The Final Fight

by JB Salsbury

  He takes the offered cash and shoves it into his pants pocket. “I know.”

  “Get yourself some food, and get through the night, yeah? Tomorrow’s a new day. Better choices.”

  He nods, and if I’m not mistaken, I think he’s tearing up.

  Brae keeps himself as a barrier between the guy and me, but reaches back to grab my hand and continue into the building.

  Once we’re on the elevator, I nudge him with my shoulder. “That was really sweet.”

  He shrugs. “Anyone would’ve done the same.” He peers down at me. “He out there often?”

  “No. I’ve seen him around but never here.”

  “Good. He’s a smart man to approach when you’re with me. If he ever stops you when you’re alone, or if you see him approach a woman with her kids and without a man around, you call the cops, okay?”

  “You think that’s necessary? He seemed innocent enough.”

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open. “I’m sure he is, but he’s also an addict and has no control over his impulses. If he needs a hit bad enough, he’ll do anything to get one.” He holds out his palm. “Keys.”

  I fish them from my bag and hand them over for him to open the door.

  We step inside, and the second we do, the air between us thickens with anticipation. I drop my bag on the couch and flick on the light, and he drops the keys on the kitchen counter and his duffle on the floor.

  His deep green gaze finds mine, and he tilts his head, studying me. “What do you want, baby?”

  My throat feels so tight I can barely swallow. “You.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Then why aren’t we naked yet?”

  “I thought it would be rude to jump you the second we’re behind a closed door.”

  He frowns and crosses to me, and my pulse picks up speed with every step he draws closer. “Be rude not to.”

  Hooking his fingers under the seam of my shirt, he pulls it up slowly, creating a drag of cotton along my over-sensitized skin. He eyes me in my sports bra and leggings until I grow self-conscious.

  “Not the sexy lingerie you were expecting?”

  He slides the pad of his finger along my collarbone to the strap and down between my barely-there cleavage before changing direction to my nipple, which is pebbled against the spandex. “You’d be sexy in a potato sack, AJ.”

  I arch my back as he cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing across their firm tips. My legs wobble, and I want so badly to lie down and give my body to him fully, allow him the access to explore me in any and every way he can fathom.

  His big hand slides down my ribs to my butt, and he brings our hips together, flexing his ass to grind his hard-on against me. I moan and drop my head back, arching even deeper, offering my breasts to this mouth.

  “Beautiful.” He dips down and sucks the fabric of my bra, using his tongue against his teeth to pinch the sensitive skin. “Love the way you move.” His hand slides up my spine until I’m upright, and he squats to lift me. I wrap my legs around his hips, opening myself to the thickness between his legs, and we both groan at the contact.

  He walks me to my bedroom and falls on top of me onto the bed. His lips cover mine, and his tongue dips into my mouth. He tastes like peppermint gum and lust as I get lost in the power of his kiss.

  We kiss for what seems like forever as we take our time getting reacquainted with each other. Sometime in the slow seduction, we manage to strip down until we’re both naked. I shift over him, and he allows me to push him to his back.

  “Wait.”

  I freeze, but lost in a daze of lust, I blink to focus on his words. “What?”

  “Condom.”

  “Oh!” I slide to the side of his hip as he sits up, twists, and reaches to his jeans. He pulls out a string of condoms and rips one off. “Wow, you came prepared.” I almost laugh, thinking of what his thought process must’ve been for loading a weekend’s supply of condoms into the pocket of his jeans.

  “Did you expect less?” He winks while he rolls the condom on and then flops to his back and motions for me to come closer. “Mount back up, muffin. I liked where you were headed.”

  “If you’re trying to kill the mood, keep calling me muffin.” I straddle his hips again, feeling the cold latex between my legs and missing the heat of his body.

  “You’re lying.” He grips my thighs and rolls his hips. “I know what your body loves even if you deny it . . . muffin.”

  A delicious shiver slides up my spine.

  He grins. “See.”

  “Shut up.” I lean forward and kiss him as he enters me slowly. I move over him at an unhurried pace as if we have all the time in the world. And even though we’ve only spent a handful of nights together, it somehow feels like I’ve always known him. He touches me with the surety of a man who knows exactly how I like to be touched. My heart swells every time our gazes lock together to the point where I feel as if it will burst.

  And even when we’re both close, when the desire to pump furiously against each other and chase down our orgasms ripples beneath the surface, we hold off and allow the sensations to wash over us.

  The sound of our mutual release is the most erotic symphony as we gasp and groan and fall limply into each other’s arms.

  “Oh fuck.” He has his hands on my ass and squeezes so hard I yelp. “That’s punishment for almost killing me.”

  “That felt good. If that’s my punishment, I’ll do it again.” The skin at his neck and chest is tacky with the exertion it took to hold back, and I lick the saltiness from his throat. “You taste so good.”

  “Shit.” He flexes his hips. “I’m a dead man.”

  I roll off him and he stands up to throw away the condom. I hear the sink run, and then he saunters back in. We never did turn on the light, but the glow from a flickering streetlamp, along with the moon, shines on his gloriously built body. He doesn’t try to cover up his nudity, but stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at me.

