Come (27 page)

…where Alphas dominate…

http://www.beccajameson.com

“And on the other side of the octagon, we have Mason ‘The Bullfighter’ Simmons.” The announcer spoke, but Mason applied only a fraction of his concentration to the loudspeaker. He bounced in his corner, waiting for the lull, the moment the bell rang and he could begin the arduous task of taking out his opponent. At five eleven and one eighty-two, Reggie Tucker was a solid fighter, only an inch shorter than Mason and two pounds lighter.

Mason had competed against him before, and he’d easily taken him down on a number of occasions. Today he hoped to construct a repeat performance, and quickly. He needed to get out of there and get cleaned up. As the best man in his friend’s wedding, he was expected to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.

Rafe should have been fighting today also. They both represented their local gym. How had a simple wedding rehearsal slowed the man down? He was pussy whipped. Mason smiled to himself, his mouth contorting oddly behind the guard he wore for protection.

Somehow he doubted seriously that Katy, Rafe’s fiancée, would have found the idea of her hubby-to-be fighting the night before his wedding quite as humorous.

Mason cocked his head to one side and then the other. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. It was late October, but Vegas didn’t know her seasons well. As warm as it was today, it might as well have been the dead of summer.

He threw a few practice punches in the air as the announcer droned on about his accomplishments. “Middleweight champion…” Mason rarely lost. He didn’t have it in him to give up. And that mental state was what made him one of the best amateur fighters in the area.
Mind over body
, he repeated to himself. His mantra. His go-to phrase before a competition.

A bell sounded and Mason lurched forward. His competitor furrowed his brow as he circled the ring, bouncing on the balls of his feet, assessing whether or not he thought he could take Mason down this time.
Not today, Reggie. Sorry
.

Mason hooked left and then swung around in a circle to apply a firm kick to the man’s head. Reggie staggered back a few steps but shook his head to clear his fog and lurched forward, frustration written across his face.

It was never a good idea to move too quickly. The man needed a moment to regroup. He’d let his frustration get the best of him. In an easy sweep of his leg, Mason flattened Reggie to the ground. In seconds he was on top of his opponent, grappling for a submission hold. If he was lucky, he’d attain the quickest takedown of his career and be out of there in no time.

But Reggie had other ideas. In a burst of energy, the man bucked his chest and punched Mason in his right eye. A moment of blindness followed the blow, and Mason held on to his opponent with all his strength, waiting for the dizzy sensation to pass before he released his hold. Letting go too soon would give Reggie the upper hand and leave Mason floundering.

Recognizing his need for retreat, Mason leaped off his opponent and bounced to a standing position. Reggie followed, bounding off the ground in an instant.

The match evened out for several minutes as Mason failed to get the upper hand. He threw several jabs, but Reggie managed to block him every time. His opponent was all about elbows today and landed a blow to Mason’s gut that made him suck for oxygen before he regained his control.

When the first bell rang, Mason turned for his corner and refused to sit. His cornerman held out a towel and wiped Mason’s face, heedless of Mason’s continued bouncing. Hell, Byron knew him well. He’d been his cornerman many times. “You okay?” Byron asked.

Mason ignored him. The man always asked. Mason never paid him any attention. Unless he was down on the ground, he was good to go. And only on a rare occasion was Mason taken down.

The bell rang again. An entire minute was very short when a man was trying to catch his breath.

Reggie came forward more aggressively this time. His cockiness had increased since he hadn’t been beaten in the first round. Reggie struck from the left, his arm flying toward Mason’s head. Mason managed to duck at the last second and swept his leg out while Reggie was off balance. Reggie went down hard, Mason piling on top of him to grapple for a dominant position. Sweat coated both their chests, and Mason’s fingers slipped against Reggie’s skin. Mason silently cursed the cumbersome gloves, wishing for a moment he could grab the other man’s wrist and subdue him.

Mason spun right, forcing Reggie to lose his sense of direction. Mason moved in for the win, clinching his opponent around the neck in a choke hold and wrapping his leg across Reggie’s body.

The announcer bounced around above them while Mason waited for Reggie to tap out. He knew the moment the referee would concede that Reggie had been defeated once again. The bell sounded and Mason released his opponent. He jumped to his feet and lifted his arms in victory.

Damn. Katy was going to kill him if he didn’t get his ass cleaned up and to the church before the rehearsal started. But man, he hadn’t been able to pass up this fight. He loved this sport more than anything. Women and their plans for dresses and tuxedoes came second.

•●•

Jenna Mathews stared at the gaudy bouquet made out of ribbons and bows as her best friend of eight years attempted to fluff it up and make it presentable.

It was no hope. Jenna laughed and reached to straighten out at least the top layer so it wouldn’t topple out of Katy’s hands as she stood at the altar. “Who came up with this idea anyway?”

Katy turned toward her and smiled. “I think it was you.”

“No. I mean originally. Why would anyone think this was a cute way to walk through the rehearsal?” Jenna had been the one to make the arrangement. It was common practice for the maid of honor. Plus Jenna was the most likely candidate since she also owned the floral shop that was doing all the flowers for Katy’s big day tomorrow.

