Chapter 9

“What are you doing?” Chrissy asked.

“Getting us ready for bed.”

“But …” She sat up. “I had other things in mind.” Mission Don’t-Sleep-with-Jack was out the window. Plan aborted.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, Chrissy. Trust me when I say that it’s not that I don’t want you. It’s taking all my self-control not to have my way with you right now. But you’ve had a long day. You just divulged a big secret that has been eating at you for eleven years. I don’t want to take advantage.”

She covered his mouth with her palm. “Take advantage. Please,” she begged. “You talk too much sometimes.” She replaced her hand with her lips, slowly, gently kissing him. She noticed he was still, as if scared to touch her. If there was one thing she hated—loathed, actually—it was pity. She didn’t want him to pity her. “Jack, I’m glad I told you. I’ve never told anyone else everything. But I can’t stand you looking at me like that. I need this. I need us. Together. Help me forget, Jack. Touch me, and help me forget.” He groaned. “I can’t stand pity. Don’t make me regret telling you. Please.”

“Pity? Is that what you think I feel? Quite the opposite. I see a strong woman in front of me.” He rubbed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “A loyal, confident, brilliant woman who feels she needs to conquer the world on her own. I feel lust. I feel renewed. But pity? No, definitely not pity.” He twisted his big hand around her hair, pulled her head back. “But I don’t want our first time to be like this. I want to make love to you for hours. Taste you from head to toe, and when you can’t take it anymore, I want to plunge into you. It’s the middle of the night. You’re exhausted and I have a big fight tomorrow. I have to be at the gym in three hours. I’m not rushing this. God, I can’t believe I finally got you on my bed, instead of against a wall or a car, and I’m going to tell you that we can’t make love.” She pouted, and he sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you forget.”

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him quizzically. He pushed her down, and her head hit the pillow. He grabbed both of her thighs and pulled her forward to the edge of the bed, then dropped to his knees.

“Jack?”

“So beautiful.” He ran a finger from her navel down to her slick and wet pussy. He lifted her right leg and planted small kisses behind her knee. Then he made his way up her thigh, kissing, licking, nibbling. She bucked wildly. He placed his large hand on her stomach to keep her still as he worked his mouth closer to her sex.

When he arrived at her mound, he parted her lips and ran a finger up and down her slit. Then he slowly slid a finger inside her and began working his magic fingers. He was rewarded with a loud, incoherent moan. When he realized she was about to climax, he placed his mouth on her. The moment he slid a second finger inside her and sucked, she started to come undone. She was so wild and frenzied, he pulled her closer to him and threw her legs over his shoulders to hold her hips down as the most intense orgasm of her life rippled through her body.

Jack continued kissing her thighs and reached up to caress her stomach and arms, slowly making his way from the floor to the bed. She was pliant.

“Wow. That made me forget everything. Right now I can’t even remember my name.”

He laughed. “I aim to please, Chrissy.” He smiled and placed a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes had not reopened, and she was still halfway down the bed. He lifted her up and placed her head on a pillow, then took off his shirt, leaving only his boxers, and climbed into bed with her and brought her close to him. “Sleep, baby. You’re not alone anymore.”

She mumbled something inaudible, and they were both asleep in seconds.

The next morning, Chrissy woke up to an empty bed. Her body felt pleasantly sated, but her heart stung. She was nervous that she had just too much baggage for Jack to handle and he’d woken up and run for the hills. Thankfully, that thought quickly evaporated when she saw a note and breakfast waiting for her on the dining table when she shuffled downstairs.

She heated up the eggs and ate the fresh fruit and coffee he’d left for her, tossing some eggs to Drogo while she munched away. She couldn’t help the silly grin on her face. Though she wasn’t sure how this all would pan out, she was going to enjoy him. He had been there for her, both physically and emotionally, last night.

By 4:00 p.m. they were walking into an auditorium a few miles away from town together. They went in through a service entrance by the back, where they were met by other fighters and their small entourages in the locker room. Jack picked a quiet corner away from the rest of the fighters to prepare. A few minutes later, Cain, the quiet man she’d met at the bail hearing a few days earlier, came in. Cain gave Chrissy a brief smile before giving Jack a few pointers and telling him he’d be back before the match to tape up Jack’s wrists. Just as quickly as he’d come in, he left the room.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” Chrissy asked Jack.

