Fighting for Flight (Fighting, #1)

I smack him playfully in the arm, my lips upturned and cheeks cramping from the glowing review he’s giving me.

“Okay, all that aside, the way your body responds to mine, the slightest touch or shift in my position . . . Moans of pleasure coming from those gorgeous lips . . . Baby, that was the hottest . . .” His eyes dart to the side as if he’s having a hard time putting words to his feelings. “What we did tonight was more beautiful than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“I feel the same. I’m glad I waited for you, Jonah. You deserve to be my first—”

“And your last.”

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, naked 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 breasts.

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 fucking interview.” He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

One deep, contented sigh later, my eyes drift close.

*

Jonah

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