Extreme Love

by Abby Niles

  8:27.

  They were supposed to be at his apartment a half-hour ago.

  She shifted in her seat. “Why don’t we get off at the next exit and go back to my place?”

  He continued to stare out the window. “No.”

  “Where are you so bound and determined to get to?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He glanced at her, his jaw tightening. “I don’t mean to be an ass, Caitlyn. I just had everything planned and now it’s ruined.”

  Ruined with a capital R. Tonight was supposed to be about wooing and impressing, not sitting in his truck on an Atlanta highway.

  The click of a seatbelt sounded. He turned his head as she slid across the tan leather seat. Dante sat up. She leaned into him, holding his cheek as she rained kisses along his face.

  His breath caught and he swallowed. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Trying to make you relax. Is it working?”

  He chuckled. “Not really.”

  Definitely not relaxed. More like rigid and throbbing. He closed his eyes.

  “Anything I can do to make it better?” She kissed down the front of his shirt.

  Damn it. He wanted it in the car. Hell, he wanted it everywhere. But he’d promised himself tonight would be about romance. What little he knew about romance. He hoped some old-fashioned courting would sway her into opening up. A hot blowjob in the middle of traffic was not the way to start a night of courting.

  God, he was being such a woman.

  One area definitely not woman pressed painfully against the fly of his jeans. Her lips lowered. Dante took a deep breath. “Caitlyn, not here.”

  She froze.

  Why did he have to be so damn rational?

  “What?” She sat back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  He really couldn’t blame the shock in her eyes. He was shocked at himself. Talk about self-discipline. Sheesh.

  She scooted away and blinked. “Sorry.”

  “Not so fast.” He reached over, grabbed her around the waist, and slid her back to his side. “You have no idea how much I want that. But not here, not now. I don’t want tonight to be about that.”

  Confusion puckered her brow. “About what?”

  “Just sex.”

  Her color faded two shades. “What do you want it to be about?”

  “Just us.”

  Caitlyn swallowed. “I-I can do that.”

  “Good.” He leaned back against the seat and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her against his chest. She sat stiff in his arms.

  Frowning, he toyed with her hair. Seconds ago, she’d been more than relaxed, she’d been ready to make him more than relaxed. Now that he’d uttered the “us” word, she was tense. What the hell?

  “Did you have a good class today?” he asked.

  She glanced over with worry in her eyes. Damn it, why?

  Cait nodded. “It went great. We weighed in today. Every member had lost at least three pounds. You could practically see the pride.”

  He didn’t need to see it—he could hear it in her voice. She relaxed against him. Dante breathed. She was letting go. Some.

  “You know I’m proud of you.”

  She shot him another glance. “For what?”

  “For what you’re doing.”

  Amusement twisted her lips and she cocked a brow. “I seem to recall a certain fighter expressing his opinion on the matter when we first met.”

  He chuckled. “I was wrong.”

  Gasping, she sat up and turned. “Do my ears deceive me? Did Dante ‘Inferno’ Jones admit to being wrong?”

  He liked hearing her say his full name. Liked it so much he captured a quick kiss on her lips. When he lifted his head, he said, “I can admit when I’m wrong.”

  “Good to know.”

  She relaxed into his chest and grabbed his arm, bringing it around her shoulder to play with his fingers. The quick gesture of ease surprised and pleased him at the same time.

  “What about you? How did training go the last couple of days? How are things between you and Mike?”

  “It was strained at first, but he did feel horrible about what happened with Sentori, so I was able to let it go. My training afterward has gone really well. Mike thinks I’m ready. Which is nice to hear, since the fight’s a little over a week away.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “Two days.”

  “I’m going to order the fight on TV, you know.”

  Dante laughed. “Do my ears deceive me? Is Caitlyn Moore going to willingly watch an MMA event?”

  “What can I say? I want to see Sentori get the snot beat out of him.”

