Fighting for Flight Page 10

  She walks to the Harley without hesitation and hits me with the stupefying smile she did last night. So open, and trusting but also something beyond that. Believing.

  I try to ignore the tightening in my chest. “The Harley it is. Grab a helmet.”

  We climb on, and I try hard not to smile like a complete jackass as she wraps her arms around my waist. The weight of her head touches my back, and I could swear she was hugging me.

  There’s not a guy out there that wouldn’t list having his girl on the back of his bike as one of the best feelings in the world. Her knees are at my hips and the heat of her body at my ass. Yeah, I’m smiling like a jackass all right. At least she’s behind me so she can’t see it.

  Ten

  Raven

  Fan-freaking-tastic. That’s the only way to describe riding on the back of a Harley Blackline with my super-hot, badass boyfriend. The words tumble around in my head, making my stomach flutter, or maybe it’s the adrenaline from the ride. My guess is a combination of both.

  The sun is shining, and there’s a comfortable breeze from the speed of the bike. Jonah’s massive body commands the incredible piece of machinery as we twist and turn through the Las Vegas streets. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to drive it myself. I make a mental note to ask Jonah if he would teach me.

  He takes the long way to my place, making sure to hit some of the most beautiful parts of town. On a particularly long stretch of road, I loosen my hold on his waist and tighten my knees at his hips. With a quick prayer, I throw my arms over my head, completely free, and howl like a wild dog. Jonah’s body shakes with what I assume is laughter, but I can’t hear over the roar of the bike. A little embarrassed by my blissful liberation, I wrap my arms around his body and hug him to me.

  We pull up to Guy’s Garage, and Jonah parks the Harley right next to my Nova. I swing my leg over the bike and dismount while he holds it steady. Pulling my helmet off, I smooth the tussled ends of my hair. Kickstand down, I admire him as he comes off the bike. He exudes confidence and stability, like a man well aware of his body and its capabilities. His red t-shirt hugs his torso, and his jeans are baggy but tight in all the right places. He removes his helmet and walks around my car checking it out. He’s seen it plenty of times from a distance, but never close-up.

  I study the look of concentration on his face. “Well, what do you think?”

  His gaze snaps to mine. “What do I think? I think it’s amazing.” He bends at the waist with his hands on his hips to look in the driver’s side window. “Original interior, stock shifter, steering wheel . . . Raven, baby, you did this?”

  I’m back to perma-grin status. My chest swells with pride at the surprise in his voice.

  “Yeah, it took me two years saving money for parts and working on it in my free time.”

  He closes the space between us and wraps his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my bottom. Just like in his kitchen, the simple touch ignites my blood and I feel something I don’t feel often. Sexy.

  “I’m so proud of you, babe. This,” he gestures to the car with a nod, “is incredible. You are incredible.”

  His words penetrate deep into my soul, shaking the useless rubble of the protective wall he destroyed just last night.

  Pushing up to my toes, I place my hands on his chest and slowly brush my lips against his. His grip flexes against my bottom. I make another pass at his lips, and another, then open my mouth and allow the tip of my tongue to drag against his full lower lip. He reaches into my hair and tugs gently, angling me to him and taking no prisoners. His lips cover mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth. A groan rumbles against my palms, sending my blood soaring. His kiss is possessive and dominant, and I moan into his eager mouth. Without warning, I feel the sunbaked metal of my car against my back as Jonah pins me there. He grinds his hips into my belly and my legs go weak. Time passes, minutes or hours I’m not sure, as I lose myself in his kiss.

  “We need to slow down before we get arrested for indecent exposure.” His wicked grin and hungry eyes have me thinking it’s worth the risk.

  He holds me firmly against the car until my breathing calms and I regain the use of my legs.

  “You okay?” he asks, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.

  “I’m good.”

  With two steps back, he releases me from his hold, but grabs my hand.

  He shrugs one shoulder. “Show me your place.”

  I head for my apartment in a Jonah-induced fog. Will I ever get used to being with him? Or will I be stumbling over my feet every time we’re together.

  “Ray!”

  Just steps from the alley, I hear the unmistakable call. Guy is standing in the bay, his glare so tight I can’t see the color of his eyes.

  “Um, I’ll be right back.” I let go of Jonah’s hand only to feel him hold on tighter.

