The Fighter's Defiant Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 4) (5 page)

As the words left her mouth, she heard them and pressed her lips tight, hoping she wasn’t coming across as a slut. She’d never been this forward with a guy, but she’d never felt this comfortable with a guy either.

This was a new life, so why not try and build something here. It helped that every time Dustin walked into the room, she felt her core tighten and her breathing hitch. There was no way she could deny her response to him.

Dustin smiled at her. “You want to learn some moves?” He came around behind her, running his hands down her arms until she stood with his arms overlapping hers. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists. She could feel his erection poking at her ass. Stepping even closer, he pressed his body against hers. He nudged her right knee with his. “This is a kata—a practiced series of moves to teach—”

“I know what a kata is. I’m not a total martial arts dummy.”

He put his mouth against her ear and his breath brushed her skin. “Me teacher, you student. Now be quiet and let me move you.”

Guiding her hands with his, moving her feet and legs, he started into a slow—agonizingly slow—series of moves designed to teach basic defense sweeps. He circled her arms, and turned her, his body pressed so tight against hers she wasn’t quite sure he was aware of her—except for the harsh breath against her neck.

With him naked and her half naked, it was amazingly erotic. She caught glimpses of them in a few of the mirrors in the gym, put up to help teach moves. Flashes of skin and muscle. Heat and dampness pooled in her. Dustin kicked her legs wider, and Jasmine wished she could shimmy out of her yoga pants.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dustin slid his hands up her arms and down her sides. He peeled off the yoga pants, even as he kept her moving. She stepped out of one leg, then the other. She hadn’t worn panties—they left a line. Now she was as bare ass as he was. Dustin pressed closer to her again, still moving her through the kata, slow sweeps of her arms. His chest brushed her back, his erection nudged her ass again.

She caught a breath. “Don’t know how much more of this I can take.” She got the words out and gave a little shimmy with her hips, hoping to encourage him.

“Almost there,” he told her. He swept her around and over to the wall and planted her palms on the painted cinderblock. It seemed cold after the heat of Dustin, but he didn’t leave her. She arched and he ran his hands up her arms and down her back. Kneading her ass, he parted the cheeks.

She tipped her hips back, and he slipped into her from behind. Reaching around, he started to rub her even as he pushed in and out—just as agonizingly slow as he’d moved with the kata. She could feel every inch of him. Sweat popped on her skin. Dustin’s hips rocked him even deeper into her. She spread her legs even wider, and thank God she was tall enough to make this work.

Reaching up with one hand, Dustin palmed her breast. Then he pressed her against the wall. The rough surface teased her nipples and the cold shot an ache through her. She gave a moan.

“That’s it—now you’re working it,” he whispered to her.

The orgasm slammed into her like a blow, wiping out thought, wiping out everything but the sensation of heat and fullness. With a groan she canted her hips even more so he could push deeper. This was what she wanted—needed. She groaned his name and then came again, the world bursting into color and heat and waves of pleasure that left her shaking and sweating.

She could feel him spurting hot into her. He grabbed her hips and pushed even deeper, and Jasmine rode the waves of his orgasm, too.

At last he stilled. Jasmine clung to the wall, her legs wobbly, her skin cooling rapidly. She managed to wet her lips. “Now that’s what I call a workout.”

Dustin wrapped his arms around her. “Shower and food?”

Jasmine smiled. “Sure. Pack on the carbs after a workout. Great idea.”

She could feel his smile against her skin as he kissed her shoulder. “Shower first. My favorite pizza place delivers so we can have it waiting for us when we get home.”

Home.
She smiled when she heard that. But a little jolt went through her. Were they taking this too fast? Dammit, she wasn’t going to worry about that right now.

They showered together, soaping each other up, washing down again, and toweling each other off. Dustin pulled on his street clothes, and Jasmine tried to make her clothes fit again. She ended up leaving her sports bra off—it was smelly anyway from sweating so much in
both
workouts.

Dustin told her to leave her car—he’d drop her off to pick it up tomorrow—and they headed for the house. Jasmine’s cell phone rang and she dug it out of her purse and glanced at the number. Another damn telemarketing call, she decided.

When she didn’t answer the call, Dustin asked, “Aren’t you going to take it?”

