Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (easy readers TXT) 📕

to Dominick, hunted me down after I hung up on him, and tonight he loved me, mind, body, and soul.

How could I take advantage of his love by allowing him to give up his fight for me? There has to be another way. My mind is slow with fatigue and sexual satisfaction, but I scroll through possible alternatives. Beyond ending my life, which isn’t an option, there’s only one other thing I can do.

“Jonah?”

“Yeah?”

I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. “I could run.”

Silence.

“I could just take off and drive to New York or Florida. I’ll change my name and find a job that pays cash. After a while, you could come visit me. You wouldn’t have to throw your fight. I could even get—”

“No.” His answer isn’t angry, but absolute. “That’s no way to live. We’d have to move every few months, constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“You don’t know that. He might just give up when he can’t find me locally.”

Hooking his hands under my arms, he pulls me up his chest and we’re face to face.

“You think Dominick is the kind of man to let go of something he wants? You know he’d come after you, Raven, for no other reason than he doesn’t like to lose. I want you free from all ties, and throwing the fight is the only way. Money is the only language Dominick understands.”

Hot tears pool in my eyes and cool as they cascade down my face. “I’ll never be able to re-pay you for all you’re giving up for me. I’m afraid that, in time, you’ll resent me.”

“Impossible. The title will always be there. The fight is replaceable. You’re not.”

Closing my eyes, I bury my face in his neck. “I love you.” It’s the only thing I can think of to communicate my appreciation. But it’s not enough.

“I love you too.” He repositions me at his side.

I lean up and give him my lips. It’s in this kiss that two truths penetrate and soak into my soul.

First, Jonah loves me.

And, second, I don’t know what the future will bring, but whatever happens, I won’t be facing it alone.

Eighteen

Raven

I shiver as cool air washes over my back all the way down to my thighs. Surfacing from my deep sleep, I reach for the blanket to ward off the cold when I feel something warm pleasantly teasing my hip. Little by little, the cold is chased away and a tingling heat moves through my body. I blink my eyes open, aware of the slight shifting of the bed and the soft touch that makes its way up my back. Jonah. Like last night, he’s kissing a trail along the path of my tattoo.

Last night! My eyes pop open as impassioned memories tear their way through my sleep. I lost my virginity. A giggle erupts from my throat.

He smiles against my shoulder. “Tickle?” His deep, gravelly voice against my skin raises goose bumps down my arm.

“Mmm, no. Feels good.”

“You’re laughing.”

Shaking my head, I refuse to divulge my schoolgirl thoughts.

“I didn’t think waking up to you in my bed could get any better. But waking up to you, with your hot little body, naked and pressed against mine?” He nibbles and licks at his spot on my neck. “The shit dreams are made of.” Groaning, he pushes himself up to my ear. “I hate to leave you like this, but I have a phone interview. Go back to sleep, baby. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Interview? But it’s still dark out.”

“Mm-hmm.” His face is buried in my neck and his fingers graze my breasts.

I moan and arch my back, pressing into him.

“Fuck.” The word rumbles against my skin. “Don’t move. I want to get right back to this when I’m finished.”

With one last kiss to my shoulder, I feel him get out of bed. I hear him slide on his drawstring pants. “Stupid fucking interview.” He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

One deep, contented sigh later, my eyes drift close.

~*~

Jonah

“This sucks,” I say under my breath as I drop down into my desk chair in my home office.

I check the clock. Five fifteen in the morning. I sip my coffee and curse my publicist for setting up these interviews.

I’m at my desk when I should be wrapped around Raven. My girl’s flawless bare body molded to mine, surrounded by her smell, it was nearly impossible to walk away.

I log into my email and open the one from my publicist. This is the absolute worst part of being a fighter, the publicity shit. Some guys get off on it, but most of us hate it. The radio station interviews are the lesser of the publicity evils. At least I get to do it from home in my flannel pants. If I had my cell I could do this from my bed with Raven in my arms. I shake my head and make a note to get myself a new phone first thing.

Scanning the email, looking for the number, I notice I’m fifteen minutes late. I shrug. Fuck ’em. I made love for the first time in my life to the girl of my dreams. They can wait.

I punch in the number listed on the email. I give the producer my name and wait, my thoughts drifting back to last night. I’ve never had a sexual experience like that. Owen wasn’t fucking around when he said sex was different when you do it with someone you love. And Raven, the girl had zero experience, but damn if she didn’t light up like a fucking Roman candle. Those panties, her moaning, body arching, begging for my attention. I groan and readjust my pants.

And here, I thought I’d lose interest? Once would never be enough—shit, a lifetime would never be enough of Raven. She just gave me a taste of what she has to offer, and I’m famished, completely starving for more.

“To all our radio listeners out there, we have a special treat for you today.” The voice on the phone rips