Holding Strong

Yeah, until he’d gotten preoccupied with watching her, that had been the plan. A one-night stand with a nameless woman he’d never have to see again. Relieve some stress. Get his head together. Then walk away.

Man, had shit gone awry on that plan.

He’d known all along that Cherry had driven down for the fights; she was as supportive of Armie as everyone else in their group. At the venue, with every seat filled, he’d barely seen her. Here at the club, he couldn’t keep his gaze off her.

And again, he’d hesitated too long.

Twisting her mouth, she nodded. “Got it.” She tucked her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. “Sorry I intruded. It won’t happen again.” Her cheeks were hot, her eyes glassy as she turned away.

“Hey.” Before she’d taken a full step, Denver gestured at the seat. “Suit yourself.”

Given the length of time it had taken him to issue the invite, she should have been insulted. He half expected her to tell him to go to hell.

Instead, after considering him for several heartbeats, she slid that shapely ass up next to him.

He wanted her enough that small talk wasn’t easy. He had to concentrate to say, “You want something to drink?”

The shake of her head sent all those soft curls tumbling over her shoulders. “I better not.” Without looking at him, she wrinkled her nose. “Three wine coolers is my limit.”

Was she toasted? If so, he couldn’t very well leave her on her own, right? He glanced back and sure enough, as she’d said, Stack had one lady on his lap while Miles made out with another.

Worse, the guy who’d hit on her was across the floor keeping her in his sights. Denver mean-mugged him until he averted his gaze.

“You’re staying in the hotel across the street, too?”

The question brought Denver’s attention back to her. With an elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand, she looked tired.

The damn music was so loud he felt the beat in his chest.

Or maybe sitting so close to Cherry caused the heavy thumping of his heartbeat.

Why did she ask about the hotel? Looking at her lips, he said, “Yeah.”

“So am I.”

Damn, he didn’t need to know that.

She blew a curl away from her face. “I’m glad I decided not to drive back tonight.” Releasing a deep breath, she closed her eyes. “I’m beat.”

Driving home to Warfield, Ohio would have meant two hours in the car, and it was already one in the morning. The after-party was in full swing even though Armie, who would have been the man of the hour, had already booked with a babe.

Denver didn’t know if it was the kinky redhead or the threat of interest from the SBC that had driven Armie off so quickly.

Seeing Cherry rub her temples, he asked, “Headache?”

“It’s so loud in here.”

A hint that they should go? Having her this close tempted him... “Maybe you’re hungry. Want me to get you—”

“No.” She shook her head in denial. “I don’t even want to think about food.” Curving an arm around her middle, she said, “I’m starting to feel a little green.”

Frowning, Denver stroked back her soft hair and put his palm to her forehead. Damn it. “You’re hot.”

At first she froze, while the rise and fall of her breasts gave away her deeper breathing.

Because of a simple touch? How was he supposed to resist that? Slowly, he withdrew.

And she relaxed. “Thanks. I think you’re hot, too.” She smiled at her jest. “Too much dancing, I guess. It’s so noisy and warm and...I should probably turn in.”

Denver watched her slide back off that barstool without commenting, without an offer to walk her over, without...anything.

She hesitated, giving him plenty of opportunity, and he saw the moment she gave up—probably on more than tonight.

Maybe for good.

It’d be for the best, but damn, the idea bothered him.

After a soft sigh, she said, “Good night, Denver.”

He felt like a fickle prick. Worse, he felt like a coward. “Cherry.” Reaching out, he caught her wrist.

She turned, her gaze searching his.

“Hang on.”

Her short, humorless laugh cut him. “Why?”

Without meaning to, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Her hand was so small, delicate and soft.

There were a lot of rowdy guys hanging around, adrenaline pumping from the fights, either from watching or partaking, their discretion weakened by alcohol.

That excuse served as good as any.

“I’ll walk you over.”

“You really don’t need to do that. It’s just across the street.” She stared up at him. “Unless you want to.”

Yeah, he wanted that—and so much more. They both knew it. The only question now was whether or not they’d each follow through.