  Dante clenched his teeth. Why couldn’t she have said she wanted to watch him? To support him? He craved her support something fierce. He craved to know she was in his corner, cheering him in both wins and losses. Not because of his scum opponent.

  The car ahead of him rolled forward. Dante unhooked his arm and sat up. “Traffic’s moving again.”

  She scooted over, put on her seatbelt, and clapped her hands. “Yay! You have me so curious.”

  Dante glanced at her and released a breath.

  At least she was willing to purchase the fight. That had to account for something.

  He returned his attention to the clearing road ahead and pressed the gas pedal. Twenty minutes later, they pulled in front of a high-rise building.

  Caitlyn’s eyes rounded. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?”

  “You live at the Paramount?”

  “No, my roommate lives at the Paramount.”

  Her eyes rounded even more as a doorman opened her door. Pleasure rippled through him. He was the first to give her the five-star treatment. She deserved it, plus more. He got out and tossed the keys to the approaching car valet.

  Going to her side, he gripped her elbow. “Now for your surprise.”

  …

  As they walked into the lobby, Cait felt considerably underdressed in her jeans and blouse. Really, she shouldn’t have since Dante wore his signature jeans and T-shirt. But she did. The place oozed money.

  The primped woman at the front desk nodded. “Good evening, Mr. Jones.”

  “Good evening, Charlotte,” he said as he led Cait to the elevators.

  “They know your name?”

  Dante grinned. “Yeah. I imagine they learn all their tenants’ names.”

  That made sense. She wasn’t used to five-star treatment. Her landlord had never gotten her name right and still called her “Payton” every month when she dropped off her rent payment. Not a big deal, if she hadn’t lived there for three years.

  The elevator chimed and opened. Dante stepped inside with her, then pressed forty.

  It kept getting more unreal. “He lives on the top floor? How much do you fighters make?”

  “Depends on your level. Beginners don’t make much at all. Once you’ve been in, won some fights, and gotten a fan base, though, the money gets better.”

  She desperately wanted to ask how much he made. Not that she cared. She was curious, though. From the truck he drove, she would’ve said he made a comfortable living. It wasn’t a Lexus or Mercedes, just a simple Ford without any bells and whistles. Yet, Mike had called Dante a big name, so he had to make more than most.

  His eyes twinkled. “Go ahead. Ask.”

  “Ask what?” Embarrassed he read her so easily, she felt her face heat. She wouldn’t. It was just too rude.

  The elevator chimed again and the doors opened again. Cait started to get off, but Dante grabbed her elbow and whispered in her ear, “I can afford all this and more.”

  Holy hell. She shot him a glance and he winked. Nope, she’d never guessed it. He didn’t seem the rich type.

  They went to an apartment door and Dante unlocked it. Cait gasped as she stepped inside. Luxury. Simple as that. Rich cherrywood floors stood out against cream-colored walls. They walked into the living room where a huge plate-glass window looked down on the ci
ty. The miles of lights amazed her.

  “Where’s your roommate?”

  Dante glanced at his watch. “He left about an hour ago.” He reached out for her hand. “Come here, I want to show you what I had planned.”

  She weaved her fingers through his. She liked the ease she felt right now. He led her into a small room, and she gasped again. Before her was the most elaborate dinner placement she’d ever seen. Dante released her hand and lit the two white tapered candles flanking a gorgeous centerpiece of daisies. Two plates, covered with a domed metal lid, sat on a crisp white tablecloth.

  “Oh, Dante.”

  He watched her, his disappointment evident. “It’s ruined. We were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago. I didn’t factor in traffic. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “This is the sweetest thing any man has ever done for me. Thank you.”

  She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him. His arms went around her waist and drew her close. He deepened the kiss with gentle swipes of his tongue against hers. Low in her belly, her insides twisted and she clung to him. She loved the way he took his time when he kissed her. No rush, no intensity, just a thorough gentleness that made her knees weak.

