Fighting for Flight (30 page)

His arms tense and his chest flexes against my
back.

“I would curl up next to her, desperate to feel the
heat from her skin. I remember I would slowly inch my hand closer
and closer, so afraid to wake her, until I could touch just the tip
of my finger to her back or her arm. Sometimes I would just loop a
strand of her long hair around my finger.”

My voice drops to a whisper as I’m taken back to
those nights. I feel small and insignificant. Crushed with sadness,
my lungs struggle for a full breath.

“I usually only got a minute or two before she’d
wake up. It was as if she could sense me, even in her sleep, like
my very presence triggered an internal alarm system that told her
to get away. She would make me go back to my bed. Some nights I’d
be so angry and desperate I’d refuse to leave.” My humorless
laughter breaks with emotion. “She would get sick of telling me to
get out, and she’d go sleep on the couch. She’d rather sleep on the
couch than with her own daughter.”

“Baby . . .” he whispers and kisses my head.

“The saddest part is that those nights were the
best. I got to sleep the rest of the night surrounded by her smell.
I would wrap myself up tight in her sheets and pretend they were
her arms. I’d bury my face in her pillow, smelling her shampoo and
night cream.”

Hot tears drip from my jaw, and Jonah’s arms tighten
on my waist.

“Anyway, that’s the reason I listen to old music.
All those old tapes were my mom’s. I took them when I left. I knew
she’d be mad, but I also knew she wouldn’t come for them.” I wipe
my cheeks and sniff. “Listening to this music, the music she had
playing every day of my entire life, it’s the only way I can be
close to her.”

The pressure at my waist is released and he turns me
to him. I keep my eyes focused on his chest, not ready to confront
the look on his face. His fingers beneath my chin pull my gaze to
his. Bending down, his lips softly brush against mine and stay
there as he speaks.

“Baby, I promise you that you’ll never want for
physical contact again.” His big, strong hands hold my head and he
leans his forehead against mine. “I’ll always hold you when you’re
scared.” He softly kisses my jaw. “Comfort you when you’re sad.”
His lips brush against my cheeks. “Take care of you when you’re
sick.” Tilting my head back, he kisses my forehead. He bends down
and his hazel eyes narrow into mine. “I’ll make it my life’s
mission to make up for every second you were neglected.”

I’m captivated by his stare, which, like his hold on
my heart, doesn’t let go. I suck in a ragged breath, overcome with
emotion.

“I know I say this all the time, but I love you,
Jonah. So much.”

“I love you too, baby. Thank you for telling me
about your mom. There’s nothing you need to keep from me. I want to
know you, even the stuff you’re not proud of.”

“Okay.”

“My gorgeous girl and her ‘okays.’”

I bury my face in his chest, feeling lighter, having
released a heavy burden from my past and placed it on the strong,
capable shoulders of the amazing man before me.

“Now, as far as the formal dinner tonight goes? You
have nothing to worry about. I won’t leave your side, not even for
a second.” His dimples slowly appear as a smile creeps across his
face. “I’ll even take you to the bathroom with me.” He kisses my
neck. “That might actually make this stupid dinner worth going
to.”

I exhale as his playful words bring me peace. And
the visual of Jonah and I having bathroom sex also helps to chase
away the last of my nerves.

“I can’t wait to see you in the dress you picked
up.”

I roll my eyes, remembering the day he shoved two
thousand dollars cash into my backpack to shop. I planned on not
using it, until I realized how expensive good formalwear is. I used
all of it.

“Besides, if anyone should be worried, it’s me,” he
says.

My brows pinch together and I study his smoldering
eyes. “Why would you worry?”

“I gotta worry about all the assholes who’ll be
sniffing around you all night. Pretty sure beating someone’s ass at
this dinner in front of all the bigwigs would be frowned upon.”

He’s all dimples and beautiful white teeth as he
looks from my eyes to my lips. My heart beats wildly and desire
floods my veins. I lick my lips in anticipation and run my hands
over his muscular chest, thumbing his nipples through his shirt.
Feeling the sinewy ripples of his chest, I imagine his naked torso
above me. Heat ignites my blood and flips my belly. I look up at
him from under my eyelashes.

His smile fades and his eyebrows arch. “Again?”

