Fighting for Flight (45 page)

A hiss slips from between his teeth as my dress
drops to the floor.
He likes it.

I peek over my shoulder to see him sitting, his eyes
fixed on my bottom.

He stands up and steps into my space, so close I can
feel his heat against my skin. “Turn around.”

I do just that, but step back, out of his reach.

With a slow sweep of his gaze, I’m trembling.

His eyelids drop low and a predatory glint flashes
across his eyes. “Come here, Mrs. Slade.”

My legs burn to obey his every command. But I
withhold. “Uh-uh. You’re going to have to come and get me.”

His eyes lock on mine, fire burning behind their
hazel depths. He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows raised. Yeah,
he likes the challenge.

“You want to be chased.” He steps toward me.

I step back.

Like a shot, he moves, swiping at me with his
powerful arm. Anticipating his move, I wheel around and dash toward
the hallway. Excited giggles bubble up from my chest, flying out on
a squeal. I make it to the hallway entrance before his strong arms
wrap around me from behind.

“Gotcha.” The word is spoken at my ear.

I moan in response. He carries me the few short
steps to our bedroom door. He releases me, and I flip around. His
eyes are dark and hungry. My stomach flips and drops low.

He advances on me, and with every step forward, I
take one back. My legs hit the bed. He closes in. I roll my lips,
eager for his contact. He traces the top of my white corset with a
barely-there touch. My breasts push against the lace, overflowing
at the top. He trails his fingers down the center of each breast
where the dark-skinned tips show through the delicate fabric. He
circles them with slow, agonizing motions.

I part my lips to accommodate my quickened breath.
He cups my breasts, finally giving them the attention they so
desperately need. Bending down, he sucks my nipple into his mouth,
a torturous ecstasy that drops my head back with a moan.

“Jonah.” The urgent plea falls from my lips.

His hands move down the ribbing of my corset to my
hips. He slides his fingers beneath the barely there fabric of my
g-string. My body warms as he loves me with his touch.

Feather-light kisses cover my neck as he slides his
hand into my panties. A moan catches in my throat. My legs
wobble.

“Lie down, baby.” His words are spoken against my
skin, my body obeying his command. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
for him as his fingers push me to the edge of my control.

I lie on the bed. He pulls my panties down to my
knees, but doesn’t take them off. They’re stretched taut between my
bent legs, keeping them from falling wide open.

He works between my legs, my body bending to his
every whim. I need more. I pop my breasts from their lacey
restraint and arch my back, offering them up to him.

His eyes lift and widen. “Greedy little wife.”

I roll my hips against his hand, affirming his
words.

His mouth locks around my nipple. Blood races
through my body, muscles clenching in euphoric satisfaction as I
cry out my release. Weak with satiated bliss, my legs strain to
fall apart. He continues to nip at my breasts.

I grab at his shirt, pulling at the buttons.

“You first.” He rolls me to my side and unlaces the
crisscross ribbon at my back, removing my corset. I kick off my
panties, and he pulls his white dress shirt from his body.

I suck in a breath as my eyes take in the circular
scar at his shoulder. The evidence of his heroism. His bravery worn
like a badge, forever imprinted on his skin, like his tattoos. A
smile tugs at my lips as I study his newest. Right over his heart,
my name in script with beautiful black wings extending from either
side.

“I love you, Jonah.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but instead kneels
between my legs. My knees fall open wide. He moves over me and lies
in the cradle of my legs, the fabric of his dress pants rubbing
against my bare flesh.

He braces his weight above me with his muscled arms.
“I want you off the pill, baby.”

“Huh?” I’m not sure what my face looks like, but it
feels as if it’s gaping.

“I know it’s soon. But, since when do we do things
on a timeline? I want to start our family.” He kisses my neck then
bites me gently. “What do you say?” His mouth continues its
torment.

“Mmm.”

“That a yes or a no, baby?”

A real family. One that we make together. “I’m
ready.” I flex my hips.

With shining eyes and his two glorious dimples, he
gives me a smile that nearly stops my heart. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Without another word, he releases himself from his
pants and in one thrust, buries himself completely. I lock my legs
around his hips, our chests pressed together so tight I can feel
his heart beat against mine. His hands cup my face and I place my
hand on his jaw.

He moves, slow and beautiful, loving me in a gentle
rhythm that brings tears to my eyes. His gaze locks on mine, and
the affection pouring between us threatens to overwhelm me.

I watch the pleasure build. His perfect white teeth
dig into his lower lip. His eyes fight to stay open against the
mounting frenzy. Pleasure coils deep my belly. I arch my back and
dig my feet into the mattress.

I don’t want it to be over too soon. I lock down his
hips with my heels.

He stops and takes a deep breath. “No need to hold
back, baby. We have forever.”

Forever.
The word echoes in my head and I
release him to move.

I’m free. Free to live happily with Jonah. No more
threats to our future. Free to fly.

His pace quickens, and his muscles tighten with each
stroke. I lift my hips, searching for more, deeper, harder.
Passion, trust, and love spiral together until it explodes from my
body, and I cry out his name. He groans into my neck, biting down
on my shoulder and his pace intensifies. With one last thrust, his
body relaxes onto mine.

