An up-and-coming MMA fighter wants more than just one night from a woman fleeing her past in New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster’s irresistible new novel

Heavyweight fighter Denver Lewis plays real nice, but he doesn’t share. That’s why he’s been avoiding top-notch flirt Cherry Peyton. But a man can only resist those lush curves for so long. Their encounter surpasses all his fantasies, bringing out protective urges that Cherry’s about to need more than she knows…

Denver’s combination of pure muscle and unexpected tenderness has been driving Cherry wild. Yet no sooner does she get what she’s been craving than old troubles show up on her doorstep. And this time, Cherry can’t hide behind a carefree facade. Because the man by her side is one who’ll fight like hell to keep her safe…if only she’ll trust him enough to let him…

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

“Readers will be thrilled with Foster’s new sexy batch of fight club heroes and the women who love them.”

—Kirkus Reviews on No Limits

“Storytelling at its best! Lori Foster should be on everyone’s auto-buy list.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon on No Limits

“Foster’s writing satisfies all appetites with plenty of searing sexual tension and page-turning action in this steamy, edgy, and surprisingly tender novel.”

—Publishers Weekly on Getting Rowdy

“Foster hits every note (or power chord) of the true alpha male hero.”

—Publishers Weekly on Bare It All

“A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”

—Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk

“Bestseller Foster…has an amazing ability to capture a man’s emotions and lust with sizzling sex scenes and meld it with a strong woman’s point of view.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Perfect Storm

“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger

“The fast-paced thriller keeps these well-developed characters moving…Foster’s series will continue to garner fans with this exciting installment.”

—Publishers Weekly on Trace of Fever

“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

Holding Strong

Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

My newest Ultimate series, with books that each stand alone but are connected by characters who know each other, involves mixed martial arts (MMA) fighters and falling in love. The books are not about fighting, but rather they are about high-level athletes fitting a monogamous, long-term relationship into the hectic schedule of training, travel, diet and competition.

The sport brings with it some hunky, capable alpha heroes so that all I need to do is add in the romance. Superfun for me and, given the reaction to the first two stories (Hard Knocks, an e-prequel novella, and No Limits, a novel), readers are enjoying them, too. I’m thrilled with the feedback I’ve gotten so far, and now I have my favorite couple yet!

Denver is big, strong, lethal in his skill, but he’s no match for Cherry once she decides she wants him. As always, they have several things they need to work out—all while Denver keeps up with his training. This is one of my sexiest books ever, but that’s because Denver is one of my sexiest heroes—something Cherry loves about him.

If you’re not familiar with MMA, it is a full-contact, full-body combat sport allowing the use of strikes from hands, feet, elbows and knees, along with grappling techniques (think wrestling, but with submissions using manipulation of joints like elbows, knees and ankles), both standing and on the ground. The UFC—Ultimate Fighting Championship—is the best-known organization; my fictional version is the SBC, or Supreme Battle Challenge. Many different disciplines are learned—Brazilian jujitsu, muay Thai, wrestling, boxing and kickboxing. You might read a term like a headlock, or an arm bar, or an ankle pick…just know that those are different terms used to describe the action, and given the scene, you should be able to get a visual. There won’t be much of that, though, because as I said, the core of these stories is romance—sexy, fun, one-on-one romance.

After No Limits released, I got (happily!) bombarded with reader letters and emails asking which of the fighters would be next. Now you know it’s Denver, and after him will be Stack. Armie, bless his kinky soul, will be last because let’s face it, Armie has some things to work out before he plays the role of romantic hero. But if you’d like a sneak peek into the plans, check the back of this book for a special “bonus scene” from No Limits hero Cannon’s point of view.

And of course, you are always welcome to reach out to me. I’m very active on most social media forums including Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads, and my email address is listed on my website at lorifoster.com.

I hope you continue to enjoy the Ultimate series. Do let me know!

Happy reading to all,

Lori Foster

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE WEDDING (Bonus Scene)

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

WATCHING HER LAUGH, seeing her tease and flirt, burned his ass big-time. He loved when she laughed and teased with him—not so much when it was with other guys.

And therein lay the problem.

He had a near-savage lust for her. When he looked at her, when he heard that carefree laugh, he felt dangerously close to losing it.