  “You work up an appetite?”

  My eyes drop to his dick and I lick my lips.

  “AJ . . .” He cups his junk. “Eyes up here.”

  “Come here, Braeden.”

  “No.” I don’t miss the way his knee jerks as if he’s having to force his legs to stay put. “I’m gonna make you some food, woman. You stay here because, if we’re in the same room together, you’ll never eat.”

  “Oh, I’ll eat—”

  “Aaat!” He holds up his hand and squeezes his eyes closed. “No, none of that talk.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “Stop!” He covers his ears. “La-la-la, I can’t hear you.”

  I laugh. “What did I say—?”

  “La-la. you said, ‘come.’ La-la . . .”

  “Okay, okay.” I pull the comforter up over my naked body. “I’ll be good.”

  “Thank you.” He keeps his eyes closed as he searches out his jeans and puts them on, nearly falling over twice.”

  “You can open your eyes.”

  “Nope. I can’t look at you or I’ll never make it—ow!” He slams into the wall. “Motherfuck!”

  There’s pounding from downstairs. “Be quiet!!”

  “How the hell did they hear that?” he mumbles while heading out into the kitchen.

  I curl onto my side, shoving a pillow under my head as I watch Braeden move around my kitchen in nothing but a pair of well-worn jeans.

  “Breakfast okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean it’s almost midnight, but we are in Vegas, so . . .”

  He pulls out eggs and some other stuff, but I lose track as I’m mesmerized by the way his bare torso moves as he reaches in and grabs various items from my fridge.

  “How was the show tonight?” When he heads to the stove, I lose sight of him.

  “Great, actually. I’m feeling really confident on the silks now.”

  He leans back to catch my eyes through the doorway. “I’d love to see you. Any chance I can get tickets for this weekend?�
��

  Disappointment swallows my chest. “We’re sold out all weekend.”

  “Next time.” He winks, and it’s as if all the wrongs in the world have been righted.

  “Yeah, I mean, if you’ll ever give me some notice that you’re coming, I’d get you a ticket.”

  “I’m sorry about just showing up. I’ll try to plan it out better next time.”

  “Any idea when that will be?”

  He’s silent.

  Did he not hear me?

  I sit up in bed. “Brae?”

  He clears his throat. “Yeah, I have an idea.”

  “Oh, okay . . . good.” I drop back down, not feeling totally at ease with his response.

  The rest of his cooking time passes with nothing more than the sound of utensils in a pan and then a plate. Finally, I hear the slide of the silverware drawer. Then his big body is filling the doorway and headed to me in bed.

  “Sit up.”

  I prop myself against the headboard, the smell of buttery pancakes making my mouth water. The room is still dark, but with the added light from the kitchen through the open door, I can see he has a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. He sets the glass on the bedside table and slides onto the bed next to me, staying above the covers. He places the plate on my lap.

  “Pancakes and syrup.” He nods to the plate. “Enjoy.”

  The fluffy stack looks like something from a Denny’s commercial, each identical in size and dripping with sticky sweet syrup.

  “Brae, this is beautiful.” I peek over at him to see him shrug. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal! I mean it’s just . . .” I blow away a long strand of hair that fell into my face. “First, all those meals, which were delicious by the way, and now this.”

  “It’s not rocket science. I just paid attention when my mom cooked, and then when I was on my own, it’s not like anyone was going to cook for me, so I figured it out.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  He scowls playfully. “Why isn’t it fair?”

  I shove a forkful of pancake into my mouth and, oh my gawd, so good. They’re like clouds that melt on my tongue. “Oh . . . wow.” I chew and swallow. “Please tell me there’s something wrong with you. I can’t stand the idea of being with a guy who is this perfect. Every woman on earth is going to want you for hers, and if I turn my back for a second, you’re gonna get snatched up!”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Well . . . I can’t deny that.”

  I backhand his bicep. “Don’t be afraid of modesty. It won’t bite.”

  We share breakfast until the plate is clean, and then slide down into bed together. His arms cocoon me to his body, and with nothing but the occasional noise from outside, I start to drift.

  I jerk awake.

  “It’s okay, babe. Sleep.”

  “But you’re only here for another night, and I don’t want to spend it sleeping—” My words dissolve on a yawn.

  “Shhh . . . sleep. I’m beat too. Besides, we’re gonna need some rest for what I have planned for tomorrow.”

  I feel myself smile, not only on the outside but in my chest too, and on that, I fall to sleep in Braeden’s arms.

  Eleven

  Braeden

  It’s still dark when I wake up in AJ’s bed alone.

  I rub my eyes and blink, trying to figure out where she might have gone when I hear her soft voice from the other side of her closed bedroom door. There aren’t any other voices coming through, so she must be on the phone. I snag my phone off the bedside table and check the time.

  Five thirty a.m.

  Yawning, I suck in the sweet scent of jasmine. AJ . . . the girl is something else. The more I’m around her, the harder it is to leave. And even now, knowing she’s just on the other side of that door, it takes all my strength not to go out there just so I can rub up against her like a cat.

  I stretch, roll my neck around, and slip on my jeans before the demand on my bladder is too much and I have to step out of the room and hit the john.