  “No. I’m coming with you.” His expression is relaxed, but determined.

  This should be interesting. Guy has never seen me with a man before, mainly because I’ve never dated one. And now here I am, walking hand in hand with The Las Vegas Casanova.

  “Hey, what’s up?” My unusually high voice has Guy’s scowl narrowing.

  He looks back and forth between Jonah and me, his eyes darting from our joined hands to our faces. “What’s going on here?”

  “Oh, uh . . . well, we just—”

  “Raven and I are dating, sir.”

  Guy’s face goes from pinched and small to wide and slack. “Dating.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jonah pulls me to his side, letting go of my hand and throwing his arm over my shoulder.

  I smile up at Guy, who’s back to glaring. This time, it’s aimed directly at Jonah.

  “Didn’t know you were the dating type, son.”

  My heart races at Guy’s blunt confrontation of Jonah’s reputation.

  “Never was. I am now.” Jonah’s answer is accompanied by a firm squeeze.

  I want to jump up and down at the certainty that laces Jonah’s words. Instead, I wrap my arm around his waist and hug him to me, smiling huge at Guy.

  His face relaxes, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Right then.” He points in Jonah’s face, putting on his best fatherly expression. “Behave yourself.”

  Now it’s Jonah who’s fighting a grin. “Yes, sir.”

  With a curt nod, Guy walks back into the garage. I exhale the breath I was holding and lead Jonah to the alley. That went well, but if I know Guy, we’ll be talking about it later.

  We take the stairs to my door, and I watch the playful humor slide from his face. I grab my keys and open the door.

  “This is it.” I motion for him to enter.

  He glowers around the 500 square feet. “It’s . . . cute.”

  I’d be embarrassed if I thought his distaste was due to my poverty, but it’s clear in the way he checks out the street lights and the locks on my door that he’s concerned for my safety. My heart beats a little faster.

  “Make yourself at home. I’m going to change and grab a few things.”

  Thankful that I hit the laundromat a couple days ago, I pull a black lace bra and panty set, my favorite jeans, and a black tank top into my arms. I step into the bathroom and slide the curtain closed. Changing quickly so that Jonah doesn’t have to wait, I brush on some mascara and swipe on lip gloss. I grab my toiletries and walk back out into my room.

  On the way to my backpack, I freeze and bite back my smile. Seeing a UFL Heavyweight on my tiny twin bed makes it look like a Twinkie. I lose the battle and a laugh shoots from my throat. He looks at me like he knows what I’m laughing about and totally agrees.

  “Can you imagine both of us in this bed? Or hell, just me?” He looks perplexed while he studies the bed from top to bottom, which sends me into full-fledged hilarity.

  “If we stay here, you’ll have to sleep on the floor.” I manage to say through my giggles.

  His hazel eyes darken, his amusement replaced by something tangible and c
onsuming. “Not sleepin’ on the floor, babe. I’m starting to think of a few different ways we could fit.”

  I suck in a breath and try not to fidget as electricity vibrates between us.

  Breaking the moment before we set something on fire, I shove things into my backpack. Jonah gets up from the bed and goes to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. I do a quick mental inventory of what’s there, hoping he doesn’t find anything embarrassing. Thank God, I got rid of the Kama Sutra book Eve gave me on my last birthday as a gag. Other than a Bible, some romance novels, and a few pictures, there’s nothing much to see.

  “That’s insane,” he says with wonder in his voice.

  He picks up a small framed picture that I know is of my mom. It’s the only picture I have of her. I took it before I moved out, wanting to keep something of her, even if she wanted nothing to do with me. I remember catching her on the couch after she worked late. She had taken a long, hot shower, as she always did after work. She had on a pink, cotton, floor-length nightgown. She was listening to The Temptations, staring out the window at the distant lights of Las Vegas Boulevard with a lost look on her face. I’ll never forget how her beauty clashed dramatically with the ugliness she held in her eyes. I grabbed my throw away camera and snapped the shot. She was in such a daze she didn’t even flinch. That was two years ago. I haven’t seen her since.

  “Raven, you look just like her. She’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  My chest burns with heartbreak like it does every time I think about my mom. I absently rub my chest in an attempt to push back the pain. I can’t do this right now, going from the extreme high of the last twelve hours with Jonah to this extreme low.