Contemplating decisions and possible mistakes, Denver Lewis sipped his beer. He should look away from her but knew he wouldn’t. She was all tits and ass and attitude in a petite frame, and God love the girl, she turned him on.

He’d avoided her, refused to be drawn in by her tempting smiles, and all in all given her the cold shoulder since determining they wouldn’t suit. He had no right to judge her for having fun elsewhere.

But knowing and accepting that as true didn’t talk him off the ledge. No, if anything it wound him tighter.

Damn, she looked good.

The shifting lights in the club played with her dark blond hair and the curves of her lush little body. His buddy Stack, another fighter, drew her into a fast dance. She didn’t refuse. Ever.

Cherry Peyton was always the life of the party.

The loud music competed with the furious drumming of Denver’s heart as he monitored her every move. The music’s wild tempo kept her body from touching Stack’s. They danced around each other and the rest of the crowd on the floor.

Every guy there made note of her, seeing her once and then taking a longer look. Her happiness, her laugh and that killer bod all combined for one hell of an impact on the male libido.

For over an hour, Denver watched her draw attention and smiles and, no doubt, sexual thoughts. He ignored other women who tried to get his attention, those who came up to him and propositioned him in modest and sometimes lewd ways.

Yeah, he wanted to get laid.

But he wanted Cherry, not anyone else.

It pissed him off that he couldn’t get her out of his head. He should have had her before decreeing theirs an acquaintance-only relationship, then maybe he could have some perspective when it came to seeing her with other men.

Then again, maybe not—because days after meeting her, he’d known sex wasn’t the only thing he wanted. He’d already begun to think of her as his, even though he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

If only his territorial tendencies didn’t clash so badly with her playful party-girl personality.

Seeing her accept her third glass of wine, he finished off his beer and called it quits.

At least on the alcohol.

He stewed while watching her indulge in several dances with too many different guys—never mind that they were all from their group, fighters that she, and he, knew well and trusted as friends. They’d all come down en masse to cheer on one of their own. Fighters from the rec center who sparred and coached together. Men he’d known forever.

Men who had befriended Cherry when she’d become roommates with Merissa, another fighter’s sister.

She was well and truly enmeshed in his life, friends with his friends, a part of their inner group, and if he wasn’t denying himself like a freaking masochist he’d be over there with them right now. She’d be laughing and joking with him. Dancing with him.

Treating him like everyone else.

That she was so well accepted in their circle made it even more impossible to stop thinking about her, because everywhere he went, he saw her.

Finally, after a robust dance that had her laughing aloud, Cherry began to fade. She dropped into a chair at a table with three other fighters and a few women.

Her gaze never once came his way—almost as if she knew where he was and avoided making eye contact with him.

Suited Denver fine. Mostly.

Damn it.

It wasn’t easy, but he made himself look away.

Tonight had been an eventful one. They’d all gotten to the local fight venue early, some to grab a bite before the event, others just to ensure they got the best seats. They all enjoyed watching Armie Jacobson fight.

They’d enjoy it even more if Armie would accept the offers from the more elite, professional fight organization, the SBC, but for reasons of his own he dodged them, always insisting on sticking with the smaller, more local groups. It wasn’t due to a lack of talent.

Cannon Colter was a star with the SBC, and both Denver and Stack had recently signed with them. Since they each sparred with Armie, they knew firsthand that he was fast and deceptively strong, slick in a way that bespoke innate talent, something that couldn’t be taught or learned but came naturally to a born athlete. Armie knew his shit.

If he accepted a contract with the SBC, he’d more than hold his own. Denver believed he would dominate there, as well.

But Armie blew them off every time.

Speak of the devil... When Denver saw Armie approaching him, he put his elbows back on the bar, glad to finally have a distraction. “How do you feel?”

“Whaddya mean?” Armie caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a whiskey.

The competition had been done tournament style so that competitors had to win to advance, and had to fight multiple times. That arrangement wasn’t common anymore, and wasn’t the way the SBC did things. But the smaller events did what they could to highlight the fighters and drum up excitement.