  He broke the kiss and stared down at her. “Only the best for you.”

  Her heart thudded. This man wanted to please her, to awe her. He had, but not with this fancy-shmancy display. Her pleasure came from simply being with him. Her awe came from the way he gazed at her and made her feel beautiful.

  Dante Jones was the best thing that had ever happened to her. A huge admission. Because of him, she’d finally believed she was as beautiful as he said she was. Losing the weight, alone, had never done that.

  “Let’s eat,” she said, needing to get away from the seriousness of her thoughts.

  “It’s ruined, Caitlyn.”

  “Nah, it’s only been out for about an hour. It’s still edible.”

  “Should I try to nuke it?”

  “No, it’s perfect the way it is.”

  “Okay,” he said as he pulled out her chair. “Please have a seat, my lady.”

  She lowered her lashes and smiled demurely. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  Dante swallowed and she fought a smile. Maybe she’d get the hang of this flirting thing, after all.

  After he placed a white linen napkin across her lap, he grabbed the wine bottle and popped the cork. He poured the red liquid into their glasses, then sat down opposite her.

  “To a wonderful evening,” he said, lifting the glass into the air.

  She tapped her glass against his. “With a wonderful man.”

  The flames from the candle danced off his cheek as his eyes flashed with warmth. She couldn’t draw her gaze away from his. Everything seemed to stop around her; there was only him and the eyes that had mesmerized her from the moment she’d met him.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice husky.

  Her breathing quickened. “Thank you.”

  Dante cleared his throat and glanced down. He lifted the lid off his plate and gestured for her to do the same. She removed the lid and gasped. The presentation alone was impressive. This wasn’t food simply slopped on a plate. Béarnaise sauce artistically covered filet mignon in yellow curls then trailed to the edge of the sage plate in sporadic dots. Almonds were sprinkled on five spears of asparagus. A rosebud sat on one corner of her plate.

  She picked it up and laughed in delight. “It’s a tomato.”

  Dante chuckled. “Mac has talent.”

  To say the least. The skin had been shaved off the tomato then rolled to form a mock rose. Shockingly realistic, too. “Mac? Your roommate?”

  “Yep. Besides being a class A fighter, he’s a three-star Michelin chef.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “I swear. He moved from Kansas to focus on his fighting so he doesn’t cook anymore, but the man makes a killer dinner.”

  She cut into the meat. Really, she didn’t need to use the knife. It sank easily into the perfectly cooked beef. She took a bite and closed her eyes. Heaven. The food melted on her tongue.

  She opened her eyes to see Dante grimace. “What?”

  “Did sitting out ruin it?”

  “If it tastes this good sitting out, I can’t imagine what it would taste like straight from the grill.”

  “Thank God. I wanted this to be perfect.”

  “This could’ve been the worst meal ever and it would’ve been perfect.”

  A pleased smile tilted his lips. There was that quiver in her belly again. As a distraction, she took another bite of food and changed the subject. “Mac has cooking to return to when he retires. What about you?”

  He took a sip of his wine. “I’d like to one day open my own facility, and do for another upcoming fighter what Frank did for me.”

  That made sense. “At what age does a fighter usually retire?”

  “It depends. If I don’t receive a career-ending injury, it’s possible for me to still be battling it out in the octagon into my forties.”

  Forties? That was a long time.

  “Have you ever had a serious injury during a fight?”

  He smiled at her. “Believe it or not, injuries don’t just happen in the ring. A friend of mine had to cancel his fight two days before the match because he tore his ACL during training. Took him months to recover, too. As for me, nothing serious yet. Can’t say it won’t happen, it does come with the territory, but so far I’ve been lucky. Just some pulled muscles.”

  “I didn’t realize the training was so brutal. I guess that’s why you always seem to have some kind of bruise or cut on you somewhere.” Like the tiny purple bruise at the corner of his eye right now. “What would you do if you got hurt and had a long recovery?”

