Star-Crossed (23 page)
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He heard Jules’s laugh, but he refused to turn back to her because the choice between jujitsu with Clay or talking to Jules was a no-brainer. Romeo remembered now why his grappling was weak. He fucking hated it. There was no flash in jujitsu and wrestling. It was a completely different kind of fighting than what Romeo loved, but he knew he needed to at least be decent at it because he couldn’t always rely on his strength and speed to deliver a win. The loss to Clay would never stop eating at him.
He couldn’t even look at his bio online without getting twitchy over his new 16-1-0
record.
Of course, that loss was the reason he’d met Jules, and he couldn’t regret that, even if there was a nasty stain on his record.
Thinking of meeting Jules later gave him the surge of energy he needed. If nothing else, Romeo was good at crawling out of the ashes and recovering from whatever blow life dealt him. He’d lost once, but not again. He hated jujitsu, but he’d master it because that was what was required to come out on top and that’s where Romeo intended to be.
“Okay, let’s do this.” He rolled his shoulders as he walked up to Clay. “You’re going down, Powers. I’m officially tired of being your bitch on this mat.” 180
Chapter Twelve
If Romeo ever got sick of fighting, Jules would gladly hire him to clean under her desk on bad days. The man had a gift for it, and Jules was so glad she’d decided to meet him despite being unnaturally tired. Work had been stressful. This week had been one of those that brought home the fact that she worked three jobs. Adam had a wife with the flu and had to take leave. Jules had been filling in on dispatch so Harvey could take over Adam’s shifts. The law office was getting busier and busier as tax refunds started rolling in, and the Cellar always kept her moving.
She needed more than a quickie with Romeo, which is what the two of them had been reduced to for the past few weeks. She knew she could stay at the Cellar until three in the morning and Wyatt would never notice. She
did
have countless hours of law work to catch up on, but this felt more important. Connecting with Romeo was like a vitamin for her soul, and it was exactly what she needed.
Sprawled out on the desk, with her legs draped over Romeo’s shoulders, Jules put her hands above her head and gripped the wood as he ran his tongue over her wet, quivering pussy.
“Use your fingers too.” She panted, already halfway there. When Romeo did as told, pushing one thick finger inside her and curving it upward until he found her sweet spot, Jules’s back arched and she cried out, “Fuck!” It felt so good. She writhed under the ecstasy of his mouth until her skin was dewy with sweat, but still she wanted more. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her as she rose to that amazing precipice Romeo always helped her find so easily. Almost there, she stopped fighting for the climax and hovered on the edge of oblivion because she needed all of him.
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“In me,” she moaned, her breathing a tremor of bliss. “Please, Romeo.” He completely ignored her, tormenting her with his mouth and hands instead.
Sucking on her clit, pushing a second finger deep inside her throbbing body. She started shaking under the onslaught. Then he palmed one tit with his other hand, his thumb and forefinger playing with the sensitive nipple, forcing Jules to climax against her will.
Alone in the Cellar, she allowed herself to actually scream when the pleasure burst free, crashing over her with a rush of ecstasy. Romeo let her ride out the tempest, licking and sucking at her clit as the bliss pulsed through her until she was suddenly in sensory overload.
“Too much!” She wheezed, using her hold on his hair to wrench his head away from her. “Too intense. Sensitive.”
Romeo didn’t complain, just leaned up and ran his lips over the flat plane of her stomach. He bit playfully at her hip bone and palmed both of her tits with his big hands, making her moan and bow back on the desk from the aftershock his touch caused.
Then he was sucking on her nipples, obviously choosing to ignore her too sensitive complaints, and she squealed and squirmed beneath the onslaught. “Too much, too much, too much,” she chanted, trying to push him off her, but she was still weak from the bone-melting climax and he was built like a Mack truck. “You keep it up, and I ain’t playing sensei and uke with ya.”
Romeo released the tormented nipple and lifted his head. His eyes were alight with mischief as he grinned. “Can’t have that.”
Jules laughed and tugged at his hair again. “You really wanna do this? Spar with me?”
