Don’t You Dare: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance

by Claire St. Rose

  “Look, I need to ask you one more favor.”

  Cristina snorted. “The last favor I did for you ruined your wedding. Your very expensive wedding, as your daddy reminded me repeatedly.”

  Ali let it pass for now. “I know. But this is the last matron of honor duty I’ll ask of you. Can you swing by my place in a couple of hours?”

  “Sure,” Cristina said. “Happy to. After all, if this is the way things are going to go, Alejandro and I are going to have a few words.”

  “Cristina—”

  “What do I always tell you, Ali?” They finished it together: “Take your medicine.”

  She disconnected the call, and turned around to see Alejandro standing in the doorway. “How long have you been there?”

  “Just a second,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” she replied, slipping her phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Just a couple things I needed to take care of. Cristina’s probably going to stop by later.”

  His grin spread sideways across his face. “Oh? How much does she hate me right now?” He stepped close to her and put his hands around her waist. Ali let him hold her, let her weight relax back into his chest.

  “I don’t think she hates you at all. I think that she’s worried. About both of us. And you have to admit, there’s good reason for that. We’ve torn each other up more than once.”

  She could feel him nod against her shoulder, his grip tight around her waist tight and firm. “That we have.”

  “We probably will again.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he said, and his lips pressed like rose petals against the nape of her neck. She sighed, feeling her body heat and relax against him at the same time. His fingers teased at her skin, dipping under the waistband of her jeans, and up under the hem of her shirt.

  “Where’s everybody gone?” she asked, letting him take her weight, wrapping one arm up around his neck.

  “Pitbull and Zig left to go find where the Diablos are holed up. We know it’s in one of the industrial parks outside of town, but the exact ‘where,’ we’re not sure. Karen went to go get a shower. She said she’d swing by tonight, make sure everything was okay, and to call if you needed her before then.”

  She spun in his arms then, wrapping both arms around his neck and capturing his mouth for a firm kiss. “So we’re all alone is what you’re saying?”

  He laughed softly against her mouth. “And I thought I was insatiable.”

  Ali quirked an eyebrow at him. “I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

  Alejandro’s thumb brushed over her nipple, which tightened for him quickly as she sighed. “Oh, I want to. I just assumed you’d be too sore. If I can be so bold, I was pretty rough earlier.”

  There was a lot of bravado in his voice, but even more than that she heard a little boy who was still worried that he wasn’t worth loving. She caught his face in her hands and brought him to look right at her. “You were,” she said. “And I’m achy. And tight. And still wet and needy and wishing I was full of you all over again.”

  He groaned against her skin, nipping at her neck. She moved with him for a moment, smiling to herself. “I mean, do you even have a gentle setting?”

  He pulled back then. The look in his eyes, like he was accepting the challenge that she was putting forth. “Do I have a gentle setting?” he scoffed at her mockingly, and then everything about him shifted. The burning fire in his eyes banked into a simmering smolder, the tension in his hands melted away, and instead of driving her on with his fingers, she found him full of invitation and delicate warmth. He took her hand and pulled her along with him until he sat down on the couch, then tugged her down into his lap. She sat crosswise, her legs thrown over his right hip, and he kissed her, lips soft and gentle, his fingers exploring her with more delicacy than he’d ever shown her in all the years they’d been together.

  “There were women,” he said as he pressed kisses along her jawline. “There were a lot of women, Ali. I tried over and over again to fall in love, especially once Cristina started telling me about Bobby. I knew she was just trying to get me to move on, to get over you, and I thought I could. But every time I thought of you and him—it was too much. So I had women, I had endless women, and I wished that every one of them was you.”

  Ali knew she was supposed to be upset about this. It wasn’t some sort of revelation, after all. It had been a decade, and God knew Alejandro was a good looking man. And the way he made love to her— that wasn’t something a guy developed simply by daydreaming. But she couldn’t find any room in her heart for “upset.”

  “Even if you didn’t think of me, every single time, it’s not my place to be upset. It’s not like you owed me anything during that time.” She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose, a gesture that made him glare at her. Mostly jokingly. She hoped. “Go sneaking off with someone else now, though, and we’d have a different conversation.”

  He gave her a curious look. “And what if I didn’t sneak off? What if I brought someone else home?”

  She resisted the urge to swat his arm again. “Talk to me about it first, please.”

  “Are you saying that could potentially be an option?”

  “I don’t really think this is the point right now.”

  He sighed and laughingly rolled his eyes. “And you tell me this after you ask me to be gentle.”

  She could feel him pressing into her, hard and ready. “If it’s too much for you to handle, we can stop.”

  The heat in his eyes didn’t fade. “I’d really prefer not to wait.”

  “So show me,” she said. “How gentle can you be?”

