Fighting Dirty

“Far gone?”

“Drunk.” He waved a hand at her. “And you being here isn’t helping.”

“Don’t ask me to go.” For good measure, she admitted, “When I’m alone, I can’t stop thinking about the robbery and that man and how he—”

“Shh. That’s over.” There, outside the bedroom, while stepping in against her, Armie caught each of her hands and pinned them to the wall at either side of her head. “You’re okay.”

The press of his body all along her length caused her breath to hitch. Especially when his solid erection nudged her belly. He wore only the silly boxers, and she could feel each and every long, firm muscle through her thin T-shirt and low-riding jeans.

His gaze drifted over her face, lingered on her mouth, then down her throat to the tops of her breasts. The side of his nose brushed hers and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Stretch.”

This time the nickname didn’t faze her. “Yes, I do.”

His lips grazed her bruised jaw, over to her earlobe. “Rissy...” he said, sounding pained.

“I’m asking for you, Armie. Just you.”

He hesitated, then thrust himself away from her. “Not that easy and you know it. No one comes to my bed wanting just me.”

“I would,” she whispered. “I do.”

He groaned. “Jesus, I’m drunk.”

If that was true, and she was pretty sure it was, then it wouldn’t be ethical of her to take advantage of him. He wanted to resist her and she wanted to wear him down.

But she didn’t want to dupe him into doing anything that he’d later regret.

She gave him a long look and went into the bedroom.

He laughed, rubbed his tired eyes and muttered, “I tried.”

“Yes, you did.” To get him to join her, she asked, “Would it help you to relax if I told you all I want is to sleep? Beside you, I mean, because I honestly don’t want to be alone.” And she was pretty sure he didn’t want to be alone, either.

Full of regret, he shook his head. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t. I’ll crash on the couch.”

Babe? That was a new one, but again, he’d had too much to drink and wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “It’s going to be crowded with both of us out there.”

When he stood there—neither leaving nor making a move to stay—Merissa decided to try to sway him. She reached for the snap on her jeans.

Armie didn’t look away from her eyes, but he breathed harder.

She dragged down the zipper, then slipped her hands into the jeans along her hips and slowly pushed down the tight material until she could step free.

His nostrils flared.

She dropped the jeans over a chair, pulled back the comforter on his bed and, full of uncertainty, slipped beneath the covers. To make room for Armie, she scooted over to the middle, looked at him and waited.

“If I wasn’t drunk,” he whispered, staring at her, “I might be able to do this.” He edged closer, caught the comforter and dragged it away from her body. His blistering gaze surveyed every inch of her, leaving her singed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He’d been prepared to die for her. She trusted him completely.

A deep, harsh groan tore from his throat, and then he was in the bed, gathering her close, one hand in her hair, the other low on her back, almost to her derriere. Their legs tangled, his hairy and muscular, hers smooth and slim. She felt soft chest hair against her cheek, and the heavy bumping of his heartbeat.

“Armie?”

“Shh. Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” He smelled so good and felt so nice, she didn’t mind just being close with him. But as the time slipped by, she started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. The bedside lamp was on and the comforter remained at the foot of the bed.

Levering back from his hold, she tipped up her face and found his eyes closed, his brows lightly pinched.

She scooted upward to kiss the injury to his head, and that’s when she saw the restraint hanging loosely from his headboard. She couldn’t quite look away from it, either, now that she’d spotted it.

“Armie?”

His dark lashes left shadows over his high cheekbones. “Hmm?”

Now she frowned, too. “Are you playing possum?”

“Concentrating.”

“On what?”

His hand slid farther down, over one cheek of her behind. He stroked with his thumb, fondled, then returned to the small of her back. Voice raspy, he said, “Not doing more of that.”

After that sizzling, sensual caress, it took her a second to regain her voice. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Can we talk about this tie hanging from your bedpost?”

His eyes opened, dark, compelling. “We could talk about you losing this shirt.”

That low, rough voice enticed as much as the suggestion. “Oh, Armie,” she whispered. “If you weren’t drunk, I would.”

“If I wasn’t drunk, I wouldn’t ask.”

Probably true. She sighed.

As if to convince her, he said, “I’m a better cocksman when inebriated.”

