Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance (68 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Fenton

I
woke up when the melted ice slipped off my ribs and hit the floor. The bruise
was survivable and I was annoyed I had let myself give in to it even for a
minute. Maybe Kya had slipped me a sleeping pill along with the aspirin. It had
nothing to do with the relief I felt at seeing her safe back in her hotel room.

The crazy girl had showed
up at a bare-knuckle boxing match to tell me she had followed the criminals
blackmailing me. I sat up and shook my head. No wonder I could not relax until
she was behind locked doors. I could imagine her following the two thugs into
the boxing match. She must have stuck out like real gold in a sea of
rhinestones.

I got up and went towards
the master bedroom. Our whole conversation had been foggy, but I remembered her
saying one thing – it was me, not my business, she was interested in. The
thought smoldered, and I had to hear her say it again. I needed her lips on
mine.

The room was dark, but it
was easy to see the snow-white duvet was undisturbed. I forgot about my stiff
muscles and marched through the entire suite. Kya was gone.

I rushed back out to the
living room and stopped cold. The white card from my private gym was gone. A
smile cracked my split lip, but I grimaced more at Kya than the pain. She did
not know that I wanted her safe more than I wanted my stuff. I worried that I
had missed a call from my sister, but Dana Maria was tough – tougher than me.
And, she had not accidentally flirted with the very criminals set on making me
lose my next fight.

I racked my brain for the
private gym's address and told the first cabbie I could find. He drove me there
without a word. The concierge frowned at my appearance, but recognized me and
let me in without hesitation.

"Was a woman here?
About 5'5", coppery hair," I swept my hands over the curved outline
of Kya's body.

"Yes. About a half
an hour ago. She collected your things and left. She had your card. I thought
you sent her. I'm so sorry, Mr. Morris," the concierge said.

"No, don't worry.
You did the right thing. It's just she hasn't come back yet. Did you see her
get in a cab?" I asked. Rising panic throttled my throat.

"I would have called
her a cab, sir. She left before I could. Then, her friends picked her up."

"Her friends?"
I asked. I lunged across the white desk and caught the already redfaced
concierge by the collar. "What friends?"

"In a black town
car. I don't know. A man in a suit and his driver. Some tall guy in black pants
and a black shirt," he choked out.

"She went with them
willingly?" I asked.

"I couldn't tell,
sir. Wait, do you think they took her? I stood here and watched her get
kidnapped?" Tears sprung to his eyes, and I realized the concierge was
just a young man, maybe not even twenty-two.

"It's fine, you're
fine. Don't say a word." I released him and he crumpled onto the desk.
"You hear me? Everything is fine and you are not going to say a
word."

"But, sir…"

"I'm serious. I know
where she is, and you can bet your ass I'm going to get her back," I said.

I turned to the door and
swore. My cab had left.

"Take my car,"
the young man said. "Black Mustang out back. Looks like junk, but she
drives fast."

I grabbed the car keys he
held up and raced out the back door. The black Mustang roared to life and I
tore through the back streets of Vegas. I turned the lights off and coasted
along when I reached the other boxing gym. I was sure the owner knew the men
trying to fix my fight. If he didn't know where they took Kya, the least he
would know was how to contact them. I parked the car out of sight and rolled up
my sleeves as I marched to the door.

The gym owner had the
misfortune of walking out right as I charged in. I grabbed him by his
shirtfront and slammed him against the plate glass window.

"Where is she? What
have they done to her?" I asked.

"Nothing, I don't know.
I mean, they won't do anything to her. She's leverage, right? If you lose the
fight like they ask, then she'll be fine." He held up both hands and I saw
them tremble.

I let go of his shirt
with one hand, intended to pound more information out of him, but my phone
rang. "Hello?"

"Mr. Morris, I don't
think I've ever formally introduced myself. My name is Mr. Winchester."

I recognized the sly
voice of the man in the suit. "What have you done with Kya? I better hear
her voice in the next ten seconds," I said.

"Fenton? I'm sorry.
I was just trying to do something nice for you, get your phone," Kya said.

"Did they hurt you?
Where are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine, I'll be
fine. Just stay away. Win your fight. They're not going to do anything to
me," she said.

I clenched my fist and
punched a hole in the wall near the terrified gym owner's head. "I can't
let anything happen to you."

"Then, lose the
fight, Mr. Morris. It is as simple as that," Mr. Winchester said. The line
went dead.

I turned back to the gym
owner and his eyes rolled back as I tightened my grip on his shirt. "Where
are they?"

"I don't know. I
don't know what's going on," he whimpered.

Realization swept over
me, and the alarmed ringing in my ears stopped. "Yes, you do. You knew
they took her. I did not even have to explain what I meant. You knew they took
her and planned to hold her for leverage. Tell me where they are and I won't
flatten your skull."

