The Fighter's Prize - Jessa Kane Page 0,5
that simply says, “Your Maxim.”
“I guess it worked,” Scout muses around her toothbrush. “Not bad for your first seduction, Whit.”
“More like my first anything,” I grumble, rubbing at my tired eyes.
Sleeping last night was a challenge. Not only am I worried about the outcome of the fight tonight, but my body wouldn’t stay still. I wrestled with the sheets until they were bunched between my legs and I was flushed and uncomfortable. Unable to move in a way that achieved the same friction I found on Maxim’s lap.
My heart is restless, too.
So much of my meeting with the MMA fighter was unexpected.
I wasn’t supposed to like kissing him so much.
Wasn’t supposed to forget my mission in his arms.
Wasn’t supposed to find him endearing and honest and sweet.
At least until he referred to my vagina as saleable goods.
Grumbling, I toss the tickets onto the kitchen table and head for the coffee pot.
“We’re going, right?” Scout asks.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Do it out loud,” she suggests.
“Okay.” I stick in a coffee pod and lower the lid, smacking the button for a large. “I want to use the tickets. But I’m also wondering if it would be wiser to stay as far away from the fight as possible. Like maybe I’ll watch from the airport. So I can flee the country if Banner wins.”
“Are you really planning to run?” Scout asks, her toothbrush dropping to her side, her expression distressed but firm. “If you are, I’m coming with you.”
“No. No way. You are the smart one, Scout. You’re finishing college. We need you to design the next space shuttle.” I give my sister a reassuring look. “I won’t run. I was kidding.”
Scout shifts in her socks. “I don’t want to be without you. But I can’t stand the idea of you suffering through marriage to Banner just to stick around for me.”
“If Banner can pay Father’s debts, he can pay your tuition,” I point out. “My acting gigs are barely covering your book expenses. You’re racking up so much student debt. Maybe marrying him will be for the greater good.”
My sister chews her lip. “I put too much pressure on you, Whit. My younger sister should not be hustling to pay my tuition.”
“Like I said, you’re the smart one. It’s going to be worth it.” I go to my sister and wrap her in a hug. “Something good will happen with either outcome. Banner wins, we pay the bills. Banner loses, I’m free and we’ll find another way to make ends meet.” I smile. “Hey. Maybe that audition next week goes well and I finally get that big break.”
“You know I’m pulling for the latter, right?” Scout says, solemnly, pulling back. “I don’t want you trapped in loveless marriage.”
“Of course I know that.”
Scout considers the tickets on the kitchen table. “Anyway, something tells me all this worry is going to be for nothing. You clearly had an effect on Maxim.”
“Nah.” She laughed, ignoring the weight in her throat. “It’s just the blue balls talking.”
Later that night
It was not the blue balls talking.
Maxim Semenov came roaring out of the tunnel like a demon from hell.
I sit straight up, gaping at the sight of him from the front row.
He’s seething. Gnawing on his mouth guard like a dog chewing shoe leather.
His muscled arms glisten with sweat, his brawny torso heaving in the flashing spotlights.
Banner is already waiting in the octagon and I tear my eyes off Maxim long enough to determine that my wanna-be husband has turned white as a sheet. Maxim’s visible rage has turned the crowd into a roaring, bloodthirsty machine.
They scream and stomp and batter each other’s shoulders, their cheers growing more and more deafening the closer Maxim gets to the octagon.
“Holy shit,” Scout whispers beside me. “Maxim is going to kill him.”
“This can’t be because of me,” I murmur.
“It is. You have a magic vagina.” Scout glances down at her own lap. “You think it’s hereditary?”
We share a laugh and I close my eyes, savoring this moment where my fate hasn’t yet been determined by a fight. Or by two men, rather. My sister and I spent the whole day getting ready, dancing to music that reminded us of growing up. We raided our closets for dresses worthy of front row seats and I wore white to be ironic, since I might have to get married, depending on who wins tonight. Scout is in black, her hair in a riot of mahogany waves, glasses perched on a nose identical to mine.
I open