“Not at all. But he’s a good guy. We’ve trained together for years. My trainer, the owner of WtF Academy, has been having health issues and is retiring soon. He couldn’t come today, so Cain and Slade have been taking over most of the training at the gym. Slade and another guy, Travis, will be here soon.”

“Shouldn’t you have one of them here with you?” Chrissy looked around and saw all the other guys with their trainers.

“I’ve been doing this forever—I’ve got it covered. Cain’ll come back later with the guys. They’re working with a young fighter from the Academy who is on the same card tonight. This is the guy’s pro debut.”

“So just you and me, huh? Should I, like, I don’t know, rub your shoulders, or make you do some jumping jacks, or yell at you for motivation or something?”

For the first time all day, Jack smiled. “You can definitely rub my shoulders, but please don’t yell at me, not for motivation or otherwise.”

“Ha ha.”

“Come, I want to talk to you.” Jack reached for her hand, laced his fingers with hers, and led her to an adjacent room. The room was big but dark and dusty. It had punching bags, a cage, and a boxing ring.

“What is this?”

“It’s just an extra cage and some equipment they bring into the auditorium when there are other fights. If this were a boxing match, they’d bring out the boxing ring. It’s like a storage room.”

“Wow. I’ve never actually been this close to the cage. It’s big. Looks kind of scary. Do they lock you in?”

“Yeah.”

She walked closer and grabbed the chain-link fence around the ring. “Looks scary.”

“Not as scary as I will be if you don’t stay outta trouble tonight.”

Chrissy snapped her head back and looked at Jack. There was no sense of humor in his gaze, only seriousness and intensity. “You’re going to watch me from right outside the cage, okay?” They were not in the same seedy warehouse they’d been in the last time. Outside the storage room they were in was a small auditorium with lights and security. There were women, men, and children. An assortment of judges and state officials sat at a long table, paramedics stood to the side, and several referees were in or around the steel cage.

“Why can’t I just buy a ticket and sit in the stands?” she whined.

“Because I want you where I can keep an eye on you. You get into a lot of trouble when you’re left alone.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Damn it, don’t argue with me. I don’t have time.”

Jack was a conundrum, she thought. There was gentle, loving, attentive Jack. The one who protected her, cared for her, wanted to take his time having sex with her. Then there was Jack the caveman. The one who spoke dirty things to her, the one who fucked her against walls. Scratch that—not fuck, because they hadn’t gotten that far yet, but mauled. The one who mauled her and made her come senselessly against walls. The one who commanded her. The one who dominated her. The one who made her go weak in the knees. She was an intelligent and independent woman, and caveman Jack should repulse her. But herein lay the problem: caveman Jack was her favorite Jack.

She didn’t know when she’d become the subservient damsel in distress, but she loved this side of him. Archaic as it might be, it made her hot. Every time he scolded her or ordered her around, yes, she fought it, pouted, talked back, but secretly she wanted him to rip off her clothes and take her right then and there. And at that moment, with him shirtless and being all authoritative, she secretly pleaded with him to do just that.

What the hell is that all about? Maybe it’s time to see a therapist!

“Fine, Jack Daniels. I’ll stay put.” But her tongue involuntarily darted out of her mouth and moistened her top lip. “And you brought me into this room because …?”

“I knew you’d give me lip.” He inched toward her. “I knew you’d argue or find a way to contradict me.” She swallowed but her mouth was suddenly dry and her heart was pounding.

He groaned and stalked her toward the cage. “Do not provoke me, Chris. I need to focus. I’ve been training for months.”

Is it getting hot or what?

She lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry, Daniels.”

He groaned again. She could see the pulsating vein on his neck and knew that the adrenaline in his body was surging, and not just from the upcoming fight. They were in a darkened storage room, less than an hour before Jack was to fight; the noise from the cheering crowd watching the fight currently taking place was deafening. “Don’t fuck with me, Chrissy.” Oh, please fuck with me, she silently pleaded.

“I’m not,” she lied. She looked up at him innocently. But her breathing was a little ragged, and he could see the swells of her breasts moving up and down as he pushed up against her.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me Daniels. You know you’re trying to fuck with me. Don’t act coy. You are purposely pushing my buttons.” With her back against the cage, he reached down and grabbed her right leg and wrapped it around his hip, his other arm above her, holding the chain-link fence. She whimpered; his erection was so close to her eager sex that had she not been wearing panties, he’d practically be inside her already. “I asked you to dress appropriately. Why would you wear a short skirt? Thank God you’re at least wearing a bra today.”

