by Lily Harlem
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2017 Lily Harlem
ISBN: 978-1-77339-439-8
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
Dedicated to everyone who has had to fight for love.
A FIGHTER’S LOVE
London Ménage, 3
Lily Harlem
Copyright © 2017
Prologue
Dale
The taut muscles in Jackson’s back flexed and bulged as he beat the punch bag. His sweat-damp skin was golden and flawless, his shoulders broad and strong. He had a full sleeve tattoo on his right arm, a swirling design of dragons and flames. As he continued to pound the bag, he huffed and puffed, his teeth gritted, and his focus remained unwavering.
Dale had never seen a more beautiful man.
And he’s mine. All mine.
Dale slugged on a bottle of water, averting his attention from Jackson’s workout so as not to arouse suspicion. He didn’t want anyone to see the blatant desire in his eyes.
As Dale paced back and forth, studying the floor and catching his breath from his own workout, Jackson continued to throw what could be lethal punches. The sound of his fists on the leather snapped around the gym. He grunted a few times, the sort of delicious, throaty grunts that made Dale’s belly tense and his cock tingle. They were primitive, guttural; he didn’t hold back.
Just the way he doesn’t hold back when we’re together, alone.
Dale wiped the end of the towel wrapped around his neck over his forehead. He was glad he’d finished his training session. At the end of a busy day on the construction site, it had been a hard slog at the gym, mainly cardio, and he was ready for a shower then something to eat.
But he’d wait for Jackson.
Why the hell not?
The chance to be naked with the club’s star fighter in the communal shower was too hot an opportunity to miss, even though it was risky.
“That’ll do you, Jackson,” Michael said, his cheeks red from holding the punch bag Jackson had been pounding.
Jackson stepped back and dropped his hands to his sides. “You okay, gov?” He was panting and each time he drew breath the muscles in his abdomen became even more defined beneath his gleaming skin.
“Course I am,” Michael said with a frown.
Dale smiled. Michael was in denial about getting old. And why not? He was seventy now but still, he’d forgotten more about boxing than Dale would ever know. Dale had the utmost respect for him, as did Jackson. Michael was also pretty damn fit for his age—his body was concrete strength from his toes to his little fingers.
Jackson wiped his forearm over his brow, then snatched the end of his glove tie with his teeth. He tugged, loosened it, and yanked it off.
“Here.” Dale chucked Jackson a fresh bottle of water which he caught with his now free hand.
“Cheers.” Jackson drank without looking Dale’s way. As he swallowed his Adam’s apple bobbed, and the dark stubble on his neck sparkled with sweat.
Dale’s mouth watered. He wanted to nuzzle his face there, kiss, lick, inhale the scent of him. Jackson’s pheromones did crazy things to Dale’s body—wild sexy things he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of.
Dale turned away, drawing in a deep breath as his belly tightened and a quiver attacked his asshole.
“Hey, Dale, how’s it going?” Billy said, whacking Dale’s shoulder.
Dale stepped away with a frown. He didn’t like being near Billy, let alone have physical contact with him.
“So how’d you think our champ is gonna cope with Grinder?” Billy asked Michael.
“Got a while yet before we need to know the answer to that,” Michael said. He tugged up the base of his t-shirt and used it to wipe his perspiring face. It was a habit Dale had watched him repeat many times over the four years he’d known him.
“Not really, it’s only a few weeks away. I’ve gotta get a handle on this. We’re starting with the heavy promo now. Gonna be big bucks this one and the club will be quid’s in by the end of it.” Billy snorted. “Plus, I need to know who to put my money on.”
“We back Jackson,” Dale said with a frown. “He’s in our club and we stick together.” And, he added in his head, if we didn’t think he’d absolutely pummel Grinder into the floor then he shouldn’t be fighting him in the first place. That’s the way it had to be, absolute determination, certainty, commitment and steel-hard belief not just from the fighter but those around him who were supporting him physically and mentally.
“Yeah, well, you do what you want with your money.” Billy shrugged. “I’m a businessman. I’m going for the line of most return.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Jackson said, tugging at his other glove. “Training is on track. Plus I hear Grinder has an injury.”
“Oh?” Dale said. That was news to him. “What’s up?”
“Nerve in his shoulder, trapped, damaged, I dunno.” Jackson huffed.
“Good,” Michael said with a nod. “Should slow down his training.”
“Yeah, but I want a fair fight.” Jackson scowled, his dark eyebrows pulling low.
“You’ll still get one.” Michael took Jackson’s gloves from him.
“And so what if it’s not fair,” Billy said, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Fair is for pussies. You get an advantage, see a weakness, you grab it by the balls and don’t let go. That shoulder’ll be the spot to go for, his Achilles heel and all that.”
Dale allowed himself a moment to study Jackson, wondering if he’d take the conversation further. Billy wasn’t his favorite person in the world. He wasn’t Dale’s either, but Jackson had to deal with more shit from him than anyone else. He was in the spotlight, and on Billy’s radar constantly.
