My jaw drops open before I catch it and slam it shut.
Could he really mean what he just said? I’ve heard men do that, say things they don’t really mean after sex because they’re caught up in the moment. He doesn’t look uncertain. He’s not smiling, his mouth isn’t twitching uncomfortably. His eyes are fixed on mine and his face is soft. I don’t have much experience in this area, but if I had to guess, I’d say he looks like a man in love.
My rational side busts out a checklist. He replaced my door, risked his safety to talk to Dominick, hunted me down after I hung up on him, and tonight he loved me, mind, body, and soul.
How could I take advantage of his love by allowing him to give up his fight for me? There has to be another way. My mind is slow with fatigue and sexual satisfaction, but I scroll through possible alternatives. Beyond ending my life, which isn’t an option, there’s only one other thing I can do.
“Jonah?”
“Yeah?”
I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. “I could run.”
Silence.
“I could just take off and drive to New York or Florida. I’ll change my name and find a job that pays cash. After a while, you could come visit me. You wouldn’t have to throw your fight. I could even get—”
“No.” His answer isn’t angry, but absolute. “That’s no way to live. We’d have to move every few months, constantly looking over our shoulders.”
“You don’t know that. He might just give up when he can’t find me locally.”
Hooking his hands under my arms, he pulls me up his chest and we’re face to face.
“You think Dominick is the kind of man to let go of something he wants? You know he’d come after you, Raven, for no other reason than he doesn’t like to lose. I want you free from all ties, and throwing the fight is the only way. Money is the only language Dominick understands.”
Hot tears pool in my eyes and cool as they cascade down my face. “I’ll never be able to re-pay you for all you’re giving up for me. I’m afraid that, in time, you’ll resent me.”
“Impossible. The title will always be there. The fight is replaceable. You’re not.”
Closing my eyes, I bury my face in his neck. “I love you.” It’s the only thing I can think of to communicate my appreciation. But it’s not enough.
“I love you too.” He repositions me at his side.
I lean up and give him my lips. It’s in this kiss that two truths penetrate and soak into my soul.
First, Jonah loves me.
And, second, I don’t know what the future will bring, but whatever happens, I won’t be facing it alone.
Eighteen
Raven
I shiver as cool air washes over my back all the way down to my thighs. Surfacing from my deep sleep, I reach for the blanket to ward off the cold when I feel something warm pleasantly teasing my hip. Little by little, the cold is chased away and a tingling heat moves through my body. I blink my eyes open, aware of the slight shifting of the bed and the soft touch that makes its way up my back. Jonah. Like last night, he’s kissing a trail along the path of my tattoo.
Last night! My eyes pop open as impassioned memories tear their way through my sleep. I lost my virginity. A giggle erupts from my throat.
He smiles against my shoulder. “Tickle?” His deep, gravelly voice against my skin raises goose bumps down my arm.
“Mmm, no. Feels good.”
“You’re laughing.”
Shaking my head, I refuse to divulge my schoolgirl thoughts.
“I didn’t think waking up to you in my bed could get any better. But waking up to you, with your hot little body, nak*d and pressed against mine?” He nibbles and licks at his spot on my neck. “The shit dreams are made of.” Groaning, he pushes himself up to my ear. “I hate to leave you like this, but I have a phone interview. Go back to sleep, baby. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Interview? But it’s still dark out.”
“Mm-hmm.” His face is buried in my neck and his fingers graze my br**sts.
I moan and arch my back, pressing into him.
“Fuck.” The word rumbles against my skin. “Don’t move. I want to get right back to this when I’m finished.”
With one last kiss to my shoulder, I feel him get out of bed. I hear him slide on his drawstring pants. “Stupid f**king interview.” He shuts the bedroom door behind him.
One deep, contented sigh later, my eyes drift close.
Jonah
“This sucks,” I say under my breath as I drop down into my desk chair in my home office.
I check the clock. Five fifteen in the morning. I sip my coffee and curse my publicist for setting up these interviews.
I’m at my desk when I should be wrapped around Raven. My girl’s flawless bare body molded to mine, surrounded by her smell, it was nearly impossible to walk away.
I log into my email and open the one from my publicist. This is the absolute worst part of being a fighter, the publicity shit. Some guys get off on it, but most of us hate it. The radio station interviews are the lesser of the publicity evils. At least I get to do it from home in my flannel pants. If I had my cell I could do this from my bed with Raven in my arms. I shake my head and make a note to get myself a new phone first thing.
Scanning the email, looking for the number, I notice I’m fifteen minutes late. I shrug. Fuck ’em. I made love for the first time in my life to the girl of my dreams. They can wait.
