Jase

My palms are sweaty as I pace the length of the living room floor, back and forth over the soft carpet, earning the occasional reproachful glance from Nick, who's seated on the sofa with his laptop on his knee, looking like he was born to wear a suit. In contrast, I feel like a gorilla stuffed into a kid's tuxedo. It's stiff and itchy and sits funny across my chest. Or maybe that's the nerves. Public speaking isn't really my thing.

But the speech I'm due to give in a little over an hour isn't the only reason I'm wound tighter than a spinning back fist. Tonight will be the first time Lena has seen my home. I usually visit hers, which we both seem to prefer. I like knowing that she isn't after me for my money or mansion, and she likes knowing I don't look down on her living situation. Damned if I know why she'd expect me to, but perhaps a douchebag ex has.

"Calm down, Jase," Nick says, looking up from his laptop. "You'll be fine. We've gone over your speech, and you know what you're doing. It'll be over soon."

"Not soon enough," I grumble, and check my phone again. No texts or calls from Lena. "We need to go. Where is she?"

Nick chuckles. "We don't have to leave for another fifteen minutes, and she's the one who arranged this, so she won't be late."

I wish I had as much confidence as he does. This niggling little fear is working its way under my skin, leaving me with a crawling dread that she'll change her mind and decide not to come. That she'll abandon me when I need her support.

Swearing, I tug at the collar of my shirt. It's insane how insecure this event is making me. Normally, I wouldn't care if a girl I was seeing bothered to turn up. I might even prefer to go alone. But right now, I crave the sound of Lena's voice telling me I'll kill it, and the sensation of her palms on my chest, over my heart. Fuck, I'm becoming a sap, and I don't even care. I'll hand over my balls for her safekeeping if it means she gets here in the next five minutes and talks me off the ledge.

I throw a jab-straight combo, shadowboxing to take the edge off my nerves. Nick sighs and props his feet up to make sure he's out of my way. Then, finally, there's a knock at the door. I hurry to answer, not caring if I seem desperate, or anxious for reassurance. I fucking am.

Throwing the door open, I start to say hello and nearly have a heart attack. My hand goes to my chest, and I swear to God, I growl. I've never made a sound like it before, but the sight of Lena in a black and red dress that reveals way too much of the most tempting tits on the planet robs me of my ability to speak. I stare at her like an asshole, and the only thing missing is the drool hanging from the corner of my mouth. I'm torn between the desire to crow my victory to anyone who'll listen, show her off and treat her like the queen she is, and the violent impulse to wrap my body around her so no other man can get an eyeful of what's rightfully mine. She has my insides twisted in so many knots I don't know if I'll be able to untie them.

What would she do if I threw her over my shoulder and dragged her to the bedroom? I want to strip her bare and see what she has beneath that dress. Is she wearing a bra? Because it doesn't look like it, and damned if I don't want to check to see if she's going commando as well. My gaze skims down her body, stopping on her toes, which have a freshly applied layer of scarlet paint and are clad in a pair of three-inch fuck-me heels. My heart stutters. She's going to be the end of me.

She clears her throat, and I rip my eyes away from her feet, feeling like a weirdo in ten different ways. Fortunately, she's smiling. Her lips are the same brilliant red as her dress, toes, and shoes. I want to lay siege to them. As far as I'm concerned, that mouth belongs to me. If that makes me a caveman, so be it.

"That's exactly what I was going for," she says, stepping closer and cocking her head. She smells like flowers, and it hits me that I should have bought her a bouquet or something. Man, I'm out of practice.

"You look fucking amazing," I tell her, laying my palms on her shoulders carefully, because she's so soft and my hands are rough. I don't want to mark her beautiful skin before we leave. "Every guy there is going to wish they were me tonight."

She smooths her hands over my chest, and I wonder if she can feel my heart thundering through the jacket. "And every woman is going to wish they were me." Her teeth catch her lower lip, scraping through the lipstick. I can't take my eyes off them. "It's not fair how good you look. Aren't fighters supposed to have cauliflower ears and crooked noses?"

"Not all of us." Although, as she knows, I have my share of scars and flaws.

"I love the way you're looking me at," she whispers. "Like you want to eat me up. But we should probably go inside and get ready to leave."

"Later?"

"Yeah." She worries her lip again and watches me with those big, gorgeous eyes. "Later."

She tries to move past me, but I hold her tight. I need to have a taste. Just one, then we'll do the responsible thing. I take her mouth with all of the savage desire that's been growing within me since I first opened the door. With a sigh of surrender, she softens against me and parts her lips. My tongue plunges in, finesse long gone, and I consume her like I'm starving. In contrast, she's gentle and relenting, letting me take what I want, giving me what I need, her whimpers muffled by my greedy kiss.

Chest heaving, I draw back. Her lips are plumper than before, the lipstick gone and natural color shining through. Groaning, I kiss her once more, softly, then back away from her.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist. You just..." I make a helpless sound, and she nods.

"I get it."

Thank God one of us does, because I don't. I've always had a healthy libido, but I've never been so overwhelmed by need for a particular woman. My cock is straining against my pants, desperate to bury itself in her, but we both pretend it's not there and eventually it begins to behave.

"Come in. Nick is already here."

She moves past me, then whips out a pocket mirror and reapplies lipstick before we continue to the living room. Why that disappoints me, I don't know. Perhaps I wanted my manager to know exactly what we were doing. As far as Lena goes, I want everyone to know what's between us, even if I don't fully understand it myself yet. Unfortunately, that's not in the cards just yet. She's determined to keep us quiet until I'm not her client anymore, and I respect that decision.

