Fighting for Flight (36 page)

With his back against the hood, I climb above his
body, and straddle his hips. He cups my breasts. I give him a
moment to play before I take his wrists in my hands and push them
above his head. He smiles at me as if my attempt at domination is
cute. I give him the wettest, sexiest kiss I can muster, wiping
that smile right off his gorgeous face.

“Fuck, baby.” He runs a hand through my hair to rest
at my throat. “You’re amazing. My sexy, shy girl one minute, sex
crazed vixen the—”

I take him in my hand, lift up on my knees, and bury
him. He groans so deeply it vibrates our connection.

“Mine.” My possessive claim tapers off into a
moan.

And with that, my dominance is over. His hands
tangle into my hair and his back leaves the car. His kiss is deep,
proving the word I’ve just said.

Yes. I’m yours.

Exultant tears burn the behind my eyes. I fight to
hold them back. My hips roll in waves and Jonah matches my pace. I
kiss his jaw, neck, and shoulder, pushing him back against the
hood. Bracing my hands on his brawny chest, I thrust harder,
pressing down deep, reaching.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I love watching when I’m
inside you.”

I’m beyond words as pleasure coils in my belly. His
thrusts become urgent and powerful, spurring on my frenzy. My body
is overflowing with sensations, begging for release.

His eyes spark beneath heavy lids. “Let yourself go,
baby.”

My body obeys his command. Tiny explosions fire from
low in my belly and shoot up my spine. I grip his shoulders and
throw my head back. He holds my hips steady as reverberations rock
through my limbs.

Lost in the foggy aftershocks of my climax, our
positions flip. I lie flat on my back on the hood of the car, and
absorb the heat from where Jonah’s body was. My heels brace on the
bumper, my knees fall open. I bring them back up, but lack the
strength to keep them there.

Jonah leans down and drops a tender kiss on my lips.
I kiss him back with lazy strokes of my tongue.

He straightens and grips my hips. Entranced, I watch
the slashes of his muscles roll as he finds his release. He bites
his lip, and I gasp at the blissful pinch of his fingers digging
into my skin.

His pace quickens moments before he groans my name.
Goose bumps race across the planes of his chest and ecstasy floods
his face. He slows to a glide, sending delicious sensations to my
belly. He falls forward, braces himself with his arms, and kisses
me.

This kiss isn’t fast or deep, not a beginning to a
desperate end. His lips are firm, molding against mine. We explore
each other’s mouths in tender strokes. Patient and meaningful,
expressing the love between us with every swipe and passing
nip.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me. His eyebrows
knit together and he looks over his shoulder.

“How many times has this song played?”

My face heats as I try to think of a way to get out
of having to explain my song choice and the fact that it’s been on
repeat.

Your iPod must be broken. I accidently hit a button.
I don’t know why the same song keeps playing. Remember, I only own
tapes. The list of excuses keeps growing. I settle on indifference.
“I think it’s Beyonce.” I shrug.

His eyes narrow at me.
Darn it!
He sees right
through me every time.

“Yes, I know who it is. I remember putting it on the
iPod for you.” His eyes dart to the side as he listens to the
words. He hits me with the deadly one-dimple smile. “I guess you
like it?”

I nod and turn my face away. Avoiding his eyes will
help the red coloring my cheeks to fade.

“I like this song. It . . .”

“It what?”

The softness in his voice tells me he’s well aware
of why I like it. Why does he need to hear me say it?

I exhale a heavy breath and meet his eyes. “It
reminds me of you. You’re my saving grace, Jonah. My angel.” I
wiggle my arms between our bodies and cross them over my chest.
“Happy?”

His teasing smile dissolves. His dimple is replaced
by a slight tick in his jaw. He doesn’t look angry. More like,
confused.

I feel stupid and exposed after my sappy comment.
“Can we go inside now?” I hope to get that intense look off his
face or at least get me out from under it.

He blinks and his expression softens. “It’s funny,
this thing between us.” He flicks his finger back and forth from me
to him. “Every concern or emotion we feel, it’s mutual.” He laughs
in a short burst. “Here you’re thinking I’m saving you, when all
this time it’s been
you
who saved me.”