  “I’ve prepared for that that. I took a percentage of winnings from each fight and put it aside. I don’t believe in squandering my money.”

  “That’s smart.”

  Dante shrugged. “I knew going in there was a high probability I’d get injured. Even a broken arm could lay me out for a year, depending on the break.”

  She didn’t like thinking about him getting hurt like that—or worse, watching it. Could she stand by the sidelines and watch someone hurt him? The idea of witnessing one of his bones snap appalled her. Someone else’s, maybe. Sentori came to mind. But Dante’s? No way.

  “Explain MMA to me,” she said. Knowledge was power. Maybe if she understood it better, she could see why he did it.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Everything.”

  She saw the delight in his eyes as he leaned forward. He truly loved what he did, and wanted her to be apart of it. Could she?

  Every part of her still hated the violence of his profession. How would she feel having Dante’s face looking like Brad’s had the night she met him? All bruised and swollen. What if things got serious between them and kids came into the picture? How would their children feel about seeing Daddy all banged up?

  Whoa! You’re getting way ahead of yourself there, Caitlyn. There’s time to figure all this out. No one’s talking marriage, kids, or even a serious relationship.

  Once this fight was over, it would be months before she had to face another one. She needed that time to get to know the man behind the fighter. She’d seen glimpses of him. What would it be like to have that man to herself for a couple of months? No excessive training, no upcoming matches, just them being them. She hoped by the time he was ready to fight again, it’d no longer matter to her that he fought. Only time would tell.

  She focused on the animated man before her. Over the next thirty minutes, she listened intently while Dante explained training, conditioning, the importance of breathing, and terminology. It was a lot to digest, and most of it she didn’t understand.

  “I should be taking notes.”

  Dante laughed. “It sounds like a lot, but you’ll be surprised how quickly it
sinks in.”

  Oh, it had sunk in all right, right along with panic. Pushing her plate away, she said, “I’m stuffed.”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then threw it on his plate and stood. “Stay here. I have something for you.”

  He strode from the room, only to return seconds later, carrying a thin, rectangular box wrapped in silver paper with a red bow on top. He handed it to her. “Here.”

  “What is this?”

  “Open it and find out.” He positioned his chair in front of her then sat down, bracing his elbows on his knees.

  “Dante, you didn’t have to buy me anything.”

  “Just open it.”

  He twisted his fingers together. Surprised by his sudden refusal to look at her, Cait studied him. Why was he nervous?

  Curious, she slid her nail underneath the tape and peeled back the paper, revealing a white box. She placed it on her lap and lifted the lid. She stared at the contents, her stomach churning. She didn’t know what she’d expected. A necklace, maybe. A scarf. Anything but this.

  She picked up the airline ticket. “What is this?”

  He grabbed her free hand and finally made eye contact. “Come to Vegas with me. I leave in two days. I’d like you to be on the plane with me.”

  She jerked her hand away and held it up. “Wait a minute. You want me to go where?”

  “Vegas. Be by my side.”

  He wanted her there, with him. So much for wanting it to be just them for a while. He wanted to plunge her headfirst into the spotlight, straight back amid the vipers who went to any length to get what they wanted: Dante. “I can’t just up and leave. I have a job.”

  “Taken care of.”

  She blinked, her mouth popping open before she choked out a startled laugh. “Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?”

  He gave her a strained smile. “Actually, no. I just knew that would be the first excuse you’d come up with not to come.”

  The panic twisted tighter, but the hesitant hope in Dante’s eyes gave her pause. How could she deny him?

  Maybe this was for the best. If she spent too much time ignoring the part of him that scared her, she might get too comfortable and fall flat on her face when the time came to enter his world. If she accompanied him now and couldn’t get past the limelight and fear of humiliation, or worse, see him take a fist to the face, it was early in their relationship and their hearts could be spared before deeper feelings came into play.