"Hi, Nick." Lena greets him with a handshake, then perches primly on the edge of an oversized armchair. Most of my furniture is super-size, because otherwise my brothers and I wouldn't be comfortable. We make them look normal, but the chair dwarfs Lena. She meets my eyes. "Do you have your speech ready?"

I nod.

"He's been practicing," Nick says. "He's ready to go, even if he doesn't believe it himself."

Her expression softens, and I become a gooey marshmallow on the inside.

"You'll be great." She touches her hair, which is arranged in ringlets over her shoulders. "You've got this, Jase. I have absolute faith in you."

Okay, so that makes me feel ten feet tall. "Thanks." My voice is gruff. I'm not comfortable talking about shit like this, but I appreciate her words more than she'll ever know. When was the last time someone else told me they believed in me? I search my mind, but I'm not sure that anyone ever has—apart from Seth, perhaps. Not a woman, certainly. "That means a lot."

And it makes me want to screw her senseless. When this fundraiser ends, Lena LaFontaine is getting really lucky.

She shrugs. "It's just the truth. Shall we get going then?"

"Guess so." There's no one else holding us up. Although I must say, she's worth every agonizing minute of the wait. With more nerves churning in my stomach than I've ever had before a fight, I take Lena's hand and tuck it into my elbow, holding her close. We head out to the driveway, where a limo is waiting, and I help her into the backseat, then climb in after her. Nick sits opposite. He's left his laptop behind but pulls a phone from his pocket and starts typing. I swear, the guy is permanently glued to technology. I bet he's even found a way to channel his sleepwaves into productive communication.

I mentally run through my speech again. I feel like such a goddamned fraud to be speaking at an event about literacy when I can't remember the last time I read anything that wasn't on social media, but Lena's presence steadies me. She wouldn't have signed me up for this if she didn't believe I could do it. Reaching over, I take her by the waist and lift her onto my lap.

"Stop manhandling me in front of your manager," she mutters, leaning close so Nick can't hear. Not that he'd notice if she yelled it out of the sunroof. He's absorbed in whatever is on his phone.

"You don't really want me to stop," I reply, more confident than I actually am.

Sighing dramatically, she settles into my lap and loops one of her arms around my neck. "Okay, maybe not. But don't mess with my hair, or we're going to have a problem."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Although I'm having fantasies about tugging on those curls while she rides me. My dick stirs again. She raises an eyebrow. What can I say? I'm a horny bastard where she's concerned.

I keep her on my lap until we arrive at the fundraiser, where Nick pockets his phone and waits for me to leave the limo first. Apparently I'm expected to make a big entrance. I take Lena's arm, bringing her along with me, so when I step into the flashing lights of a dozen cameras, she's by my side. We cross a paved pavilion and walk up a staircase lined with reporters and photographers. None of them can get close to me, which means this is my jam. I can handle public displays just fine from a distance. It's when they want me to talk that my confidence plunges.

Lifting a hand, I wave to a guy I recognize from one of the big sports channels, and nod to a popular YouTuber who once did a flattering feature on me. They're rabidly curious about Lena, I can see it from here, and she must be able to as well because she flattens herself to me as though she's trying to make herself small and inconspicuous. Fuck that, she looks like a million bucks and she deserves to know it.

"Guess what?" she murmurs as we reach the top. "There's a big difference between knowing thirty different media outlets will be present and being on the receiving end of all that attention."

Planting my hand in the small of her back, I simultaneously guide her inside and stake a claim on her in case any of the other assholes here decide to look her way. "Welcome to stardom."

She makes a noise that could be a laugh, but sounds more like a squeak from a terrified rabbit. "I prefer being on the other side of the rope."

Pausing, I press a kiss to her temple, ignoring the buzz below. "Thank you for coming. You're doing great." Strangely enough, helping her cope with her nerves eases mine. "Let's find our table."

Unfortunately, as soon as we enter, someone whisks me away from Lena and I glance over my shoulder to see her wide eyes disappear into a sea of faces. I'm taken to a back room where a guy in a designer suit barks instructions, and next thing I know a half hour has passed and I'm being ushered onto a stage, in front of more than fifty tables full of people. They all have their faces turned toward me.

I swallow, then clear my throat. "Good evening, everyone." My voice is too loud in the sudden silence, and sweat breaks out on my upper lip. What am I doing here? Who am I kidding? This isn't the place for me. I check the notes I wrote on my palm earlier, but the ink has smudged because my damn palms are sweating, too.

"It's great to be here," I say, improvising. The tie is too tight around my neck and I'm not sure I can breathe. But then I catch sight of a brilliant black and red dress, and a beautiful head of curls, and the pressure on my throat eases. Lena smiles at me, and nods. I nod back, and stand straighter. I've got this. Lena believes in me, and I'm all over this speech. I've said it a dozen times over the last few hours. So I open my mouth and let the words fall out. Lena's grin widens, and I talk directly to her. People laugh and applaud, but I don't hear them because all of my focus is on my girl.

When I come to the end of my speech, someone claps me on the shoulder and my gaze tears away from hers. I reel back, feeling like I've stumbled out of a pleasant daydream. The audience are standing, and for the life of me, I can't even remember what I said. But I smile and step back, seeking Lena out again. She's looking away, talking to Nick, but she's beaming and I'm so fucking pleased to be responsible for that expression.

The MC takes over, and I'm excused. All of my instincts scream at me to run to Lena's table and kiss the hell out of her, but instead I find an empty room, shut myself inside and close my eyes. In my mind, I can still see her as clearly as if she's right in front of me, and it fills me with warmth.

I'm in trouble. Because not only am I crazyattracted to Lena and more than a little possessive of her, but I think I'mfalling for her, too. And that isn't okay. I don't have time for a girlfriend.Not one who deserves a man who'll conquer the world for her. But fuck, I wish Idid because everything about her feels right, and I want her with me forever.