I have to turn away again, because that mouth’s too tempting.
Vignettes surge through my mind, like going down there and tracing my fingertip around her wide-open lips, watching goosebumps spring up on her skin.
Watching her mouth clamp shut as she tries to catch the noise she’ll make when I slide my fingers into her wet, hot sex, pumping my arm, giving her every single ounce of pleasure I can.
I shake my head and walk out of the cage, the roar of the crowd deafening around me.
But all I hear is my need for Lola.
I lean against a palm tree a few hours after the fight, letting the coolness of it’s shadow stroke up and down my body. Coach is at the bar, talking with another coach of a different fighter, and I put a look on my face that means keep away. I never normally come to these things, but I need to see Lola, my woman.
It’s time I told her that she’s mine, that I’m claiming her. I always knew I’d just know the moment I saw my lady, the woman who would bear my children, and now I do.
It’s as certain as the sun.
I scan the crowd, my gaze flitting over the other women, the barely dressed women with their skinny forms and their lascivious eyes. My mind just fills with Lola, with her gorgeously thick thighs, the sort I can bury my hands in, really squeeze, really feel.
Finally, I spot her, walking across the beach bare footed, closer to the glistening blue water with the ocean stretching out like a painting behind her.
She’s wearing a long dress that goes right down to her ankles, but it’s the kind of material that clings to her, that outlines her form that’s begging to be ravished.
I push away from the tree and walk after her, making my shoulders wide so that everyone knows to get out of my way.
I can’t take my eyes off the round bulbs of her ass as I approach, shifting temptingly in the fabric of her flowing dress, the material so thin it’s begging me to tear it apart to reveal her beautiful plus-size body.
“Lola,” I growl, when I’m so close I can smell the scent of her, shampoo and something else, perhaps her womb, calling to me.
She turns, biting her bottom lip in a way that almost drives me feral.
“Oh, Liam,” she mutters. “Um, how are you doing?”
I smirk at her attempt to make small talk.
But then she doesn’t know yet, what we have, what we’re going to grow into.
“I’m doing just fine,” I snarl breathily, almost reaching out and touching her now.
But I don’t trust myself to stay calm once I cross that impasse and there are too many eyes on us.
“Congratulations,” she says. “That was a crazy win. I mean, I don’t watch much MMA, but that was insane. And your interview after …”
She skirts close to the topic as we stand there in the sand, the warm sea lapping around our ankles.
“When I dedicated the fight to you,” I tell her, moving closer, my whole body going tense and desire firing right down to my manhood.
“Yeah.” She giggles and her green-flecked blues roam over me, as though she can sense the irrepressible need I have to claim her, body and soul, all of her.
“I guess it was a PR stunt or something?”
“PR stunt?” I laugh grimly. “I’ve never been the kind to do things like that just for the attention. I let my fists do my talking. No, Lola, that was—”
I’m about to tell her why I did it, what she means to me already, when somebody yells hello close by us and strides over. I turn to find Annabelle Young, Lola’s mother and Seb’s wife. She walks over in shorts and a baggy T-shirt, a tired smile on her face.
“Oh hey, Mom,” Lola mutters, glancing at me with curiosity still blazing in her expression.
“Anna,” I say politely, wishing Lola and I were on this island all by ourselves.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lola
I feel myself receding into the background of the conversation as Mom and Liam make small talk, forced to wonder if I imagined the closeness Liam and I just experienced.
No, Lola, that was …
But then Mom appeared and now I have no fricking clue what he was going to say. I felt him get closer, didn’t I? The heat of him, the way his eyes seared into me, his silver colored hair all wavy and his body bulging in the casual white shirt, open at the collar to reveal a slice of muscle.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t interview you,” Mom says. “But I hope my daughter did a good job. And thank you so much for publicly defending her, Liam. You’re a great friend to the family.”
Is that all he is, though?
Maybe that explains why he told the whole world that he destroyed Markus for me. When he said it, standing blood-flecked and shirtless in the middle of the cage, I felt tingles dancing all over me.
But of course Mom’s explanation makes more sense.
Liam and Dad have been friends for as long as I can remember. It has nothing to do with me. Liam was just making sure that Dad’s daughter wasn’t publicly humiliated, and the closeness just now, maybe I imagined that, too.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge these wayward, silly thoughts before they take root and sprout into something truly ridiculous.
I realize their polite conversation has come to an end when I look up to see Mom staring at me, clearly awaiting an answer to a question I didn’t hear.
“Sorry?” I mutter.
“I said I’m going to go and get something to eat at the buffet, if you’d like to join me. I’m so glad to be rid of this interminable bug. But now I feel like I haven’t eaten in ten years, I’m starving.”
“Actually,” Liam cuts in smoothly. “I was going to ask Lola to take a walk down the beach with me. That is, if you don’t mind.”
My heartbeat flutters in my chest and a hot flush spreads all down my body, but I have to stop reading into things too much. I see the way these skinny, bikini clad women look at Liam, like they’d do anything for him at the snap of his fingers. He has a whole army of model-like women waiting to please him in any way he could wish. He doesn’t want me, not like that.