She waved a hand. “I’m going to have to get a new number. I keep getting these unidentified calls. Stupid telemarketers. That’s all.”

The phone rang again.

Dustin gave her a sideways glance. “What if it’s important?”

She huffed out a breath and answered the phone. “Is this a wrong number?”

A familiar voice came over the line. “Jasmine? Jasmine, honey?”

“Frankie? How the hell did he get this number?”

“Jasmine, you need to come home. George said he’ll get you your old job back.” Frankie’s voice sounded slurred and vague. Great—he wasn’t just drunk, he was high, too.

“You’ve been pestering George and me! Frankie, did it ever occur to you that I changed my number so you wouldn’t call me. As in ever. Let me spell it out for you. Get lost and stay lost.”

“Baby, you don’t understand—”

“Don’t baby me, you asshole! And I will never understand. This is me proving it.” She disconnected the call and then sat there fuming.

When her cell phone buzzed again, Dustin held out his hand. “Allow me?”

She answered the call, hit the speaker button and held the phone up for Dustin to answer. “Hello? You’ve reached Wantanabe Dry Cleaners. We clean up every spotty trouble. How can I help you?” Jasmine tried to stifle a laugh.

Frankie’s voice came over the line, sounding even more slurred and vague. “Where’s Jasmine?”

“Who? What? You have a stain from Jasmine?”

“Put Jasmine back on the phone or else.”

“Or else you’ll go to another cleaners?”

“You tell Jasmine I’m coming to get her. I have some friends who really need to speak with her.”

“Uh, there’s no Jasmine here. We have a Daisy who works in back. Let me get her for you.” Dustin put on a fake falsetto. “This is Daisy at Wantanabe Cleaners, how can I help you?” The call disconnected. Dustin grinned. “Well, that went well I think.”

Jasmine gave a laugh. “I’m going to have to get a new number.” Dustin grabbed her phone. He started to throw it out the window, but she grabbed it. “That’s got all my numbers in it!”

“We’ll take out the SIM card, and then we’re junking it and getting you a new phone. And…I’m heading up to Seattle tomorrow. I’ve got a fight up there. Why don’t you come with me.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t even have vacation time at my job.”

“Tell them it’s a family emergency—let ‘em know you’ll take it without pay. Mason is coming up, so is Avery.”

She pulled at a loose thread in the hem of her top. “Won’t I be a distraction? I mean, aren’t you supposed to like…I don’t know…focus on the fight?”

Dustin reached over and grabbed her hand. “I’d feel better having you right next to me. After my fight is over, Mason and I will figure out how to get rid of Frankie, once and for all.”

Jasmine shook her head. “He’s not your problem.”

“Like hell. Whatever concerns you, concerns me. And Rachel, and that means Beck, too, and once you pull one Burton into it, you’ve got all of them. And if you think Alice is staying out of it—or Avery—forget it. You’ve got the whole clan in your corner now.”

Jasmine pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “Do you think this is—I don’t know—moving too fast, maybe? I mean, don’t get me wrong. In a way, I envy the way everyone  supports one another. But I’ve…I’ve never had that. My father bailed early, and my mother was always more interested in where her next drink was coming from to care much about family. I had a roof over my head, and food, but all that came at the expense of watching a steady stream of men waltz in and out of my mom’s life.”

“Serial marriages?”

“Pretty much. Don’t get me wrong. She wasn’t—isn’t—a prostitute. But she likes guys and she likes bars, and she’s always looking for her next husband. She also thinks a guy should pay—for everything. I think she’s on husband number seven! I was lucky. I skipped grades with some high-test scores and skipped out of the house soon as I could. I thought about going to college, but I was just so glad to get out on my own and start living my own her life. I got a couple of years of community college in. Then my boyfriend moved to Las Vegas, so I did, too. He left and I was stuck where life was expensive. But I could dance.”

“You still are—dancing around this. Around us. You worried this’ll end up badly?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You want to try to ignore it?” He glanced at her. “It’s not exactly an attraction that’s burning out, now is it?”

Jasmine sat in the car, watching the world go by outside. It wasn’t burning out—she’d just had sex with Dustin and already she wanted to climb back in bed with him and not come out. For a week maybe. But he had a fight coming up, and she had—she had trouble hunting her. She let out a breath. “I’m not sure I could ignore it.” She turned and gave him a smile. “Yeah. I want to see where this thing between us goes as well.”