My heart swells to the point that I’m choking on it.
“Jonah—”

“I was cold. Dead on the inside from the time I
heard about my dad’s accident. Never felt anything outside of
kicking ass or a killer hit in the octagon. Fighting gave me my
breath, but you brought me back to life.”

I whimper and cover my mouth.

“This whole time I thought I was living. But the day
I met you, the lights came on. You fill me with things I thought
I’d never feel again.” His hand tugs my at my wrist, freeing my
gaping mouth. He kisses my lower lip. “You’re
my
angel,
baby.”

With my world split in two, ultimate devastation
runs parallel to blessed elation. And I’m stuck in between. My
future uncertain, staring into the hazel eyes of everything I’ve
ever dreamed about. And more. More than I deserve, but I’m taking
it.

I’ll hold on with a grip so tight, that even if they
take my body, they’ll never take Jonah from my heart.

Raven

“What’re you doing here, Ray?” Leo walks into Guy’s
office as I’m putting my stuff in a locker. “Thought you’d be
spending the day with your man. Big fight tonight.”

I suck in a shaky breath. Big fight is right. That’s
why I’m here on my day off. Jonah has to go to the training center,
and there isn’t enough work left to do on the Impala to keep my
head in a good place until tonight.

“Nah. He’s got official UFL stuff to do all day. I’m
going to meet up with him after the fight.” I put on my most
unaffected face and stroll past Leo into the garage. “What have we
got?” I motion to the few cars in the bay.

“You can run a diagnosis on the Tahoe. Said it’s
making some clinking noise. Check the alternator.” He goes back to
working on a Toyota.

Greatest thing about working with guys, they never
ask too many questions.

I start work on the Tahoe, my hands moving through
the procedures, but my head wrapped up in tonight. Flutters of
nervous energy turn my stomach and tighten my chest. My phone rings
in my pocket, making me jump three feet in the air, and earning me
a lowbrow look from Leo.

“Hey, Eve.” I greet my friend loud enough for Leo to
hear. He rolls his eyes and disappears back beneath the hood of the
car.

“Rave. Ugh, I’m so pissed right now.” Her voice
sounds genuinely pissed, and she’s huffing and puffing like she’s
just run a marathon.

“Why? Are you okay?” I head back to Guy’s office,
close the door, and flop down in his chair.

“Hillary came in two nights ago with the stomach
flu. I told her to take the night off, but did she listen? Noooo.”
She grunts loudly and I hear something heavy drop. “So here I am,
forty-eight hours later with six,
six
people short for
dinner service tonight. On one of the busiest nights of the
summer.”

I know where this conversation is going. My nervous
flutter turns into a throbbing pound. She’s not coming.

“I have to work. There’s no way around it.”

Darn it.

“I understand. It’s a bummer, but you’re the
manager. What can you do?”

“Um . . . I could kill that bitch Hillary for
starters.” More banging.

“What are you doing? It sounds like you’re trashing
your house.”

“Oh, what am I doing?” Her voice is high and
dripping in sarcasm. “I’m setting up the bar. By myself! I have one
bartender tonight. One! Man, I need a drink.”

I rub my forehead. How am I going to get through
this night without my best friend?

“Where’s the after party?” Her question gets my
attention.

“After party?”

“Well, yeah. Duh. The heavyweight champion throws an
after party following a big win. Jeez, Rave, how long have you
lived in this town?”

“Right. Um . . . okay.” There will be no big win,
therefore, no after party, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’ll be off by eleven. Text me and I’ll meet you
guys out. Just make sure to have Mr. Pecs-n-Abs put me on the
list.”

Her mention of being put on the list reminds me of
Vince. “Hey, have you heard from Vince?”

Her throat clears followed by an even bigger bang
that has me pulling the phone from my ear. “Nope.”

One word answer. Translation:
I don’t want to
talk about it.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

One word again.

“I’ll text you after the fight.”

“Sounds good. And Rave, I’m really sorry.”

“No worries. I’ll see you tonight.”

I end the call as a new layer of dread falls on my
shoulders. At least I’ll have Katherine there with me. He’s going
to lose this fight. Everyone will be devastated, but at least I’ll
be free for us to be together. That’s all that matters.

