Bringing The Fight

6.

* Jaxxen *

"You weren't lying, claiming you’re just helping Cora? She needs all the backup she can get with the Conry’s. She’s f*****g hot, though. I’d try tapping that too."

I want to punch Wylan in his smug mouth, but pick up my gloves instead, “It’s more than physical attraction. When I saw Coralee… I felt compelled to break through her walls and befriend her. She looked miserable and I don’t know,” I shake my head at my rambling explanation of why I’m drawn to the girl putting around inside my house, “We’re the same. What’s wrong with helping her out?”

"Awe," Wylan tugged at his black tank, rounding the heavy bag, "Are you in love, Jax?"

The large metal insulated outbuilding I use as my gym has sweat pouring from my brows, but I’ve refrained from going shirtless in case Coralee sees my scaring. It’s not pretty. My arms have a few marks, but not enough to draw attention. I took the brunt of the scars on my back and right side. My childhood had been a nightmare, and until my late twenties, fought on the streets proving I was the baddest motherfucker around. Proof I used to fight with my bare hands reads like a book across the tough tissue of my knuckles, and although she has said nothing, I’ve seen her clock the warped flesh there.

I grit my teeth at his clueless mocking, pulling the protective gear on, "Maybe."

He pauses dramatically, "Okay, this is new. I knew settling out here with no p***y would be dangerous to your health."

I feint a blow towards his head, "You're full of piss this morning."

He laughs, taking a step backward, "Sleeping in the same house with a virgin will do that."

I slap my padded palm against his face with more force than I meant to, making him scowl, "She’s been through hell. Coralee deserves respect, asshole."

He looks contrite, but his blue eyes still danced with mischief, "Sorry Jax. Yeah, she does. Actually, I've never known you to smile this much. What happened to the stoic Killer White who once tossed me through a window?"

I smirk at my old moniker, "Long gone, but you deserved it. I enjoy living alone, but ready for more. A life that doesn’t involve pain and blood. She understands hardships people twice her age never will. Coralee is incredibly resilient."

"And everyone better get out of the way of what you want," he jeers, stepping around the punching bag, "I wonder though, why do you suppose Braden never f****d Cora? Man, are we sure she’s stable? She didn’t cry a single tear after learning her foster parents lied."

I sigh heavily, having wrestled with the same issue while laying in bed, recalling when Coralee tried to grab my c**k like she knows what to do. I bet she does after being used as a party favor by Braden, but losing her virginity to me isn’t something she should want. The secrets she hides made me nearly to barge into her bedroom to demand answers. She won’t discuss Braden for more than a few minutes and pestering her where he might hide turns into a battle. But the thought of Coralee breaking down without my dumb ass comforting her makes my fists tighten. I noticed how she wouldn’t meet my eyes after admitting she’s still a virgin — which is nothing to be embarrassed over. Some girls covet their first time. She’s so young and yet when we talk and laugh I don’t see a twenty-year-old, only a beautiful woman with a bright future and a heart so big it squeezes mine.

"Well?" Wylan persists, “Odd, right?”

I clear my throat and thoughts of Coralee’s intact virginity, "I'll be sure to thank him before gutting the bastard. And some women stand taller in the face of danger."

He hoots, "Cocky fucker. What if I catch him first? She likes me. Maybe I should show her my—"

"Don't," I growl, "What’s wrong with you? It’s not a competition. Less talk, more beating the s**t out of the bag. She'll have breakfast ready soon."

Wylan holds up his hands with a playful wink, "Just busting your balls. She's too tall. I like my women tiny so I can put them in my pocket."

I huff out a chuckle, relaxing. Wylan’s an oddball. I met him a few years back when he hacked into my bank account, and I tracked him down to play kickball with his head. I ended up hiring him when he cackled like a loon, asking if I had any weed on me for his last smoke. Wylan has crazy skills, and we became friends before I changed my vicious lifestyle to one where I could look at myself in the mirror without wilting under the guilt from the evil deeds I justified as deserved vengeance. Although he learned the hard way I wasn’t someone you messed with, I never explained my childhood or why I moved to Montana.