Dustin lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back. “Let me get through this fight. And then you and I will have plenty of time to see where this might go.”

Jasmine kept smiling. But she was really hoping whatever they had going was not going to end up going into the crapper. She had a bad track record—very bad. And Frankie was just enough of a jerk to screw up her life yet
again
.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Fiiiiight Niiiiiight! We hope you’ve enjoyed the entertainment so far and we are now ready for the main event. The match up will be between Dustin Caldwell from Utah and…”

The announcer’s voice faded away. Jasmine thanked the seat attendant who had just escorted her from the locker rooms to the reserved seating for family and VIPs. She kept her eyes on the large octagon ring, feeling slightly relieved when she saw Mason standing at the ready, waiting for Dustin to enter the arena. The older man with Mason—Tavvy—she’d met earlier last week. He worked for Anders, the older, expert trainer that Dustin and Mason had been working with to get ready for the fight.

She hadn’t seen much of Dustin over the past two weeks—at least during the day. The nights had been sizzling. They’d been sharing a hotel room and Dustin had been inventive about new ways to use room service, feeding her tidbits and eating his own dinner off her skin.

He was on a high-protein diet for the fight, but the seafood around here was so good, Jasmine didn’t mind. For the past two days, however, he’d been up early and back late, and thinking about nothing but the fight.

Avery had flown up and kept Jasmine busy with shopping and sightseeing. Jasmine kept telling Avery she had to watch the budget, but Avery was determined on visiting every baby store in the area and insisted she needed Jasmine’s opinion on choices. Avery had wanted to come to the fight tonight, but she’d worn herself out with a trip down to the wharf and sea front.

Jasmine had a suspicion that while Avery was doing better with the idea that her brother was a fighter, she wasn’t doing that great with watching her brother take damage. Avery had admitted she’d had another brother who’d died during an illegal, underground fight. Jasmine couldn’t imagine how Avery could deal with that.

Hearing the music change, Jasmine glanced around at the crowd. A flare of energy washed the arena. The sounds of a driving rock tune blared across the speakers. She followed the spot light and watched as security guards led the way from the tunnel, making sure they kept the spectators a safe distance away from their charge. Dustin!

He wore a black satin robe with the hood pulled up and he kept his eyes straight ahead. He looked dangerous now—all muscle and hard edges. Tavvy had escorted her from his room several hours earlier, taking her to the trainers lounge to await his fight. He’d explained that Dustin needed to get warmed up and get his mind focused. To do anything less would put him in grave danger of getting seriously hurt.

Dustin was fighting a golden gloves boxer who had decided to try his hand at mixed martial arts. The two fighters were evenly matched as far as weight, height and reach, but Mason had said that Dustin had a large advantage in the ground fighting arena.

She’d overheard Tavvy and Mason advising Dustin to play the stand-up game as long as he was controlling the tempo of the match. When that changed, he needed to get his opponent down on the ground and gain the advantage. She was really hoping Dustin could do that.

She watched as Dustin removed his robe, stopping in front of a referee who spread a thin layer of petroleum jelly over his forehead, his eyelids, and his cheekbones. She knew that was designed to help minimize cuts and splits in his skin during impact.

The other fighter entered the ring and Jasmine heard the crowds’ response to his dancing around. There seemed to be quite a large section of the crowd booing the man, and he hadn’t even fought yet. It was obvious that Dustin was the favorite.

Dustin tapped his groin and showed the referee his taped hands and his mouth guard. The referee gave Dustin the okay sign, and Dustin headed to the stairs that lead into the octagon. He stopped and scanned the stands. His stare met Jasmine’s and he lifted his hand to his mouth and blew her a kiss.

The big screens in the arena captured the move and the crowd went crazy again. Jasmine felt a blush heat her cheeks. She started thinking about leaving to hide when Alice slipped into the stands next to her and whispered, “Hold your head up and straighten your back. You never show weakness. Ever. Even if it stems from embarrassment.”

Jasmine took her advice. When she saw the cameras focus on her again, she smiled and waved at the watching spectators.

“Good girl,” Alice said. “Now sit down and let’s see how your man does.”