Our chests heave in unison, the soft moans from the
aftermath of our love-making fill the room.

He slides in and out in lazy strokes. “Sorry our
first time as husband and wife was . . . um . . . fast. I blame the
dress. And the stuff you had on under it.”

I run my hands through his hair, forcing him to look
at me. His shy smile makes him look younger and almost embarrassed.
“We have forever, remember?”

He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. “Yeah.”
His eyes flutter open and he turns to look over his shoulder.

“What?” I lean to the side and look down our joined
bodies to the end of the bed. “I guess someone’s feeling left
out.”

Dog is curled up in a ball at Jonah’s feet. He gives
us a sleepy meow.

Jonah turns back, shaking his head. “I can’t believe
you talked me into bringing that thing home.”

“Jonah. He’s my responsibility. I couldn’t just
leave him to fend for himself like some kind of—”

“Alley cat?”

“Ugh. You know what I mean.” I give Jonah a playful
shove and he rolls off and to my side. His fingers draw invisible
patterns on my stomach. “I’d be sick if I moved away and no one was
there to take care of him. Everyone needs someone.”

“I never thought I’d have anything in common with a
mangy cat.” His lips curl at the edges. “We both need you.” He
moves from my stomach to my forehead to trace my scar. His smile
falls. “I almost lost you.”

“No, never. I would’ve fought. However long it took.
I’d never give up until I was free. You’re my life, Jonah. My
family, my love, my best friend. Nothing, not even destiny, could
keep me from you.”

He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine.
“Okay.”

~The End~

I hope you enjoyed Fighting for Flight. Please take a
moment to leave a review on Smashwords.

The next book in this series will be
Fighting to Forgive
.

Fast and hard, just the way
he likes it. Blake Daniels flies through life the way he burns
through women: on his terms, no regrets
.

His fighting career in full swing, he has no need
for attachments. He knows what he wants, but when a haunting secret
from his past threatens his future, he teeters on the edge of
sanity.

She’s through with men. After the fifteen-year
marriage that never should have happened, Layla Moorehead moves on
to start a new life—one that focuses on making amends for the
irreparable damage she’s caused her sixteen-year old daughter.

Saddled with shadows from their past, their lives
come crashing together in a violent mix of passion and
betrayal.

Is love enough to overcome history?

Or will they be left
Fighting to
Forgive
?

There are so
many people to thank, make sure to look for your name. It’s
probably on here.

To my husband and my girls, thank you for allowing
me the time to write this book with minimal complaints and guilt
trips. You guys are my world. I love you.

To my mom, Gale West, your love and support gave me
the confidence to give writing a try. Thank you for believing in
me.

To Evelyn Johnson, thank you for listening over a
glass of wine as I first voiced my idea. Your excitement for the
story gave it wings. Your companionship while doing my research in
Vegas was invaluable. I’ll be forever grateful for your
encouragement.

Thank you to my family and friends for believing in
me. You know who you are.

To the amazingly talented Elizabeth Reyes, thank you
for taking time out for newbie writer and pointing me in the right
direction. You have a forever-fan in me.

To Jenny Aspinall, and Gitte Doherty. Thank you for
championing my idea to write a MMA romance.

Thank you to Chris Letts who never stopped
encouraging me from start to finish.

To my friend and Las Vegas connection, LeAnne Zinke,
thanks for the inside scoop.

To all my amazing critique partners, Jacki P, Travis
Casey, Hijo, Carroll “Sully” Sullivan, and Kaci Persnell, each one
of you contributed something different and invaluable to this
story. You guys kick serious ass.

Thank you to my amazing critique partners and betas,
Claudia Handel and Nicola Layouni. You girls rock.

To my gorgeous Sister Wives of Writing, thank you
for all the times we stayed up late messaging about anything and
everything, I’ll be forever grateful.

To Cristin “C-Spice” Harber, thank you for never
saying no when I needed a riding partner on the Pity Train. Your
steadfast attitude, constant encouragement, and faithful friendship
kept me sane. You’ve taught me so much about writing, and I’m
honored to have a front row seat as the world of publishing opens
its doors to your talent.

Sharon “Shexy” Cermak, my Sister from Another
Mister, from prologue to epilogue, you’ve been a guiding force. I’m
forever indebted to you for your commitment and support.

To Amanda Simpson at Pixel Mischief, thank you for
book. You have an amazing gift.

A huge thank you to
Theresa Wegand
for her superhuman editing skills—thank
you for saving me from looking like a complete idiot. Your keen eye
and attention to detail is exceptional.

And finally, to you, my readers, thank you for
giving me a shot at storytelling. It truly is a pleasure
unparalleled. I hope you come back for more.

--JB

JB Salsbury
lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband and two kids. She spends
the majority of her day as a domestic engineer. But while she works
through her daily chores, a world of battling alphas, budding
romance, and impossible obstacles claws away at her subconscious,
begging to be released to the page.

Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a
degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background,
writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance
prompted her to sink her free time into novel writing.

Fighting for Flight is her first novel in the MMA
romance series.

For more information on the series or just to say
hello, visit JB on Facebook or Goodreads.

http://www.facebook.com/JbSalsbury?fref=ts

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6888697.Jamie_Salsbury