The laugh almost burst out. “Cocksman?”

He nudged his erection against her. “Like a swordsman, but with my dick.”

“Yes.” She had to work at keeping the smile at bay. “I understood the reference.”

The hand on her back began toying with her shirt. “Want me to show you?”

“I want you to explain the restraint.”

His eyes went heavy, sensual. “I use them to tie up frisky ladies so I can do as I please—and they love it.”

“Is that one of the things women ask of you? To be tied down?” Being at Armie’s mercy—she wouldn’t mind that. In fact, her toes curled just talking about it.

“Yeah.” He drew her down for a kiss. “They beg for it.”

Merissa avoided his mouth and instead kissed his forehead, then the bridge of his nose. “The woman who was here tonight, that’s what she likes?”

“She likes her bottom hot.” Armie turned his head and nuzzled into her neck. “But I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

On the contrary, she found it fascinating. “So you...spank her?”

“Yeah.” He lightly bit her shoulder, then stilled. “You into that?”

Merissa gave an emphatic, “No.”

Armie relaxed again. “Good. I would never want to hurt you. Not in any way.”

Touched by that confession, Merissa hugged his head to her breasts. The way he’d said that though, not in any way, had her thoughts churning.

He did a little more nuzzling, getting close to her nipples. She scooted back down so they were again face-to-face.

Armie just looked at her, his gaze probing and aroused, but also slightly off focus.

“I sort of expected your bedroom to be full of sex toys.”

“Mmm,” he murmured with a smile. “Women bring their own.”

That reply took her by surprise. “Really?”

Trailing his fingertips down her arm, he said, “I figure they can handle their own cleanup.”

Euewww. “TMI.”

He laughed, kissed the top of her head. “How can it be too much information when you’re grilling me?”

“I didn’t expect...”

“Sex is a messy business.” His voice went deeper. “Women get nice and wet when turned on, and men come.” He stroked her hair back. “You know that.”

She knew plain vanilla sex with men she hadn’t loved. No sex toys, no restraints and definitely no spanking. She didn’t need kink with Armie, but she wanted him happy. “What you said to that woman...”

“It’s really bad form for me to spank and tell.”

She scooted closer. “But I’m curious.”

“God,” he groaned, “don’t be.”

She loved the sprinkling of chest hair over his solid pecs, and that tantalizing trail that bisected his body. She loved that he respected women enough to care about sharing things private, and that he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

She loved his body and his attitude, his capability and his concern—she loved everything about him. “I’ll keep it general.”

He rocked her a little and asked, “Why don’t you sleep?”

“Do you enjoy spanking women?”

He groaned again.

“Armie,” she persisted.

He silently stared at her for a good long while, then surprised her again by turning to his stomach, stacking an arm under his cheek, and getting comfortable.

“Armie?”

Time ticked by. Merissa narrowed her eyes. “If you just fall asleep, I swear I’ll—”

He didn’t move. Didn’t open his eyes. She huffed. He’d actually gone to sleep. She watched his back rise and fall with deep, even breaths. Seeing the raised, discolored welt there softened her annoyance.

Then she noticed that when he’d turned over, he’d displaced his boxers. The waistband was tugged down a good three inches on one side, showing a strip of paler flesh over the top of his firm butt. With one fingertip she traced his spine, and still he didn’t stir.

Would he remember any of this tomorrow morning? Oh, it was evil of her, but she almost hoped he wouldn’t. It’d be fun to give him a hard time, to reveal to him, little by little, everything they’d discussed and how many times he’d kissed her.

As to that, she smiled, thinking wicked, very naughty thoughts as she watched him sleep. Her gaze went to his partially exposed backside.

Well, she did leave her signature note everywhere.

Grinning, she slipped from the bed but returned within a minute. Armie’s breathing had turned into a light snore, and he slept through the writing of her note.

With that done she crawled back into the bed, curled up close to him and fell asleep with a happy smile on her face.

* * *

ARMIE WOKE SLOWLY, his eyes blurry, his head more so. When he moved, several things hurt. Nothing new in that. He sparred hard, fought hard and often woke with sore muscles or minor injuries. He stretched awake.

And suddenly remembered.

