His eyes narrow, and his smile grows by the second.
“You can’t do it, can you?”
Apparently, my integrity doesn’t intimidate; it
instigates.
“Yes, I can.” I say in a high voice that doesn’t
even sound like me. What is my problem? Why can’t I just friggin’
cuss? I am not going to let him get the best of me. No way.
“Go for it, baby girl. I’m waiting.”
Girding my proverbial loins, I go for it.
“Shitass!” I blurt then quickly cover my mouth with
my hand. My face feels like a Molotov cocktail as the blush takes
over my cheeks and neck.
Blake’s face is stoic for two beats before he throws
his head back in a booming laugh that gets the attention of every
guy in the room. This, of course, does not help my situation. It’s
possible, I discover, to have a full-body blush.
“That was fuckin’ awesome.” He bends over, sucking
in breath.
“What’s going on over here, Blake?” Jonah’s voice
demands as he marches up to us. “Why does my girl look like you
just flashed her?”
“Dude, she said, ‘shitass.’ I’ve never heard a
sweet
curse word before.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to
his side. “Of course, it’s sweet. She isn’t capable of anything
less.”
My body melts into him, and my blush recedes at the
safety of his touch.
“Right. You ready to warm up?” Blake says, a whisper
of amusement still lighting his face.
“Yeah, let me get Raven set up and I’ll be right
there.”
“Cool.” Blake’s eyes move from Jonah to me. He
shakes his head. “You’re something else, baby girl.” Walking away,
I hear him mumble something that sounds like lucky bastard.
Jonah’s body tenses at my side, drawing my eyes to
him. He looks down at me, and I watch the tension leave his face.
“You all right?”
“Of course.” Thanks to him.
“Blake’s not so funny anymore, is he?”
I shrug, slide my arms around Jonah’s middle and
rest my cheek against his chest. “No, he’s still funny.”
He chuckles and tugs me to move. “Come on. Let’s
find you somewhere to sit.”
We walk to a row of chairs, and he tells me to take
a seat. A firm kiss on the lips, then one to the side of my neck,
and he moves to meet Blake and Owen in the octagon.
Taking in my surroundings, I notice gigantic posters
on the walls, each depicting a different fighter. I make my way
past each one, studying the fighters I recognize until I land on
Jonah’s.
His poster is by far the most enticing. The photo
was taken at an angle, his head turned to face the camera. His
eyebrows are dropped low making his eyes look black, and I’m
transfixed by the fierceness of his face. No dimples or sexy grin,
just pure focus. His lethal arms, posed in punching position, look
huge as the vibrant colors of his tattoos intensify the cuts of his
muscles. A shiver runs through my body and I turn away to find my
seat.
I take a chair up close and set my attention to
Jonah in the octagon. It doesn’t take long before I’m gasping for
air with my hand covering my mouth to keep from crying out.
Watching Jonah in action is terrifyingly beautiful. He moves like a
predator, graceful yet powerful. His punches and kicks are
controlled as he commands his body. On the mat, as he rolls in a
tangle of arms and legs, there’s no doubt he was born for this.
“Baby! Come here.” Jonah’s command is terse with
loss of breath.
I look up in horror and point to my chest.
Who
me?
He smiles, nods, and waves me over.
“This is going to be embarrassing,” I say to no one
in particular as I push myself up and head his way.
“I’m going to teach you an arm bar.”
Owen leaves the octagon, giving me a sweet smile.
“Good luck, princess.”
My eyes find Blake who is covering his mouth, but
his eyes give away his amusement.
Oh, real nice.
Jonah and Blake demonstrate a few times, both of
them explaining each step in detail with the clarity of
professional fighters. I hang on every word, determined to get it
right and not make a complete idiot out of myself.
Their instruction complete, they call me over to
try. Lying with my back to the mat, I do exactly what I’m shown.
After a few minor adjustments, I have Jonah’s forearm in my hands.
His arm runs the length of my body down through my legs. His
shoulder rests between my thighs and my calves are locked around
his torso. I thrust my hips forward.
“Fuck.” He makes a pained grunt, but I continue to
hold him in place. “You got it.”
