The Fighter Duet: Two Full-Length, Red-Hot New Adult Fighter Romances (13 page)

“She says you’re a biter.”

His brow creased. “Biting’s illegal. You can lose your license for that.”

“I’m pretty sure she meant outside the ring.”

“In that case, it depends on the bitee. You’re pretty tasty.”

Covering my mouth, I laughed. “She’s also my best friend.”

On the plate were asparagus spears and mixed vegetables. He stabbed a large forkful of them and shoved it in his mouth. Watching his square jaw move, I couldn’t help wanting to touch it.

Leaning forward, he poured us each a glass of red wine. “How’d you two meet? At the gym?”

“Actually…” I started before pausing to eat the new bite of steak he held out to me. “We met in art class. At Ocean County College.”

His eyebrows rose briefly before he shoved another large forkful of vegetables into his mouth.

I couldn’t take it any more. “Are you a vegetarian? Vegan?”

“Why would you think that?” His brow lined, and I realized what he was doing. He was giving me all of the steak.

Another giant wave of emotion hit me, but I tried to cover, grabbing the fork from his hand. “Stop hogging the vegetables! The rest are mine. You eat the steak.”

His eyes caught, and I knew he understood. I’d busted him. I also wondered how much he had spent on this special dinner we’d almost ruined making out on the beach.

I shoved a huge forkful of vegetables into my mouth before continuing. “Those flowers on the table are so beautiful. I almost wish we were eating out there.”

“Thought you’d like those,” he said, taking a big bite of steak off the fork I now held to his lips.

“You were wrong. I love them.”

We were at the end of dinner, and I scraped the last of the vegetables together with the last bite of steak and held it to his mouth.

“You have it,” he said with a smile.

“No way!” I cried. “I don’t have half the muscle mass you do. I’ll look like a pig on Monday.”

He breathed a laugh and took the bite. My nose wrinkled as I leaned forward to kiss his full mouth.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” I said. “My place. I want to cook for you now.”

That gorgeous smile softened his expression, and he nodded. “Okay.”

H
ow was
it possible she was so amazing? I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Kenny’s soft body draped over me as she breathed quietly against my chest.

Lifting a long strand of dark violet hair, I slid it around my finger before holding it to my nose, inhaling the scent of the ocean. Everything in me wanted to pursue this. Hell, there was no way I could stop pursuing it… But how would she feel if she knew my whole story? How would she feel about Slayer?

At the same time, it was possible I was expecting too much. She could just be in this for fun, a few dinners, a roll in the sack, and back to friends.

No, I knew that wasn’t the case. It went against all the signals she’d been sending.

Allowing my mind to travel back, I thought of how she looked when I first saw her tonight. The red dress she wore hung on her slim body in a way that drove me crazy. I wanted to slide those spaghetti straps off her shoulders, lift that filmy skirt and explore everything underneath. Topping it all off, she had on these insanely sexy shoes. I was seriously bummed about taking those off her feet.

She was so tiny without them. Her funny old-fashioned hairstyle was like something a former beauty queen would wear, a little lump with gentle curls spilling down her back to her waist. That’s not right. A beauty queen would be all platinum and pink, and Kenny was jet-violet and red. Damn I loved her boldness.

It activated that possessiveness in me that I’d tried to curb. I wanted to pull her hair back and claim that mouth. I wanted to claim every inch of her, but I knew from my experience to take it easy.

Only a few times I wavered, lost control. She seemed turned on by it. When I took her like a fucking animal our first time, she cried and twisted, wrapping her legs around me and pumping her hips against mine. It was so hot. I was fucking the shit out of her, and her body was begging for more.

The memory provoked a semi under the sheets, but
damn
. I could’ve only been surer if she’d told me, yet she seemed as bewildered as I was by our intense connection. I was a self-centered prick, but I loved the idea that she hadn’t been with anyone in a while. It made me imagine her waiting for me—as much as I’d been waiting for her.

“Hmm… Slayde?” She turned her head, and my heart stopped. Was she calling for me in her sleep?

Lifting her head, she blinked a few times, but I couldn’t tell if she was awake.

“What’s wrong, baby?” My voice was so tender, I almost hoped she was asleep. If not, my feelings would’ve been far too evident.

She took a deep breath and bent her elbow. Eyes still closed, a slender hand moved to her forehead, and she pushed a dark lock away. “Is it okay if I spend the night?”

Chuckling, I wasn’t sure if it was possible for me to feel more for her until this very moment. “Yes. I’m not letting you go anywhere tonight.”

She sniffed and cuddled closer against me on the bed. She was off of me now, but her head was tucked into my ribs against the white tank I wore.