"I don't know. I
don't want anything to do with them. They've got leverage over me, too, man.
They know where my kids go to school."

I watched his eyes and
saw them dart back and forth between me and a scuffed door near the back of the
gym. I dropped him and headed towards the door. I kept my steps light. When I
cracked open the door and saw the staircase leading down, it confirmed what I
thought– there was a basement and somewhere down there, they were holding Kya.

One look was all it took
to silence the gym owner. He nodded and went to the door, opened it and closed
it. From downstairs it would sound as if I had left. He then shuffled back to
his office, slammed the door, and locked it.

I took the steps one at a
time. Easing my weight onto each one stopped them from creaking. Downstairs, I
could hear voices.

"This is not what I
signed up for."

"Stop complaining,
Toby. You can have the girl if the fighter doesn't lose."

"Don't be
disgusting, Winchester."

"Oh, come on, you
were so happy when she hit on you at the bar. Doesn't it bother you she just
did it to make Fenton Morris jealous?"

I saw Winchester's shiny
suit. The tall man in black, Toby, leaned on the far wall with his chiseled
arms crossed. Kya sat on a stack of gym mats, her wrists tied together, a
bandana tied into her mouth.

"She was just using
you," Winchester continued. "And, that's all we're doing. The fighter
loses, we collect a fortune on the spread, and she goes free."

"And, what happens
if she goes straight for the police?" Toby asked. "I didn't sign up
to do time for kidnapping."

I ducked as Toby's brown
eyes swept up the stairs near where I crouched. He stood up and faced his boss.
"I'm thinking I should just walk out of here right now."

"Don't be stupid. I
mean, you are stupid, but try a little harder. I know you're not a kidnapper
and you've got a soft spot for the pretty lady there. If you take a step up
those stairs, I can't promise I won't get to know her a lot better."

Bile rose up in my
throat. I was going to kill Winchester. Across the room, Toby felt the same,
but did not move. The two men faced off. Behind them, I saw Kya slip out of her
restraints. She leapt down from the stack of gym mats and ran for the stairs.

As Toby swept her up in
his arms, I took my chance. I lunged out from the stairs and clocked Winchester
hard as he turned towards me. His expression of anger turned into a snarl.

"Fenton, no! He's
got a gun!" Kya struggled hard against Toby. He swung her out of the way
and kept her safe as Winchester took aim at me.

"Tie her up again,
Toby. Get over here and help me. Our friend needs a little more
convincing," Winchester instructed.

Toby did not move. When
Winchester glanced at him, I pounced. One hard kick to his hand dropped the gun
to the ground. My momentum carried through and brought a lethal punch to his
jaw. He dropped to the cement floor and laid still.

Toby picked up the gun
and tucked it in his belt. Then, he let Kya go.

"Thank you,"
she said to him.

She ran to me and jumped
into my arms. I refused to let her go and carried her upstairs. Even as I drove
the Mustang back, I could not let go of her hand.

The early morning light
was gray and the Tropicana strangely deserted. We walked in the front doors and
into an elevator without seeing another soul. Neither of us said a word until
the suite door locked behind us.

"I was just trying
to do you a favor. I'm so sorry," Kya said.

I stopped her with a kiss
and my lips did not stop there. I devoured her, starving for her against me. We
stumbled across the living room. She wrapped her arms around my neck, opened
her mouth to my plunging kisses, and we did not make it farther than the floor
in front of fireplace.

I lowered her gently to
the ground, our lips never parting. She tangled her hands in my hair and arched
against me, as though needing to be as close as possible. Her dress slipped up
her body and over her head. I ripped off my sweatshirt and shirt. Coming back
against her bare skin ignited my whole body.

She whispered into my
kisses, her lips wet against me, "I just want you, Fenton. Please."

I lowered myself into
her, the wet, tight heat of her pulling all the air out of my lungs. I panted
against the slope of her neck, buried deep in the incredible sweetness of her.
Then, she wrapped her legs around my waist and started a rhythm against me that
I had to answer. Our lips found each other again and we caught each other's
cries of pleasure as our bodies crested. I poured into Kya, falling deeper into
her than I ever thought possible.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kya

Shocked
by Fenton's lips against mine, I pushed my hands up over the hard ridges of his
chest. The taut friction of his muscles under my fingertips parted my lips in
awe. He took opportunity of the opening to plunge deeper into the kiss. I slid
my hands up and gripped the hard ridge of his shoulders as his hands slid
around my back and locked me against him. Every chiseled contour of his body
fit my curves and I melted against him.

