The Fight Club - Boxed Set

by Becca Jameson

  He stepped back out, but didn’t make eye contact. Instead he plopped his treasures on her bed—her favorite skinny jeans, a black camisole, and the black fuck-me heels she only wore when she went to bars with her friends.

  Mason glanced at his watch. “Come on. Time’s a wasting.”

  She stared at him. He had to be kidding.

  When he finally turned her way, he let his shoulders slump and cocked his head. “You know you want to. Don’t give me that pouty look. I know you’re angry. I get that. But come out with me tonight. I bet I can change your mind about me.” He sauntered up to her, pulled her arms away from her chest, and lifted her tank top over her head. Next he lowered her boxers and tapped her leg until she stepped out.

  Naked again. Dammit. How did he manage to do this to her over and over? She still hadn’t seen his chest.

  Jenna held her head high, stomped over to the bed, and grabbed the jeans she loved. How had he known the right outfit to choose? She lifted her gaze to his as she wiggled her ass into the tight denim, fully aware her breasts were jiggling as she rocked her ass back and forth. She intentionally didn’t wear underwear. Let him ponder that for the evening. “Why do I keep stripping for you?” she muttered as she reached for a black lace bra from her chest of drawers.

  “Because you can’t help yourself.” He grinned. “You’re a natural.”

  “A natural what?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “When you say you’re going to change my mind about you, what do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m not right for you. You need to know that. I’m going to prove it the only way I know how.” He fisted his hands at his sides as he watched her dress.

  She shrugged the camisole over her head and smoothed it into place. “And this is for my benefit? Why do you need to prove anything to me? I was fine never seeing you again.”

  He lifted a brow. “Were you now?” He shifted his weight. “Well, maybe I needed to prove something to myself also.”

  Good. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by their strange chemistry. She toed the shoes and slipped her feet into them. “If the goal is to convince me I’m all wrong for you, why the fuck-me shoes?” She smirked at him and then headed to the bathroom. She would need to at least let her hair down and comb it out. It was pin straight, so no styling would be necessary, but the knot she currently wore didn’t go well with the outfit.

  Mason meandered up to the doorframe and leaned on it while he watched her apply makeup.

  She eyed him in the mirror as she dabbed on mascara and then reached for her lipstick.

  He wasn’t dressed in any particular fashion that indicated where he might be taking her. He wore low-riding jeans that made her mouth water. They hugged his ass to perfection and did amazing things to his cock also. His T-shirt was gray and sported some karate logo. Tennis shoes rounded out the ensemble, making her wonder why he was having her out-dress him.

  “Ready?” he asked when she set the last of her makeup down and turned to him.

  “I suppose. When will you be letting me in on the mystery?” She followed him from the room and shook her head when he grabbed her purse off the kitchen table and handed it to her.

  She yanked the strap from his hand. What is it with this guy?

  A shrill ring made Jenna pause as she stepped from the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch. Yep, it’s that time. That would be her mother. It was Friday night. The ringing continued.

  “Are you going to get that?” Mason asked.

  Jenna shook her head and kept walking. As soon as she stepped outside and shut the door behind her, she breathed again. The last thing she needed was for Mason to listen to her mother as she left her usual rambling message.

  Mason entwined his fingers with hers and led her over to his Camaro. Like the gentleman he always was, he opened the door and helped her inside before jogging around to the driver’s seat.

  He smiled at her. “Be ready for some action.”

  Whatever that means…

  Twenty minutes later, Jenna found herself staring out the window at a small arena. The signs on the front of the venue indicated there was a fight tonight. What the hell?

  Mason parked the car and circled around to retrieve her.

  They approached from the back and entered under the arena, surprising her. Why not the front door? A man larger than Mason stood at the basement entrance. He nodded at Mason and waved them through.

  “You brought me to some sort of fight? Um, Mason, I’m not really into boxing. I don’t know anything about it.” At least give it a try, Jenna. If it means that much to him, you might as well show him you’re a flexible woman.