I punch in the number listed on the email. I give the producer my name and wait, my thoughts drifting back to last night. I’ve never had a sexual experience like that. Owen wasn’t f**king around when he said sex was different when you do it with someone you love. And Raven, the girl had zero experience, but damn if she didn’t light up like a f**king Roman candle. Those panties, her moaning, body arching, begging for my attention. I groan and readjust my pants.
And here, I thought I’d lose interest? Once would never be enough—shit, a lifetime would never be enough of Raven. She just gave me a taste of what she has to offer, and I’m famished, completely starving for more.
“To all our radio listeners out there, we have a special treat for you today.” The voice on the phone rips me from my happy place. “Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade is taking a break from his rigorous training schedule to give us an exclusive interview. His fight with Heavyweight Champion Victor Del Toro for the belt is September fourteenth at Mandalay Bay. Jonah, thanks for taking the time to talk to us.”
“Of course, thanks for having me.” I roll my eyes.
“Victor Del Toro has been the reigning Heavyweight Champion for over six years. Are you confident that you can beat him?”
“Absolutely. I think my record speaks for itself. I haven’t lost a fight yet and don’t plan on losing one now.” I grimace at my blatant lie because that’s exactly what I plan on doing.
“Del Toro has what you call a glass jaw. Can you explain what that is to our listeners?”
“Sure, glass jaw refers to someone who gets knocked out easily. It’s Del Toro’s Achilles’ heel. But the guy is the reigning Heavyweight Champion and has been for six years, so he’s no pansy. Weak jaw or not, the guy can fight.”
“Now, you, ‘Assassin,’ have a mean right hook. We can assume that your powerful right hook combined with Del Toro’s glass jaw means he has very little chance of winning this fight?”
“No, not necessarily. The key to a great fighter is to know your weakness. He trains to protect his jaw at all costs. I could throw a dozen killer right hooks, but they only work if I land them. He’ll be on guard the entire fight.”
“Last question, you have a reputation of being . . . how should I say . . . friendly with the ladies? Rumor has it you’ve been seen around town with a sexy brunette. Our sources say it’s Raven Morretti, a local car mechanic.” The interviewer and his co-host laugh before finishing. “Is ‘The Assassin’ settling down?”
No, he f**king did not.
I grind my teeth and my muscles tense. Leaning forward, resting my elbows on my desk, I speak clearly to keep from being misunderstood.
“Not gonna discuss my personal life, guys, but I will say this.” My voice sounds low and menacing even to my ears. “You talk about Raven, I’ll pay a personal visit to your studio and we’ll have words. You get me?”
“Whoa! You heard it here, folks. Sounds like The Las Vegas Casanova is finally settling—”
Click.
Shit. How did I not think about this? This fight is huge for Vegas. She’s going to get thrown into the middle of the media firestorm. As if the girl doesn’t have enough to deal with already. I need to protect her. But how? I’ll make sure we lie low until the fight’s over. Briefing Raven on the situation should help to prepare her for what she’s up against.
Running away with her and living out the remainder of our days on some deserted island doesn’t sound like a bad idea after all.
I make a few more calls: two for interviews and one for a new cell phone to be delivered to my house. It’s eight fifteen, and I haven’t heard a sound come out of my room. Raven must still be asleep. I plan on crawling back in bed with her when I hear the water running in my bathroom. Or a shower? I smile as visions of shower sex with Raven infiltrate my mind.
“Don’t be an insensitive prick.” I shake the wet fantasy from my head. She’s got to be sore. I can’t have sex with her for a day . . . or two. Okay, a day. Give her a chance to recover.
No way can I go in the room when she’s wet and nak*d in my bathroom. I won’t be able to give her a break if I see her like that. Killing time, I pay a couple bills online, check my email, and play a game of solitaire before I head back to my room.
I stroll down the hallway with purpose and a smile. Sex might be off the agenda for today, but I can think of plenty of other things we could do to occupy our time.
Raven
I open my eyes to bright sunlight. Stretching my arms above my head, my muscles object. Gosh, I’m sore. I roll to my back as a smile tiptoes its way across my face.
“This is awesome.” I stomp my feet on the bed under the sheet.
The faint smell of coffee crashes my private party. I throw my legs over the bed, gripping the sheet to my nak*d chest. I search the floor for my panties, and remember that Jonah destroyed them last night. My lips roll between my teeth to muffle my excited squeak. I’ll make sure to fit a panty-replacement shopping spree into my schedule this week. Maybe I’ll get a few extra pairs of those—
A warm rush of heat seeps from between my legs. My jaw drops open as my hand flies to my mouth.
“Oh no! My period? Crap!”
Wrapping the top sheet around my body, I run to the bathroom and jump in the shower. I do the mental math while scrubbing my body, making sure to be gentle with the tender areas. Ten days early? Impossible. I haven’t missed one pill—my breath hitches.
Not my period! No, that would be embarrassing enough. What just happened, on Jonah’s fancy sheets no less, is a direct result from last night.