“Last time I wore jeans, and you didn’t like it. This time I wore a skirt, because it’s hot as hell outside, and it’s not inappropriate. I’m starting to think nothing I wear is appropriate in your mind. What the hell do you want? For me to come naked?”

“Naked? No, Chris. Naked would most certainly be inappropriate. Covered head to toe in a burka was more along the lines of what I was thinking.” Her body slowly began pressing closer to his. His mouth was by her neck and she could feel his warm breath.

Without any fanfare he slid her panties to the side and slipped a finger in her. If this is his idea of punishment, I’ll take it any day! Her eyes hazed over and she almost melted. The crowd continued yelling and cheering while his fingers moved in and out of her. It felt weird, because she wasn’t an exhibitionist, but the roaring crowd a few feet away made it that much more exhilarating. The more noise she heard from the other side of the door, the more aroused she became.

“I told you to stop goading me. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.”

She reached between them and pulled down the waistband of his shorts. His arousal sprang free. If his dick could speak, it would’ve thanked her—it had obviously been suffering in the tight confines of his attire. She grasped it and positioned it against her slickness. At that point she was so turned on she would’ve let him have his way with her in the middle of the auditorium with everyone watching.

“You sure about this, Chrissy? There’s no going back after I put my cock in you. Things will change.” Her back was completely pushed up against the cage and the cold metal rubbed against her back.

“I don’t know what that means, but yes, Jack. Yes. Oh, Jack.” His wet finger was still inside her. Her hand remained on him, moving back and forth with the tip against her wetness, but he wouldn’t let her put him in her. His fingers continued working her. He slipped a second finger inside her while the palm of his hand rubbed against her clitoris. He covered her moans with his mouth. “Jack!”

A deep guttural groan came out of him. “Come for me. Oh my God, Chrissy, sweet, delicious Chrissy …”

She kept pumping him back and forth and they came together in an intense, forget-where-you-are kind of explosion.

After a long moment, when she caught her breath, she slid her leg down and straightened her skirt. He tucked himself back into his shorts. “I can’t believe we just did that.” She put her head against his chest and looked down, mortified.

“I know. I haven’t been jerked off like that since high school. Holy shit, that was good. How am I going to fight now?” He laughed.

“Why didn’t you …”

“Fuck you? Why didn’t I fuck you?”

She nodded.

“If I didn’t fuck you last night in my bed, I’m not going to fuck you in the backroom of an auditorium, against a cage, where someone could’ve walked in on us. I told you, when we finally do get together, I’m going to need the entire night.

“Come on, I’m sure the fight’s almost over, and I think I’m next. Cain’s probably looking for me. The restrooms are just outside the door. I need to clean up a little.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chrissy said.

Jack led her out of the storage room and to the restrooms, where they freshened up and regrouped.

Jack was outside the women’s bathroom when Chrissy stepped out. “Cain’s waiting for me. Come on.”

She nodded and followed behind him. In the locker room, Cain was now talking to Slade and a few other men.

“Whoa! Who’s that?” A lean, slightly familiar blond guy, about the same height as Jack, wearing jeans and a black ribbed tank top and a cowboy hat, turned toward Chrissy. “Howdy, ma’am. You need some help or—”

Jack glared at the man, but before he had a chance to say something Slade interrupted. “Calm those hormones, Texas. This is my sister, Chrissy. Chrissy, this is Travis. He trains with us.”

“ ‘Ma’am’? I’m pretty sure we’re more or less the same age,” Chrissy said with a laugh. “Wait, I know you. You’re Jamie Lynn’s twin brother, aren’t you? You moved to town senior year of high school. We had algebra together.”

“That’s right! How could I forget such a pretty face? And, by the way, a southern gentleman always addresses a lady as ‘ma’am,’ sugar.” He tipped his hat.

“You probably don’t remember her, ’cause she was a nerd who had her head in the books back then.” Slade laughed. Chrissy rolled her eyes. Then Slade turned to Cain. “And this here is Cain. He also—”

“We’ve met,” Cain said in his low voice.

Travis reached for Chrissy’s hand, tilted his hat, and kissed her hand. Chrissy giggled. Jack stiffened. Slade laughed.

“Hey, what’s with the lines on the back of your arm?” Travis asked. Chrissy reached for her arm and felt the marks from the cage, and her cheeks flamed.

Cain gave Chrissy an agitated look before reaching for Jack’s shoulders and pushing him down on a nearby bench. He dragged a chair toward Jack and sat down. He then took Jack’s hands and began taping them up. Chrissy watched the process curiously.