Glancing over her shoulder, I could see the length of her long, pale back, so elegant and beautiful. I traced my finger from the base of her skull all the way down the line to the top of her ass. A tiny shiver moved through her, and I remembered the way she’d shook when she came for me tonight.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” I whispered before kissing her head and closing my eyes.

S
layde would be
at my apartment in less than an hour, and I was totally not ready. After realizing he’d spent most of his small paycheck on our date last night, there was no way I was letting him off without a meal on me. Maybe two or three. Hell, I was ready to suggest he have dinner with me every night. For that matter, he could spend the night with me every night… Laughing, I shook my head as I leaned forward to check the meatloaf in the oven. Talk about going way too fast!

I didn’t know how to cook much, but my mom had taught me to make savory meatloaf and a macaroni and cheese casserole that even I drooled over—once I’d popped a couple Lactaids. Parmesan was crumbled across the top to form a crispy, cheesy crust, and I couldn’t wait for him to taste it.

Chopping the small, English cucumbers I’d bought into slices, I dumped them into a bowl with sliced celery, onion, carrots, and walnuts and threw the entire concoction into the fridge before dashing to the bathroom.

I already had on the beige slip-dress I planned to wear tonight. It was thigh-length with thin straps over my shoulders, so I didn’t wear a bra. My eyes were somewhat done, but I had to powder my nose and finish my hair.

I was bouncing off the walls, and it was only Monday. Mariska had teased me all day, fishing for details, but it was all so new. I wanted to keep us close for now, like my precious secret.

This morning, I woke with a start in his bed at nine a.m. His apartment was empty, but a note was on his pillow. I picked it up, tracing his neat, block handwriting with my fingertip.

The idea of him watching me sleep filled my stomach with the happiest flutter. It probably helped that he kept saying I was beautiful. It was such a lie compared to him. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The best part was I truly wanted him. Oh, god, I wanted him too fucking much.

All day at work, I’d been slammed with clients, and he’d been busy with his tasks—cleaning up everybody’s crap, helping Rook with deliveries, unloading and loading. Carrying heavy boxes to the juice bar for Mariska, although I was pretty sure she scouted out heavy objects for him to carry just so she could watch his muscles flex.

She’d fan her face and pretend to faint when his back was turned, and I’d burst out laughing in the middle of helping a client. The last time, I was working with a very proper older woman, and her stern response said she wasn’t amused. I almost laughed more.

As soon as my last client had left, Mariska practically pushed me out the door.

“Go! Make sexy food with lots of cayenne and capsaicin. Peppers are good for the heart and the libido—it’s a win-win!”

“You just love spicy food.” I shoved my key in the cubby before charging out to start the dinner I’d been planning since the night before, when I realized he was feeding me at the cost of what might be his meals for a week.

Emotion burned in my chest. I couldn’t believe how strong my feelings were for him. That moment last night when he’d held my face, when I’d wanted him to claim me, it was when I knew. However this ended, he was leaving a permanent mark on my heart. Nothing could stop me charging full-speed into this.

* * *

H
e stood on my doorstep
, in a dark green tee and the same jeans he’d worn last night. In one hand was a tiny bouquet of five flowers—again daisies and lilies—the other was shoved in his pocket. Shit, he looked good enough to eat.

He peeked past me at my comparatively large apartment. “Smells really good.”

“I made meatloaf.” Then I started to laugh.

How much more old school could I get? I didn’t care, I wanted to stuff him full of cheesy starches and meat and cover his mouth with kisses.

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious.”

I loved the twinkle in his eye. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into my apartment. “Give me those,” I said, taking the flowers out of his hand. “Where do you keep finding them?”

“At the market. They have this disc… this bin.”

My cheeks rose with my smile. I didn’t care if they were day-old flowers, they were beautiful. “Come over here and talk to me.”

I went to the bar, where I pulled out a small glass vase and a pair of heavy scissors. First, I dumped in the white flower mixture then I filled it with water. Next, I stood by the bar and snipped off the tips of each stem before sliding them into a neat arrangement. It was pretty and perfect.

“I’m not such a great cook,” I confessed. “My mom taught me to cook a mac and cheese casserole in case I ever had to do one for a funeral or whatever…”

“You’re making me funeral food? Shit, that sucks.”

I burst out laughing, holding my palm against my forehead. “No—it’s just the only fancy thing I know how to make.”

“I’m not fancy.”

In that moment, I wanted to feel that smile against my skin again, the scuff of that light beard. Last night he’d been all around me, inside me, everywhere. It was amazing, and I wanted to go there again. But first, we’d eat.

“You’re my guest! Now come with me.” Reaching for his arm, he paused to unlace his heavy boots.

“Your place is really ridiculous,” he said, looking around. “You have a whole extra room. Wasteful.”

I snorted a laugh. I’d only been able to get in here with Patrick’s help. Once Rook promoted me to trainer, I could finally cover all my own bills. “Yes. I’m the Queen, so you’d better act right or I’ll summon my goons and have them throw you out.”