It hasn’t even been a week since I lost my virginity
to Jonah, but my appetite for him is insatiable. I can’t get
enough, and from the frequency of our lovemaking, neither can
he.

“Well, I guess if you don’t want to, I can just go
back to working on the Impala,” I say teasingly.

I shift out of his hands and take a step backwards.
He hauls me to his torso with a growl, his mouth at my ear.

“Oh, I want to. Seeing you out here, bent over this
car, your sexy ass in those short shorts . . .” His words are lost
as he possesses my mouth. He bites my lip and I moan against him.
“That’s my girl.”

Bending down, he puts his big shoulder to my stomach
and grabs me behind my knees. In one quick move, I’m thrown over
his shoulder.

“Jonah!”

He smacks me on the bottom, and my mouth slams shut.
I allow the sensations to penetrate my body.

Why does that feel so good?

~*~

Jonah

“It’s six twenty-five, babe. You about ready?” I call
out to my bathroom door, the same bathroom door I’ve been talking
to for over an hour.

Raven locked herself in there with her dress and a
bag full of girl crap and hasn’t come out since. I’ve heard all
manner of sounds coming from the other side, but still haven’t
gotten even the slightest peek at my girl.

“Okay. One more second.” She’s been telling me one
more second for the past fifteen minutes.

I turn toward my full-length mirror to straighten my
tie. Slipping my finger beneath the collar, I give it a yank,
hoping to give my neck some relief. Monkey suits and a
heavyweight’s body do not mix. Even custom made, they feel like a
glorified straight jacket. I lift my arms and bring them to cross
at my chest. The fabric stretches to its limit making me
claustrophobic. I can’t wait to get this night over with.

The sound of something hitting the bathroom floor
gets my attention.

“Shoot! I’m okay!”

I press my ear to the door. “You sure?”

“Yes, I just . . . um, these shoes are really high
and your tile is slippery.”

It’s not right, but the thought of Raven, as hot and
graceful as she is, sliding around off balance in the bathroom,
makes me laugh.

“Are you ready? I’m coming out,” she says, a nervous
tremor in her voice.

There’s a click from the lock, and I step back. The
door slowly opens and the bright light from the bathroom bathes
Raven’s silhouette in an ethereal glow.

Holy shit.
My jaw drops and I stare in
awe.

She’s dressed in a light purple, floor-length gown
that has a slit all the way up the side. Standing with one leg
slightly cocked, her entire upper thigh is exposed. My gaze follows
the line of her tan leg to the sexiest pair of strappy silver
stilettos. The dress is hot, but my mind imagines her in nothing
but those shoes. I open my mouth to tell her how beautiful she
looks, but the sight of her breasts robs me of the words—their full
swells pushed up in offering, begging for my lips. My mouth goes
dry.

“Do I look okay?” She runs her palms down the front
of her dress self-consciously. Typical Raven. An absolute knockout
and she has no idea.

“Baby, you’re a vision. I’ve never seen anything so
beautiful in all my life.”

Her eyes look down the length of her body then lock
on mine. “Thank you.” She takes a step towards me then freezes
mid-step. “Oh, you haven’t seen the back yet.”

The back? There’s no way the back could be better
than what I’m looking at right now.

Her eyes sparkle and she gives me a mischievous
grin. Slowly, she turns and my breath catches in my throat.

There is no back.

The birds in her tattoo fly in formation from her
hip to her shoulder for all to see. Her hair is tied up loosely in
an elegant, messy mass of shiny dark locks, giving me an
unobstructed view. My eyes travel the expanse to the two dimples
visible above her perfect ass. I reach down to adjust myself in my
pants. Suddenly my collar isn’t the only thing that’s tight.

Placing her hand on her cocked hip, she looks over
her shoulder. “You like?”

“I . . . uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “I more than
l-like. It’s . . . You’re amazing. You l-look.” To save myself from
further embarrassment due to my sudden case of stutter-mouth, I
shut up.