“I even went home and got my gi,” Romeo said, his smile wide and bright, making him look breathtakingly handsome.
Jules smirked. “You kinky bastard.”
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“No, honestly, it’s deeper than that.” Romeo rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip in a sensuous swipe. “I wanna
feel you
on the mat. Your strength, your power, I want you to let it all loose on me. I need to really touch who you are, like on a spiritual level.
Does that make sense?”
Not really, but Jules could tell it was somehow important to Romeo and said,
“Fine, but you’re certifiable if you think I’m gonna just play uke and let you throw me
’round the mat. The only way I know how to fight is full force, all or nothing. If we’re doing this, I’m gonna bring it, Wellings.”
He grinned triumphantly. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
* * * *
Relaxed, with her hands on her knees, Jules sat on the mat. Her back straight, a smile on her face as she waited for Romeo to emerge from the men’s locker room. He insisted they change separately, which was sort of—cute.
Her hair was still wet from the shower she’d taken after she’d finished with her last classes, so she’d braided it to keep it out of her way. Like Romeo had asked, she’d dressed traditionally in her white gi, with her black belt tied around her waist. Before she’d known he was somewhat serious about this, she’d planned to go bare beneath it, but since they were actually sparring, she wore a tight white sports bra and panties beneath the comfortable material.
Before coming to the mat, she flipped on the main lights but left the rest off. It felt like the center area of the Cuthouse Cellar was under a spotlight with all the different rooms and offices pitch-black, save the one lone light streaming out from the back hallway leading to the locker rooms. That’s where Jules saw him, coming from the locker rooms in his white gi, with a red-and-white belt tied around his waist.
Her entire being responded to the sight of that belt, as if reverence for it was built into her genetic makeup. Jules had been taking classes since she was five, and she knew Romeo hadn’t started until much later. The fact that he’d earned the belt was amazing.
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Jules looked up at him in awe as he walked up to her. “You outrank me.” He stopped in front of her, big, bare feet spread apart on the mat. The lines of his handsome face were relaxed and lacking their usually intensity as he said, “Yes, I do,” without an ounce of his typical cockiness.
Jules stayed where she was, feeling suddenly like a student instead of an equal or teacher to a sparring partner, and it’d been so long since she’d been in that role. It made her feel young, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of idol worship. The broad expanse of his chest, the peek of olive skin between the V of his gi, the sheer height and strength of Romeo’s massive body. Mix all that with his red-and-white belt, one of the highest-ranking belts in karate, and Jules swallowed hard against the rush of yearning that washed over her.
“Wyatt would
die
if he saw that,” Jules couldn’t help but whisper. “We’re both
Godan
, and he’s been walking around thinking he’s the baddest fella in town for being a fifth-degree black belt. Why haven’t you worn it before now?” Romeo took a seat on the mat in
seisa
position, with his ass resting on his bare feet.
He sat across from her, once again giving her the feeling of being a student as he said,
“’Cause that’s not what this obi’s for. It’s not a trophy for my ego.” In Jules’s mind that’s
exactly
what it was. A candy-cane-colored trophy that said he’d worked longer and harder than everyone else. A red-and-white, sixth-degree black belt was respect and reverence, a badge of honor Jules knew she’d have someday because she was always striving and pushing herself, but she didn’t have it yet—and Romeo did.
Very sexy.
She studied the long expanse of his shoulders and said, “I wish you’d wear it tomorrow. I wanna see everyone react to it.”
“No,” Romeo said evenly. “I’m not wearing it to impress people.”
“It’s impressing me,” Jules admitted, feeling the hot flush of desire rise from the back of her neck and warm her cheeks. “It’s turning me on.
Big-time.
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“Well, that’s not why I put it on,” Romeo admitted, just a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I wore it as your sensei, a symbol of my hard work so you’d know I’m worthy of your trust and respect my guidance.”
“Oh, okay,” Jules said, smiling so broadly her cheeks hurts. “Is that the reason?”
“It is,” Romeo assured her, sounding like the calm, confident sensei he was portraying.