Travis walked over and threw an arm around her shoulder; he held an apple in the other hand and took a bite. “You see, baby? Those hands are deadly.” Oh, boy, do I know about Jack’s hands. “And the taping needs to be nice and tight to protect his wrists and knuckles.”

“Dude, you mind?” Jack snarled at Travis.

Travis looked sideways at Chrissy; his face was just inches from hers. “Yeah, guess it’s not such a good idea to be hitting on Slade’s baby sister.” He took another bite of his apple. “Unless, of course, you want to be hit on.” He winked before removing his arm. She giggled again. His southern charm was disarming.

Slade was saying something to Jack as Cain continued to wrap Jack’s hands. Then he reached for Jack’s shoulders and massaged them a few times as Jack moved his neck from side to side. Chrissy was enthralled by the entire process. When Cain finished, Jack stood, then jumped up and down repeatedly as Slade continued to talk to him. With the noise from the outside and the other fighters in the locker room, Chrissy couldn’t make out exactly what Slade was saying.

“Aren’t you going to get tired with all that jumping up and down?” Chrissy asked.

“He’s warming up,” Slade said. “He can’t go in there cold; he needs to break a sweat. His muscles need to be loose and warmed up.”

“I guess it makes sense. From a medical standpoint, it’s a good idea to stretch and warm up.”

“Yeah, baby. You see, there are certain rules when it comes to fighting,” Travis said. He was standing close to her again, and every time he spoke to her, especially when he called her “baby,” she noticed Jack’s jaw twitch. “You load up on carbs the night before. You drink lots of water and eat healthy the day of the fight, and you avoid sex.”

Chrissy’s cheeks flushed. “And what happens if you break any of those rules?”

Jack had a mischievous grin on his face as Travis answered, “Well, sugar, you could lose the fight. You could throw up, cramp up. Who knows?”

Slade looked at Jack, then Chrissy. “Oh, no. Please don’t say it. Don’t tell me. You ate right before coming here, didn’t you? Fuck, Chrissy, did you bring him a burger with fries or something? Please don’t tell me you gave him soda.”

“No! What? No.” She was flustered—and not a little surprised that her brother was so oblivious that he would think that she’d bring Jack the wrong kind of food instead of having almost-sex with him. But it was probably for the best, she figured.

“Hey, I want her to sit with the guys, okay?” Jack told Slade.

“Yeah, good idea,” Slade replied. “She’s likely to get herself in trouble if we let her loose. I’ll show her where when we walk out.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m standing right here,” Chrissy pointed out sulkily.

“I can watch her.” Travis waggled his eyebrows.

Both Slade and Jack yelled, “No!” at the same time. Cain smiled, which caught Chrissy off guard. The guy had a beautiful smile; he should smile more often, she thought. Travis held out his hands in surrender.

She heard the emcee call “Jack the Ripper” as they made their way out of the locker room area. She snorted. “And you thought Jack Daniels was silly?” she teased him.

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t learn your lesson easily, do you?”

“I’m trying to rile you up so you’re ready to fight.”

“You’re doing a great job.”

Chrissy followed close behind him as he started making his way to the center of the auditorium. Travis, Slade, and Cain followed. When he was close to the cage he heard her mumble, “Who’d have thought I’d love cage sex this much?”

He leaned toward her and whispered into her ear, “Babe, we haven’t even had sex yet. That was foreplay. When we finally have sex, it’ll be on my bed first, then my table, on the floor, and yes, if you want to, against every wall of my house. And trust me, you won’t care if the entire neighborhood hears you scream my name.” He kissed her cheek and nodded to Slade, who took her hand and led her to a row of seats a few feet away from the cage. Jack stepped up to the cage, with Cain following closely behind. They walked up to the referee. She sat down, still shuddering at his words—those sexy dirty words—that had come from his lips. Even that innocent peck on the cheek had made her knees weak and her mind fuzzy.

The rounded chain-link steel cage, raised as if it were an altar, looked menacing. The referee checked Jack’s wrapped hands and gave him the okay; then Slade helped Jack put on his gloves, patted him down, and whispered a few things to him. Finally Jack walked through the chain-link door of the cage, which locked behind him with a loud bang that echoed throughout the auditorium.

Oh, my!

