by Jessie Cooke
“I’ll do what damage control I can. Now, back to my digression…who is he? He’s so hot…”
“I have to go, Judith; take care of this for me, please.”
“You know I will. That’s why I make the big bucks. But, if you don’t want him, could you introduce me?”
Chuckling, Daria said, “Bye, Judy.” As soon as she ended the call, it rang again. The second call was Liza. When she didn’t answer it, Luke’s phone rang. He pressed “Answer” on his steering wheel and her sister’s voice filled the BMW.
“Luke? What happened? Where’s Daria? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Liza, and she’s right here.”
“Daria! What the hell were you doing with—?” Before Liza said his name, Daria said:
“I was with Luke at the restaurant. I passed out, I guess. This nice man caught me before I hit the floor and people took pictures. I’ve already talked to Judy. She’s handling it. I just got overheated and didn’t eat. I’m fine now and Luke is taking me back to the hotel. But Liza, I’m turning the phone off now, otherwise I won’t get a moment’s peace all night and I have to be up early.”
“But Daria, wasn’t that…?”
“Bye, Liza, love you. Thanks for checking in.” She reached over and pressed “End” on Luke’s dash. Smiling at him she said, “She worries too much.”
“You’re sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine now. Dinner was fabulous and just what I needed. I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight.” Luke made an almost imperceptible face. It was obvious that he’d been hoping for an invitation up to her room. He could hope all he wanted. In the course of the evening she’d found him to be rude…not to her, but to almost everyone else…narcissistic, and as boring as she suspected he would be. She was done with him, for tonight…and in the future.
Luke didn’t say much else until they got to the hotel. The valet opened her door first and by the time he went around to the other side, Luke was out of the car. He looked the young valet up and down and said, “Are you even old enough to drive?”
“Yes sir, I’m eighteen.” The boy looked Hispanic, but his English was perfect. Still, in a condescending voice Luke said, “Are you even legal…in this country, I mean?”
“Luke!” Daria had enough. How dare he?
“This is California, Daria, not New York. You never know.”
She sighed, almost growled as she said, “Well, that wasn’t necessary. But you really don’t need to worry about it anyways. You don’t need them to park your car. I can make it up to my room. We can just say goodnight here.” She didn’t want an awkward scene with him trying to kiss her or stay, once they got up to the room. Luke was annoying, but not stupid; he knew he was getting the brush-off. Raising an eyebrow he said:
“Alright then, thank you for joining me for dinner. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Thank you for dinner, Luke. I’m sorry I ruined it. I’ll have to be more careful about the heat from now on.”
“I’ll call to check on you later,” he said, coming toward her. She didn’t want to waste any time telling him not to bother…she’d somehow get to that later if he called. He grabbed both her hands and bent down toward her. She turned her face to the side and the kiss landed on her cheek. She smiled up at him and said:
“Thank you, Luke, good night.” She could feel him still watching her as she hurried through the doors of the lobby. She went straight for the elevator and once she was inside she felt the now silent phone vibrating in her purse. She opened it up and looked at it. The elevator doors slid open on the sixth floor where her room was, just as she saw who was calling. It was her mother. This time instead of silent, she turned the phone all the way off. She often shut herself off from the world to get her work done…but tonight she was craving the solitude and it had nothing to do with work. Seeing Steve had her shook up, still, and she could only imagine what her mother and sister wanted to say about that picture.
She let herself into her hotel room and began to strip as soon as she was there. She kicked off her shoes and on the way to the bathroom, pulled the zipper down on the side of her dress. She tried not to think about how hard Steve’s body was when she slammed into it…or how hot it would be to run her hands over all that muscle. With a frustrated sigh, she perched on the edge of the big tub and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before reaching for one of her bath bombs she’d set on the edge earlier, and dropped it in. She made sure the plug was in and sat there for a few seconds watching the colors swirl together and change the water into a dark, fragrant pink.
