The Final Fight

by JB Salsbury

  I fist the front of my tee at her belly. “Did I mention that I fucking dig you wearing my shirt?” I give it a sharp tug until she’s standing between my legs.

  “You do?”

  I run one hand up the side of her leg to her bare thigh and I groan. “Muffin? You’re not wearing panties.”

  Her hands brace on my shoulders, and when she grins down at me, her dark hair forms curtains around her face. “I know.” She leans forward, putting one knee on the couch and then the other, successfully straddling me and locking me between her thighs.

  I grip her ass tightly, even use my blunt nails against her skin as the urge to take her hard rides me. “I want you.”

  “You have me.” She drops down to press the heat of her nakedness against my jeans. “What are you waiting for?”

  ~~~

  “Are you sure these are safe?” She checks the harness clip at her chest, her toned bare arms turning pink in the sun already.

  It’s a toasty eighty degrees without a cloud in the sky, and we’re surrounded by miles of barren landscape. I flip my baseball hat backwards and adjust my sunglasses against the desert glare. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  She looks up at me, and even from behind her sunglasses, I can see her bored expression. “Really? I do this kind of stuff for a living, without a harness.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying it sounds like you’re getting a little scared; that’s all.” Truth be told, I’m not exactly suckin’ my thumb in a womb of contentment over here either, but I’d never let her see my unease.

  She gives her harness another tug then another. “I am not scared. I think I . . .” She tugs again.

  “Muffin, you keep yankin’ on that thing, you’re gonna fuck it all up.”

  “When I’m on the silks, I trust myself to keep me safe, but here I have to trust people I don’t even know.” She looks behind her at the guy who gave us the run down and is now hooking the other ten people up to their lines. “For all we know, he could be a stoner,” she whispers.

  I step close and cup her shoulders then run my hands up and down her arms. “If I thought you were in any kind of danger at all, I’d walk us both out of here right now.”

  She stares back at the guy again.

  “AJ.”

  When she turns back to me, I push her sunglasses up onto her head and remove mine. “Look at me.” It’s pointless to say because she already is. “Do I seem like the type of man who would put you in an unsafe situation?”

  Her body sways toward me unconsciously. “No.”

  “Good.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Now come on. This is going to be fun.”

  “I know; you’re right.” She leans into my side, and fuck, I love how she fits against me.

  “Just enjoy the ride. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  A few seconds later, the guy comes over, and I watch as he hooks AJ up to the line, making sure he doesn’t miss a single attachment. My heart kicks behind my ribs a little, seeing her strapped up there and at the mercy of the equipment, so I give it a pull until I’m satisfied she’s secure.

  One finely sculpted brow lifts above her shades.

  “What? I’m just helping to make you feel better.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Not with your mouth you didn’t, but—”

  “I know you!” A girl’s voice squeals from behind me.

  AJ leans around me, and I turn to see a couple of college-aged girls waiting to get hooked onto their lines.

  My stomach drops, thinking maybe I’d fooled around with one of them, but thankfully, neither look familiar, and I’d never forget a face, especially one I’d screwed. Wait. That didn’t sound right—

  “You’re that guy!” She points at me then looks to her friend. “Remember? The MMA guy?”

  “Ohh . . .” Her friend looks me up and down. “Are you sure that’s him?”

  “Yes! I can tell by his mouth and chin, and . . .” Her cheeks get pink. “He’s huge.”

  “Ladies, I think you’re getting me confused—”

  “Daniels, right?” Her smile stretches across her face. “They call you The Snake!”

  “No—”

  “Oh yeah!” Her friend steps closer. “It does look like him.”

  “No shit, you’re Blake Daniels.” The guy hooking everyone up draws nearer and gets the attention of everyone else.

  “You’re a UFL god!”

  “I won money on your last fight!”

  “Who are you fighting next?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa . . .” I hold up my hands. “Everyone calm down. I’m not who you think I am.”

  “It’s cool, man.” The guy running the show leans in. “Your secret is safe with us, brah.”

  “Shit.” I glance over at AJ, and she’s laughing so hard it’s making her metal clips clink together. “Funny. Ha. Ha.”

  “Can you sign my shirt?” One of the college girls sticks her tiny-tee-covered tits toward me.

  I turn to AJ and, yeah, she’s not laughing anymore. I grin.

  “Listen,” I speak up so everyone can hear me. “I am not Blake Daniels.”

  There’s a chorus of aws and a couple yeah, rights.

  “I’m not, but . . .” I sigh. “He’s my older brother, so I can see why you’d get us confused.”

  The murmuring continues, and when I turn around, both college girls have their tits shoved in my direction, and the guy running the place hands me a Sharpie.

  “Girls, please. I already said—”

  “You’re the brother of Blake “The Snake” Daniels!” The one hops a little, bouncing her boobies. “Sign!”

  I turn back to AJ in a silent request for permission, but she just shakes her head and huffs.

  “Alright, but not there.” I point to their chests. “Turn around.”

  ~*~

  AJ

  “Great show, AJ.” Danny, one of the tumblers, squeezes my shoulder as he passes by.

  “Thanks.” I’m walking as quickly as I can through the crowded backstage to my dressing room so I can grab my stuff and get home to Braeden.

  My hip is sore after I misjudged my position on a kamikaze drop. Thankfully, the audience didn’t notice, but fuck, I felt it. I keep an even expression until I turn the corner into my dressing room where my face pinches in pain—

  “What happened?”

  That deep commanding voice flips open my lids just as Andre stands from the couch, looking worried.

  “Nothing?” I shake off the ache and smile as best I can, but his scowl shuts me down. I head to my dressing table.

  “You’re limping.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He cuts me off by putting his big, expensive-suited body right in front of me. “Don’t lie.”

  I huff out a breath. “I tweaked a muscle; it’s not a big deal. I’ll roll it out and ice it. I’ll be fine.” I gently move him aside, and he allows it so I can sit. “What are you doing here?”

  He props a hip on my dressing table. “You never got back to me about tomorrow.”

  Oh shit . . . his text. “I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

  “Forgot.” His eyes flash with irritation until it seems he forces himself to relax. “I’m here now, so you’ll meet me at the penthouse at five o’clock tomorrow night?”

  No. I don’t necessarily want to, but Braeden will be gone, and I have the night off, so why wouldn’t I? Because you might be giving Andre the impression that you’re interested.

  I peer up at my boss and wonder if we’d started hanging out just a few weeks earlier if I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe I’d never have run into Brae that night at the bar, or if I had, I would’ve shut him down and he’d have moved on. And why does the thought seem so incredibly tragic?

  “Andre, as much as I appreciate everything you’re doing, I can’t.” I force myself to hold his eyes, even though the confusion I see behind them hurts to witness. “The thing is .
. . there’s someone else.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest. “I assumed there would be. AJ, you’re a very attractive woman.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you, but—”

  “Do you think because there are other men trying to win your affection that I’ll concede? You know me better than that.”

  “The thing is being with you feels like cheating on him.”

  “Ahh, so your conscience is getting in the way.”

  Not my conscience, my feelings for Braeden, but when I open my mouth to say just that, he cuts me off.

  “I didn’t get where I am today by giving up. I enjoy the chase, the fight, the competition.” He squats down and places a heavy, warm palm on my thigh. “The very idea that another man is touching you in ways I’ve only imagined just makes me want you more. I like to win, AJ.”

  I recoil and scoot out from under his touch. “I’m not a game. My heart isn’t something that can be won. Or bought.”

  It was a low-blow, but it didn’t strike. Andre smiles slowly then stands to his full height, making me feel tiny at his feet. “We’ll see.”

  He moves to walk out of the room, and I’m grateful he’s gone because, as much as I hate what he’s saying, I can’t deny that his attempts at winning me were, to some degree, working.

  “Ask him, AJ, this man who you’ve grown feelings for. Ask him where the future lies for you two. Make sure you have all the facts before you turn me away.”

  I jump as the door clicks closed behind me and he’s gone.