"Cora told me you gave her that flower necklace," he announced a while later before we enter the house, a serious expression replacing his usual playfulness, "Does she know what it does?"

I shrug, justifying my sneaky actions even though my conscience screamed at me to come clean, "She's a runner. People are looking for her."

"Jax," he exhales, "Be careful. The chick already escaped from one psycho."

Bristling at his innuendo, swivel to glare at his arrogant smile, "The f**k you mean?"

He nods towards the quiet cabin, unaffected by my anger, "Cora's not stupid. She may like your brooding ass at the moment, but you can be a little much. If you try to control her, it won’t end well."

I ignore his warning, heading inside. Wylan doesn’t understand. I haven’t allowed myself to grow close to anyone after losing my former girlfriend to violence. For years I buried my pain, pretending I was fine on my own, but it’s time to face reality. I’m ready, but she needs to accept even without my assistance her past will catch up to her, and we won’t be able to move forward until she stops hiding from Braden.

A pang of worry clenched my insides when I glimpsed her long strawberry-blonde hair when I ran upstairs. Wylan’s right, I can’t keep her if she doesn’t plan on staying with me. Everything’s peachy f*****g king, I tell myself. She hasn’t rejected my friendship, and that’s good enough for now.

When I return downstairs after showering, I hear the two of them laughing at the table. She beams when our eyes meet, and I don’t overthink my actions, smacking my lips on hers in a resounding kiss. Coralee’s cheeks flush, before ducking her head like I won’t haul her into my arms for more if she keeps acting so damn cute. This is the first time I’ve shown how intimate we’ve become in front of Wylan, and his brows dip at my possessive display before I reluctantly step away from her.

"Breakfast is on the counter," she mutters, roaming those pretty hazel orbs across my body like a caress.

I wink, suppressing a smirk when her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, "Thanks."

Wylan sighs, clutching his chest while fluttering his eyelids, "Domestic f*****g bliss."

I shoot him the finger, then collected my food. Coralee is a great cook, I’m finding out. Too bad that dickhole Braden had been the one to instruct her. I’m puzzled by a lot of things he did with her. The man is a piece of work.

"What's on the agenda today?" she asks when I join them.

"What would you enjoy?" I almost called her Sunflower, but refrained. I’ve had my fill of Wylan’s teasing.

"Hmm… Will you teach me how to throw knives?"

I nearly choked on my eggs, "Um... you want to learn knife throwing?"

She nods excitedly, "Yes! Can I drive them into Braden’s picture?"

Wylan smacks his palm on the wood in mock shock and I laugh at her creativity.

He smiles, leaning into her space, "I'll hang up Enzo’s photo too, honey."

I glare briefly at his affectionate tone, then focus on my girl, "Sure thing. I own a set. The backfields a safe area to practice."

Coralee grins so big I wish I had a camera. She’s truly beautiful. I concentrate on my plate to stop my creepy staring, finishing breakfast since they already ate. Wylan disappears to retrieve the photographs while she cleans the kitchen.

I haven’t had many chances alone with Coralee, so I quickly rise while Wylan’s upstairs to wrap myself around her. Cantaloupe lingers on her breath when I whisper in her ear, "You have to promise me you'll use your knife-wielding skills for good, Sunflower."

She quirks her lips up at that, "I'm honestly surprised you have throwing knives. I'll ask again, who are you, Jax?"

My pulse spikes at the question, apprehensive to tell her what she deserves to hear. I just want a few more days before she looks at me differently. Our histories are similar, but that doesn’t mean she’ll understand I did what I had to do to survive a life of violence and crime.

“Are you okay?” I asked, gazing into her multicolored eyes, noting the blue stands out more than the green today since she’s wearing a navy pullover, “You can lean on me.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” she rasps, clutching my biceps until I feel her nails dig in and my c**k likes it, growing painfully hard, “Don’t treat me as if I’m broken.”

“Never,” I growl, “Don’t misunderstand my intentions. Do I need to repeat myself? You’re strong and I f*****g love how you protect yourself, but I’m here. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Jax…” she starts to protest, and I slam my mouth down on hers so she can’t deny how we fit together.