“Give me one sec.” He settled up his and Armie’s tab, all the while telling himself all the reasons why he should be on his best behavior. Walk her over, see her into her room, then go to your own.

But yeah, even he knew that was bullshit.

When he turned, she put a hand to his chest.

He felt that touch everywhere.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, but...I’m tired of playing guessing games.”

Is that what she thought? “No games.”

Exasperation brought her brows together. “I need to know, Denver. Are you dropping me off at my door...” Her gaze searched his. “Or sticking around for a while?”

Did she mean for sex? Or just to visit?

He couldn’t tell, was afraid to assume, but he’d vote for sex. Maybe once he had her he could end his obsession.

Curling his hand over hers, he lifted her knuckles to his mouth. If she wanted to leave it up to him, he had no problem making the final decision. He wanted her too much to keep fighting it. “Sticking around.”

She inhaled...and smiled. “Seriously?”

Such unguarded pleasure. “You like that idea?”

“I’m not the one who’s been unclear on things.”

Knowing he’d been far from decisive, Denver took that one on the chin.

“Didn’t you ride down with Stack and Miles?”

Trying to ignore how warm her hand felt in his, he said, “Yeah, why?”

Her small pink tongue came out to dampen her bottom lip, forcing him to swallow back a groan. “Well, they might leave early.”

Aware of his blood pumping hotly, his muscles tensing, he waited.

“I could offer you a ride.”

Lord help him. He didn’t need her saying suggestive things when his brain was already centered on getting her naked. His resolve had already weakened, but with such an open invitation, he lost the fight completely.

As if she’d read his thoughts, her eyes widened—and she laughed. “That sounded bad, didn’t it?”

“No.” Sounded really good to him.

Slanting him a look, her smile still in place, she clarified, “I could give you a ride home—in the morning, I mean.”

It wasn’t natural, how she teased and smiled and no matter how badly he behaved, kept her good humor. He hoped she wasn’t drunk. “Sounds like a plan.” Because now that he’d given in, he knew it would take the entire night to get his fill.

Holding her hand, he went in the same direction Armie had gone earlier.

Along the way, he paused by Stack and Miles long enough to say, “Don’t wait for me in the morning.”

Leaning away from the lady in his lap, Stack glanced at each of them, then at their entwined hands before breaking into a slow smile that made words unnecessary.

Miles reached around his own lady-friend to offer Denver a high five.

Ignoring his raised hand, Denver gave him the bird and walked away.

Laughter erupted behind them.

With a hand over her face, Cherry muttered, “Well, that was embarrassing.”

“You expected anything else?”

She dropped her hand and showed him a rueful smile. “With those two? No, not really.”

That she knew them both so well ramped up his jealousy, but he refused to react to it. From the moment the guys knew he was interested, Cherry had gone off-limits to them. Not for a second did he think they’d overstep, not unless he called the all clear.

And he wasn’t about to do that.

Slipping his arm over her shoulders, he drew her into his side and damn, it felt right having her close. She surprised him by resting her head against his shoulder for a second. When he glanced down at her, he saw she looked happy.

More than anything else, seeing that particular look on her face sent a heated rush of lust through his bloodstream, and convinced him he’d made the right decision—for both of them.

They passed Gage Ringer with his new bride Harper, both regulars at the gym, Gage as a fighter and Harper as a helper. They were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice Denver or Cherry.

Anticipation growing sharper, Denver led her through the throng, steering her around small clusters and heavier crowds. The loud, pulsing music and clamor of laughter and conversation made it difficult to talk until they finally reached the entrance.

As he drew her out the doors and into the quieter night, Cherry tipped up her face and drank in the humid evening air. “Ohhh, this is so much better.”

A storm gathered in the distance, sending brief flashes of lightning across the horizon. He could smell the rain in the air, and he felt his own mounting tension.

While a frisky breeze played with her hair, Cherry ducked against him comfortably, as if they’d been cozy forever.

She couldn’t know how it affected him, feeling her sweet body so close, inhaling the hot scent of her skin mixed with the dampness of the night.