Stepping to her, I start at her hip and run my
finger along the path of her tattoo. Mesmerized by the softness of
her skin, I watch tiny goose bumps follow the line of my finger. I
press my lips to her shoulder. She drops her head to the side,
exposing the full length of her neck. I ghost a kiss against her
skin, followed by my tongue. The combination of her sweet taste and
pear smell makes me hungry for what’s beneath the dress. My teeth
scrape along her sensitive throat, and I bite with gentle pressure.
She leans back and a moan bubbles up from her chest, escaping her
lips in a purr.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” I whisper against the
spot where I bit her.

“Mmm, thank you.” Her voice has taken on a breathy
quality that has me straining against my slacks. “You look very
handsome too. I like the black on black. It reminds me of Clark
Kent.”

I kiss her neck once more, and pull back. “Clark
Kent? He was a dorky news reporter. He wore starched white shirts
with bow ties and shit. I think he even sported a pocket
protector.”

Giggling, she turns to face me. It’s then that I
notice her face. She usually wears minimal makeup, but tonight it’s
heavier in all the right places. Her eyes are rimmed with a smoky
color that highlights the aquamarine. Her cheeks dusted with pink,
and her lips.
Holy hell.
Those lips.

“Wait, I thought Clark Kent was the hot one.”

I’m focused on her shimmering, pink glossed mouth as
she talks.

“You know the one who wears black all the time and
drives the cool car?”

“Huh?” I swallow hard, caught up in the sensory
overload that Raven is dishing out in buckets.

She places her soft hand against my cheek. “Um . . .
Clark Kent?”

Fuck, that’s right. I forgot what we were talking
about.

“Bruce Wayne, baby. Batman.”

“Yes! You’re right. Bruce Wayne. He’s the hot one
that all the girls—”

I can’t take it anymore and crash my lips against
hers. Her blatant sex appeal and childlike innocence does me in.
Her lip gloss tastes like marshmallow and her mouth like
peppermint. I suck at her lips, and she buries her hands in my
hair, holding me to her.

My girl.

I run my hands over the dress, feeling her nipples
pucker beneath the fabric. My hands grip at it with impatience,
gently tugging, knowing what’s underneath is so much softer.
There’s no way we’re going to dinner. Nothing is as important to me
in this moment than getting my girl naked underneath me.

“Jonah,” she says breathlessly between kisses.

“Mmm?”

“The door.”

“Hmm?”

“The doorbell’s ringing. Our ride’s here.”

“Don’t give a shit,” I growl and walk her backwards
towards my bed.

Her legs hit the bed, stopping our progression. I
hold her hips and grind my now painfully hard erection against her.
She tilts her head and deepens the kiss.
Fuck yeah.
My girl,
always so ready.

My phone is ringing in my pocket and the doorbell
won’t quit. I groan, annoyed, but never give up her mouth. This is
happening. Now.

She laughs and presses her palms against my chest.
Reluctantly, I pull back.

“Jonah, we need to stop.” Her raspy voice and
traveling hands betray her words.

“Not going anymore.” I’m kissing her neck at my
spot, hoping she gives up on the idea and gets naked soon.

“It’s a limo, right?” There’s a smile in her
question.

I step back to meet her eyes. “Yeah, it’s a limo.” I
smile. “Why?”

She shrugs her shoulders and drops her face, her
cheeks flushed. I hook my fingers beneath her chin and bring her
eyes back to mine, lifting my eyebrows.

Is she thinking what I think she’s thinking?

“I just thought it might be . . . um . . . fun, you
know? To make out in a limo?”

My body hums with excitement at the prospect of
getting dirty with Raven in the backseat of a chauffeured
vehicle.

I grab her hand and lead her to the front door.
“Fine. But we’re leaving right after dinner and picking up where we
left off.”

“Sounds good to me,” she says through her
giggles.

***

“Mr. Slade, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the limo
driver says while looking at us from the rearview mirror. “I’ve
been following your career for years.”

Ah, shit.
I’m presented with the opportunity
to shove my hand up Raven’s dress in a moving vehicle, and we get
chatty Charles the limo driver.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate your support.”

Raven rubs my thigh with soothing strokes, and I
consider moving her hand up six inches. Would Charles even notice?
Nah.

“That fight in ’07 against Hollander was incredible.
How long had you been with the UFL when you fought him?”

I groan and curse the fact that I represent more
than myself at times like these, but also my training team and the
UFL. “Four ye—”