Although her body tenses at first, she soon melts against me like warm butter as I run my lips down her slender neck, inhaling her sugary scent. My hands roam down her curvy waist to cup her voluptuous ass and she wriggles against my erection and the counter, letting out a little moan. I’ll never tire of how Coralee affects me. I don’t deserve someone as sweet as her — but plan to hold on to her for as long as she lets me.

“The way you kiss me…,” she murmurs when we break apart for air and our eyes lock, engulfed in the peaceful moment, “Perfect.”

My ego swells, and I grind my hard-on where we align as if made for each other, “Yes, you are.”

"Is this how you clean the kitchen in Montana?" Wylan drawls out of nowhere, bursting our bubble.

I let go of Coralee after one last lingering kiss, chuckling when she groans into my shoulder before facing him, "Sometimes we burn food too. Come on, give me a hand outside."

The morning is the most interesting one I've had in years. After pinning a line of pictures to the spare plywood boards I dug out of the scrap shed, taught Coralee how to turn her wrist to flick the blade correctly to avoid injuries. Wylan showed off, pegging Braden’s forehead continually where they’d written the word DIRTBAG across the black-and-white photo. She cheered, making me laugh at her morbid encouragement.

By the time lunchtime rolls around, her stances good, and she sticks the knife a few times. She never once became frustrated, impressing me. I’ve never worked weapons with a woman before, and expected her to at least stomp her feet or pout once, but not Coralee. She had patience, following instructions when I pointed out mistakes. We practiced and chatted about everything and nothing, with Ren and Stimpy darting through the field in excitement at our activities. Even though Wylan was there, our hands would brush when exchanging blades and the chemistry between us crackled.

"Not bad," Wylan nods in approval when she nails the picture of Enzo at last, "I'm starved."

"This was so much fun! I can make turkey sandwiches," Coralee places the knives back into the leather sheath, "Lunch in ten minutes!"

"Thanks, honey."

I grit my teeth, confused why Wylan insists on calling her honey. He’s never resorted to pet names in the past. Ordering myself to chill the f**k out, throw the three-sided steel once more to nail Braden between his eyes.

“She’s not here to wait on you,” I snap before gathering the sharp instruments and returning them to my safe in the gym. I have stockpiles all over the property in case I require weapons.

In the house, I check my phone, surprised to discover someone left a voice mail. Wylan and Coralee sit down with lunch as I listen to old Mrs. Pills explain I have packages at the post office. While eating, I tell them I’m popping into town. Coralee’s workout clothes are here, and I’m excited to surprise her with new gear.

"I'll keep her busy," Wylan winks suggestively.

She rolls her eyes, chiding him on his behavior, "You're a helpless flirt, Wylan. How about you keep the dog’s company while I figure out what we’ll have for dinner?"

He pouts, "Cold Cora."

“That’s me, Icy Cora at your service,” she returns, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

“I’m told you’re not here to serve me,” he drawls with an obvious innuendo, causing Coralee to flush up to her ears.

Chuckling, I stand up to leave but not without giving him a meaningful look, "Behave."

He lowers his brows in mock bewilderment, “Who me? No worries. Got a J with my name on it.”

I was wondering when he’d pull that s**t out. There’s nothing wrong with weed, but he tends to overdo it. As long as I come back to my cabin and girl in one piece, we’re good.

Coralee follows me outside where Stimpy jumps on my legs, hoping for a ride. I cave, ushering them inside the vehicle. She drops a chaste kiss on my lips, and I pat her ass. Every time she touches me, I’m drawn to her juicy globes. And here I thought I was a boob man. Everything about her is so delectable I can’t decide, but the way her cheeks turn pink when I show her affection is my favorite. She’s far from innocent but reacts otherwise when we interact.

"Let's grill tonight," I suddenly crave steak, "I'll grab a fresh propane tank while out."

Her smile is gentle and so is her sweet voice, "Sounds perfect."

I wink, starting the jeep, "Sure does."

Anything that includes that girl smiling at me like that is perfect. I’m turning into a damn sap, but hell if I care.