  ~~~

  Text me from the parking lot and I’ll come meet you.

  Overprotective much? I stare at the last text I got from Brae and consider ignoring it. I hate that he worries so much about the short walk I have from my car to the front door of my building.

  I shoot him a quick text.

  I’m here awaiting my escort.

  I hit send.

  There’s a knock on my car window.

  “Holy shit!” I turn with my pulse hammering in my chest to see a grinning Braeden. “What are you doing? You scared me to death!”

  He opens my door, offers his hand, and pulls me out. “I didn’t think your stubborn ass would text me, so I’ve been waiting out here.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  He wraps his two big hands around my waist and drags me in for a kiss. “Nuts about you.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “No?” He pulls back, studying me, and the scent of soap and shampoo wafts off him; he smells like heaven. “So, you’re telling me that for the five minutes I watched you stare at your phone you weren’t debating whether to text me.”

  I press my lips together.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “But I ended up texting and that’s all that matters.”

  “No, I knew you were making yourself do it. Ya know it wouldn’t hurt for you to let someone take care of you a little, AJ. I know you’re a strong, independent woman and all, but when someone who cares about you offers to help out, take it.”

  “You care about me?”

  He drops a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You know I do.”

  Ask him where the future lies for you two.

  Andre’s words tumble around in my head.

  “Come on.” He slides his hand down my arm until it reaches my hand and grips it. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  I twist to grab my backpack and hiss as my hip muscle cramps up. I brace my weight against the car.

  “Whoa, you okay?” He reaches around me and snags the bag, his eyes traveling up and down my body in a clinical way.

  “Yes. I just tweaked a muscle. I’m so pissed at myself; it was such a stupid mistake.”

  He leans down and hooks his shoulder under my arm to help me walk.

  “It’s okay. I got it.”

  “AJ.” His tone is warning and sharp.

  “Fine.” I lean my weight onto him, and he takes the burden off my bum side.

  He settles me inside the elevator then pushes the ninth-floor button. “What happened?”

  I explain about the drop and how I messed up my position.

  “Sounds like a pulled muscle.” He uses his key to open my door and ushers me to the couch to deposit me there. “I’ll run a hot bath and then you should ice it.”

  He takes off, and I fidget, feeling awkward about him nursing me as he did the last time he showed up when I was half starving and sleep deprived.