She had been so heady with the storage room romp and the last words Jack had said to her that she hadn’t noticed the huge man in black shorts already standing inside. The man, who Chrissy quickly learned from the crowd’s cheers was named Marcus, jumped up and down while moving his neck side to side. The referee called the fighters to the center of the ring. Both men stalked forward, their eyes locked in a death stare, their chests moving in and out in shallow breaths. Marcus’s blue mouthpiece showed through his snarl, and Jack’s nostrils flared. The two-second stare-down made the men look like savages, and Chrissy couldn’t help but shiver. Then the referee said, “Fight,” and the two men touched gloves and backed away. The fight had begun.

Slade, Cain, and Travis stood close to the ring, in what Chrissy assumed was Jack’s corner. Slade seemed to be in charge, because he was yelling things to Jack. The two men circled each other, neither throwing a punch. It looked like a dance. One would extend his arm as if measuring the length of the throw, then pull back. The other would do the same. All the while they circled the ring, their eyes connected to each other’s. The crowd cheered. Chrissy’s leg bounced up and down, and she was chewing on a fingernail. After what seemed like an eternity but was really only about thirty seconds, Jack’s opponent threw a punch with his right hand. Jack quickly leaned back, ducked down, and threw an uppercut, which landed on his opponent’s ribs. Chrissy knew it had landed perfectly by the cheer of the crowd and the pain in Marcus’s face. But the man recovered quickly, and apparently the punch had angered him because he threw another punch, this time with his right hand, and it connected with Jack’s eye. Chrissy gasped and stood up. The crowd went crazy, and Slade yelled into the cage. In the split second it took Jack to recover from the blow, Marcus charged at Jack, but Jack quickly lifted up his knee, which hit the man in the face. The man fell back, and blood spurted everywhere. Chrissy recoiled in alarm. The referee went to Marcus, who was lying on the floor. Travis, Cain, and Slade were talking among themselves, and then Slade yelled something to Jack, who nodded even though he wasn’t looking at Slade. Marcus got up, his nose bleeding, and the referee stepped aside so that the bout could continue. The moment the referee moved, Jack landed a punch to Marcus’s face and the bell rang.

Just five minutes, and there was blood everywhere. Five minutes was the length of the rounds, and there were three of them. Chrissy felt nauseous. When the men retreated to their respective corners, Slade and Cain went into the cage to tend to Jack. Chrissy ran up to the cage and held on to the fence as she spoke.

“Can I go in? He needs a doctor,” she yelled to her brother.

“This isn’t an ER, Chris. We got this,” Slade said brusquely.

“But—”

“We only have one minute, damn it. Go sit down. Now,” Jack said without looking back at her. She jolted at his tone. His voice, the blood, the violence—the whole thing was bringing back memories she had spent years avoiding. She stepped down but didn’t immediately go back to her seat, instead trying to see what was happening.

Cain applied something to Jack’s face that she deduced was petroleum jelly from the shine and texture. He then pressed an enswell under his eye. The cold metal instrument would help the swelling. It wasn’t the best first aid she’d seen, but it wasn’t bad. Meanwhile, Slade continued to give instructions to Jack while squeezing his biceps and shoulders. The two men left the cage a second before the bell rang again.

Jack was on his toes, seemingly faster and definitely angrier. The same was true for Marcus. It was as if the first round had been a test round, because there was a new resolve on both men’s faces. This time it was Jack who threw the first punch. He missed. It was back and forth for about a minute, neither man landing a punch. Finally Marcus charged Jack. It looked like a rhino charging another rhino. This time Jack hesitated and wasn’t able to connect his knee to Marcus’s face, so Marcus got his arms wrapped around Jack’s body. Marcus lifted Jack in an attempt to throw him to the floor, but with the sweat and blood coating the mat, Marcus’s foot slipped and he fell to one knee, losing his balance. Jack, who seemed to be getting crushed by Marcus’s tight squeeze around his torso, took the opportunity to push back and untangle himself from Marcus, then landed an elbow in the other fighter’s face. Marcus went down flat on his back, and Jack used the walls of the cage as leverage to pin Marcus down and swing his fists left, right, left, right onto Marcus’s gut and face. The crowd roared. Chrissy’s heart raced. Marcus tried to shield his face with his hands, but most of the hits landed and it was a mess of blood and sweat. Jack looked feral; Chrissy had never seen him look more intimidating. The men in Marcus’s corner yelled for him to get up, but as Jack continued to pummel his opponent, the crowd became louder and electric. Then the referee dove in between the two fighters, using his own body as a shield, to stop the fight.