Jules laughed. “So we’re really playing this game?”
“If we’re connecting on this mat, if we’re sparring and showing each other what we’re capable of,” Romeo started, his voice still even and strong, “then it’s not really a game, is it? It’s real.”
Jules quirked an eyebrow at him. “Would you have worn that belt if I was the sensei tonight?”
“You’re not.”
“But what if I was?”
“You’re not,” Romeo reminded her more firmly. “
I am.
Now close your eyes.
Breathe. Center yourself if you’re not focused.”
“I’m definitely not focused,” Jules admitted as Romeo closed his eyes. She used the opportunity to study him boldly, fantasizing about untying that red-and-white belt and pulling those white gi pants down to see if he was as much of a traditionalist as he was implying. “Are you commando?”
“Juliet,” he said, the edge of anger sounding in his voice, as if the old Romeo was peeking past the calm exterior he’d donned. “I’ve been watching you display your strength and power in this building for three weeks. I’ve admired you
every single time
.
Don’t make tonight be the battle that leaves me disappointed.” She straightened and glared at him, clearly hearing both the challenge and the reprimand. Romeo had a pretty red-and-white belt, that was true, but Jules was just a
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few stripes away from that unique honor, and she wasn’t going to let him affect her confidence.
Jules deliberately got up and sat next to him as an equal,
not
a student.
In seisa position like him, she closed her eyes and searched for her focus. She willed away the exhaustion that was bone-deep by eleven o’clock at night after getting up at five that morning. She pushed past the sizzle of attraction that was always electric between them and searched for her core strength, that gift from her father.
Her arm twitched when she started to feel that reserve of power that let her go the distance, but Romeo broke through her barriers, his voice oddly gentle.
“Not yet,” he instructed softly but with authority. “Calm, even breaths. I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”
Then he started counting for her, not in English or Italian. He did it in Japanese, and something about the flow and rhythm of the numbers resonated through her, reminding her of days gone past when so much of the ritual had been important. When she’d been working and striving toward the Olympic team and every aspect of the art had absorbed her because Jules didn’t know how to do something halfway.
She suddenly felt lighter. Finding strength from a different place than genetics as Romeo counted to twenty in Japanese and then counted backward, evening out Jules’s breathing. She could feel a timeless energy, one that never waned, never died. What was usually an untapped resource started to flower and bloom inside her, soft and gentle rather the usual brute force she was used to. All the while it was Romeo’s voice fueling the gentle fire that welled up around her, making her feel strong on a different level.
Despite preparing to fight him, Jules started to sense a bond with Romeo that was deeper than sex and companionship. Sitting so close, she could swear she felt the warmth of him, like a caress, as if his soul was reaching out to hers and actually touching it. It was distinctive enough to be startling, but comforting enough to keep her balanced.
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Jules wasn’t certain how much time had passed; it ceased to matter. All she knew was that when Romeo announced, “Now,” she felt ready and
very
focused.
She jumped to her feet and faced Romeo, who was studying her intently, making her feel grateful for the attention. She did feel like a student now, a cherished one who was connected to her sensei. When they bowed to each other, Jules did it reverently, eyes locked on her opponent, and then let loose on him just like he wanted.
Jules kicked him with intent, every ounce of her being focused on knocking him off his feet, but he deflected her moves effortlessly. Undeterred, she tried to sweep his feet out from under him, but he sidestepped her before she could. She brought her hand around to catch him in the neck, but he blocked her with a hard sweep of his arm that would have been painful if she hadn’t been so fixated on the dance they were doing.
Her reflexes were tightly honed for an assault that never came. Jules attacked and Romeo sidestepped or blocked every time. Completely on the defensive, his movements were fluid, graceful, and uncomplicated. He made a lifetime of work look natural and painless.
She was sweating; it ran down the curve of her spine and dripped from her temples. She kept her breathing even, and she refused to let up. Every punch and kick she sent at him, she did it with the full force of her strength, looking for the chink in his armor. She wouldn’t back down or be discouraged by his swift, often painful countermoves that would probably leave her bruised tomorrow; it just pushed her harder, made her move faster.