Armie had knocked out his first guy, then submitted the next two—each in the first round. In the second fight, he’d locked in an arm bar so tightly that the other fighter had immediately tapped rather than risk injury. For the third, he’d submitted with a rear naked choke. Each time, he made it look effortless. Hell, he’d walked away with nothing more than a small bruise on his cheekbone and some mat burn on one elbow. That was it. No other injuries. He’d barely broken a sweat. Armie destroyed other fighters with disgusting ease.

Soon as the event had ended, most of the competitors and a lot of fans had converged on the nearby club for a promoted after-party. Armie, a fan favorite for the local organization, was sure to be the belle of the ball.

“You took that last guy apart. He was damn near knocked out when you decided on the arm bar.”

Armie tossed back the whiskey and asked for another. “Yeah, he must’ve been new or something.”

More like Armie was that good, but Denver knew he wouldn’t admit it. For whatever reason, Armie shrugged off all opportunities to further his fight career. Because of that, Denver warned him, “Dean Connor was in the audience, scouting out the talent.”

Only for a second did Armie react, but he shook off the stillness in less than a heartbeat. “Havoc was here?”

“One and the same.” Dean “Havoc” Connor was a legend in the sport, and one of the most revered fighters ever. A while back, he’d switched gears from competing to training. Now, with another well-known veteran, Simon Evans, he ran one of the most successful and sought-after camps—the same camp where their buddy Cannon often trained.

And Cannon had an upcoming title fight for light heavyweight, so clearly they were doing something right.

Simon and Dean had the inside track with the SBC president and often recommended new recruits to bring under the SBC umbrella.

Brows drawn, Armie scoffed. “This gig wasn’t exactly the upper echelon of talent. Why would Havoc waste his time with low-level competitions?”

Succinct, Denver told him, “You.”

“Bullshit.”

“He took a ton of notes while watching you, and as soon as your fight ended he was on the phone making a call.”

Armie flexed a shoulder. “He was probably here to see Cannon.”

“He talked with Cannon. Merissa, too.”

Armie almost fell off his stool. “What?” And then, with a quelling glare, “Why the hell would he talk to Rissy?”

“She was cheering for you like crazy and I guess that got his attention.” Denver shrugged. Cannon’s sister often accompanied him to the fights. No big deal with that. “Given she was with Cannon...”

“Yeah, maybe.” Armie tossed back the second whiskey and ordered up a third.

Interesting. “Havoc’s still here, but Cannon already took off with Yvette and Merissa.” Since Denver hadn’t yet convinced himself to leave the club, he ordered a glass of lemon water. In two and a half months he’d have his second fight with the SBC, so he’d started watching his diet already. Not that he ever got too far off weight, and not that he couldn’t lose fifteen or even twenty pounds easily enough. But overall, he liked to stay healthy. He considered it part of his job requirements.

“I knew Cannon was booking. We’d already talked.”

“He didn’t mention Havoc?”

“No, and I’ll give him hell for that later.” Armie relaxed enough to manage a grin. “Used to be, Cannon would have closed out the place with me. Now, with Yvette, he’s always in a hurry to get her alone. The wedding can’t happen fast enough for those two.”

“A few weeks after his next fight,” Denver said. If it was up to Yvette, they would have already been married because she didn’t care about the fancy wedding.

But Cannon considered the guys family and knew they’d want to celebrate with him, so they’d set up the wedding in a way that wouldn’t conflict with anyone’s competition schedule, most especially Cannon’s. “Looking forward to being best man?”

Armie snorted. “You all expect me to balk at the sight of a tux, but what the hell, man, you’ll be wearing the same monkeysuit.”

Watching Armie to gauge his reaction, Denver said, “Mostly I expect you to balk at the idea of being in the wedding with Merissa.”

Looking past Denver, Armie narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that dude hitting on Cherry?”

Twisting around, he forgot all about harassing his friend—which had probably been Armie’s intent. But damn, he hadn’t lied. Denver watched Cherry laughingly refuse an insistent guy bent on gaining her cooperation. The slow, thrumming music would have meant a different type of dance and Denver let out a breath when she didn’t give in.

Seeing her body to body with another man, this time someone he didn’t know, would have made him nuts.

Stack sat to one side of her, also watching the idiot who refused to take no for an answer.