  He made love to her like a summer rain, washing over her skin in delicate waves. His fingers brushed her nipples instead of twisting, caressed her sides instead of urging, stroked over her ass instead of gripping. He whispered to her while he did it, murmuring how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how perfect it felt to be finally holding her. Her clothes fell away like flower petals, and they were naked together. He brought her down so that she straddled him, his cock hard and solid between them, pressed against her belly.

  And then he leaned back and put his hands up behind his head. “This is how gentle I can be,” he said. “Show me what you want.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  She hesitated, not sure exactly what to do next.

  He gave her a small smile. "Would it help if I pinned your arms behind your back? Gave you instructions?"

  Ali blushed and shook her head fast. Alejandro wore a sideways grin that always heated her up, but it was more than just that. He was paying so much attention to her, to what she might want. It was erotic, but also intimidating. Women's magazines always went on about how a woman was the boss of her own orgasm, and that sounded good on paper. But in actual life, it had always felt like she was at the mercy of men in this arena.

  His fingers trailed down her body, using just enough pressure to keep from being ticklish, but also avoiding the places that would spur her on, would make up her mind for her. She whimpered and tried to angle him where she wanted him; he just laughed and dodged her, easy as that.

  "It's up to you," he said. "I'll do whatever you want. If you want me to lay you down on this couch and push you open and slide into you, all soft and silky sweet…" He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into the side of her naked breast. "Then that's what I'll do. If you want me to take you from behind, ride you hard, make you ache even more? Sure, I've got that. But if you want…" he shifted underneath her, and she felt his cock pressing up into the softness of her belly in a way that she'd never felt before. She felt his yearning, his aching, felt that he wanted this too. That it wasn't just something he was doing for her, that it was something he was doing with her.

  She moved then, hesitation gone. So what if he called her wanton? The fire in his eyes told her that he liked it, and the way his pupils flared when she rose up on her knees, settling him at the place where she opened before inching
herself down in a slow and agonizing tease—that told her that he liked it. That he loved it even, that he adored the way she was moving for him.

  Buried inside of her like this, he felt amazing. He let out a choking little gasp when he reached the depths of her, and when she started to move over him, riding him, he made another. "You're beautiful," he said, his hands on her hips not to guide her, just to embrace her. "You're amazing."

  She couldn't speak. She traced his tattoo, running her fingers over it again and again as the pressure built between them. She didn't want to speed up, or go faster. She just wrapped herself around him, fucking him, fucking herself with him, as the pressure grew and grew. His hands came to her breasts, cupping them, lifting their weight, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in the same rhythm as his cock thrusting up into her, and she found her lip between her teeth as she fought to keep control of her body, to keep the pace she wanted, the rhythm she liked.

  In the empty cavern of his chest, she traced his heart, and he nodded. "Yes," he said, and then he surged, with no real warning, his fingers coming between them as he thrust up into her, finding her clit and spilling her over the edge with him.

  They tumbled down together, her head pillowed on his shoulder, as he stroked her sweaty back, pushing her curls away from her face. She heard him whisper it again: “mi amor.” And she smiled. Yes, that was good. Being his love? That was a good thing.

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  Alejandro waited until she'd fallen asleep. The hardest part was getting out from underneath her. He had plenty of practice sneaking out of bedrooms, but getting out from under someone who had fallen asleep draped over you—that was a master class all on its own.

  He made it out, though. He sat on the floor and watched her for a long moment. He didn't dare touch her, but with his eyes, he caressed the curls out of her face, stroked the length of her back, and softened the pout she always wore in her sleep. He eased her tight fingers out of their fist and helped her find some relaxation in her rest. But only with his eyes.

  He found a blanket in a closet and covered her up. He wanted to tuck her in, but even just adding the cover had made her stir; it was too much to risk.

  He walked out of the room.

  He suited up. His clothes had been his armor for so many years now, and he found himself putting on his badass face right along with them. The hard eyes, the cold lines around his mouth, the you-don't-scare-me line to his shoulders and spine. By the time he pulled his leather vest over his shoulders, he wondered if Ali would even recognize him.

  He'd sent Pitbull and Zig out to scout the Diablos' location, but the truth was that he'd known where they were hiding for weeks now. It wasn't hard to figure out. Arroyo Flats only had so many abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of town. He just wasn't willing to risk any more of the men he was supposed to be protecting. He knew Bolt well enough. If he wasn't willing to accept the deal that the Padres were offering, he would take Alejandro's life in trade. And at least things would be settled. Pitbull and Zig would look after Ali if he was gone. She'd proven herself to them by inviting them in, feeding them, and participating in the war council. Some might call the Padres outlaws, but there were certain things they lived by. Certain codes. There were some rules that were not broken. No matter what.