Fenton kissed me with an
insatiable hunger. I was starved for his lips on mine, our bodies shifting and
fitting closer together. All of the threats and the terror were nothing
compared to being apart from him. I curled my body closer and opened myself
further to his devouring kisses.

His hands pressed my
shoulders to his chest then slid down to the curve of my back. I arched against
him as he leaned to taste more from my moaning lips. When his wide hands pulled
me up against him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. Fenton strode
across the living room, his lips so intent on mine that my head spun. I was
glad for the solid strength of him, the locked muscles of his arms wrapping me
close. Too dizzy to know anything but him, I wrapped my legs around his hips.

Fenton moaned as I
pressed close to him. He moved his hands down farther, one iron arm supporting
me while his other hand caressed the bottom of my thigh. The trace of his fingers
left a shiver of electricity that lit up my senses. The jolt of it rocked me
against him and his kisses slowed as his breath grew heavy.

I opened my eyes as he
lowered me to the soft rug in front of the fireplace. His eyes burned like blue
flames as he gently cradled my head and settled on top of me. Then, his eyes
dropped back to my lips and he groaned, still hungering for more. I tangled my
hands in his black hair, answering every twist and taste with my own cries of
pleasure.

My dress had already
fallen up to my waist, but I tugged to bring it higher. Fenton's hands followed
and slipped underneath the hem, pushing back the light fabric as he explored
higher to the curve of my hip. His hands against my bare skin ignited my whole
body.

"Please, Fenton, I
want you. Just you," I whispered through wet kisses. I tugged his shirt up
and over his head before our lips found each other again.

He answered by rearing
back onto his knees and pulling me up against him. His hands swept up the sides
of my body under my dress and pulled it off over my head in one easy sweep. As
I fumbled with his belt and buttons, he unclasped my bra. He caught my breasts
in eager hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples in a sheer caress that
caused a lightning flash of desire.

I lie back on the lush
rug and let him trail kisses down my leg as he tugged my panties free. Fenton
then pulled himself up over me, the virile ridges of his muscles skimming my
curves. I opened myself to him, pulling him down for a kiss. When he lowered
himself into my wet, tight heat, the air flooded out of his lungs in one long
guttural groan. He panted against the slope of my neck, buried deep.

One shift from him and I
cried out at how he pressed so perfectly into the throbbing center of my
pleasure, spurring me to wrap my legs around his waist and start a rhythm he
had to answer. His breath was still ragged as his lips sought mine again. I
smiled against his sweet kisses and he caught my cries of pleasure as our
bodies crested together. He poured into me, touching me deeper than I knew as
possible.

When we could breathe
again, Fenton sighed. "Why did you go after those men? I need you safe. I
need you right here."

I ran my fingers through
his hair and down the strong stretch of his back. He rolled on his side and
tucked me against him, his eyes still questioning me.

"I didn't think
about being safe," I said. "I'm not used to having other people worry
about me."

"What about your
parents? I imagine the Allens would not approve of their daughter chasing thugs
across Las Vegas," he said. He cradled my head in the crook of his arm and
combed my hair out across the rug.

"I've been on my own
since I was eighteen. They died just before I went to college," I told
him.

Fenton stopped his caresses
and leaned down to kiss me. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"I'm just used to
taking care of myself," I said. "How about you? Does the Morris
family keep close tabs on you? Or do you call every Sunday like the dutiful
son."

He chuckled as he reached
for his pants and got up. "Speaking of Sundays, I could eat an entire
Sunday dinner right about now. Do you suppose the kitchen is stocked in this
place?"

I sat up and shielded
myself behind the sofa. He was opening and closing cabinets, comfortable in his
state of half-dress. I skipped the bra and settled for tugging my dress back
over my head. I still felt the shockwaves of my orgasm as I tugged on my
panties and joined him in the kitchen.

"You look like you
could use a drink," he said with a wink. He pulled out a bottle of
champagne and a pitcher of fresh orange juice. "Looks like that chef left
you fully stocked, even though he disapproved of the company you keep."

"I don't mind your
company – if you can do something good with those eggs. I'm starving," I
said.

 
Fenton laughed and handed me a mimosa.
"Lucky for both of us, I make a mean omelet."

I leaned on the counter
and the neckline of my dress dropped open. His eyes tripped over me and his
breath caught. I felt my cheeks get hot, and I stood up and laughed. After what
we had just done not twenty feet away, it was ridiculous to still feel shy.

"I like this new
look on you, Ms. Allen," he said. "It might suit you more than the
whole buttoned-up thing you've been working."

I ruffled my hair and
shot him a look, happy when he fumbled the spatula he was holding. "I
don't know, this time last year, I was in Palm Springs at a golf tournament.
Five star everything without the gambling. Not too shabby."