  Why on earth he felt he needed to show her he liked to watch fights, she had no idea. What man didn’t? That was hardly a drawback in a relationship. Not that she had a relationship with him.

  Mason held her hand as he wandered down a long hall and finally pushed through a door.

  The next thing she knew, he was opening a locker in the small room, and he sat on the bench to pull off his shoes.

  “Mason?”

  “Hang on.” He grinned. “You’ll catch on in a minute.”

  “I thought you brought me here to watch a boxing match.” She cocked her waist and set her palms on her hips.

  “MMA, baby. Not boxing. Close, though.”

  “What’s MMA?”

  “Mixed Martial Arts. You’ll see.”

  “Why are you undressing? Do you work here?” She watched as he shed his clothes until he stood in only his white briefs. And holy shit, his chest was more impressive than what her imagination had created. His pecs were enormous and firm. There was no hair on his chest, but a line began above his belly button and disappeared beneath his briefs.

  But that was nothing. The sexiest part was the band tattooed around his biceps, a black geometric design that drew her gaze to examine it while he wasn’t looking. She’d never been fond of tattoos, but something about that one on that man…

  Katy tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.

  And then he pulled a silky pair of red shorts from the locker and stepped into them. “I’m the contender.” He grinned at her as he tied the string at the top and tucked the laces inside. Next he removed a pair of gloves from the locker and shut the door.

  Jenna stood stunned. Her mouth hung open, but no words came to mind.

  A door behind Mason opened, and another man stepped into the room. “Ready, Mason?” He eyed Jenna briefly and then held up his clipboard. “You have about fifteen minutes until you’re on.”

  “Byron, this is Jenna. Jenna, Byron. He’s my cornerman. Byron, will you show Jenna where to sit?”

  “Sure. No problem.” Byron opened the door behind him once again and held it for her.

  Jenna eyed Mason for a moment and then followed Byron without saying a word. The door shut behind her with a click, separating her from Mason and the testosterone-filled locker room.

  The man she followed exuded hardly less male energy, however. He was almost as big as Mason with broad shoulders, a slender waist, and thick legs that filled his jeans to bulging.

  Why wasn’t she attracted to Byron instead of Mason? What was the difference? Byron didn’t seem nearly as high-handed as the man she kept drooling over. His body was just as sexy. Ugh.

  You can handle this. She thought back to when he’d first arrived at her apartment. His face. Right. Of course. And he’d had a shadow of a shiner at the wedding too.

  Byron led her through a series of halls and up a few flights of stairs. As they moved through all the twists and turns, it occurred to her she’d never be able to retrace her steps. She hoped she wouldn’t be required to.

  The noise of the crowd filtered into her as they got closer. Finally, Byron opened a door and she was blasted with screams and shouts, making her jump back a step.

  “Right through here, ma’am.” Byron held the door and nodded into the arena. “I’ll show you where the
wives and girlfriends sit.”

  Wives and girlfriends? Is that what I am? Hardly.

  Jenna took a seat where Byron indicated and tried to keep her legs from shaking as she steadied them with her palms on her knees. She glanced at the fenced area in front of her and cringed back into her chair. She was so close she could see the sweat and blood dripping off the man in the corner. Only a few feet and a fence separated her from his bruised and beaten body.

  The woman in the seat next to her must have been his girlfriend because she stood suddenly when a bell sounded and began to jump and shout. “Come on, Brody. You’ve got this.” She cupped her hands over her mouth as she spoke.

  What the hell have I stepped into?

  Jenna glanced around at the other spectators. No one paid her any attention. Every single eye in the room was pinned on the action inside the ring, if that’s what it’s called.

  Within minutes the match seemed to be over. The man named Brody grinned at the woman next to Jenna and spit out a mouthpiece.

  Jenna cringed again. What a disgusting sport.

  Brody lifted his arms in victory and stepped around the cage thing—that was the only way she could think to describe it—and then he jumped out of the fenced area and headed down a dark hall in the direction Jenna had just come.

  The woman he was with plopped back down next to Jenna. She smiled at her and reached out a hand. “Shelly.”