“Um, sure,” I say, just about getting the words out of my dry mouth.
“Okay, you two,” Mom says, smiling a little as her gaze flits between us. “But don’t stay out too late.”
She walks down the beach and I turn to Liam, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the setting sun, his lips flat and his eyes unreadable as he stares down at me.
“Shall we walk, then?” he growls.
“Sure,” I say. Stop saying sure. “That sure does sound good.”
What the heck is wrong with me right now, seriously?
We walk down the beach side by side, but not touching. It’s difficult to distinguish between the heat of the island and the heat of Liam, waves of warmth washing off his muscled carved form.
My writer’s mind starts conjuring up possible reasons for him wanting to walk with me, wondering if he’s going to kidnap me, chuck me into the back of a boat and spirit me away somewhere.
But that doesn’t really work, because a part of me wants to be kidnapped by Liam, to have him claim me so that this needy pulsing in my womb doesn’t turn out to be a lie.
I feel like my womb’s screaming at me, telling me to take everything Liam has to give, to utterly lose myself in the firmness of his fighter’s body.
We walk in silence except for the lapping of the waves, the music of the party getting quieter behind us, and then we round a corner and it’s like we’re completely isolated.
A grove of palm trees promise seclusion off to the left, and without even discussing it we both head in that direction. It feels right, somehow, even if I know I’m imagining the silent communication that passes between us.
Let’s get somewhere private, I imagine him whispering, breath drifting over me. I want you all to myself.
“Mom was right,” I say, mostly to break the heavy silence. “That was nice of you to dedicate that fight to me. Markus was so horribly cruel in that intervie
w. And I know it’ll mean a lot to Dad. You really are a great friend to the family.”
We break through the grove, the palm trees closing off the beach behind us. Shadows fall over us as we stand in the sand together, the shadows shifting as the large weighty leaves bob in the slight breeze.
Liam glares at me, his jaws pulsing, his temples doing the same. Suddenly, the notion that he’s angry about something seems like a certainty.
“I didn’t punish that piece of shit for your father, Lola,” he whispers, voice trembling slightly.
“Oh?” I murmur, wishing I could summon up more words.
Even writing with writer’s block is easier than talking to Liam, it seems. I feel so tangled.
“No,” he says, moving close to me. His chest rises and falls in massive movements, like there’s an engine in there. “I did it because he had no right to talk to you like that. I did it because you’re mine, Lola. Mine. And nobody has the right to talk to my queen like that. I’ll always protect you, support you.”
I feel like the world is spinning beneath my feet, which it is, obviously.
But I feel it, everything going fast all around me, reality seeming to warp. Because the idea that this is true seems like the biggest joke in the world, no matter how badly I want it.
He smirks, reading me, and then moves even closer so that his stomach and chest press against me. I feel the hardness corded through him, making every inch of him seem even bulkier up close.
“I can see how badly you want this, Lola,” he whispers, leaning down and bringing his face close to mine.
He holds it there, our noses touching, tickling me so that I let out a quiet laugh. He smirks and moves his hand around my ear, tucking away a strand of hair.
“I’ve dreamed of taking you, of claiming you, the second I walked into the interview room.”
“Really?” I whisper, my whole body an attack of tingles and budding euphoria, just waiting to erupt into riptide pleasure. “I started thinking about you. You know, like that. But I never thought that you’d…” I trail off. “I’m sorry. I’m getting all tongue tied.”
“You never have to apologize to me,” he says firmly. “I didn’t know you were my best friend’s daughter in those first few moments. I thought you were just the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I didn’t recognize you.”
I turn away, shaking my head.
“Where’s the punchline, Liam?”
“What?” he mutters.
I throw my hands up. “Are you seriously going to stand there and say I’m the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen? I’ve seen the sort of women who throw themselves at you. You’re just being crazy if you really expect me to believe that.”
“It’s the truth,” he growls, closing the distance between us and looping his arm around my waist. He hugs me close as I let out a gasp of shock and desire and a thousand other emotions. “Your curves are …”
“Curves? Curves? Is that really how you’d describe my body?”
“Yes,” he snarls. “Of course I would. Your body is a heaven sent curvy treat, and it’s all mine. Mine. Forever. When I look at the way that dress clings to your body, it just drives my lust wild. I want to slide my hand down the undulations of your body and watch you quiver and moan for me, Lola.”
I gap up at him, wondering if I look as big of a doofus as I feel, my mind struggling to fit his words into any sense of reason.
“You don’t think I’m …”
Fat, I was going to say, but before I can even finish the sentence Liam’s lips come down crashing onto mine.
I let out a muffled high-pitched gasp and then lean into the kiss, parting my lips and tasting him, feeling the roughness of his lips against mine. He slides his hands up my back and presses me against him, hard, forcing our bodies into searing contact.
His manhood grinds into my belly, a definite outline proclaiming his savage desire. He growls and snarls as we sink irrepressibly into our lust.