He couldn’t help but touch her cheek, smoothing back her hair. She turned into his hand, smiling.

Would she look like that, all relaxed and satisfied, after she came?

Her lashes lifted and she looked at him. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Had she read his mind? He opened his hand, stroked his fingers through her silky hair. “What?”

“The quiet and the fresh air.”

She felt good. But then he was so primed that everything she said and did felt like a come-on.

Thick clouds tumbled over the stars and moon, but street lamps illuminated the area. Sluggish traffic went by. People milled in and out of the bar and the hotel across the street.

Apparently in less of a hurry than him to reach her room, Cherry turned toward him to chat. “Yvette left with Cannon right after the fight ended.”

Looping his arms around her waist, Denver nodded. “I talked with him.” Cannon always came as Armie’s corner man if his own fight schedule with the SBC didn’t have him out of town. It was a treat for all the other fighters at the event, and a thrill for the locals. “He’s as sappy as Gage.”

Her smile twitched. “Guess it helps that the ladies really enjoy the fights.”

Shadows played over her, emphasizing the swells of her breasts. With every move she made, that soft flesh drew his eye. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

And his mouth.

She didn’t exactly flaunt her curves, but she was definitely aware of them and the effect they had. The V-necked T-shirt she wore tonight was casual, but the way it fit her rack kept distracting him. He could tell she wore a bra, but it had to be insubstantial.

He worked his jaw when he saw that the cooler air had tightened her nipples.

Or maybe it was his gaze that did that.

Aware of her watching him, Denver asked her, “What about you?” She attended all the local events and when possible, traveled with Merissa—her roommate, who was also Cannon’s sister—to watch Cannon compete. She’d even gone with them to Japan.

As a day-care worker for preschool kids, Cherry had weekends free and could usually get Friday off by trading with another employee. But Denver knew some women liked the atmosphere, the excitement and interaction with fighters more than the actual sport.

“What about me?”

With the way he stared at her body, he could understand her confusion. Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, Denver got her walking again. “You enjoy MMA?”

“Mostly.” As they crossed the lot, a trio of laughing men passed them. To make room, Cherry squeezed more closely against his side.

And damn, he liked how she fit. Her five-seven was a lot smaller than his six-two, but not too small.

“I don’t understand all of it,” she admitted, going back to their topic. “But it’s exciting when someone I know wins.”

The increasing wind slapped against them, carrying her hair up to his chin. Denver drank in the scent of her, wondering if she smelled that good—or better—all over.

“I could do without the blood,” she admitted. “And once, I saw a guy’s arm break.” She winced as if she felt the pain herself.

Smiling, Denver paused with her just outside the hotel door to let another group exit. “I remember that fight. The idiot should have tapped. Injuries like that aren’t common, but every now and then they happen.”

“Have you ever been injured?”

He laughed. “Hell, yeah, but not bad. My worst injuries happened in training, not in competition.”

“Like what?”

With a roll of his shoulder, he said, “Joint injuries mostly. A popped rib. Broken finger and broken toe. Torn rotator cuff. Concussion. Pulled hammy...”

“Good grief.” Aghast, she said, “I had no idea.”

“Comes with the territory. Like I said, nothing serious, and nothing too bad in an actual fight.”

Still frowning with worry, she shoulder-bumped him. “Because you’re good?”

“Sure.” Modesty had no place in the life of a professional MMA fighter. “But I’m also trained, and that makes a big difference.”

Hugging his arm, she said, “I’m really looking forward to seeing you fight.”

Since he didn’t know where things were going with her, he didn’t want to plan that far ahead. Mostly he wanted to plan for the rest of the night. Period. “Headache better?”

Smiling, she said, “Mmm-hmmm.”

She looked so sweet it was a challenge not to kiss her. If they were alone, he wouldn’t bother resisting. But people hung around the hotel lobby and just outside its doors. Other fighters called out to him. A woman asked to get her picture with him. Denver let Cherry go long enough to oblige the fan.

When he rejoined her, she whispered, “You’re so popular.”

