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.
“I’m going to teach you an arm bar.”
Owen leaves the octagon, giving me a sweet smile. “Good luck, princess.”
My eyes find Blake who is covering his mouth, but his eyes give away his amusement. Oh, real nice.
Jonah and Blake demonstrate a few times, both of them explaining each step in detail with the clarity of professional fighters. I hang on every word, determined to get it right and not make a complete idiot out of myself.
Their instruction complete, they call me over to try. Lying with my back to the mat, I do exactly what I’m shown. After a few minor adjustments, I have Jonah’s forearm in my hands. His arm runs the length of my body down through my legs. His shoulder rests between my thighs and my calves are locked around his torso. I thrust my h*ps forward.
“Fuck.” He makes a pained grunt, but I continue to hold him in place. “You got it.”
“I did it!” I could break the arm of a man at least twice my size by a thrust of my hips.
Power surges through me and I’m suddenly flipped. Jonah has his huge body wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, his mouth at my ear.
“Yeah, baby. You did it. I’m proud of you.” He whispers before nuzzling my neck and dropping lingering kisses on my earlobe.
I shiver.
“That’s my girl.” He releases me and pulls me to my feet.
Blake is off to the side of the mat. “This,” he indicates by waving his hand back and forth between me and Jonah, “is freaking me the hell out.” He waves us off then stalks away.
I shrug my shoulders and look to Jonah who has both dimples out in full force.
“You’re not the only one,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Eleven
Jonah
“Still with the same girl. Gotta say, brother, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Owen and I are in the kitchen at the training center, shooting the shit and powering down protein shakes.
“I wasn’t sure I had it in me either, but here I am, one full week.” Pride warms my chest every time I think about the longest and only relationship I’ve ever had. It isn’t at all like I thought it’d be. She doesn’t bug me to buy her shit, ask me to get her into the most exclusive clubs, or fill my bathroom with her girlie crap. I can’t even get her to leave clothes at my house. She’s always tossing clothes in and out of her backpack.
After that first night, she put up a fight about staying over the next two. Until I told her that I’d personally go and feed Dog every morning if it meant having her warm body in my bed every night. And every night since, she tries to leave again, only agreeing to stay once I kiss her until she surrenders.
“You still haven’t slept with her.”
Bringing my cup to my mouth, my arm stalls out in midair and I glare at my friend. “How did you know that?”
He swallows a gulp of his shake. “I didn’t.” A grin spreads across his face. “But I do now.”
Fuck.
“Figured you’re keeping her around for a reason. What’s the hold up?”
“None of your f**king business.”
Owen’s deep laughter bangs against my every nerve. I could lie. Tell him that she’s a virgin and I’m holding off until she’s ready. The first part’s true. The last part’s the lie. She’s ready. Her words haven’t said it, but her body has screamed it.
“I’m just surprised, man. You have her in your bed every night. How can you, of all people, not f**k her?”
“Owen.” The caution in my tone forces him to roll his eyes before he studies me silently.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” His words are almost a whisper. “I had a feeling, but I wasn’t sure.”
I toss my empty cup into the sink a little harder than I need to. This entire conversation is pissing me the f**k off. “Sure about what?”
“You love this girl.”
Irritation is sucked from my body along with my breath. Love her. Do I?
“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never even taken a girl out unless it was something UFL related. You use woman to get off, move on, and never look back. And now here you are, looking like you’re about to take me out for asking why you haven’t fu—had sex with her yet.”
I’m hearing his words, but still processing his earlier statement. I remain close-lipped.
He starts laughing, then harder, and points at my face. “Yeah, man. That’s the face. You love her.”
“But it’s only been a week. People don’t fall in love in a week.”
“The hell they don’t? I knew I was in love with Nik on our first date. No question.”
We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Mornings are spent working on the Impala until she goes to Guy’s garage and I go train. Nights, she’s back at my house where we cook together, eat together, watch television together and—Holy crap. We’re my parents.
Maybe I do love her.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, feeling suddenly faint. Must be from the intense training session. Yeah, that’s all it is.