  Anyone up for a ride on the bi-polar coaster?

  He puts the picture back and turns toward me. There is a kindness in his eyes that makes me feel vulnerable. I look away.

  Grabbing my stuff, I remember the can of cat food and head for the door. “Ready?”

  He’s standing in the same place, his hands shoved into his pockets. I watch as something works behind his eyes, like he wants to say something but he can’t sort it out.

  With a long breath, he nods and smiles. “Yeah.”

  ***

  Walking up to the UFL Training Center doors, my stomach flutters with nerves. The idea of being inside a room filled with guys just like Jonah is daunting and intimidating as heck. He holds my hand as we push through the entrance and I grip him tighter.

  Air conditioning and heavy metal hum through the lobby. Bright red couches and sleek side tables line the dark gray walls. At the far wall sits a desk with a striking strawberry blond woman sitting behind it.

  Jonah tosses the lovely lady a quick chin lift. Her perky smile fades as her eyes hit me. I give her a small wave of my fingers and suppress the urge to throw her my middle one. I chalk up my aggressive attitude to all the testosterone that drips down the walls like honey.

  We make our way down a hallway lined with doors. As we near the end, I hear the vibration of male voices. They get louder and louder until we emerge from the hallway into a massive room.

  Clean sweat and the unmistakable smell of man fill the room along with the called-out directions of trainers and grunts of fighters. I slow my pace until a tug on my hand has me moving. He leads me towards the center of the gym where roughly a dozen men are grouped off in various forms of fighting. Some are fighting on a mat while others are punching and kicking bags. A few are taking a break, soaked in sweat and sucking down water, some are on the floor stretching. There is a large octagon in the middle of the room where two men are boxing. The combinations of voices and metal music bounce off the concrete walls and high ceilings, putting a palpable energy in the air.

  “Give me your backpack. I’ll put it in my locker.” I hand it to him without looking away from the activity on the floor.

  Slowly, the action stops and the room goes quiet. It’s then that I notice all eyes are on me. Crud. I look for Jonah but catch his back as he passes through the locker room door.

  Facing the room, I lift a hand to wave, my expression probably as awkward as I feel.

  “Who are you?” a handsome, older man calls out to me.

  I clear my throat. “I’m Raven.” I try unsuccessfully to control the shake in my voice.

  “That’s Jonah’s girl. She’s cool.”

  I exhale in relief at the sound of Blake’s voice.

  He makes his way over to me, and the rest of the guys stare for a minute longer before they resume their training.

  “Hey, baby girl. Where’s Jonah?”

  His shirt is off and his skin glistens with sweat. Yesterday at Jonah’s party, he never took his shirt off. I stand staring at the military tattoo that takes up one whole side of his chest, but avert my eyes to his face before I can make out what it says. He’s smiling at me in his usual charming way.

  “He went to put some stuff in his locker.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “Is it okay that I’m here? I wouldn’t want to disrupt or cause any problems.”

  “Are you kidding?” He looks at the guys over his shoulder and back to me. “You just gave these butt holes a reason to show off. They’ll probably have the best session of their lives with you here to put up for.”

  My lips twitch, fighting my smile.

  “You laugh even when I’m not trying to be funny. What’d I say?”

  I cover my mouth to muffle my giggles. “You said butt holes.”

  He shakes his head, looks to the floor then back at me. “You ever cuss, Raven?”

  My laughter dies as I contemplate his question. Of course I cuss. What adult doesn’t cuss? Ugh. Who am I kidding? I totally don’t. It’s not as if I haven’t tried. It just always sounds so stupid coming from my mouth.

  “Of course I cuss,” I lie.

  He glares at me with a playful glint in his eye. “Really?”

  “Psht. Yes.” My palms sweat, and I wonder what it is about this guy that makes me so nervous.

  “All right, fine. Hit me with one right now. Give me your nastiest curse.”

  Rocking back on his heels, he crosses his bulging arms over his muscular chest waiting.

  My mouth falls open at the ridiculousness. I snap my mouth shut and square my shoulders.

  “Okay, I will.” I race through my mind pulling up some of the least offensive curse words I can think of, all of them sounding lame even in my head. “It’s just I’m not mad right now and I never cuss unless I’m mad.” I hold my head high and pray like crazy that he’ll be intimidated by my integrity and leave it alone.

  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.