Sitting up with a jolt, he looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty. He was out of the room in a heartbeat, searching until he found the pot of coffee in the kitchen and the note folded against it that read Rissy was here. Damn.

Turning to the kitchen sink, he splashed his face and tried to get his bearings. He remembered her coming over, remembered her leading him off to his bedroom.

Remembered her stripping off her jeans.

His gaze shot down, and relief rolled through him when he saw he still wore his boxers. That told him a lot because no way would he have worked around them if they’d gotten busy.

So clearly they hadn’t.

Dropping back against the sink, he racked his brain and finally remembered his lame plan. He’d figured on pretending to be asleep to both discourage her from asking sexual questions and encourage him to keep his hands to himself.

Unfortunately, he must have actually passed out on her.

Embarrassing, but also a lifesaver.

Had he held her all night? Turning, he strode back down the hall to his bedroom and stalled at the sight of his bed.

He’d been there with Merissa. Memories of touching her, kissing her, teasing and talking with her all drifted in and out of his thoughts.

He recalled those long, killer legs of hers tangling up with his. Her dark, thick hair trailing through his fingers. Her nipples pushing against the T-shirt. Her warmth and curiosity and openness with him.

No one comes to my bed wanting just me.

I would. I do.

When the cell phone rang, he jumped a foot, then rushed to answer. Glancing at the screen first, he saw it was Cannon, and braced himself. “’Lo.”

“How do you feel?”

Armie held the phone out, stared at it, then put it back to his ear. “I’m fine. Why?”

Cannon laughed. “You were in the middle of a bank robbery yesterday. You got clubbed on the head and across the back.”

And I slept with your sister. “It’s all good.” He faked a yawn. “Just woke up.”

“Yeah. Rissy texted me a half hour ago. After everything that had happened I wanted to talk to her, too. She sounded fine, like her old self. Said she was running home to shower and change before work, but that you were still snoring.”

Armie’s heart dropped to his feet. His sexcapades were vast and varied, but had never involved a discussion with anyone’s brother.

With humor in his tone, Cannon said, “We have a special guest today, so do you think you can hustle it up?”

In a rasp, he asked, “Special guest?”

“Jude Jamison.”

Holy hell. Jude owned mega stock in the SBC organization. He’d once been a champion fighter before he left and became an even more famous actor. Then he got accused of murder, survived a grueling trial where most believed he was guilty but couldn’t prove it, fell in love and finally cleared his name. “Why?”

“You already know why. The organization is focused on you.”

He grumbled, rubbed his tired eyes and knew there’d be no help for it. “This sucks.”

Cannon laughed. “Most fighters would be thrilled to get Jamison’s attention.”

Yeah, well, he wasn’t most fighters. Already heading to his dresser, he pulled out clean socks and sweatpants and sat on the side of the bed to dress. “I was going to grab a cup of coffee and then stop on my way to get my regular cell phone fixed.”

“Harper can get it fixed for you.”

Harper, who’d started as a volunteer until she’d married Gage, now worked full-time at the rec center and was there almost as often as Armie. Since the cell store was only half a block down, she probably wouldn’t mind. “Fine. I’ll come right in. Okay if I drain the pipes and clean my teeth first?”

“Sure. And take five minutes to put some fuel in the tank. I have a feeling Jamison will put you through a workout.” And with that, Cannon disconnected.

“Pain in the ass,” Armie muttered, and finished pulling on his socks. Knowing he’d shower at the rec center, he packed his gym bag, brushed his teeth and ignored the whiskers on his face and his unkempt hair. Since he could smell the coffee, he filled a travel mug to take with him then rinsed out the carafe. He’d have to explain to Rissy that he tried to avoid caffeine.

No, wait. He wouldn’t have her over again so he didn’t need to explain jack shit to her.

Of course the coffee was perfect. Everything about her was perfect.

He wished she had awakened him before leaving. Now, despite what Cannon had said, he’d be wondering all day whether or not she’d slept, and if she was nervous about returning to work.

Last night she’d wanted to be with him.

Today, how would she feel? He chowed down a protein-rich breakfast bar on the way to the rec center. For most of the ride he stewed and finally gave in. As soon as he parked his truck he called Merissa.

On the third ring she answered with a rushed, “Armie, hey!”