“So now that we’ve established that, what’s the real reason you’re holding out?” He leans against the counter.
He’d never understand why I haven’t slept with Raven. Hell, I’m still trying to figure it out. It’s not that I don’t want to. I want to, badly. So badly, I’ve had to sit in a cold shower for forty-five minutes after making out with her. Every time we get close, I hold back. The rejection I see in her eyes when I shut her down makes me want to kick my own ass.
“What if I . . . I don’t know, screw things up?”
Owen’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Dude, if practice makes perfect, you should have your PhD in sex. Pretty sure you won’t screw it up.”
“That’s not what I meant, fuckwad.”
He pins me with his stare. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose interest after you do it.”
I blink my eyes, absorbing his words, and conclude that my friend is a genius.
“Yes, exactly, I’m afraid my f**ked-up head will ruin things with Raven.”
“This is different though, Jonah. I’m telling you the way you feel about Raven you might as well be a virgin too. This is going to be a first for both of you. Be prepared to have your mind blown, my brother. There is nothing like making sweet love to the girl you feel it for.”
I remain silent, mulling over Owen’s revelation. He’s right. I have a problem with getting attached to people on an intimate level. I always assumed that my hit-’em-and-quit-’em mentality was intentional. That I never sleep with the same girl twice because I don’t have to.
But I’m seeing things more clearly. A deep dark part of me whispers that it’s because I lost my dad. That getting close to someone is a risk because of the potential pain in losing them. And hav**g s*x with Raven, combined with the fact that I’ll be her first, will be devastating. She’ll probably see it as solidifying our relationship, and I’ll subconsciously put her in the I-came-I-conquered file.
Unless Owen’s right. Could it be different this time? It sure as shit feels different. Fighting has always dominated my brain space, until her. I have to believe my old ways won’t f**k this up for me. I have to.
Raven
On an impulse, and an urgent need to update my lingerie collection as new boyfriend status dictates, I talked Eve into meeting me at the mall. Browsing around Victoria’s Secret is a new experience now that I’m shopping with someone in mind. Every piece I pick up, I imagine Jonah’s reaction to it. I can picture myself in each one, and in doing so, practically feel his eyes on me.
Things with Jonah have escalated physically, but not to the level I’d hoped. It seems like every time I’m about to beg him to make love to me, he freezes up. He’s nothing like his reputation, at least, not with me. I tell myself it’s because I mean more to him, but a small voice in my head tells me it’s because I’m a virgin. An even smaller, but no less influential, voice tells me that he’s not sure about us or more specifically, me.
I hold back a frustrated growl and move to a table covered in panties.
“You’re staying at his place again?” Eve pulls out a pair of blue leopard-print hip huggers and tosses them in my arms.
“Yeah. He wants me to stay with him every night.”
“You’re so lucky. The guy I’m dating won’t even invite me over.”
I look over to see her wiping her eyes with a pair of cotton bikini underwear and then tossing them back on the display table. We’ve been at Victoria Secret for almost an hour, and I’ve been so wrapped up with Jonah, I never even asked about her boyfriend.
“I’m a jerk. Sorry. Here I’m going on about Jonah, and I never asked about, um, what’s his name?”
She bursts into tears. I drag her back and lock us into a dressing room, dropping my arm full of stuff and pulling her into a hug.
“Eve, what is going on? Did you guys break up?”
“No.” She sniffs, and wipes her nose on a pair of panties I was going to buy. “I think he’s into me. I mean he tells me he’s in love with me every time we have sex.”
Envy creeps in at the thought that Eve’s getting sex and I love you. To be fair, I’ve known that I’m in love with Jonah since my first night in his bed, but haven’t told him. Could it be possible that he feels it too, but just hasn’t said it?
“So then, why are you crying?”
She looks up at me, and I can see the pain in her eyes. “He’s so secretive. I’ve asked him if he’s married or, like, I don’t know, a member of the Secret Service, but he just laughs and swears it’s just because he’s skittish about relationships.” She straightens her shirt and checks her make up in the mirror.