Travis, Cain, and Slade cheered, and Jack pumped his fists up in the air. His eye was swollen, and blood stained his body. Chrissy wasn’t sure whose blood it was, Marcus’s or his own. Marcus remained on the floor as the ringside paramedics examined him. When he finally stood, the man looked deformed. Both eyes were swollen shut, he had cuts and swelling all over his face, and he held an arm around his waist—probably a broken rib, Chrissy thought. When the referee took both men’s wrists and lifted Jack’s arm, indicating a victory by technical knockout, the crowd went crazy, and so did Jack and his small entourage.

Chrissy’s hands shook. The fierce intensity of the fight, coupled with the exuberance Jack displayed, terrified her. She found the chair she was supposed to be sitting in, and collapsed into it, her body and mind unable to process the totality of the event. She had spent years trying to put Brian and the time of abuse out of her mind, and in less than ten minutes it had all resurfaced. She felt physically ill. Jack had won, but she didn’t care.

By the time she looked up, the rest of the guys had left, Cain had wiped off most of the blood on Jack’s face, and Jack had slipped into a black T-shirt with the name of the Academy emblazed on it. He hopped down from the ring, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, he rushed to Chrissy, grabbed her by the waist, and swung her around. She could tell he was pumped full of adrenaline.

“You did great, Jack.”

“Why do you look like someone killed your puppy?” he asked as they walked hand in hand to the locker room so he could shower and change.

“Sorry, it was a little nerve-racking. The cage, the fighting, the blood … the whole thing. Not only are you the town hero because you’re a cop, but you proved tonight you had the biggest dick in Tarpon Springs by beating the shit out of that guy. Good job.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm; it just slipped out. But Jack, still revved up, seemed oblivious.

Seeing him so violent scared her. She’d never thought Brian would hurt her, and yet he’d beaten her to the point of unconsciousness. Clearly she was a terrible judge of character. She wanted to trust Jack, but, seeing him fight had been a mistake. She didn’t want to rain on his parade, though, so she mustered up the biggest, fakest smile she could manage and said, “Go, take a shower. Then we’ll go celebrate.”

As they drove to the Pier, Jack took call after call from his friends congratulating him. She could tell he was over the moon. But her mind kept wandering to how violent that fight had been and how much he’d seemed to enjoy it.

When they got out of his car, she tried to examine his swollen eye, but he just shooed away her concern and then led her inside the bar. He ordered a pitcher of beer and was quickly engulfed by half the town, greeting him with questions and congratulations.

About an hour later, Slade strolled in to join the gathering. Shortly afterward, Jack’s phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call outside. While he was gone, the bartender, a pretty girl Chrissy’s age with short spiked hair that had red and purple streaks, walked over to take Slade’s drink order. But before Chrissy or Slade could say a word, the girl cocked her head and gazed at Chrissy.

“Is that you, Chrissy Martin?”

“Oh, my! Jamie Lynn?”

“Yes. Wow. It’s been ages. I think I haven’t seen you since high school graduation. I heard you were in town.”

“Word really spreads quickly here, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.”

“What a small world. I saw your brother Travis just a little while ago.”

“I’m guessing at the fight,” she stated, and Chrissy nodded. “Hey, Slade. How you doing, sugar?” Jamie Lynn said.

“I’m doing good, JL. Hey, cool tat.” He pointed to an intricate tattoo on her forearm.

“Thanks, Slay. Whatcha drinking?”

“Just water.”

Chrissy looked at him questioningly, but Jamie Lynn said simply, “Sure thing, sugar.” As she worked behind the bar she said to Chrissy, “So, how long you in town for?”

“Just a few days,” Chrissy answered.

“You’ll probably see Travis around. He’s working down the street at the diner for a few weeks.”

“Oh, cool. I was just there a few days ago.”

“You should stop by and say hello to him. I’m sure he’d love to see you again.” She leaned closer to her and whispered, “You know, he always did have a crush on you.”

“Oh … well, that’s flattering. But I won’t be around much longer.”

“Come on, you can certainly take a minute to say hello. That’s innocent enough, right?”

“Uh … yeah. I guess so.”

“Travis is a good guy, but he’s not your type,” Slade interjected as he looked at his watch. He seemed a little tense, which was very unlike him.