I feel something letting go inside of me, as though all my life there has been this desire, or this fricking force, that’s just wanting to throw itself at a man.
But there were never any men in high school, and, anyway, the idea of just throwing myself at somebody for the sake of it makes sickness rise in my belly.
But with Liam, it feels right. It feels like we should’ve done this the second we laid eyes on each other back in the interview.
I break off, gasping, staring into his eyes with lust and excitement making a jackhammer circuit of my body, the prospect of feeling more alive than I ever have smashing into me with certainty as iron as Liam’s hair.
“Oh my God, Liam,” I mutter. “This is …”
“I know,” he growls, a note of surprise heavy in his husky voice.
The surprise might spur insecurity to spring into life in any other woman – why the heck is he so surprised? – but in me, I know exactly what he means.
I feel it, too.
“It’s like we’re …”
I break off, biting down to capture the oh-so-silly words before they can dance into the air and become real. The last thing I want to do is ruin this by spewing over the top nonsense into the situation.
“Lola?” he says quietly, always with that heavy power beneath his words, like a lion on the verge of just letting go and ravishing me. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I laugh, moving closer to him. I press my body right up against his and savor the electric feeling swirling through me, attacking every part of me. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
He tilts his head at me, the same way he does against an opponent in the cage, reading, assessing.
“I’m claiming you,” he says deeply. “All of you. Your irresistible body and your mind and your soul. Everything. Do you really think you can lie to me? You were about to tell me something, Lola, but then you got nervous. You thought I’d judge you.”
I let out a gasp, leaning back in his arms, somehow confident that he’s going to catch me. That he’ll always catch me.
A voice whispers in my head.
How naive are you? Do you really think this MMA star millionaire wants you, silly girl? He’s just bored. It’s a bet. It’s a joke.
I try to shake those thoughts away as I grip onto his shirt, feeling the heaving hardness of his muscular chest beneath.
“It’s nothing,” I say, embarrassment blooming my cheeks carmine. “It’s just that for a second, I guess I was thinking something really silly. Fate brought us together. But I’ve never even believed in fate before and …”
He brings his face down, close to mine. I can feel his sultry breath and see his pale autumnal-leaf eyes crumble into me.
“If you’d told me before the interview that we were fated to meet here, at this island, in paradise basically, I would’ve laughed. But now I see you, Lola, goddamn. It doesn’t seem so funny anymore.”
He trails his hand up the back of my neck, grazing his lips against mine, sparks of electricity dancing from one corner of my lips to the other.
I part my lips to drink in another taste of him, but he leans back slightly, smirking.
“If I kiss you here again, I won’t be able to control myself. I’m taking you back to my penthouse suite so I can really taste that beautiful body. I need to explore those curves, every inch of them. I need to see and hear how fucking sexy you are when I bring you to orgasm.”
I lick my lips.
They’re suddenly dry and my heartbeat is like a galloping mob of wild horses.
I send a silent prayer up into the hot sky that this isn’t some trick or game. But at the same time, if it was, I wouldn’t have to disappoint him.
I almost tell him right then, just blurt it out like word-poison.
But he’s staring at me, a man I could only dream of being with before and whose lips are now patterned over mine, leaving a phantom, sizzling imprint.
“I want that too,” I whisper.
CHAPTER FIVE
&n
bsp; Liam
I keep my hand on her lower back as the golden colored elevator hums open and reveals the long, narrow hallway that leads to my suite. The walls are covered in Caribbean artwork, paintings of groves and endless blue seas, and the carpet is red, the color of the cage when I was done with Markus.
And also the color of the blood pumping in primal waves through my body as I sense every shift and tremor inside Lola’s body.
Through the tantalizingly thin fabric of her summer dress, I can feel her desire and a little nervousness in the twitching of her flesh. But when she looks at me with that wide smile and those big emerald-sky eyes, something in me shudders in feral want when I realize she needs this just as badly as I do.
Caesar’s voice overflowed with surprise and curiosity when I asked him and my training partners to clear out of the suite for the evening. There was no resentment, only a wish to know why, and who I was bringing back.
I’ve never brought women back to my room after or before a fight, and he knows that.
But I gave him nothing. This is just for us.
Perhaps if I was a stronger man I’d be able to still the urgent urge inside of me to ravish this heaven-sculpted woman, but everything about her is painted in sexy shades of lust. It takes all my self control just to get my keycard out of my pocket and swipe the lock.
I want to just take her in a mutual attack of pleasure right here, both of us surging close in a blistering mess in the corridor.
But the large, oak door opens with a beep and I shove it all the way, showing the hallway lit with sconce lights that chuck their yellowy light onto the ceiling, and then the light of the chandelier as we walk into the lounge.
It’s a large room with a flat screen TV set within an ornate looking cabinet, with palm trees carved all along the edge of the cabinet and decorative silverware placed throughout, glistening. The chandelier hangs from the ceiling and the floor is tropical colored, golden like sand and blue like the summer sky.
“Wow,” Lola says, turning in a circle with her arms outstretched as if at the vastness of it.
MMA Fighter's Obsession Page 3