  Jenna took her hand. “Jenna.”

  “Are you new? You look petrified.” She giggled.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Shelly nodded. “Don’t worry. It’s only scary the first few times. You’ll get into it quickly. Who are you with?”

  Jenna swallowed. “Mason Simmons.”

  “Oh, ‘The Bullfighter.’ He’s fun to watch and sexy as hell. You lucky girl.” She elbowed her. “That was my man that just won. Want me to help talk you through it? Or has Mason already given you a rundown?”

  Jenna shook her head. “Not so much.” The last thing she wanted to do was admit Mason had told her nothing about this. Less than nothing. He hadn’t even disclosed his involvement until about ten minutes ago.

  The audience got louder as the announcer stepped into the center of the mat. “Next up we have two contenders from the middleweight division—Mason ‘The Bullfighter’ Simmons against Jorge ‘Badass’ Lopez.”

  Jenna leaned toward Shelly to speak over the crowd. “Why do they call him ‘The Bullfighter’?”

  Shelly laughed. “You really are new, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Watch how he bounces away from his opponent defensively, and you’ll understand. All he needs is a red cape, and you could mistake him for being at a bullfight instead of an MMA fight.”

  Huh. Interesting. Jenna sat up straight in her seat as Mason stepped through an opening in the fence and sauntered toward Jenna. He winked at her before he took a seat where Brody had been.

  Jenna’s face flamed red hot. She felt like some sort of groupie here to watch this man fight. “So how does this work?” She decided she had nothing to lose and might as well ask Shelly what was going on and familiarize herself with the sport, even if she did look like a lunatic.

  “Okay, so the area inside the fence is called the cage.” Shelly pointed and glanced at Jenna.

  “Cage. Got it.”

  Shelly grinned and shook her head. “He told you nothing. Gah. Men.” She continued, “There are three five-minute rounds with one minute in between—unless someone wins before that, which Mason often does.”

  “He wins?” Jenna bit her lip. Couldn’t she have kept the thought to herself? Besides, of course he wins, just look at him.

  “Yes.” Shelly laughed. Her voice was infectious. “You’re going to love it.”

  I doubt that. She had no interest in watching men beat each other, and she stuffed her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting and showing her stress.

  The last two men had left the cage bloody. Gross. Two men in white wiped the floor.

  As the announcer rattled off the height and weight of each contender, the crowd grew excited, and the volume went up in the arena once again.

  Jenna couldn’t help but be sucked into the excitement. She leaned forward, admiring Mason’s back as he stood and bounced around in his corner. He stretched his neck in both directions, and Jenna licked her lips, wishing she’d had an opportunity to see his bare skin before tonight. He was ripped and sexy as hell.

  “When the bell sounds, the first round will begin,” Shelly added.

  Shortly after, there was a loud ding, and Jenna flinched. Shelly jumped from her seat, shouting immediately. Obviously she rooted for Mason. She turned toward Jenna and grabbed her arm. “Come on, girl. Get into it.”

  Jenna stood, awkward being the only word she could use to describe how she felt.

  Thank God for Shelly. She couldn’t have gotten any luckier than to have been seated next to this woman. Shelly held Jenna’s arm and continually spoke into her ear. “Mason has a mean right hook… See—there,” she shouted. “And that, that’s a sweep.” The other guy went down onto his back and scrambled to get back on his feet.

  Mason was on him in an instant, though, and wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck. “Oh God. He’s going to choke him,” Jenna exclaimed.

  Shelly shook her head. “No. He won’t. They’re friends. And besides, the referee will stop it before that happens. Hell, Jorge has the good sense to tap out before he goes black.”

  “Tap out?”

  “Slap the floor with one hand. That would end the competition.”

  “Oh.” Jenna cringed and took a step back when Jorge flipped Mason onto his back and got the upper hand. “No,” she yelled, getting into the action. Her adrenaline pumped higher and faster, and her entire body stiffened as she watched in rapture.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll get out of it.” As soon as Shelly uttered the words, Mason jumped to his feet again.

