Page 3 of A Fighter’s Love

“Yeah, I’ll be back to full fitness soon.”

“Good, because he’s gonna need you. You’re the second best fighter this club has and our number one needs a competent, fit sparring partner if he’s going to be ready for Grinder.” He shook his head. “Injury or no injury he’s a dirty bastard, and will push the rule book to the edge of the damn ring if he gets a chance.”

“We need a fair ref.”

“Well that’s down to him.” Michael jerked his head in the direction of Billy’s office. “So who knows?”

Dale sighed. Billy was really pissing everyone off. Maybe it was time to find a new club. Well, after this fight anyway. Jackson wouldn’t contemplate it until then.

Dale bid farewell to Michael and headed into the changing room. It was painted a sickly green, paint over brick, and had the bare minimum of furniture. On the walls, edges curling, were several posters from fights gone by. Pride of place was a framed picture of Billy, before he’d lost an eye, holding up a belt at a local youth championship. Dale hadn’t known him back then, but imagined he’d been a cocky shit as a teenager, the sort to bully other kids for their lunch money.

Water tapping off the hard floor told Dale that Jackson was already showering.

He willed his cock to behave.

Dumping his water bottle and towel to one side, Dale peeled off his sweaty vest top and shoved at his shorts and underwear. After kicking aside his boxing shoes and socks he headed for the shower area.

Jackson stood there like an Adonis, eyes shut and head tipped back. Water rained down on his chest, the droplets spraying off his sparkling skin like a mist of diamonds. He pushed his hands though his dark hair, scraping it back over his scalp.

The flash of black underarm hair went straight to Dale’s belly. Longing tightened within him, and lust trembled over his skin.

“Behave, Dale,” Jackson said without moving.

How did he know I was here?

Dale sucked in a breath. The air was steamy and hot. “I am behaving.”

Jackson chuckled. “So, you up for tomorrow?”

Dale was going to be up right now if he wasn’t careful. But not in the way Jackson was talking about. “Sure.”

Keeping his eyes closed, Jackson reached for the shower gel attached to the wall. Within seconds his chest was covered in suds, the white bubbles catching in his body hair. The air filled with the scent of pine, the outdoors, and sandalwood.

Dale banged his palm against a faucet and cold water poured down onto him. He was glad of the chill. His cock was twitching, and there was a telltale tingle in his balls that told him an erection was imminent. “Fuck.”

Jackson chuckled. “Not here, gorgeous.”

Dale smiled, shut his eyes and held his face to the stream. It was like tiny, sharp daggers stabbing at his body—each one a pinprick of cold pain to concentrate on and divert his attention from his dick and how much he wanted to bend Jackson over. He wanted Jackson’s hands splayed on the wet wall, his ass offered up. Then Dale would part his sweet, taut buttocks, find his hole and ram his dick in. He’d push and shove and grunt and fuck until they both came, crying out each other’s names.

Shit.

Dale was getting hard. Why the fuck had he let that image grow in his head?

“Easy, tiger.” Jackson rested his hand on Dale’s shoulder. “You’ll have to wait until we get outta here.”

“Yeah.” Dale’s voice held a tremble. “I know.”

Damn it. His willpower was a pile of horseshit. One look at Jackson’s naked body and he was out of control. Lust had taken over.

But Jackson was right.

What they needed to do was get dried, dressed and ready to saunter out as though they were nothing more than mates heading to the pub for a pint.

Though of course they’d really be heading off for a fuck. A good hard, end-of-the-day fuck that would make Dale’s head nearly explode, his dick erupt and his heart fall even more in love with the man whose axis his world now spun on.

Chapter One

Jenny

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