  “Do you have any Epsom salt?”

  “Under the sink.” I call out as he’s filling the bathtub. “How was your dinner with your family?”

  “Good.”

  The sound of his heavy feet stomping across the thin floors echoes off the walls.

  “Did you tell your brother about the girls at the zip line?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, which was a huge mistake.” He dips down to help me off the couch. It isn’t necessary, but I love the feel of his hands on me. “One thing my brother does not need is a bigger ego.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Guess those run in the family, huh?”

  “Hey, I don’t have a big ego. I’m just realistic.”

  I stop walking, and he’s forced to stop with me. “Don’t ever say that to anyone else, okay? It makes you sound like a douchebag.”

  He throws his head back, laughing. “Best cure for a healthy self-image is you, AJ Pines.”

  We both squeeze into the tiny bathroom, and he sets me on the closed toilet seat. There’s a moment of hesitation where he reaches for the hem of my shirt but then steps back to the wall and tucks his hands under his biceps. “I think you can get undressed by yourself.”

  I shove out my lower lip. “Aww, I wanted you to do it.”

  “If I do it, I think by the time I get you to the bath it’ll be cold.”

  “Maybe you could join me?”

  He groans and drops his chin. “Fuck, woman. You need to stop with this shit.”

  “What?” I feign innocence.

  “First off, look at the size of that tub and look at me.”

  I chew my lip and do what he says. The fantasy of our sexed-up, slicked-up bodies sliding together in the water morphs into an awkward and painful tangle of arms and legs. “I see your point.”

  “Get in and soak for fifteen. I’ll have ice ready.” He winks, but I can tell the way his eyes snag on mine that he’s having to force himself out of the room.

  I strip down and slip into the water, and the warmth does its job, loosening my muscles and relaxing me. When it starts to cool, I assume it’s been about fifteen minutes, and I cautiously get out, making sure to put most of my weight on my healthy side to avoid falling. Nothing hotter than a naked woman passed out in her own bathroom after slipping and conking her head.

  I slide on my terrycloth robe and head into my bedroom to get dressed. Braeden is stretched out with his back to the headboard and his long muscular legs crossed at the ankles. His shoes are off, and his athletic-sock covered feet rub together as if subconsciously. He’s staring down at his phone, but when he hears me shuffle in, he glances up and smiles.

  “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I snag a pair of sweet pink lace panties and a tank top from my drawer and put them on then hang my robe up. Brae watches it all like I’m a pay-per-view show and he wants his money’s worth.

  “Ice.” He points to a bowl on the bedside table that has a Ziplock bag in it. “Lie down.”

  God, he sounds so erotic when he says that.

  I lumber up to the bed and stretch out beside him. He reaches over me to grab the ice and then sits up and pulls his T-shirt off over his head. Good heaven help me, but his body is glorious. Sculpted and tan and his skin is so soft. I’d ask him what kind of lotion he used if I thought I’d get a straight answer. He methodically wraps the ice pack in his shirt and then presses it gently to my hip. “Here?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Hip flexor.” His voice is like warm hon
ey all over my body. If there were a market for anatomy phone sex, like phone sex for science nerds, Braeden would dominate the market.

  What are we doing?

  Staring at each other now, locked gazes, I can see the questions swirling behind his eyes match my own. What started as a one-night stand has turned into something more, something neither of us planned, and yet here we are at an impossible crossroads.

  He’s married to the military for God knows how long.

  And I will never give up my dreams of becoming a Las Vegas superstar. Not even for him.

  So where does that leave us?

  “AJ,” he whispers as if my name is the answer to a question. “I think . . .” He smiles, but it lacks happiness; then he drops back to the pillow. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  I don’t trust my voice, so I remain quiet.

  “It’s actually the main reason I came to town this weekend.”

  Oh God, here it comes. He’s married. Has a kid. He’s gay. I knew this all felt too good to be real—

  “I’m deploying to Iraq on Tuesday.”

  Okay, not what I expected. When I don’t immediately respond, he rolls to his side to see me.

  “For how long?”

  “Six months.”

  A fist squeezes my throat. Six months. That’s three times as long as we’ve known each other, and we aren’t in the kind of relationship that implies we stay in touch. What does he expect from us over that time? Do we throw away everything we feel and do a see ya when I see ya, or is this where we talk about commitment and a future? It all seems too soon, and yet, I can’t imagine letting him go.

  “What does this mean for . . . ya know, us?”

  He clears his throat, swallows, and scratches his cheek.

  He’s fidgeting.

  Shit.

  “I . . . fuck, AJ, I don’t know what to say.” His deep green eyes bore into mine. “I’ve never left a woman behind before. I’ve made it a point not to get attached enough to have to explain myself.”

  “We hardly know each other. It’s not like you owe me anything.”

  “Right. And I’d never expect you to wait for me.”

  “It’s only six months.” Please, tell me to wait.

  He drops away from me, his head to the pillow, and throws his forearm over his eyes. “I wish that were true, muffin. But I’m a career Marine. I’ve dedicated my life to the Marines, and just like my dad and his dad before him, I’m committed to staying in.”