At last she got up and moved over to the mirror. She pulled the dress over her head and reached back to unhook the strapless bra. She let it fall and then reached up and took one breast in each hand. She wondered if he’d like them…was he a breast guy? She looked down at her wide hips and thick thighs. She still danced every chance that she got and that kept her legs in shape. Some men didn’t like them so thick…and others asked her out just for that…and her butt, which was as round and full as her thighs.
She slid down her panties and stepped out of them and then for a second, she closed her eyes and imagined she was standing in front of the mirror like that, only Steve…Sledge…was standing behind her. He would dwarf her body when she wasn’t in her heels, and the thought of that sent a chill down her spine. She pictured his big hands wrapped around her, resting on her stomach, just above her mound…and his lips, his full, soft lips on her neck. She sighed again, this time in response to what that vision did to her body.
Pulling herself out of the trance she was in, she went over and shut off the bath water. She stepped in, letting out a breath as she sat down and sank into the warm water. She lay all the way back and closed her eyes again. Her thoughts of Steve…the image of him tonight…raced through her mind and caused her to ache deep in her core…and that ache just kept traveling downward until it settled in the warm wetness between her legs. Her nipples were hard now, and she slid her hands up her wet body and wrapped up her breasts again, this time pinching each one of her nipples…imagining Sledge’s full lips wrapped around them.
She’d tangle her fingers up in his dark hair and pull him into her chest tightly. She moaned at the image and let go of one of her breasts and let that hand slide down between her legs. She used her vivid imagination to pretend her long, thin fingers were his thick, calloused ones. She ran them down her slit and whispered his name…she could hear him breathing in her ear as he explored her folds. She arched her back and dipped her head further back into the warm water. In her mind Sledge was still licking and sucking her breasts, and as she slid two fingers up inside of herself, she imagined they were one of his. She was panting and gasping, working her fingers in and out, hard and fast, the way she wanted him to…God, she wanted him.
She dropped the other hand down and put two fingers on her clit and began to rub it furiously as she fingered herself, all the while practically feeling his weight on top of her…his lips on her skin…his breath in her ear. Her body tensed up just before her core tightened and years’ worth of pent-up sexual frustration poured out. As she lay silently, trying to get her heart and breathing to return to normal she realized that was the truth. She had never experienced an orgasm with a man. She had orgasms only when she masturbated…and only then, when she thought about Sledge. She wondered if that would ever change. Ten years was a long time to be sexually frustrated. Maybe Liza was right and there was something wrong with her. Or maybe…she just needed to find a way to finally be with Sledge…at least once…and get him out of her system. She liked that idea the best and by the time she got out of the tub and started drying off, her mind was working overtime, trying to figure out a plan. She was a romance writer, after all…how hard could it be?
8
“You ready, kid?” Jacob was bouncing on his toes, like he was the one about to go out and get in the cage. Sledge was standing inside the fighter’s quarters, a small room behind the locker room in t
he gym. Sledge hadn’t been sure which way he wanted to vote when the issue of buying the old gym had come up, but he’d known Wolf long enough to know he wouldn’t have been interested in it if he didn’t think they could make it work, so he had voted in favor. He was glad once again that he had put his faith in Wolf’s business savvy. Buying and restoring the gym had been expensive, it had almost gotten Wolf killed, and it had been a hell of a lot of work for them all. But, ultimately it had brought them into business with the Southside Skulls out of Boston, and Jacob Wright and his MMA team out of Vegas, and those two affiliations had proved to be very beneficial over the past year or two, not to mention that it had gone from being in the red to solid black, and the club was making more money from the exhibition fights than any of their other ventures so far. As usual, Wolf knew what he was doing.