  Jorge was right behind him, leaping into position until the two once again danced in a circle around the cage. Jorge swung wide with his right arm, and Mason dodged the blow that would have landed on his stomach.

  “There,” Shelly screamed, “that. That’s the move I was telling you about. Doesn’t he look like a bullfighter?”

  Jenna nodded. She had to agree. The muscles on Mason’s chest quivered under the strain, and she swallowed around the desire to run her hands over the firm expanse of flesh. She wanted to lay her face against his chest and lick his nipples. She had to shake the thought from her mind to keep from swooning in the testosterone-filled room.

  A bell rang.

  “That’s the end of round one,” Shelly declared. “We can breathe for one minute, and then it starts again. Awesome, right?” She turned to Jenna who could only nod.

  It was. She was getting into it. “So, who’s winning?”

  “Hard to say. They accumulate points from the judges based on the number of strikes they have, how many takedowns—all sorts of things. Probably won’t come to that, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Mason usually wins before all three rounds are over.”

  Jenna’s head spun. She didn’t understand any of the rules. How could she? Mason turned toward her and nodded as he wiped his face of sweat. She felt a new flush as it raced up her cheeks. Damn that man is hot.

  The bell rang again. Mason was back on his feet.

  Shelly jumped to stand again, and Jenna followed this time. She stepped closer to the cage. She didn’t scream like everyone else, though. She couldn’t get any sound to come out of her mouth. Instead she gripped her hands into fists and held her breath while Mason punched the other guy in the jaw and then spun around and kicked him in the chest.

  She slapped her hand over her eyes when Jorge barreled forward and slammed Mason into the fence in front of her. But Mason only lost one beat. He was back on top in an instant, grappling with the other man until he had him pinned on the ground once again. Thi
s time he held him tight. Jorge flung his arms and legs around, but Mason held steady.

  After an intense standoff and a lot of kicking, the roar of the crowd grew intense.

  The referee finally called for an end. Mason stood. The other man scrambled to his knees but paused a moment before dragging himself upright.

  The referee held Mason’s arm in the air. “And the winner in tonight’s middleweight division—Mason ‘The Bullfighter’ Simmons.” His voice was hoarse from announcing for God knew how long, but he managed to scream over the crowd.

  Mason was led from the cage by his cornerman, and Shelly grabbed Jenna by the forearm. “Let’s go,” she yelled over the din.

  “Go where?” Jenna asked, but Shelly didn’t hear her. Jenna followed along behind Shelly as she dragged her through the crowd and back to the tunnel they’d come in.

  Another man stood at the entrance. Jenna hadn’t noticed him when she’d come through the first time. He nodded at Shelly, and they jogged right past him.

  Jenna spun her head around to see him still watching the door. “I’ve never seen him before. How did he know I could go past?”

  “You’re with me,” Shelly grinned and released Jenna’s arm. As they ambled down the long hallway, Shelly stretched her jaw. “My ears are ringing.”

  That was an understatement. “So what do we do now?”

  “We wait.” Shelly stopped when they reached a door labeled “locker room” and leaned against the wall. “I usually wait here for them to come out. It’s gross in there.” She scrunched up her nose. “So, what’d you think?”

  “Interesting.” Jenna crossed her legs and leaned against the wall next to Shelly. “Educational.” She giggled.

  “Where does he fight next? Maybe I’ll see you there.”

  “I have no idea. He never said.” Jenna felt awkward, but Shelly didn’t seem affected.

  “Have you met the rest of The Fight Club?”

  “The what?”

  Shelly giggled. “I guess not. The guys. Mason’s friends from the gym.”

  “Oh, no. Not yet.” Jenna shrugged like it was no big deal. The Fight Club?

  The door opened, and Brody came out. His face was swollen and blue on one side, and he had a butterfly bandage covering a cut on his forehead. His smile was broad, though, and he wrapped his free arm around Shelly and kissed her soundly. “Hey, baby,” he muttered against her lips. They turned to head down the hall.