“Now where’s that bloody Jenny?” Billy looked at his watch. “Stupid cow was supposed to be here ages ago, she’s got work to do.”
Jackson pressed his lips together and turned away.
“Maybe she’s just finishing up her day job,” Dale said. It bugged the hell out of him how Billy treated his girlfriend. She was timid, sweet, the sort who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and Billy used that placidness to his advantage—to his full advantage.
It wound Jackson up, too. They’d talked about it enough times. Wondered about getting involved, telling her to leave him. She could do better, much better. But ultimately it wasn’t up to them. They had no claim on her. She needed to figure that out for herself. But if she ever did, and became a free agent…well, he wouldn’t say no to taking her out. Getting to know her a little. Seeing if beneath the drab clothes there was a super sexy body. He suspected there was. She was a dark horse, the type of woman who really needed to trust a man before she’d open up.
Maybe one day he’d be able to take on the challenge of earning her trust…
“She needs to get her arse in gear and hotfoot it to the club.” Billy tutted. “If she’s doing overtime at that stupid fucking office of hers then I hope those posh cunts are paying her.”
Tension hung in the air. It was on the tip of Dale’s tongue to ask Billy when he was going to start paying Jenny for all the hours she put in. She was a whiz with numbers and he needed her because the du
mb ass couldn’t add two and two together. Some business manager he was.
Jackson cleared his throat and puffed up his chest. His fists were clenched.
Dale was reminded of a cobra about to strike.
Jackson took a step closer to Billy and opened his mouth.
Dale shook his head at him, just a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly, but Jackson saw it and halted. He closed his mouth. It wouldn’t do anyone good to have Billy in a foul mood for the rest of the evening. He had a hot temper and a sharp tongue. He also wasn’t afraid to throw his weight around, though there wasn’t as much skill in his punches these days. An injury had taken the sight of his left eye several years ago and put paid to his boxing career.
Plus it was Jenny who’d likely be at the gym till midnight, sorting out the tax returns Billy had been on about all week. So it wouldn’t be fair on her to aggravate her boyfriend and then leave her to cope with the fallout.
“Damn it,” Billy said, turning. “I’ll have to call her, chase her dawdling arse along.” He stomped toward the small room in the corner of the gym he used as an office. It was a dump, the computer antiquated and the filing cabinets topped with junk. It always smelled of sweat too, unless Jenny was in there. Then her sweet powdery perfume masked the odor.
“Get yourself out of here, Jackson,” Michael said, nodding at the changing room door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll go in the ring.”
“Sure thing, gov.”
“Dale can spar with you.” Michael looked at Dale. “You in tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.” Dale shrugged. “If it’s usual time, I can’t get offsite before five thirty.” He was more than happy to spar with Jackson. It got his blood speeding through his veins and heated the very core of him. Jackson was really damn good, but so was Dale. He knew he made a good training partner for him. Not least because afterward, with all that testosterone hurtling around their systems, they’d find somewhere quiet to go and release the tension. It didn’t matter where, so long as they had that all-important privacy.
Secret relationships were hard, but Jackson made it worth the effort. Dale couldn’t imagine life without him.
“Suits me,” Jackson said, not looking Dale’s way, though Dale knew he’d be pleased with the plan. “I’ll see you then, gov.” He turned and headed to the changing room.
“Don’t be late,” Michael called after him.
Jackson held his right arm up, a backward salute, but didn’t pause.
“How’s your hamstring holding up?” Michael asked, turning to Dale.
“All good.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll be back to full fitness soon.”
“Good, because he’s gonna need you. You’re the second best fighter this club has and our number one needs a competent, fit sparring partner if he’s going to be ready for Grinder.” He shook his head. “Injury or no injury he’s a dirty bastard, and will push the rule book to the edge of the damn ring if he gets a chance.”
“We need a fair ref.”
“Well that’s down to him.” Michael jerked his head in the direction of Billy’s office. “So who knows?”
Dale sighed. Billy was really pissing everyone off. Maybe it was time to find a new club. Well, after this fight anyway. Jackson wouldn’t contemplate it until then.
Dale bid farewell to Michael and headed into the changing room. It was painted a sickly green, paint over brick, and had the bare minimum of furniture. On the walls, edges curling, were several posters from fights gone by. Pride of place was a framed picture of Billy, before he’d lost an eye, holding up a belt at a local youth championship. Dale hadn’t known him back then, but imagined he’d been a cocky shit as a teenager, the sort to bully other kids for their lunch money.
Water tapping off the hard floor told Dale that Jackson was already showering.
He willed his cock to behave.
Dumping his water bottle and towel to one side, Dale peeled off his sweaty vest top and shoved at his shorts and underwear. After kicking aside his boxing shoes and socks he headed for the shower area.
Jackson stood there like an Adonis, eyes shut and head tipped back. Water rained down on his chest, the droplets spraying off his sparkling skin like a mist of diamonds. He pushed his hands though his dark hair, scraping it back over his scalp.
The flash of black underarm hair went straight to Dale’s belly. Longing tightened within him, and lust trembled over his skin.