Only in certain crowds, and right now he could do without the recognition. “Come on.” Taking her hand, he led her inside and went straight for the elevator. They had to squeeze in with other people...including the guy who’d hit on her earlier.

CHAPTER TWO

DENVER KEPT HIS mouth shut and his gaze vigilant. Cherry returned the man’s smile with a polite nod, then looked away.

“Calling it a night?” he asked her, with a glance at Denver.

Denver stared back.

“Yes,” she said around a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

Too dumb or too buoyed by liquid courage, the guy eyed Denver again. “You’re a fighter, too?”

Too? Did that mean this bozo was trained? Perfect. Given how he’d panted after Cherry earlier, he’d love to meet him in a competition. “That’s right. You?”

“Just this lame local shit.”

He said nothing to that. Armie made one hell of a living off the “local shit.”

Sticking out his hand, the man said, “Leese Phelps. You’re a heavyweight with the SBC, right? Denver Lewis.”

Without bothering to explain that he’d only recently been recruited to the SBC, Denver gave a brief handshake. “We’ve met?”

“No, but I follow the fights. I’m light heavyweight. Been thinking about moving up, though.”

Probably to dodge Armie. “You fight in this venue?”

“Yeah. You gotta know someone to get in the SBC, right? So I’m stuck here. But I didn’t fight tonight.”

Put him and Armie in the cage together, and Denver knew Armie would annihilate him.

“The SBC lets you wear your hair that long?”

Denver cocked a brow. Yeah, his hair now hung to his shoulders. Long, but who cared? He didn’t. “Doesn’t bother anyone.”

“Huh.”

As the people behind Denver exited the elevator, he allowed himself to be pressed closer to Leese. He started to speak—and Cherry leaned into him.

“I like your hair,” she said. Then she went a step further and reached up to tunnel her fingers through it. In a playful tone, she said, “It’s sexy.”

Denver frowned at her. Sexy was never his intent. He just didn’t bother getting it cut. But sexy? There were still five people crammed in the elevator with them and he felt his ears getting hot.

Cherry looked at Leese. “When you’re as successful at fighting as Denver is, I doubt anyone worries about the length of your hair.”

Leese jutted his jaw enough to look obnoxious. “You’ve only had one fight with the SBC, right?”

Denver didn’t get a chance to reply.

“And he won,” Cherry said with emphasis. Just then, the elevator stopped at her floor and, clutching Denver’s hand, she departed with a brisk, “Have a good evening.”

The hallway was empty, so after the elevator doors closed, Denver drew her up short and backed her to a wall. “What was that about?”

“What?”

“I don’t need you to defend me to that guy or anyone else.”

“I just stated facts!”

“And that bit with my hair?”

“It is sexy.” Again she trailed her fingers through it—and shivered—before getting serious. “But I wasn’t really defending you.”

“No?”

“You were giving poor Leese your patented death stare, and I figured you were about to level him, so...I wanted to defuse things.”

He drew back in insult. “You think I’d start brawling in a crowded elevator?”

“No. But you wouldn’t have to. Your ability is light-years away from Leese’s level and he knows it. He was already intimidated and acting like an ass. I didn’t want you to say anything that would...”

“What?” Even more disgusted, Denver asked, “Hurt his feelings?”

Gaze softening, her attention went all over his body. “Seriously, Denver. Did you really want to argue right now?”

He searched her face. “No.” Hell no. Especially not with her looking at him like that. He moved in again, one hand on the wall by her shoulder. “Thing is, I’m not sure you want what I want.”

For the longest time, their gazes held while her breathing quickened and her cheeks warmed. Finally, in a whisper, she asked, “Do you want me?”

With one short nod, he pressed her to the wall, feeling her all along his length. “Have for a long time.”

“You hid it well.”

“Then I’m one hell of an actor.” He brushed his mouth over her forehead. “We have a lot of talking to do, but I’d as soon do it after.”

“After?”

“After I’ve had you. Maybe several times.”

She dipped her head down so that he stared at the crooked part in her fair hair. He brushed his nose against her, down to her temple, her ear.

Her hands clutched at him. “I got the feeling you didn’t like me.”

