holding the phone in my hand when it chimes seconds later. New text.

  Sorry, baby. Ask Guy? xJ

  I never thought to ask Guy. He’d love to go to a UFL championship fight, and I’d love the extra support, even if he has no clue what’s at stake.

  Great idea! ( I love you.

  I’m already dialing Guy’s phone number from the garage line when my phone chimes again.

  His ticket will be at will call. See you in a few hours. I love you more. xJ

  ~*~

  Jonah

  My drive to the UFL Training Center is silent. Usually on fight day, I surround myself with deep, bass-hitting music. It always helps me to get pumped up, ready to destroy my opponent. Not today. I’m lost in the weight of my thoughts. My strategies for the fight play in my head on an endless loop.

  Stay away from the jaw. Take him to the ground, lock him down. Keep moving. Do not get hit in the face.

  My pulse pounds with adrenaline for the fight. But tonight I’m amped for a different reason.

  After tonight, this mess with Dominick will be over. Raven will be free and clear to live a long happy life.

  That’s if I avoid flipping the switch. I’ve never, not once, been able to control it from happening. A groan rumbles in my chest. There’s too much on the line for me to doubt myself. I will control it tonight.

  Before I know it, I’m pulling into the lot at the training center. I jump out of the truck and head to the door in a daze. My head is a whirlwind. I focus on my pre-fight checklist to keep my mind off the emotion.

  Weigh-in, strategy meeting, warm up, arena.

  I quicken my pace through the parking lot as a few photographers snap pictures.

  “‘Assassin,’ you ready for the fight tonight?” The reporter has a microphone at the end of his outstretched arm.

  With a tug to drop my baseball hat lower, I ignore him and keep walking.

  “Is it true that fighters never have sex before a big fight?” another reporter shouts.

  Fucking idiots.

  “Do you have a lucky charm of some kind? Dirty socks or a jock strap?”

  Do they really expect me to stop and give them an answer? I force a smile their way, pulling off a sneer at best.

  Pushing through the doors, I’m hit with cold air that prickles my skin. Blake’s sitting alone in the lobby, obviously waiting for me.

  “Blake.”

  He stands and meets me halfway to the hall. His eyes work the room before coming back to me. “You ready for this shit, man?”

  I nod.

  “All right, dude. I got your back. We do this as planned, shouldn’t be any problems. You’re home in bed with your girl, naked if you’re lucky, by midnight.”

  A grin pulls at my lips. “Got it.”

  Blake drops his signature crooked smile and his jaw goes hard, eyebrows dropped low. “Let’s fucking do this shit!”

  He claps me on the shoulder and leads the way into the locker room. My entire team is there huddled in the back, waiting. I’m greeted with fist bumps and chin lifts.

  Guilt eats away at my insides. My crew has worked just as hard as I have to get me this fight. They’ve trained with me non-stop, taken punches, suffered injuries, all for me. I’m letting them down by not going out there and giving it my all.

  I sit on a bench, elbows on my knees, focusing on the ground. I force myself to pull an image of Raven to the forefront of my mind: her wide, innocent, aquamarine eyes. That’s it. I need to keep my mind right here.

  “You ready?” Owen says as he plops down at my side.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I fix my eyes to the floor. It’s a dick move, but I’m hoping he brushes it off to me getting in the zone.

  “Good enough. Let’s warm you up and get you to weigh-in.”

  My body moves through all of the pre-fight bullshit, but my mind is absent. I pop in my earbuds and listen to music, mentally walking myself through every round. The guys don’t talk to me much, only direct me where to go and what to do. Every now and then I catch
a look from Blake. His jaw set, eyes cold, but knowing. We seem to share the same thought. Let’s get this shit done.

  We load up into a white van and head to the arena. The streets are lined with tourists, fans, and paparazzi. I’m grateful for the dark, tinted windows and the inconspicuous car that allows us through without hassle. The driver avoids the front entrance and turns down a ramp to a private parking garage where he parks beneath the arena.

  Blake turns around in his seat. “It’s show time.”

  We unload from the van where we’re met by a man in a suit. He introduces himself as the event planner and takes us to our assigned dressing room.

  The space is about half the size of the locker room at the UFL Training Center. Two large leather couches line the walls with a coffee table in between. The floor has been covered with padded, interlocking mats that provide cushion for a grappling warm up. A heavy bag hangs in the corner, along with some boxing mitts. A small refrigerator sits in the opposite corner, probably stocked with water and a variety of sports drinks.

  I drop my bag of gear next to a couch and take a seat while the guys on my team talk to the planner. Blake turns from the group, stalking toward me. His face is hard. Shit. Once he reaches me, his hand motions to his ear for me to pop out my earbuds.

  He points to the door. “Motherfucker’s sending in chicks.”

  A woman in this room would cause the exact opposite environment that I need. Before a fight it’s all about relaxation. A relaxed mind is a sharp mind. The last thing any of us need is some chick in here kissing ass.

  “The fuck you say?”

  I shift to the side on the couch to look behind Blake. My team is hovering over the event planner, pointing in his face. The poor suit looks like he might shit his pants. I sit back, shrug, and lock eyes with Blake.

  “It’s probably just something the networks orchestrated for ratings. They come, they sit in the corner and keep to themselves. They keep the fuck away from me.”

  “Been fighting here for years and never had chicks in the dressing room.” Blake’s eyebrows lower over his eyes. “Gibbs knows we need calm before a fight. Why would he agree to this shit?”