“I did it!” I could break the arm of a man at least
twice my size by a thrust of my hips.
Power surges through me and I’m suddenly flipped.
Jonah has his huge body wrapped around me like a boa constrictor,
his mouth at my ear.
“Yeah, baby. You did it. I’m proud of you.” He
whispers before nuzzling my neck and dropping lingering kisses on
my earlobe.
I shiver.
“That’s my girl.” He releases me and pulls me to my
feet.
Blake is off to the side of the mat. “This,” he
indicates by waving his hand back and forth between me and Jonah,
“is freaking me the hell out.” He waves us off then stalks
away.
I shrug my shoulders and look to Jonah who has both
dimples out in full force.
“You’re not the only one,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Jonah
“Still with the same girl. Gotta say, brother, I
didn’t think you had it in you.”
Owen and I are in the kitchen at the training
center, shooting the shit and powering down protein shakes.
“I wasn’t sure I had it in me either, but here I am,
one full week.” Pride warms my chest every time I think about the
longest and only relationship I’ve ever had. It isn’t at all like I
thought it’d be. She doesn’t bug me to buy her shit, ask me to get
her into the most exclusive clubs, or fill my bathroom with her
girlie crap. I can’t even get her to leave clothes at my house.
She’s always tossing clothes in and out of her backpack.
After that first night, she put up a fight about
staying over the next two. Until I told her that I’d personally go
and feed Dog every morning if it meant having her warm body in my
bed every night. And every night since, she tries to leave again,
only agreeing to stay once I kiss her until she surrenders.
“You still haven’t slept with her.”
Bringing my cup to my mouth, my arm stalls out in
midair and I glare at my friend. “How did you know that?”
He swallows a gulp of his shake. “I didn’t.” A grin
spreads across his face. “But I do now.”
Fuck.
“Figured you’re keeping her around for a reason.
What’s the hold up?”
“None of your fucking business.”
Owen’s deep laughter bangs against my every nerve. I
could lie. Tell him that she’s a virgin and I’m holding off until
she’s ready. The first part’s true. The last part’s the lie. She’s
ready. Her words haven’t said it, but her body has screamed it.
“I’m just surprised, man. You have her in your bed
every night. How can you, of all people, not fuck her?”
“Owen.” The caution in my tone forces him to roll
his eyes before he studies me silently.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” His words are almost a
whisper. “I had a feeling, but I wasn’t sure.”
I toss my empty cup into the sink a little harder
than I need to. This entire conversation is pissing me the fuck
off. “Sure about what?”
“You love this girl.”
Irritation is sucked from my body along with my
breath.
Love her.
Do I?
“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never even taken
a girl out unless it was something UFL related. You use woman to
get off, move on, and never look back. And now here you are,
looking like you’re about to take me out for asking why you haven’t
fu—
had sex
with her yet.”
I’m hearing his words, but still processing his
earlier statement. I remain close-lipped.
He starts laughing, then harder, and points at my
face. “Yeah, man. That’s the face. You love her.”
“But it’s only been a week. People don’t fall in
love in a week.”
“The hell they don’t? I knew I was in love with Nik
on our first date. No question.”
We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Mornings
are spent working on the Impala until she goes to Guy’s garage and
I go train. Nights, she’s back at my house where we cook together,
eat together, watch television together and—
Holy crap.
We’re
my parents.
Maybe I do love her.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, feeling suddenly
faint. Must be from the intense training session. Yeah, that’s all
it is.
“So now that we’ve established that, what’s the real
reason you’re holding out?” He leans against the counter.
He’d never understand why I haven’t slept with
Raven. Hell, I’m still trying to figure it out. It’s not that I
don’t want to. I want to, badly. So badly, I’ve had to sit in a
cold shower for forty-five minutes after making out with her. Every
time we get close, I hold back. The rejection I see in her eyes
when I shut her down makes me want to kick my own ass.
“What if I . . . I don’t know, screw things up?”
Owen’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Dude, if practice
makes perfect, you should have your PhD in sex. Pretty sure you
won’t screw it up.”