“I like you.” It was how her flirting made him feel that he didn’t like so much.

“We’re finally going to have sex?”

Having her spell it out like that, as if he’d just given her a gift, added fuel to the fire. He closed his eyes, drew a breath. “That’d sure be my preference.”

Pushing him back so she could see his face, she asked anxiously, “You won’t change your mind?”

The laugh tried to escape, but he wanted her too much to take a chance on pissing her off. “Where’s your room?”

“Close.” On a sharply inhaled breath, she stepped him back a few paces and darted around him in a rush. “Come on.”

At first he just watched her, the sway of that stellar ass, how her breasts moved, her obvious urgency, the way her hair teased over her shoulders. She stopped halfway down the hall and fumbled in her purse before pulling out a key card. She opened the door, jammed the key card back into her purse, and glanced at him.

Ah, hell. Definitely close. In a few long strides Denver reached her.

Seconds later they were in her room.

A second after that he was kissing her.

* * *

OH GOD, HE tasted good, even better than she’d imagined—which seemed incredible because she’d done a lot of explicit imagining. Big and bold, he slanted his head and nudged her lips open so he could lick in with his hot tongue.

Whoa, the man seriously knew how to curl her toes.

And so much hunger! If she didn’t know better, she might think that he’d wanted her as much as she’d always wanted him. But that couldn’t be true because he was the one who’d started avoiding her. No way had she misunderstood that.

She just didn’t know why.

He was here with her now, though, and she wanted to do this right.

Gasping for air, Cherry said, “Wait.” He lifted his head but stayed close, his hard body pressed to hers, thrilling her. She’d wanted him for so long that the reality of this happening, finally, almost made her frenzied to seal the deal. She could feel his warm breath, the flexing muscles in his chest and arms, and the intimidating rise of his erection.

But if she thought about that right now, she’d totally lose it. Better to concentrate to keep things on track.

Holding on to his biceps—so sexy—she licked her lips, swallowed, and managed to say, “The door?” It still stood open because the second she’d stepped into the room he’d kissed her.

Slow, methodical, he slid one hand up her nape and into her hair, clenching just enough to hold her securely, keeping her right there against him.

That possessive embrace sent another thrill racing through her, turning her breath short and shallow, her heartbeat fast and furious.

With the other hand he shoved the door closed and turned the lock, then went one further and flipped the security latch. That all seemed so final that her knees trembled.

His hand in her hair tugged, tipping her head back and away to give his open mouth access to her throat, tasting her skin, sucking and licking down to her shoulder, then concentrating where her frantic pulse raced.

She couldn’t help but groan at the feel of his teeth, his hot tongue. “Denver...”

He kissed his way back up to her mouth.

So much heat suffused her, she felt light-headed. At the last second, she turned her head. “I need five minutes for a shower.”

That clever hand in her hair brought her face back around. “Later.” And then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue delving, consuming.

Making her forget herself.

She clutched at him, uncaring that she was a little worn from so much dancing, that she’d wanted this first time with him to be perfect.

His free hand went to her waist, kneading her before gliding up her ribs without quite touching her breast, back down past her hip to the curve of her backside. His big hand opened on her, cuddling, stroking her bottom, lifting her to her toes.

He was so big all over that she felt dwarfed next to him. He crowded her more, caging her against the wall as his hand teased back up her body.

When she made a soft sound of anticipation, he eased up, gently kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, then locked onto her gaze. Their breaths mingled as his fingers hooked in the V-neck of her shirt and stretchy lace bra, and tugged them both down until he’d freed one breast.

She felt the cooler air on her bared skin, her sensitive nipple. Low light filled the room from the bedside lamp she’d left on, but he didn’t look at her there.

Still with a hand in her hair, staring into her eyes with an intent expression, he cupped her.

Her lips parted; his gaze went heavy.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

Heart thundering, she closed her eyes as he drifted his thumb over her taut nipple.

“Look at me, Cherry.”

Oh, that husky voice. She got her eyes open, and it was so startling, seeing him like this, being the recipient of that golden-brown, predatory stare.