I punch out a quick text to Jonah.

Eve called. Emergency at work. She’s not going to
make it.

I’m holding the phone in my hand when it chimes
seconds later. New text.

Sorry, baby. Ask Guy? xJ

I never thought to ask Guy. He’d love to go to a UFL
championship fight, and I’d love the extra support, even if he has
no clue what’s at stake.

Great idea! I love you.

I’m already dialing Guy’s phone number from the
garage line when my phone chimes again.

His ticket will be at will call. See you in a few
hours. I love you more. xJ

~*~

Jonah

My drive to the UFL Training Center is silent.
Usually on fight day, I surround myself with deep, bass-hitting
music. It always helps me to get pumped up, ready to destroy my
opponent. Not today. I’m lost in the weight of my thoughts. My
strategies for the fight play in my head on an endless loop.

Stay away from the jaw. Take him to the ground, lock
him down. Keep moving. Do not get hit in the face.

My pulse pounds with adrenaline for the fight. But
tonight I’m amped for a different reason.

After tonight, this mess with Dominick will be over.
Raven will be free and clear to live a long happy life.

That’s if I avoid flipping the switch. I’ve never,
not once, been able to control it from happening. A groan rumbles
in my chest. There’s too much on the line for me to doubt myself. I
will control it tonight.

Before I know it, I’m pulling into the lot at the
training center. I jump out of the truck and head to the door in a
daze. My head is a whirlwind. I focus on my pre-fight checklist to
keep my mind off the emotion.

Weigh-in, strategy meeting, warm up, arena.

I quicken my pace through the parking lot as a few
photographers snap pictures.

“‘Assassin,’ you ready for the fight tonight?” The
reporter has a microphone at the end of his outstretched arm.

With a tug to drop my baseball hat lower, I ignore
him and keep walking.

“Is it true that fighters never have sex before a
big fight?” another reporter shouts.

Fucking idiots.

“Do you have a lucky charm of some kind? Dirty socks
or a jock strap?”

Do they really expect me to stop and give them an
answer? I force a smile their way, pulling off a sneer at best.

Pushing through the doors, I’m hit with cold air
that prickles my skin. Blake’s sitting alone in the lobby,
obviously waiting for me.

“Blake.”

He stands and meets me halfway to the hall. His eyes
work the room before coming back to me. “You ready for this shit,
man?”

I nod.

“All right, dude. I got your back. We do this as
planned, shouldn’t be any problems. You’re home in bed with your
girl, naked if you’re lucky, by midnight.”

A grin pulls at my lips. “Got it.”

Blake drops his signature crooked smile and his jaw
goes hard, eyebrows dropped low. “Let’s fucking do this shit!”

He claps me on the shoulder and leads the way into
the locker room. My entire team is there huddled in the back,
waiting. I’m greeted with fist bumps and chin lifts.

Guilt eats away at my insides. My crew has worked
just as hard as I have to get me this fight. They’ve trained with
me non-stop, taken punches, suffered injuries, all for me. I’m
letting them down by not going out there and giving it my all.

I sit on a bench, elbows on my knees, focusing on
the ground. I force myself to pull an image of Raven to the
forefront of my mind: her wide, innocent, aquamarine eyes. That’s
it. I need to keep my mind right here.

“You ready?” Owen says as he plops down at my
side.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I fix my eyes to the floor.
It’s a dick move, but I’m hoping he brushes it off to me getting in
the zone.

“Good enough. Let’s warm you up and get you to
weigh-in.”

My body moves through all of the pre-fight bullshit,
but my mind is absent. I pop in my earbuds and listen to music,
mentally walking myself through every round. The guys don’t talk to
me much, only direct me where to go and what to do. Every now and
then I catch a look from Blake. His jaw set, eyes cold, but
knowing. We seem to share the same thought. Let’s get this shit
done.

We load up into a white van and head to the arena.
The streets are lined with tourists, fans, and paparazzi. I’m
grateful for the dark, tinted windows and the inconspicuous car
that allows us through without hassle. The driver avoids the front
entrance and turns down a ramp to a private parking garage where he
parks beneath the arena.