"Did you have any
fun?"

"No," I slid
onto a stool to watch him cook. "My job was to secure another five-year
contract with a long-time client. All he wanted was a steak dinner. It was
three days of sweltering temperatures outside and long conversations about
golf."

"I think Vegas is
agreeing with you more than you'd like to admit," Fenton said.

I rolled my eyes.
"In Vegas, I've been a half-inch away from a disaster the entire
time."

He slipped a perfect
omelet onto a plate and slid it towards me. "Only if you count getting
blackout drunk at a nightclub party, waking up in a strange man's bed,
upgrading yourself to a high-roller's suite, and then following a pair of
gangsters that turn around and kidnap you."

I took a bite of the
omelet and almost forgave Fenton for the twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes.
"Don't forget, I also picked up your duffel bag for you."

"After you crashed a
bare-knuckles underground fight."

"I think you mean
'thank you,'" I tipped my head and gave him a pointed look.

He laughed again, an
eruption of sound that made my stomach flutter. "You're right. Thank
you."

He finished his breakfast
in big bites and went to the door to retrieve the black duffel bag. I tried not
to watch as he fished out his phone and scrolled through the messages. One he
read made him pause and then he quickly texted a response.

I swiveled on my stool,
uncrossing and crossing my legs in his eye line. "Don't tell me those
other agents contacted you. I'm fine if you and I are not doing business, but I
am very competitive woman."

Fenton crooked a black
eyebrow at me. "How competitive?"

"Very," I said.
I slipped off the stool and walked barefoot to him. When I drew near, he looked
down and noticed my nipples pushing hard against the thin fabric of my dress. I
nodded and raised myself on my tiptoes so we were on eye level. "What if I
want you all to myself?"

"Yes, please,"
he said.

His hands slipped around
my waist, but I pulled my lips back from his hot mouth. "Just you and just
me," I said.

He did not answer.
Instead, he gave me a wolfish grin and tightened his arms around my waist. I
could not resist and our lips met, the kiss melting away my resistance. I ran
my hands up the washboard ridges of his bare stomach, my fingers flexing over
his hard male body. Once I reached his shoulders, it was a sweet relief to
press my breasts against him.

This time, his lips were
soft, his tongue leisurely exploring mine. We tangled and tasted, retreated and
smiled. I kneaded the taut stretch of his shoulders and let my fingers slowly
work upwards to his thick black hair. Fenton let his hands rove up and down the
curve of my back, then along the sides of my body. Slowly, his warm hands
brushed against the sides of my breasts.

He smiled against my lips
again and dropped his hands to tug at the hem of my dress. It slipped up
slowly, tickling and tantalizing me as he drew it up my body and finally over
my head. I raised my arms, gasping as my breasts bounced against the heat of
his bare skin. Fenton stopped to admire where we pressed against each other
then dropped his lips to mine for a deep thirsty kiss.

I stepped back, fully
intending to break the spell. It was nearly morning and being with Fenton was
an insane thing to do. He followed me, our lips never parting. We kept going
until the stool bumped into my back. Then, he lifted me onto it, pressing
himself between my legs. I felt the hardness of his desire and melted. He
pulled aside the thin barrier of my lace panties and slipped inside, both of us
sighing into a kiss as he pushed deeply.

Fenton moved slowly, the
press and pull driving me wild, even as our kisses stayed long and languid. He
lifted both his hands to my face, brushing back my hair as our bodies surged
together. When the climax spilled over me, he drank up my shuddering moans,
then buried his face in my hair and held me gently as he drove himself to
finish.

A sweet moan escaped my
lips when he finally slipped himself out and we parted. Still, he held my face
with both hands and kissed me again. "If it’s alright with you, I'd like
to stay here," he said.

"I suppose," I
said. I reached my feet to the ground but hung on to the counter, my knees
still quaking.

"I'm going to
shower. You should draw yourself a nice bubble bath." He smiled and picked
up his black duffel bag. He headed to the smaller bedroom and left me the
master suite with the marbled bathtub.

I stood for a moment
longer, unable to find my balance. My mind, all my senses, felt like a soaring
flight. Was I floating or falling? I shook my head and let myself consider the
wild changes that would take over my life if I fell in love with Fenton Morris.

A knock on the door saved
me from stretching into unknown thoughts. I adjusted my dress and answered the
door.

"Is Fenton here? He
told me I could come and stay." The woman at the door was hardly wearing a
dress. The silver straps criss-crossed her body, between glittered lotion.

I looked at her from her
crystal platform heels to the wild, streaked extensions in her hair. "I'm
sorry, who are you?" I asked.

"Dana Maria,"
the stripper said. "Fenton asked me to come over."