She sounded breathless, which sort of stole his breath, too. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Sorry, just out of the shower and hustling to get dressed so I get to the bank on time.”

That put an immediate visual in the forefront of his brain.

“Armie?”

He shook off the image of her wrapped in a small towel, her skin still damp, her face flushed. “How are you?”

“You and Cannon,” she teased. “I’m fine. What about you?”

“I’m good.” He paused, but couldn’t hold back. “You should have woken me up before you left.”

“I’m sorry. You looked so peaceful, and I knew I couldn’t stay anyway. It seemed a waste for us both to be up rushing.” Now she paused, then added, “Thank you for inviting me over again tonight. I appreciate that.”

Armie went blank. He’d invited her back over?

“I get off work at five, but it’ll probably be five-thirty before I get away. Then I’ll need to run home and change. I’m thinking six, maybe six-thirty. Does that work for you? I thought I’d cook you dinner.”

“Um...” He scrambled for an excuse, came up blank and rubbed the back of his neck. “Should work.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.” She disconnected.

Armie sat there, equal parts confused, concerned and anxious to see her again. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself and left the truck.

He saw the crowds right away. Figured a big shot like Jude Jamison would draw in the gawkers. Slinging the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder, he headed in.

Wasn’t easy, not with an influx of semiswooning ladies all jockeying for better positions in the crowd. “Excuse me,” he said about a dozen times until he finally reached Harper, Gage’s wife.

She stood on tiptoe, and she smiled.

Armie said, “Not you, too.”

She elbowed him. “It’s Jude Jamison.”

“Yeah, so?”

Harper turned to blink at him. “He’s a movie star!”

“Used to be.” But Jude had left that all behind.

“Once a movie star, always a movie star.” Harper sighed. “Just look at him. He’s gorgeous.”

“They’re both gorgeous,” another woman said.

Armie leaned around them to see the mat and realized Jude and Cannon were sparring together. He grinned. “Got your ovaries aching, huh?”

Harper elbowed him again. The other gal sighed, “Yes.”

Shaking his head, Armie sidled past them until he’d reached a more open area where the other fighters stood. Gage immediately asked him, “Harper still all moony-eyed?”

“’Fraid so.”

“I’ll get her mind on other things once we’re out of here.” He bobbed his eyebrows to ensure everyone understood his meaning.

Leese nodded at the mat. “Jude said he hadn’t done any actual sparring for a while, but it doesn’t show. He’s still slick with his moves.”

“And those direct shots,” Gage added, then slanted a look at Armie. “How he throws a punch, straight and fast, reminds me a little of you.”

Folding his arms, Armie watched for a minute and noticed that Cannon was holding back. A smart move, really. No reason for Jamison to get hurt or for Cannon to stroke his own ego when there was a lot more to be gained in a good relationship with someone of Jamison’s caliber.

Then to Armie’s surprise, the men finished up and Jamison said, “Thanks for going easy on me.” He grinned like he’d had the time of his life.

Armie understood the feeling. For a man who liked to use his strength and test his speed, there wasn’t anything else like MMA.

Cannon laughed. “You haven’t lost it, that’s for sure.”

“I stay in shape,” Jamison said. “But there’s in shape and then there’s fighting shape. In this business, speed is the first thing to go and it makes all the difference between a champion and a mediocre contender.” He clapped Cannon on the back. “Thanks for indulging me.”

“Anytime.”

They stopped in front of Armie, and Jamison, after freeing himself from the fingerless gloves, offered his hand. “Armie, thanks for coming in early.”

Cannon snorted. “He’s here all the time. Believe me, this is late.”

Armie felt his neck go hot. He was late because he’d been sleeping with Merissa. Best rest he’d had in forever, too. “Not a problem. So what’s on the agenda? Cannon said you wanted to see me?”

“I’ve got all day. Mind if I just watch your normal routine for a while? After that, we’ll all sit down and talk.”

Rolling a shoulder, Armie said, “Sure. Suit yourself.”

For the next three hours he tuned everyone out and went through his usual workout. Normally he could get into the zone and his brain would be blessedly clear. This time though, even as he went from throwing hard punches and solid kicks, to grappling with other fighters, and then to lifting weights, his thoughts stayed centered on Merissa. True, he’d been hammered last night, but not so far gone that he didn’t remember the stirring way she’d removed those formfitting jeans.