“Behave, Dale,” Jackson said without moving.
How did he know I was here?
Dale sucked in a breath. The air was steamy and hot. “I am behaving.”
Jackson chuckled. “So, you up for tomorrow?”
Dale was going to be up right now if he wasn’t careful. But not in the way Jackson was talking about. “Sure.”
Keeping his eyes closed, Jackson reached for the shower gel attached to the wall. Within seconds his chest was covered in suds, the white bubbles catching in his body hair. The air filled with the scent of pine, the outdoors, and sandalwood.
Dale banged his palm against a faucet and cold water poured down onto him. He was glad of the chill. His cock was twitching, and there was a telltale tingle in his balls that told him an erection was imminent. “Fuck.”
Jackson chuckled. “Not here, gorgeous.”
Dale smiled, shut his eyes and held his face to the stream. It was like tiny, sharp daggers stabbing at his body—each one a pinprick of cold pain to concentrate on and divert his attention from his dick and how much he wanted to bend Jackson over. He wanted Jackson’s hands splayed on the wet wall, his ass offered up. Then Dale would part his sweet, taut buttocks, find his hole and ram his dick in. He’d push and shove and grunt and fuck until they both came, crying out each other’s names.
Shit.
Dale was getting hard. Why the fuck had he let that image grow in his head?
“Easy, tiger.” Jackson rested his hand on Dale’s shoulder. “You’ll have to wait until we get outta here.”
“Yeah.” Dale’s voice held a tremble. “I know.”
Damn it. His willpower was a pile of horseshit. One look at Jackson’s naked body and he was out of control. Lust had taken over.
But Jackson was right.
What they needed to do was get dried, dressed and ready to saunter out as though they were nothing more than mates heading to the pub for a pint.
Though of course they’d really be heading off for a fuck. A good hard, end-of-the-day fuck that would make Dale’s head nearly explode, his dick erupt and his heart fall even more in love with the man whose axis his world now spun on.
Chapter One
Jenny
Jenny glanced at the office clock. It was time to go. But unlike most staff this didn’t fill her with relief.
Billy expected her at the club by seven, to do the books. She’d spent all day juggling figures, and her eyes had blurred from staring at spreadsheets charting Wainwright and Bramon’s sales. The last thing she needed was to sit in front of a computer for another couple of hours.
But he’d asked her to. Or rather, made her promise to.
So she’d agreed, despite knowing she wouldn’t really be up for it because, well, Billy was her boyfriend. And he needed her. He couldn’t sort out the tax returns for the boxing club he ran. Poor bloke was dyslexic. Seemed he couldn’t add up either.
“Night, Stella,” Jenny called to the CEO’s new personal assistant. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, have a nice evening.” Stella looked up from her laptop and smiled.
Jenny liked Stella, even though they hadn’t known each other long. Stella had an easy way about her, a quick smile and boy, did the woman have class. She looked like she’d walked off some glamorous 1950s movie set. She worked her curves to perfection and oozed sex appeal. She even wore those stockings with seams at the back and the line was always perfectly straight. It was no wonder some of the guys in the office had a crush on her, including, Jenny suspected, one of th
e top dogs, Andre Bramon.
It seemed Stella was a workaholic, though, and only had time for sorting out her bosses’ lives. Perhaps that would change as she got to grips with their busy schedules. Maybe then she’d become part of the team.
Jenny shrugged into a light jacket and scooped up her handbag. Not that she was part of the team, not really. Oh, in office hours, sure. But when it was clocking off time and the gang went to the local pub, she always said no. Not because she didn’t want to, but because there was always something to go and help Billy with.
She headed for the elevator and hit the down button. Not that she minded helping really. The club was thriving, making money. And that was great for the future—for Jenny and Billy’s future. Perhaps when things settled, so would his short temper.
Her feet ached as she headed for the Tube station. Despite having sensible flat shoes, the walk to and from work and trotting around all day made her heels ache. Thoughts of a soak in the bath with a glass of wine sprang to mind. That would be bliss. To come to the end of a working day and it be over.
Her mobile rang just before she got to the station. Hanging back, she tucked up against the wall of a newsagents’ store so she didn’t trip anyone up. It was Billy. “Hello.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ve just left the office.”
“I thought you’d be here by now.”
“I got caught up. There’s lots going on.”
“Lots going on here, too,” he snapped.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“So how long?”
“I don’t know, about twenty minutes.” She glanced up at the sky. The clouds were gathering. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain. “As soon as I can.”
“Okay. Be quick. I’m waiting.”
The line went dead.
Sighing, she tucked the phone away. Billy was a pain in the ass when he was stressed. But that was nothing new, he always had been. They’d been an item since they were fourteen and that was nearly a decade ago. So they knew each other inside out and back to front. They’d been through thick and thin, ups and downs. Admittedly more downs, but that was all about to change, so he’d said. They had several big, lucrative fights coming up. He’d even done a deal with a sports channel, so he said, to televise one of them next year. If so it could be the start of something really big. A money making machine.