Jules knew instinctively she hadn’t been this efficient a fighter in a very long time, and it felt fantastic. She was in the zone, all power and easy grace that spoke of a woman who had dedicated herself to this sport. Swift, elegant, and fierce, Romeo made her better than she’d been in her prime when she’d train a minimum of five hours a day, six days a week.
She could have done this all night, but after a long, hard sparring session Romeo had other ideas. He caught her ankle after a roundhouse kick and jerked her leg toward
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him, forcing Jules to hit the mat so violently she sucked in a startled gasp of air, her chest hurting from the force of it.
Jules never had time to recover; Romeo pinned her to the mat before she could rebound. His big hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her immobile. If Jules really wanted to fight, she could have, but she was still very much in tune with him as sensei and if he wanted her flat on the mat, she honored that.
“You did good.” Romeo’s eyes held her attention like twin emerald flames as his gaze ran over her face.
“Yeah?” she wheezed, still fighting for breath after her fall.
“Amazing,” Romeo confirmed, his gaze still holding her captive. “I can see why you were on the Olympic team.”
Drenched in sweat, panting from the exertion, she let out a broken laugh. “I don’t think I fought that well on the Olympic team.”
“I’m sure you did,” Romeo said confidently. He released one of her hands to cup her face, his thumb rubbing over her bottom lip. “Thank you for giving this to me. I needed it. You make me remember what I used to be.”
“What you used to be?” Jules asked, breathless for a different reason as he continued to caress her lips.
“Centered. Calm,” Romeo whispered, making it sound like he was confessing something dark. “Less bitter and
a lot
less angry. Karate used to be my only escape from the regret until I met you.”
“Tell me what happened to make you so angry,” Jules asked, her heart aching from the pain in his voice. “Why are you bitter? Why’d you stop playing by the rules when you’re
so good
at them?”
Romeo kissed her instead of answering. His tongue swept in, tasting her, captivating her, and Jules forgot the secrets that still welled up between them. A prison record, a connection to the mafia that was evident to anyone who knew what the last 188
name Moretti represented. Jules knew his brothers were related to and likely involved on some level with the powerful crime family, but none of that seemed to matter right now.
Not when Romeo was over her, still radiating that focused power she knew for a fact he’d never used in MMA. His matches in the cage were different, coming from a dark, furious part of his soul where anger fueled the fires and ego hungered for defeat.
Clay would have never been able to take down the fighter over her now. With his elegant speed and graceful movements that came from the desire to push and guide, rather than beat his opponent. This man was untouchable. A rare, purer side to Romeo’s soul that resonated deeply with Jules and tapped into something within her she hadn’t known existed until now.
Surrendering to him was easy. Jules let him guide her in their lovemaking just like he’d guided her with the sparring. Their usual rash passion was replaced with something more deliberate and humbling as Romeo stripped off her gi and helped her out of her sports bra and panties.
Then he stood up in front of her, slowly untying his belt, and Jules couldn’t resist.
She got up on her knees and took the belt out of his hand, laying it over her own uniform before she splayed her hands over his muscular chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady, dependable rhythm of his heartbeat. She parted the white cotton material as she pressed her lips to his stomach, worshipping the man he should have been if life hadn’t made him bitter and angry.
She forced his gi top past his shoulders and then down his arms. She tossed it aside, still kissing and licking his beautiful olive skin. He wore judo pants with the elastic waistband, and she wanted to tug them down to reveal his cock straining for freedom, but he didn’t offer and she didn’t ask. Her arms wrapped around him, holding Romeo to her as she loved him, but still she waited for him to give her what she really wanted to taste and savor.
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Romeo fisted her braid, making her stomach clench as she moaned against his navel. He pulled something out of the waistband of his pants, holding it between his fingers, the packet glinting gold under the lights:
a condom
. Jules moaned again, her body clenching instinctively when she thought about him rolling it on that thick cock and fucking her.