As a kid in New York, in the neighborhood where he grew up, Sledge had not only seen plenty of fights, he’d been involved in plenty himself. He never went looking for them, but being a big kid…and of course being the poor kid who went to school with the rich kids….the fights came looking for him. He did what he had to do to survive, but he never liked it. He wasn’t one of those guys that got a thrill from feeling his fist crush someone’s face, or drawing blood, or grappling on the ground. People who knew him well knew that he was happiest when people just left him alone, at least people he didn’t consider “his” people. The funny thing was that he had always assumed as he got older, his circle would get smaller, but he had developed a quick respect for Jacob and Brock and Lance and Jagger…and a whole handful of their crew. Jacob Wright was a legend in MMA, but the more Sledge watched and listened to him with the young fighters like Freddie, the more he believed “The Lion” would leave an even bigger impact as a trainer. He was as tough as nails, and he expected a hell of a lot from his fighters. But he was respectful toward them too, and he was fair. What impressed Sledge most, however, was the way Jacob found his fighters. Like Wolf, Jacob took in strays, but not just any stray. He had the ability to see things in people that they couldn’t, or weren’t, ready to see, in themselves.
Freddie had come from nowhere. He’d been a foster kid who learned how to fight to protect himself while he was growing up. If not for Jacob, he would have probably ended up in prison for accidentally killing some asshole in a bar fight, or taking part in some back-alley, underground fights for the mob. He was filled with aggression, but unlike anyone else in his life, Jacob taught him how to use that aggression and his talent for fighting, constructively. Sledge was most impressed with Jacob because he reminded him so much of Ash. Jacob Wright came from old money and he could have lived off his family name forever. He could have won his titles, walked away with his championships, and never looked back. He could be jet-setting all over the world now. Instead, he was training kids no one ever heard of for very little money that he didn’t need. He gave the majority of them a purpose in life, and some of them something to live for. Like Jacob, Asher Bennett IV could have done anything with his life. In high school he could have been part of the “in” crowd, and would have been…if he hadn’t chosen instead to stand up for the poor, shy kid that everyone else liked to pick on at every turn.
Sledge looked at Freddie as he slid off the table and pulled on his satin robe, and hoped that he appreciated what Jacob was doing for him, because guys like Jacob Wright and Asher Bennett IV only came along once in a lifetime. Freddie looked at him and grinned. “Nice pic in the Times this morning.”
“What?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hey, Nacho!” Freddie yelled at one of the older trainers who traveled with Jacob. “You still got the LA Times lying around somewhere?” Nacho mumbled something and a few seconds later handed Freddie a newspaper. Freddie handed it to Sledge. It was the entertainment section and there was a picture of him, holding onto Daria. It was when she was passing out at the restaurant and he’d caught her to keep her from hitting the floor. He hadn’t even noticed anyone taking it…but of course he’d been both shocked to see her, and completely infatuated by how gorgeous she was at the same time. And she’d felt so damned good. He stared at the picture for a long time…too long. Freddie was still grinning at him when he looked up. “Pretty lady,” Freddie said.
Sledge didn’t answer him. His eyes moved back down to the headline that read, “Bestselling Author Daria Ford Collapses at Fresno Area Restaurant.” He read down to the article, which said that Daria was in town to consult on the set of “Reckless Hearts,” a movie based on one of her books. He looked back at the picture and caught himself thinking once more about how good she’d felt in his arms for those few seconds. Suddenly feeling angry with himself, he folded the paper in half and handed it back to Freddie. He wondered what Daria’s uppity friends back in New York were going to think when they saw it…and then once again, told himself to forget about it, forget about her, to not let himself care because that would be setting himself up for another heartache. He’d probably never see her again anyway.
“Good luck out there,” Sledge told Freddie. “I’m going to go find a seat.”
“Really?” Freddie said, still grinning. “You’re not going to tell me how you know a lady like that?”
“Nope.” Sledge shoved his hands in the pocket of his vest and left the fighter with his trainers. He went out to where the seats were set up for the fight and headed toward the front row, wondering who the dark-haired woman was that was sitting next to Wolf. When he turned toward them, Wolf’s big body was blocking her. He knew it wasn’t Blair. Blair’s hair was shorter, and she rarely came out for the fights. Sabrina had dark blonde hair and he’d seen her earlier, working the ticket booth when he came in, and Bruf had told him that Charlie, who also had blonde hair anyway, was back at the club with the baby. He’d almost reached Wolf when his president sat back in his chair and he was suddenly looking at Daria’s delicate, gorgeous profile. What the fuck?