Jack walked back in. “That was the chief. It looks like we may be able to get your charges dropped if your girlfriend will testify as to what transpired. Apparently this isn’t Dennis’s first run-in with the law. The chief is tired of covering for him, even if he is the mayor’s nephew,” Jack said, taking a big swig of beer.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Thanks, Jack.” Chrissy gave him a smile.

Slade, however, didn’t look as confident or as happy.

“What’s your problem?” Jack asked.

“They’re back together.” When Jack and Chrissy looked confused, he added, “Dennis and Jessica—they’re back together. I don’t know if she’ll come forward and help me out.”

“Fuck,” Jack and Chrissy both drawled at the same time.

“I’ll talk to her later today,” Slade said. He looked at his watch again, and she could have sworn he gave Jack a significant look. She shook her head; perhaps she’d imagined it. “Actually, maybe I’ll leave now to go find her,” he said.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, or if not, then at your fight. I’m so worried and I’m not condoning it, but I’ll be there,” Chrissy said as she waved goodbye. Slade nodded, glanced at Jack again, and then left. Lost in her own thoughts, Chrissy moved the food around her plate, unable to eat. She listened to the conversation between Jack and some of the other patrons at the bar. “Good left hook … that knee to his midsection was great … broken nose … awesome liver shot …” They went on and on, detailing all the intricacies of the fight. She couldn’t fathom how they could talk about it for so long or so casually.

The car ride back to Jack’s after dinner was relatively quiet. “How’s your wound? Did you get hurt anywhere else?” Chrissy asked.

“I feel great, baby.” He reached for her hand and squeezed. The entire drive back, he caressed the top of her hand with his thumb.

Still feeling uncomfortable about the fight, Chrissy thought she would go to Slade’s instead of Jack’s, but he was so happy, she just couldn’t bring herself to do that to him. She knew it would cause an argument, and she didn’t want to bring him down, nor did she have the energy to argue.

Before the front door had fully closed, Jack already had Chrissy in his arms and was heading toward his bedroom. Drogo must have heard them walk in, because he lazily got up, stretched, yawned, and followed them upstairs.

“No, stay,” Jack snapped at Drogo, but the pup ignored his command and kept walking. Chrissy pointed down at Drogo and repeated exactly the same thing Jack had just said, and he stayed. “Traitor,” Jack whispered, but he soon lost interest in the dog and turned all his attention to Chrissy.

“I finally have you all night and day,” he told her, waggling his eyebrows.

“You don’t work tomorrow?”

“Nope. I have you all day tomorrow. And I also have a bed instead of a wall. Looks like all the stars are finally aligning for us.”

“And your eye? It looks a little better. Does it hurt?” She reached up to touch it.

“I feel completely fine, Chrissy. Stop worrying.”

She smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her mind was all over the place. It didn’t seem like Jack wanted a one-night thing. In truth, she had realized that it had stopped being just about sexual desire a while ago. They had history and a connection that went beyond sex, yet she couldn’t help but think that they were doomed to fail. The problem was that after seeing him tonight, a small part of her was afraid of him—physically afraid of him. It wasn’t the dominating sexual way he spoke to her; she actually really liked that. It was the fighting. She just couldn’t seem to get past that, and she couldn’t help comparing him to Brian. But then he kissed her hungrily, and that sent her mind spinning.

Last night he’d given her the pleasure she needed. He’d helped her forget her past, even if only for the night. Today she would give him what he needed. Her affection. Her body. Help him celebrate his victory. Jack had no idea of all the turmoil going on in her mind at the moment, nor did she want to hurt him by telling him. She closed her eyes and let his magical hands consume her and help her forget. Tomorrow? Tomorrow she would face her fears.

“I lied to you,” he said. His kiss was deep and intense.

“About?” she managed to respond.

“I wanted our first time to be beautiful and meaningful. I wanted to make love to you slowly. But I can’t wait, Chrissy. It feels like it’s been years in the making and I have to be inside you right now.” In less than a minute he was naked. And wow, what a gloriously beautiful man he was. She realized at that moment that turning off the side of her brain that controlled rational thinking and turning on the part that just allowed her to feel was the right decision. Because feeling was good. Very good.

“You’re beautiful.” It slipped from her mouth—probably because of the Off button on the rational side of her brain. She hadn’t meant to say it. Her eyes trailed from his thick neck down his massive chest to his huge and growing erection.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You look like a kid in a candy shop.”