“That’s not what I meant, fuckwad.”
He pins me with his stare. “You’re afraid you’re
going to lose interest after you do it.”
I blink my eyes, absorbing his words, and conclude
that my friend is a genius.
“Yes, exactly, I’m afraid my fucked-up head will
ruin things with Raven.”
“This is different though, Jonah. I’m telling you
the way you feel about Raven you might as well be a virgin too.
This is going to be a first for both of you. Be prepared to have
your mind blown, my brother. There is nothing like making sweet
love to the girl you feel it for.”
I remain silent, mulling over Owen’s revelation.
He’s right. I have a problem with getting attached to people on an
intimate level. I always assumed that my hit-’em-and-quit-’em
mentality was intentional. That I never sleep with the same girl
twice because I don’t have to.
But I’m seeing things more clearly. A deep dark part
of me whispers that it’s because I lost my dad. That getting close
to someone is a risk because of the potential pain in losing them.
And having sex with Raven, combined with the fact that I’ll be her
first, will be devastating. She’ll probably see it as solidifying
our relationship, and I’ll subconsciously put her in the
I-came-I-conquered file.
Unless Owen’s right.
Could it be different this
time?
It sure as shit feels different. Fighting has always
dominated my brain space, until her. I have to believe my old ways
won’t fuck this up for me. I have to.
~*~
Raven
On an impulse, and an urgent need to update my
lingerie collection as new boyfriend status dictates, I talked Eve
into meeting me at the mall. Browsing around Victoria’s Secret is a
new experience now that I’m shopping with someone in mind. Every
piece I pick up, I imagine Jonah’s reaction to it. I can picture
myself in each one, and in doing so, practically feel his eyes on
me.
Things with Jonah have escalated physically, but not
to the level I’d hoped. It seems like every time I’m about to beg
him to make love to me, he freezes up. He’s nothing like his
reputation, at least, not with me. I tell myself it’s because I
mean more to him, but a small voice in my head tells me it’s
because I’m a virgin. An even smaller, but no less influential,
voice tells me that he’s not sure about us or more specifically,
me.
I hold back a frustrated growl and move to a table
covered in panties.
“You’re staying at his place again?” Eve pulls out a
pair of blue leopard-print hip huggers and tosses them in my
arms.
“Yeah. He wants me to stay with him every
night.”
“You’re so lucky. The guy I’m dating won’t even
invite me over.”
I look over to see her wiping her eyes with a pair
of cotton bikini underwear and then tossing them back on the
display table. We’ve been at Victoria Secret for almost an hour,
and I’ve been so wrapped up with Jonah, I never even asked about
her boyfriend.
“I’m a jerk. Sorry. Here I’m going on about Jonah,
and I never asked about, um, what’s his name?”
She bursts into tears. I drag her back and lock us
into a dressing room, dropping my arm full of stuff and pulling her
into a hug.
“Eve, what is going on? Did you guys break up?”
“No.” She sniffs, and wipes her nose on a pair of
panties I
was
going to buy. “I think he’s into me. I mean he
tells me he’s in love with me every time we have sex.”
Envy creeps in at the thought that Eve’s getting sex
and I love you. To be fair, I’ve known that I’m in love with Jonah
since my first night in his bed, but haven’t told him. Could it be
possible that he feels it too, but just hasn’t said it?
“So then, why are you crying?”
She looks up at me, and I can see the pain in her
eyes. “He’s so secretive. I’ve asked him if he’s married or, like,
I don’t know, a member of the Secret Service, but he just laughs
and swears it’s just because he’s skittish about relationships.”
She straightens her shirt and checks her make up in the mirror.
“I’m sure he’s not married. Hasn’t he gone into your
restaurant on the nights you’re working? Surely he wouldn’t show up
at the restaurant his girlfriend manages if he wanted to keep the
relationship a secret.”
Her eyes drop to the floor. “He only came in the one
time. Now we just hang out at my house.”
That doesn’t sound good.
“I wouldn’t think the worst yet. Give him some time.
If things don’t get better in the next few weeks, break it
off.”