When she’d bent to push them down, her long hair had tumbled forward, almost touching the floor. Her dark hair had inspired plenty of fantasies for him. And those beautiful bright blue eyes—they were the same color as her brother’s, and both siblings had thick, dark lashes, but on Merissa the look was sexy as hell. So many times he’d imagined anchoring her with his hands fisted in that silky hair, staring into her mesmerizing blue eyes and riding her hard until he watched her quicken, then felt her come.

He could almost feel it now, those long, slim legs hugged around him, hear the catch in her breathing, feel the wet slickness...

“Ready to spar?”

Drawing a deep breath, he turned to Leese and saw he wore headgear and had his mouthpiece handy.

Leese grinned. “We played paper/scissors/rock and I lost.”

Not understanding, Armie shook his head.

“Not sure if it’s for Jude’s benefit or if you’re pissed about something, but you’re really pounding out the workout today.”

Armie frowned, glanced out at the room and saw a whole lot of people watching. What the hell? He wasn’t a Hollywood star like Jamison so they could all just go about their business.

To Leese, he said, “You can take whatever I throw at you.”

Leese grunted. “Going to be one of those days, huh?” He followed Armie to the corner where he had his gear. “Truthfully, though, I like it. Better opportunity for me to learn.”

Since the improved attitude was still a somewhat new turnaround for Leese, who had, at one point, been something of a dick, Armie always enjoyed working with him. He learned fast, put his heart into it and was proving to be a better fighter than any of them had expected. Armie wasn’t sure if Leese had what it took to be a champion, but he could put on one hell of a fight.

After wedging in his mouth guard and fastening on his headgear, Armie said, “Let’s go.”

For another hour they sparred. Armie alternately put it to Leese, and then instructed him. That was all well and good, but then Jude wanted to see Cannon with him.

“You too tired?” Jamison asked him.

Cannon spoke for him, saying, “Armie has more energy than any fighter I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t gas out, ever.”

Rolling his eyes over that effusive praise, Armie said, “If you were a chick I wouldn’t mind getting stroked, but from another dude it’s getting weird.”

Cannon laughed. “So you are tired?”

“I’m fine.”

Jamison studied him. “I’d say by those bloodshot eyes you had a night of it.”

New heat joined that from exertion. Again he said, “I’m fine.”

Jamison looked at Cannon, who smirked, and they both laughed.

“Yuck it up.” Armie flexed his shoulders. “We’ll see who wears down.”

Cannon joined him on the mat. “Challenging me?”

He sent his friend a mean grin. “You won’t be any good to Yvette tonight.”

“Boys, boys,” Jamison said, but Armie could tell he loved this shit. “I don’t want anyone mangled. Just spar so I can see the moves, okay?”

Cannon said, “Yeah, Yvette prefers me physically available.”

They all laughed over that.

Apparently Jude Jamison didn’t realize that he and Cannon were like brothers and one would never hurt the other. Of course, it was possible Cannon might drop down a weight class one day. If he did and the SBC set them up to actually compete against each other, they’d both give it their all. But that was for sport, without an ounce of animosity involved.

Armie and Cannon engaged, and pretty soon everyone stood alongside the mat watching. Most of the ladies had finally cleared out; they didn’t really hang at the rec center all day the way many of the athletes did.

His friends, Gage and Justice, Brand and Miles, Leese, Denver and Stack, all called out different submissions. Armie went through each one. Of course, Cannon was resisting but, for the sake of giving Jamison a demonstration, he didn’t really fight back. If he had, it wouldn’t have been so easy.

By the time they finished it was pushing four o’clock and sweat covered Armie’s entire body. He’d had a few quick breaks and wolfed down the lunch Harper put together for him, but otherwise, he’d been busy.

Stack did him a solid by helping him get his gloves and headgear off. “You have really sick speed.”

“I agree,” Jamison said as he joined them. “And you honestly don’t look tired.”

“Getting there,” Armie said. Sometimes his overabundance of energy was a problem. Like the times he tried to screw himself into exhaustion so he could sleep. Usually the woman wore out first, and then he had a hell of a time getting her up and out of his apartment.