She licked her lips and giggled. He lunged toward her and lifted her to her feet. He was so strong, and he handled her like a rag doll, positioning her how he wanted. She happily obliged. Jack pulled her shirt over her head, undid her bra, and threw it on the mounting pile of clothes on the floor. He unzipped her skirt, and in a flash it was pooled at her ankles. He slid her glasses off her face and carefully placed them on the dresser. He picked her up effortlessly and moved her aside so that the skirt was no longer at her feet. She had to stifle a laugh. Chrissy couldn’t help picturing him pounding on his chest and saying, Me Tarzan, you Jane. He didn’t bother communicating. He didn’t bother giving her a hand to help her out of her skirt. He just carried her and moved her around like she didn’t weigh a thing, and right now he obviously wanted her naked and couldn’t be bothered to ask her to take off her clothes. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she loved it. She’d gladly change her name to Jane, Queen of the Jungle, if it got her closer to the pleasure his hungry eyes were promising. When she stood in front of him completely naked except for the tiniest, almost nonexistent black lace panties, he groaned.

“Fucking stunning.”

To her complete surprise, he used both of his hands and ripped, literally ripped, the material that held her panties together on one side. Then he went to the other hip and did the same thing. She gasped. She’d never seen him so frenzied. Control and authority clung to him, except when she was involved. Chrissy secretly rejoiced that she was able to snap his control.

She was standing in Jack’s room naked. Jack Daniels, her brother’s best friend with the goofy name he hated. The guy next door whom she’d known since she was two years old. The kid who had placed a No Girls Allowed sign on the tree house in his backyard when he was twelve, for the sole purpose of keeping Chris the Priss out. The jackass who had tormented her day and night. The guy who she’d mistakenly thought, for years upon years, had chosen her best friend over her. And there she was: buck-ass naked.

Holy fuck!

For a moment Jack stood looking at her, eyes glazed over with hunger. Silently, looking like a predator, he stepped forward. His fighting and her fears of violent men still nagged at her, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of the sexually-unfulfilled-for-way-too-long part of her brain, for further examination at a later time. A time when this beautiful naked man with the lust-filled eyes was not standing in front of her.

With one of his bare feet he forced her feet apart so that she stood exposed to him with her legs shoulder width apart. The rate of her breathing increased. He took another step closer, fisted her hair, pulled her head back, and landed his mouth on hers for the most erotic kiss of her life. She felt completely helpless. With the other hand, he reached down and began to rub her, while she stood completely naked in the middle of his room.

“Thank God you’re already so wet for me, because I can’t wait much longer.”

Her head was still thrown back, so she couldn’t nod; instead she let out an involuntary whimper. Without breaking the kiss, he walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Roughly he pushed her onto it.

“Are you on the pill, Chrissy?”

God, he was so brazen! No beating around the bush with this man. She nodded.

“I’m clean. I get checked out before every fight.”

“Me too. Well, not before the fight, ’cause I don’t fight. I’ve been checked out because of traveling for work and …” She was rambling nervously.

He laughed in understanding. “Good, because I don’t want any barriers between us.” Without any further hesitation he knelt on the bed and spread her legs apart with his knees as he lay on top of her, his forearms on either side of her head to support his weight. Slowly, ever so slowly, he glided inside her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked. She nodded, and he went even deeper. She moaned. “Still with me?” he asked.

“Jack,” she pleaded.

“What do you want? Tell me.”

She sat up slightly, on her elbows, and looked him in the eyes. “Fuck me right now, Daniels. Right now!”

He groaned again, and in one single movement pulled out and thrust back in, hard. She drew a sharp intake of breath and moaned in pleasure. “Again, Jack. Again.” A tidal wave of pleasure enveloped her.

He grabbed one of her thighs and positioned it above his shoulder, plunging into her again, angling himself perfectly. This time his thrust moved him even deeper. He placed her leg on his shoulder and let go, in order to free up his hand. “Keep your leg here.” Jack reached between their bodies and began rubbing her with his thumb as he thrust in and out. “But don’t come yet, Chrissy. Not yet.”

“Jack! Are you crazy? I can’t stop myself from coming,” she yelled. Her body arched toward him and her head pushed back onto the bed.

One, two, three thrusts.

When her sex tightened around him, Jack slowed down his pace a little, probably trying to delay her impending orgasm, but it was too late. Waves of pleasure rippled through her body as she began to contract deep inside. It sent him over the edge.

“Chrissy …” One last thrust and her toes curled, her heart stopped beating, and pleasure consumed her as Jack stiffened and exploded inside her.