Fighter's Heart

Scene 13

Jase

I meet Lena for dinner at a salad bar. She's waiting at a table, sipping from a glass of water when I arrive. Her lips leave a scarlet ring on the rim of the glass and I can't help but think they'd leave a similar mark on my cock. She's in the same outfit she wore earlier, whereas I've showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt—the type that's tight over my shoulders and abs. This isn't a date, but damned if it doesn't feel like one. I can't even remember the last time I sat down for a meal with a woman who wasn't dating one of my brothers. Well, except Sydney, Gabe's best friend, who's a hell of a girl and an honorary member of the team. We all know if any of us so much as looked at Sydney sideways, Gabe would rip our throats out.

Lena, on the other hand, I can look at as much as I please. And fuck yeah, I look. My eyes practically feast on her. She's crazy sexy, and it's been a couple of months since I was with a girl so I'm suffering the effects of the attraction because of my self-induced dry spell. I don't have many superstitions, but having a woman in my bed during a training camp is bad mojo, and that's a fact. Tried and tested.

"Stop eye-fucking me and sit down," she says, with no heat behind the words. "I'm starving. I want to eat."

Sliding into the chair opposite, I give her a slow, lazy grin. "I like a girl with an appetite."

She rolls her eyes. "Do you flirt every time you breathe?"

"Only with you, cutie pie." I don't need to check the menu because this place is one of my regulars. I eat free here three times a week, and in return I wear their logo and talk them up on social media. I gesture around the room. "What do you think? Surprised a meathead like me would choose a salad bar?"

"Not at all." She takes another drink, leaving more of her lipstick on the glass. "I know how well MMA fighters need to eat. My ex was one."

Huh. That takes the wind out of my sails. She looks at me like she expects me to ask about the ex, but frankly, I don't want to know. The thought of her being with another guy leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

"Speaking of exes." She sets the glass down and wipes her lipstick off with a napkin. "I talked to yours."

A lump forms in my throat, my mouth goes dry and I grab her glass and gulp the water, desperately wanting to know how her conversation with Erin went while also dreading the answer with every fiber of my being.

Her forehead furrows with annoyance, and her nose crinkles. "Get your own."

It feels strangely intimate sharing her drink. I have no regrets. "Yours tastes better. Is your lipstick flavored?"

She crosses her arms and glares at me. "It's cherry. Now can I have my water back?"

I shove it over to her, and under her careful watch, pour from the table pitcher into an empty glass. "You were saying?"

She huffs, and it's so cute I want to eat her up. God, I like it when she's flustered, and I like it even more when she gives me lip. Is anything about Lena not appealing?

"As I was saying, I had a chat with Erin." Her cheeks flame, and I wish I could see what's running through her mind. "She's a piece of work. What did you ever see in her?" I start to reply, but she holds a hand up. "Wait, I don't want to know. I can probably guess."

There's that snarkiness again. I wonder what she and Erin discussed. Did they talk about me? Whatever it is, it seems to have ruffled her feathers. I want to ask if she's jealous, because if she were anyone else, I'd think she resented Erin, one female to another, but I don't dare raise the question. At least, not yet.

"And?" I prompt.

"And," she continues dutifully, "I may have misjudged you. I'm sorry for that."

"You... what?" She's apologizing to me? "Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Are you punking me, Lena?"

She scowls. "No. I'm trying to behave like an adult. I seem to revert to teenage levels of maturity around you, but I want to do better. I made a mistake, and I'm not afraid to admit it. You're not the loser I thought you were."

Her admission is music to my ears. I wish I'd recorded it, to replay again and again. I never expected her to be so honest with me. If I'm being real, I thought she was too snooty for that, but perhaps she's not the only one of us guilty of misjudging the other.

"Thank you," I reply, letting her hear my sincerity. There's a time for being a dick and now isn't it. "That means more to me than you know."

"Yeah, well." She shrugs self-consciously. "No one is perfect."

Her lips press together, and fuck, I want to kiss them. The table is narrow, and if I lean across it, I could easily touch my mouth to hers. But if I did, it wouldn't be enough. I'd want to haul her onto my lap and grind myself into her ass. Would she ride me? Let her tongue tangle with mine and kiss me back with all that pent up fire inside her?

"Jase." Her voice is low and cautious. "Stop looking at me like you're hungry, and I'm dinner."

"I am hungry," I confess. "And not just for dinner. You look better than anything on the menu."

She wets her lips, and a breath escapes between them. Her eyes are dark, the blue just a pale ring around her enlarged pupils. Reaching over, I touch her hand, but she snatches it away. A shiver runs through her body, and I harden, imagining how hot it would feel to be inside her.

"You want me, too," I murmur, watching her try to pull herself together.

Her voice is raspy when she says, "We need to focus on work."

Sitting back, I let her change the topic, noticing she hasn't told me I'm wrong.