“My man? I don’t know if I…if we—”

“Don’t even try to pretend you and Dustin aren’t made for each other.” Alice gave her a look that said she should re-think everything. “He looks at you like you are the last morsel of food on the buffet and he hasn’t eaten in a month!”

Jasmine laughed. “That’s some analogy.”

“Can you deny it?” Alice asked, watching as the referee talked to both fighters about the rules for the fight.

“No.” Jasmine thought about Dustin eating smoked salmon from her breasts. She sighed. She also shifted on her seat. “I can’t.”

Jasmine turned back to the ring as a scantily-clad ring girl walked the edge of it, holding a large sign to announce round one. She exited the ring and closed the gate.

Alice leaned closer and had to raise her voice to be heard over the shouting crowd. “Since this isn’t a title match, there are three rounds, five minutes each. The three judges will score each round individually and then the entire match.”

Jasmine nodded. Her heart rate kicked up and her palms grew damp. She glanced around. The place smelled a little bit of beer and sweat. She wrinkled her nose. Not too different from a casino—just as many flashing lights and just as much noise.

The bell rang, and both men came out, obviously measuring each other as they tracked one another around the space. Dustin’s opponent attacked first, rushing in with his fists flying. Dustin’s roundhouse kick connected with the side of his head. The man fell backwards, shaking his head as he clambered back to his feet. The referee looking on to make sure he was fit to continue the match.

“That is not good,” Alice murmured.

“Why not?” Jasmine asked, watching as Dustin pressed the man, who beat a hasty retreat to keep from being pinned against the cage.

“That guy is fighting like this is still a boxing match. But in this world, feet are their most dangerous weapons. When you stop being wary of them, you find yourself flat on your back, watching the lights above you blur and shake.”

It seemed that Dustin’s opponent was a slow learner, and Jasmine started to worry Dustin was going to hurt the guy. Dustin would hate that—and he’d never forgive himself if something really bad happened. Jasmine clenched her hands on her lap.

Two minutes into the round, the other guy rushed Dustin again, his fists swinging. Dusting sidestepped and used a sweeping movement. The other guy’s feet flew out from under him. Dustin wasted no time, leaping onto his opponent and easily gaining control of his left arm and twisting it painfully while in full extension.

Dustin kept exerting pressure, ignoring the man’s hits against Dustin’s shins and ankles. Twenty seconds later, he finally applied enough pressure the man tapped out. The referee stopped the match, sending Dustin back to his coaches and assisting the other fighter to his feet.

Next to her, Alice screamed, “He won!”

Jasmine felt like she was watching everything in slow motion. She’d been prepared to witness a bloody battle, but neither man was sporting more than a few bruises.

Dustin pulled a black T-shirt over his head and joined the announcer in the center of the ring. His opponent had also grabbed a T-shirt, however, it was only draped over his shoulders. He held one arm at his side, the one Dustin had twisted so hard.

The announcer, a gentleman with gray hair, a gray suit, and a tan that looked like it definitely came from a booth, took both men’s hands. A microphone was lowered before him. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the referee has stopped this fight at a time of three minutes and thirty-five seconds in the first round. The winner, by submission is Duuuuustin Caaaldwell!” He raised Dustin’s hand up above his head and the crowd exploded.

Dustin smiled, hugged his opponent, and hugged both Mason and Tavvy, who’d come into the ring. Photographers and journalist surged into the area. Dustin looked up into the stands, met Jasmine’s stare and winked at her.

The journalists started throwing questions and microphones at Dustin. “Dustin, that was quite a fight for only your second time inside the octagon. Can you share with the fans what your strategy was going into this fight?”

Dustin smiled. Jasmine wondered if he had prepared lines ready. It seemed that he did. “I was hoping my wrestling background would give me the advantage on the ground, and my coaches have really been working with me on my kicking and leg skills.”

“What are your future plans?”

“Right now, I’m going to go get cleaned up and then take a beautiful lady out to dinner to celebrate. I’ve already been contacted about future fights in this circuit if this one went well, so we’ll see. I plan to keep fighting until they give me a shot at the title.”

The crowd loved his answers. They exploded around Jasmine with shouts and yells. And Jasmine realized she was now dating a celebrity, it seemed. The cameras turned to her. Alice smiled and nodded. And Jasmine put her shoulders back. Was she ready for this kind of exposure and scrutiny?