Boots off, he straightened right in front of me. His mouth was a breath from mine, and it was almost unbearable. “You call those goons. I might like a good fight before I climb your walls and claim you for my own.”

I clasped my hands on his cheeks and kissed him then. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he scooped an arm around my waist and lifted me, kissing me deeper.

My fingers slid down, grazing the line of his jaw, before holding his neck as he released me.

Looking straight in my eyes, he grinned. “Where’s this meatloaf?”

* * *

W
e sat
at my table laughing over plates of meatloaf, mac and cheese, and glasses of white wine. I took another sip from mine and noticed his hadn’t moved since I’d poured it.

“You don’t drink,” I finally said. It had been the same the night before. His red wine glass was full when he carried everything back to his small kitchen.

“Busted,” he laughed, pushing the glass to the side. “I quit a few years back.”

Chewing my lip, I was dying to know more. “Are you in AA?”

“No.” His eyes seemed to glow when they met mine again. “I respect their program, but I’ve never been an addict.”

Unsure what that meant, I smiled and forked a big bite of mac and cheese casserole. “You can sleep here tonight if you want.”

“Oh, queenie, I plan to do so much more than sleep.”

No denying, my stomach did a full 360-degree flip then.

* * *

D
inner finished
, dishes washed, we walked outside on my side porch. It was uncovered, and we leaned against the low brick wall that formed my balcony, watching the stars blanketing the sky. Occasionally, we’d see a white streak low in the west.

“Can you believe some people have never seen a shooting star?” I asked, turning to meet his gaze.

He’d been so controlled and quiet the whole night, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. At the club today, we’d been friendly, flirty even. Tonight it was different, more formal, as if he was holding back.

“Some people live all their lives in the bright lights of the city.” His voice was quiet. “They have no idea what they’re missing, and yet they think they’re the center of the universe.”

“It sounds like you have experience with that.”

He exhaled and wrapped an arm over my shoulder. “I have some experience, but none of it compares with getting to know you.”

Allowing my eyes to travel over his face, I took in his expression—tense forehead, chin not quite tucked, but ready.

“So let’s get to know each other. What’s the earliest thing you remember?”

He relaxed but shook his head. “My childhood was pretty shitty. What’s the earliest thing you remember?”

Thinking back to those days, I sighed. “My parents were really normal. I thought they were so square. They took me to the state park every fall for cranberries, church every Sunday. For no real reason, all I ever wanted to do was be different from them.”

His eyes flickered around my face. “I bet you succeeded in that.”

Blinking down, I nodded. “More than you know.”

“What was your favorite hobby? Swimming? Riding bikes?”

I laughed and blinked down. “Finger painting.”

“What?” he laughed.

“My dad and I always butted heads, but my mom found that she and I could relate through art. She wasn’t an artist, but she had a great eye.”

“So you went to galleries?”

“We lived right here in Bayville, so no. We finger painted together.” Smiling, I studied my hands in my lap. “She’d check out books from the library on the works of famous painters, and we’d recreate them with finger paint.”

I could see him considering what I’d said. “Sounds—”

“Silly? It was silly, but we enjoyed spending the time together. Then I decided to go to art school, and the rest is history.”

Turning to face me, he reached out and slid his palm over my cheek. “I was going to say
neat
. I think it sounds really neat,” he said. “I’m a little jealous.”

Sitting straighter, I examined his face. “Would you let me sketch you?”

“I—”

“Don’t overthink it, just say yes!” I laughed, trying not to gush. “It’s really not hard.”

“Do I have to be naked?”

“Of course!” I cried. Then I laughed more. “But not your first time.”

That gorgeous smile broke across his face, and I was so happy he was giving in. “What do I do?”

“Sit here. I’ll be right back.” I hopped up and ran inside, snatching my large sketchpad off the couch and a charcoal art pencil. I returned in a flash, pausing to study him looking out at the horizon. “That’s just how I want you to stay.”

He glanced back and I walked over to him, positioning his arm so his elbow was bent and his fist at his forehead.

“You’re the modified Thinker.”

“How long do I have to hold this?” Blue eyes slid to mine, nudging that little butterfly in my stomach.

“Just til I get the basic sketch. Hold still, and I’ll be quick.”

Starting at the top of his head, I quickly drew an oval, shading a bit along his jawline before going back and placing guide dots where his eye and nose would go.

“Drop your chin,” I said, glancing up quickly and then back to the paper. My hands were flying—I wanted to get a good outline of him. His bicep peaked, and I knew he was getting tired.

“Just a little bit more,” I whispered, quickly adding the angle of his elbow, the circle of his fist against his head. The rest I could fill in from memory. “Okay, you can relax now.”