  Opening the bedroom door, I see her on the couch, her legs tucked up underneath her, and fuck me . . . she’s wearing my shirt.

  She has the phone pressed to her ear, smiles at me, then waves and points to the phone as if I can’t clearly see she’s on it. Then she frowns. “Mom, that’s horrible. I’m sorry.”

  Shit, her Mom?

  That’s my cue to disappear. I tuck into the bathroom, take a piss, brush my teeth, and when I’m about to leave, I listen but don’t hear her voice, so assume she’s done.

  When I walk out, I realize I’m wrong.

  AJ’s chin is to her chest, and she has her hand on her forehead, the phone still pressed to her ear. And shit, is she crying?

  “No, I’m not crying.”

  I step closer, realizing whoever she’s talking to is drawing the same conclusion. A part of me knows I’m interfering in a private situation. We haven’t known each other long, and we never really talked about her family, but I drop onto the couch next to her anyway.

  She startles and peeks up at me, and although she wasn’t lying—she’s not crying—she looks like she wants to. “I know you do, Mom. I don’t care. I’m still going to.” She sighs as if the conversation is sapping her of energy. “Okay, have a good day at work, and please, Mom, don’t worry. I love you.” She hits End and tosses her cell to the coffee table. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “My parents called me last night, but I never got back to them. They work early, so I needed to catch them before they left.”

  “No need to explain.”

  She seems a little relieved and nods. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Great.” I put a hand on her thigh. “Hey, I know it’s not my business, but you seem upset.”

  She drops her attempt to be strong, and her lower lip quivers. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  Her eyes slide to the side as if something on the wall will help her keep the tears from falling. “My dad lost his job.” Her voice cracks. “My parents have worked so hard their entire lives, and they barely get by as it is . . .”

  She trails off, not needing to finish the rest because what she’s given me is enough.

  The people she loves most in the world are hurting for money.

  And judging by AJ’s digs, she’s in no position to float them financially. That’s got to sting.

  “It’s okay.” She blows out a breath. “He got let go, but his boss said he’d give him a good recommendation. My dad is a great landscaper, and he’s worked at the same hotel for over thirty years. He’ll find something.”

  “What does your mom do?”

  “She’s in housekeeping. She manages the morning crew at this Mom ’n Pop hotel in Dallas. That’s where they met.”

  I rub her leg, hoping my touch soothes her a little. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright. I’m making a little more money now, and there are a few areas I think I can cut back on, so I’ll be able to help them out.” Her eyes slide to the lamp over my shoulder, and I wonder if she’s considering cutting her electricity to help her parents.

  Fuck, I make decent money, could help her with cash, but something tells me even offering would be an insult to my hard-working girl. Besides, we’ve hung out only a handful of times. We’re hardly to the place where I start paying her damn bills.

  I hate problems I can’t fix.

  Obstacles I can’t get over.

  So, to avoid the failure I feel settling in my chest, I shoot for a diversion.

  “What time do you work today?”

  “I have to be there at two.” She runs her teeth along her lower lip but not in a sexy way, in an overthinking way.

  “I had an idea for today—”

  “Maybe I can pick up a shift at the bar—”

  “Oh, I mean, unless you need to work
.” My teeth grind together at the idea of losing AJ all weekend, but I’m not that much of a dick to bring it up.

  Her eyes scrunch up. “No, you’re right. I’ll work after you leave. I have until tomorrow with you, and I want to soak up every minute.” She grabs my hand between hers and pulls it into her lap. “So, what’s your plan?”

  “Well, I figure you’re not afraid of heights.”

  “No.”

  “So how about we go out to Bootleg Canyon for some zip-lining?”

  “Really? That would be fun. I’ve never been.”

  “It’s supposed to be pretty cool, but I have to warn you heights and I don’t play well together.”

  “You’re afraid of heights?” Her expression says she’s skeptical, but if she were to feel my pulse right now, she’d see I’m not messing around.

  “Would I lose badass dude points if I said, ‘kinda?’”

  “No.” She laughs, and I feel like a giant having been the one to make her do it after the heavy mood she was in just a few seconds ago. “I think it’s cute.”

  “Cute?” I scrunch up my nose. “That can’t be good.”

  “Why zip-lining if you’re afraid of heights, though?”

  I shrug. “Because I thought you’d like it, and it’ll get us out of the city. The weather’s perfect—”

  She leans in and presses a kiss to my jaw. “You’re perfect.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Oh my God, you’re horrible!”

  I purse my lips. “If by horrible you mean awesome, then yeah, I agree.”

  “What will you do when I go to work?”

  “I have plans with my brother, but I’ll meet you after the show.”

  She hops up and pads to the kitchen with bare feet, bare legs, and my T-shirt hanging down below her knees. Whether she looks better in my shirt or bare-ass naked, I can’t decide. Both have the same effect on my body, the really good kind.

  She opens a drawer, comes back, and hands me a key. “Take this and wait for me here.”

  I palm the silver key with something growing in my chest that feels a lot like honor. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’d rather you wait for me here. You can watch TV—although I don’t have cable—or nap, whatever.”