Ribbons and bows were Jenna’s specialty and aptly the name of her store.

With a smile still on her face, Jenna hugged Katy around the shoulders and then stepped back into her place as the minister declared they would begin.

They were running late. They had been waiting on the best man to arrive. He must have slipped into his spot while Jenna had been fixing the bouquet.

She lifted her face as the minister started speaking and glanced across at the line of men opposite her on the steps.

Her breath caught in her lungs. She hadn’t met the best man. The other two groomsmen had arrived earlier and she’d been introduced, but not this man. Mason Simmons. She knew his name. Katy spoke of him occasionally. He and Katy’s fiancé, Rafe, had gone to college together. Aside from that, Jenna knew nothing about him.

Except he was ripped. Now she knew that too. The man stood at least six feet tall. Muscles bulged from his chest and arms, a fact she knew all too well since he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie like the other groomsmen.

Nope. Mason Simmons wore a maroon T-shirt tight enough to show off all his assets. It wasn’t a cheap ordinary T-shirt. It was a designer label of some sort that somehow made it appear to be almost acceptable for the event. The khaki pants helped also. He didn’t appear to be a slob at all. In fact, he looked delicious. His pants were ironed and creased to perfection and his shirt had been pressed also, settling against his chest in smooth lines.

Jenna scanned him again from the bottom up, swallowing when she realized she hadn’t bothered to breathe since she’d laid eyes on him. When she reached his face, she nearly died. He stared straight at her, his eyes lifted and a slight smirk on his lips. As if he had spoken out loud, she could clearly hear him say, “You like?”

Damn. Jenna’s face heated and she jerked her gaze toward the front. The preacher droned on about where everyone would be standing when the service started. Jenna’s ears rang with embarrassment. She couldn’t concentrate on anything coming from the minister’s mouth.

Her only thoughts were,
God that man is hot
and
Holy Hell he caught me ogling him
. Her brain flipped back and forth between the two until she felt dizzy.

A quick glance back at Mr. Sexy showed he hadn’t moved a millimeter. He still stared at her. Perhaps his eyes were a bit more narrowed, but that was it.

And man…his face. Chiseled to perfection, his dark tan made his blue eyes bluer and his dark hair darker. What there was of it. He kept it very short, almost bald, though the shadow was there to indicate he could grow it out if he wanted. And he hadn’t shaved his face in several days either. The growth was sexy.

He belonged on the cover of…well, any magazine on the planet. His right eye, the one she couldn’t see as well, seemed to be tinged darker, as though someone had punched him in the face before he entered the church. Maybe she imagined it.

“Jenna?” Katy’s whispered voice made Jenna jerk her gaze toward her friend. She flushed deeper, feeling intense heat spread down her chest and arms. Great. Now she would be splotchy. Her pale skin always looked
so
fantastic when she was embarrassed…or aroused.

God, no
. Definitely not aroused. Embarrassed, yes. But no way could some man get her all hot and horny by entering the room. She was way too straight-laced for anything of the sort.

Jenna glanced down at the expanse of her chest above the maroon, low-cut, fitted, smart dress she wore and almost groaned.
So attractive, Jenna. Nice
.

Katy shoved the bouquet of ribbons at her and mumbled under her breath. “Earth to Jen, are you there?”

Jenna swallowed through her suddenly very dry mouth and scrunched her face sheepishly at Katy. “Sorry.” She grabbed the bouquet. Apparently it was time for the bride to pass it off and move on with the practice ceremony.

The rustle of fabric told Jenna everyone was moving and she glanced behind her to see the other two bridesmaids had shifted toward the center, facing the bride and groom now instead of the minister.
Right
…

Jenna mimicked the action, holding the gaudy flounce of bows up a bit higher than necessary to attempt to cover her splotchy chest.

And that damn man still stared at her. Now he seemed to be laughing inside. His eyes were lit with mirth. And his smile had broadened.

Jenna was completely, irrevocably flustered and the bastard knew it. In fact, he relished it. The cocky bastard. Damn him. He stood there looking completely at ease, his form perfectly in line with the other groomsmen.

She knew he enjoyed her squirming mess of nerves far too much to be paying any more attention to the mock service than she was, but he still managed to keep himself from appearing to be a total idiot.

Damn him again. They’d never met and already she wanted to slap him and run from the room for being so…fucking sexy and distracting. Didn’t matter a bit that it wasn’t his fault she reacted to him so strongly. She still wanted to punch him.

Since he had chosen to stare her down, she decided to return the favor and give back as good as she was receiving. Why should she be the only one feeling flustered from the weirdest standoff in history?

Jenna caught his eye and matched his gaze. She tried to stand still and keep from fidgeting.
Relax your shoulders
. She knew they were hunched, in part to hold the bouquet higher.
Breathe. In. Out. Slow the fuck down
. Her blood pressure had to be the highest ever, and her heart beat at a pace that couldn’t be safe.

All Jenna managed to do was drop the fake bouquet, which tumbled down the three steps and landed at the beginning of the aisle. “Shit,” she muttered before she could filter herself and keep the expletive from escaping. She whipped her gaze up and decided no one had heard her before she quickly crept down the steps and grabbed the wad of ribbon.