“Hey, there you are,” Wolf said. “I wanted to introduce you to…”
Daria stood up. “Hello, Steve.”
Sledge still had his mouth open. He closed it, looked at Wolf, who had an eyebrow cocked and then looked back down at Daria. What the fuck? “It’s Sledge,” he said, rudely enough to warrant Wolf’s other eyebrow shooting up.
“You two know each other?” Wolf asked. Before Sledge could answer, or ask what the hell she was doing there, Dax Marshall, his brother Gunner, and Jagger suddenly appeared. While Wolf stood up to greet them, Sledge kept his eyes on Daria, searching her face for a clue as to why she was there. Wolf introduced the guys to her and she sat down, again, next to him. Still confused, Sledge greeted the men from Boston and then took his seat. It was only a few minutes later when Ash and Mack arrived. Sledge saw them come in the front door and as they crossed the room, he kept his eyes on them. He saw Ash glance at Daria, curiously, but he didn’t look like he processed who she was. But when Mack’s eyes landed on her, surprise and recognition both colored her face, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks. Ash’s hand on her arm seemed to propel her forward and when they reached Wolf, the president once again started to introduce Daria. This time, Mackenzie said:
“We know Daria…what are you doing here?” Again, as if attached to a fishhook, Wolf’s eyebrow rose.
“Research,” she said with a smile. “It’s good to see you, Mack, Asher, how are you?” By that time, Ash recognized her, or the name, maybe. He looked surprised too, but politely said:
“Hi, Daria, we’re good, and yourself?”
She held onto the bright smile. Sledge wondered if it was as fake as he knew she was. “I’m doing well too. I’m planning a novel where my main character is an MMA fighter. I was going to wait until I got back to New York to do research, but I heard about these fights and figured while I was in town, and had the day off today, I’d come by. Mr. Lee was kind enough to agree to let me hang around here for a couple of days and inter
view some of the fighters.” Sledge didn’t realize that he had groaned aloud until suddenly all eyes were on him.
“One of y’all want to tell me what’s going on?” Wolf asked.
Ash looked at Sledge, who still couldn’t find words, and finally said, “Daria went to school with us…back in New York.”
Daria laughed, nervously, “Small world, huh?”
Wolf wasn’t even close to stupid. “Is it?” he asked. “Or is there some reason you’re here other than research? I called your publicist and Bill Enloe, the producer of that movie, before I agreed to this earlier. They vouched for you as a person, but neither of them knew anything about a book about MMA. I didn’t think much about that, until now. Is there some other reason you wanted to be here, Miss Ford?”
Daria’s eyes went to Sledge’s face and he could see the anxiety in them. He almost felt sorry for her…almost. “I was honest about doing research,” she said. “I have been thinking about making one of the heroes of my next series an MMA fighter. But yes, you’re right…there’s more to it than that. I made a mistake, a long time ago. I’ve always hoped for a chance to make amends for it. When I saw Steve…” He frowned at her and she said, “Sledge. When I saw him at the restaurant last night, and then I looked up your club online, I was hoping I could kill two birds with one stone.”
Wolf looked at Sledge. “So, Sledge is the one you owe an apology or whatever to?” She nodded. “You got a problem with her being here?” Wolf asked Sledge.
“If you think it’s okay,” Sledge said, “I’ve got no problem with it.” He looked at Daria and said, “You said what you wanted to say last night. We’re square.” He took his seat then and so did Ash and Mack, on the other side of him. Daria was still standing, looking at Wolf, waiting for his decision.
“You gonna cause any problems for me or my club?” Wolf asked her.
“No, sir.” Sledge thought it was funny, Daria Ford…homecoming queen and heiress…calling Wolf Lee…president of the Westside Skulls…“sir.”