Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

me from my happy place. “Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade is taking a break from his rigorous training schedule to give us an exclusive interview. His fight with Heavyweight Champion Victor Del Toro for the belt is September fourteenth at Mandalay Bay. Jonah, thanks for taking the time to talk to us.”

“Of course, thanks for having me.” I roll my eyes.

“Victor Del Toro has been the reigning Heavyweight Champion for over six years. Are you confident that you can beat him?”

“Absolutely. I think my record speaks for itself. I haven’t lost a fight yet and don’t plan on losing one now.” I grimace at my blatant lie because that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

“Del Toro has what you call a glass jaw. Can you explain what that is to our listeners?”

“Sure, glass jaw refers to someone who gets knocked out easily. It’s Del Toro’s Achilles’ heel. But the guy is the reigning Heavyweight Champion and has been for six years, so he’s no pansy. Weak jaw or not, the guy can fight.”

“Now, you, ‘Assassin,’ have a mean right hook. We can assume that your powerful right hook combined with Del Toro’s glass jaw means he has very little chance of winning this fight?”

“No, not necessarily. The key to a great fighter is to know your weakness. He trains to protect his jaw at all costs. I could throw a dozen killer right hooks, but they only work if I land them. He’ll be on guard the entire fight.”

“Last question, you have a reputation of being . . . how should I say . . . friendly with the ladies? Rumor has it you’ve been seen around town with a sexy brunette. Our sources say it’s Raven Morretti, a local car mechanic.” The interviewer and his co-host laugh before finishing. “Is ‘The Assassin’ settling down?”

No, he fucking did not.

I grind my teeth and my muscles tense. Leaning forward, resting my elbows on my desk, I speak clearly to keep from being misunderstood.

“Not gonna discuss my personal life, guys, but I will say this.” My voice sounds low and menacing even to my ears. “You talk about Raven, I’ll pay a personal visit to your studio and we’ll have words. You get me?”

“Whoa! You heard it here, folks. Sounds like The Las Vegas Casanova is finally settling—”

Click.

Shit. How did I not think about this? This fight is huge for Vegas. She’s going to get thrown into the middle of the media firestorm. As if the girl doesn’t have enough to deal with already. I need to protect her. But how? I’ll make sure we lie low until the fight’s over. Briefing Raven on the situation should help to prepare her for what she’s up against.

Running away with her and living out the remainder of our days on some deserted island doesn’t sound like a bad idea after all.

I make a few more calls: two for interviews and one for a new cell phone to be delivered to my house. It’s eight fifteen, and I haven’t heard a sound come out of my room. Raven must still be asleep. I plan on crawling back in bed with her when I hear the water running in my bathroom. Or a shower? I smile as visions of shower sex with Raven infiltrate my mind.

“Don’t be an insensitive prick.” I shake the wet fantasy from my head. She’s got to be sore. I can’t have sex with her for a day . . . or two. Okay, a day. Give her a chance to recover.

No way can I go in the room when she’s wet and naked in my bathroom. I won’t be able to give her a break if I see her like that. Killing time, I pay a couple bills online, check my email, and play a game of solitaire before I head back to my room.

I stroll down the hallway with purpose and a smile. Sex might be off the agenda for today, but I can think of plenty of other things we could do to occupy our time.

~*~

Raven

I open my eyes to bright sunlight. Stretching my arms above my head, my muscles object. Gosh, I’m sore. I roll to my back as a smile tiptoes its way across my face.

“This is awesome.” I stomp my feet on the bed under the sheet.

The faint smell of coffee crashes my private party. I throw my legs over the bed, gripping the sheet to my naked chest. I search the floor for my panties, and remember that Jonah destroyed them last night. My lips roll between my teeth to muffle my excited squeak. I’ll make sure to fit a panty-replacement shopping spree into my schedule this week. Maybe I’ll get a few extra pairs of those—

A warm rush of heat seeps from between my legs. My jaw drops open as my hand flies to my mouth.

“Oh no! My period? Crap!”

Wrapping the top sheet around my body, I run to the bathroom and jump in the shower. I do the mental math while scrubbing my body, making sure to be gentle with the tender areas. Ten days early? Impossible. I haven’t missed one pill—my breath hitches.

Not my period! No, that would be embarrassing enough. What just happened, on Jonah’s fancy sheets no less, is a direct result from last night.

“This is so humiliating.”

I can’t imagine what the proper protocol is for a girlfriend who bleeds virgin blood on her boyfriend’s sheets. One thing’s for sure, I need to get those off and get them in the wash before he sees.

Dressing quickly in one of Jonah’s T’s, I throw my wet hair up in a towel and put Operation Virginity Devastation into action.

I race around the bed and toss the comforter to the ground. Ripping pillowcases off one by one, I pile them on the floor along with the sheets. I’m frantically scooping up the soiled linens when I hear the bedroom door open. Frozen in place, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Darn it!

Head down, I sneak a