  She'd told him where the spare key was at one point. He found it now, and he locked the door behind himself. It wouldn't do much to protect her, but right now, this was the best he could do.

  Ali had been right in what she said. Other people had made too many choices for her, over the years. He didn't want to do that anymore. But he still had an obligation—a need—to keep her safe.

  He walked his bike down to the road before he kicked it into gear.

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  Ali woke up cold. Her head was fuzzy, and her body ached with use. It was a delightful sort of ache, but still. Kind of ouchy. She stretched, trying to understand why she was cold. She was on the couch, and there was a blanket over her, and she was naked, but she should be warmer than this.

  Yes. She'd fallen asleep on Alejandro's chest. She hadn't meant to, but she'd been so sated after that last orgasm, she couldn't keep her eyes open. Her internal clock told her that she hadn't been asleep for that long, but maybe he hadn't been as tired, and had gone off to do something.

  She ignored the little voice that told her that the house was far too quiet for there to be anyone else there but her. Because she didn’t believe it. He wouldn’t leave her. Not now. Not again.

  She stretched again, then pushed back the blanket and reached for her jeans. "Alejandro?" She called.

  No answer. She tried to be surprised, but couldn't find the emotion anywhere in her body. She bit her lip fiercely to push the tears back under her eyelids, and went to her bedroom to get dressed properly. Panties, clean denim, bra, top.

  In the corner was the luggage that had been all packed and ready to take her and Bobby to the resort for their honeymoon. She'd have to unpack the suitcase later, and she found herself wondering: What was the protocol for this? Bobby had bought her an entire set of vacation clothes, and she'd never worn them. She'd taken the tags off and washed them, though, so they couldn't be returned. Was she supposed to keep them? Give them back? She could ask her mother, but odds were pretty damn good that Mama would slam the phone down as soon as she heard Ali's voice—if she picked up at all.

  She sat on the bed, her head in her hands, and the tears fell. She really had made a mess of things. She had no regrets about not marrying Bobby, but she wished she'd had the courage of her convictions to keep away from him in the first place. She'd been right when she'd called the wedding off the first time. The only mistake she'd made was going back to him.

  Ali heard a knock on the door, and her heart skipped in her chest. She glanced towards the nightstand, where she'd started keeping her weapon after she'd taken it out of the truck. She had an urge to stick it in the ass of her jeans, like she was some hero in an action movie, but she'd read somewhere that doing that was really just a good way to take a bullet in a butt cheek. Her week had drawn more than enough public attention without that.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to find some calm. The odds were against someone being there to hurt her. When she peeked out the window, she saw a car she didn't recognize, but it looked like a fairly new model, with the super-bubbly look of a Hybrid of some kind. It was a middling blue shade, not too bright and not too dark. It didn’t look like a gang car, and there wasn’t a huge green devil on the hood. So that was something.

  She put her weapon down and went to answer the door.

  She saw Travis Lathrop through the glass before she opened it, and her heart settled back down into its normal rhythm. "Hello," she said as she drew the door open. "I didn't expect to see you, Mr. Lathrop. Is everything all right?"

  He gave her a curious look. "Based on the message you left me, I'd say no. I tried to call you back, but your phone seems to have been turned off?"

  Ali sighed. "I've been getting all sorts of phone calls from reporters. More than I want to deal with right now. I'm sorry I made you come all this way. Can I get you some tea? Something to eat?" She stepped back so he could come inside.

  "Tea would be wonderful, thank you," he said. He followed her gesture into the living room, and Ali went into the kitchen to fill two glasses with sweat tea and put a few cookies on a plate.

  This is Texas, she thought. World falling down around my ears, and I still take the time to make tea like a proper lady.

  She waited in the kitchen for the tears to run themselves out, then wiped her eyes and carried everything into the living room on one of her grandmother's trays.

  "I hope you don't mind me skipping the chat about the weather and asking after your health," he said as she picked up the tea. "I'm here to find out why in the world you're giving up."

  Ali paused and thought for a moment. "It was over even before yesterday, Mr. Lathrop."

  "Travis,
please."

  She nodded. "My business was ruined here. As soon as the story got out that some men who happen to be in a motorcycle club were helping with some improvements to my property, it was all over. I lost all my students that week, and even when I went back to Bobby and made things right with him, my students' parents had enough. I hoped for a long time I'd be able to work things out, but—" she shook her head. "It's not going to happen, and I need to be all right with that. I'm not even sure I'll stay in Arroyo Flats."

  "Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay? Rebuild the program?"

  Ali shook her head. And then the whole story poured out. Well, the edited version, anyway, but that included the dirty dealings of the Sheriff. His taste for very young girls included.

  That was when Travis's face grew storm cloud black. "How do you know this?"