To her other side, Miles started to frown.

Suddenly Cherry pushed back her chair and an ugly tension sank into Denver’s chest—until she grabbed up her purse and made a hasty getaway toward the restrooms.

When the idiot started to follow, Miles blocked his way while Stack spoke close to his ear. Whatever he said made loverboy frown and search the bar.

It wasn’t until his gaze clashed with Denver’s that he gave up and stalked away—in the opposite direction that Cherry had gone.

Smiles quirking, Stack and Miles both saluted Denver, then went back to their table and the other women there.

He was wondering what Stack had said when Armie shoved him, and Denver almost dropped off his seat. Righting himself, he muttered, “What the fuck?” and shoved Armie back. But since Armie wasn’t daydreaming as Denver had been, he barely budged.

Snickering, Armie shook his head. “Damn man, get it together or go after her.”

“No need. Stack got rid of him.”

“Yeah,” Armie said, his tone mocking. “Stack handled it.”

Sarcasm? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We both know Stack just threatened that poor bozo with you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Predator, you.” After emphasizing Denver’s fight name, Armie sipped at his third drink. “You have a nasty death stare and you know it. That chump probably felt your evil intent all the way down to his balls.”

“You are so—” Just then, Denver spotted Havoc scanning the crowd before a group of fans stopped him. “Think he’s looking for you?”

Armie slunk lower in his seat. “No.”

“You are so hopeless.”

“Know what’s hopeless? This denial you have where Cherry Peyton is concerned. Give it up already.”

Denver glared at him. Why the hell did everyone want to butt into his private business? “Why don’t you at least talk to the SBC? Maybe—”

“Why don’t you talk to Cherry?” He tossed back his shot and asked for another. “Better yet, don’t talk. Take her straight to bed and work off some tension.”

Armie fought hard, played hard, but usually didn’t drink hard. Denver eyed him. “This isn’t about Cherry and me.”

“It’s about you trying to avoid talking about you and Cherry.” He grabbed a handful of peanuts while waiting for the next drink.

Disgusted, Denver said, “Are you going to turn around everything I say?”

“Know what I’d like to turn around?” Armie nodded at someone. “That.”

When Denver looked up he saw a stacked redhead coming their way. Lips pursed, eyes big, expression coy.

Definitely on the make.

“She looks ripe to ride doggy style, doncha think?”

At times Armie’s brazen outspokenness bordered on obnoxious. Often, actually. But in this instance, with that girl’s hips, Denver totally got his meaning and even had to grin in agreement.

Seeing their humor, the lady narrowed her coal-lined eyes.

Thank God it was Armie she’d zeroed in on. “You know her?” Denver asked.

“Nope. But give me a minute.”

The redhead stopped in front of Armie and touched a finger to his chest. “You’re Armie Jacobson.”

“Guilty.”

“So are the rumors true?”

“Sure.”

Denver stifled a laugh; Armie hadn’t even asked her what rumors she meant. But when it came to Armie, just about anything was possible.

Bracing her hands on his thighs, she leaned in more, making sure to put her cleavage on display. “I watched you fight.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a beast.” With a little shiver, she added, “I think that’s sexy.”

Armie smiled.

Denver lifted an eyebrow. He felt like a damn voyeur, but he wasn’t about to budge. This was too entertaining.

“So...” Pretending modesty, she ducked her face while still watching him. “Was it...naughty of me to confront you like this?”

Armie stared her in the eyes while murmuring, “Real naughty. And you know what I do with naughty girls?”

“You...you punish them?”

Denver almost choked, yet Armie didn’t miss a beat.

“That’s right.” Armie’s smile had the woman ready to swoon, especially when he added, “Even if they’re really, really good.”

On an indrawn breath she straightened, all but vibrating with excitement.

“You got a room anywhere close, honey?”

Breathless, face flushed and one hand splayed over her upper chest, she whispered, “Right across the street.”

Stern, his stare intimidating, Armie told her, “Then we should probably get to it.” He finished off his shot and put the glass on the bar.

To Denver he said, “Settle my bill, will ya?” and with a stinging swat to the gal’s derriere, he started her toward the exit.

Shaking his head, Denver turned back to the bar—and almost bumped into Cherry Peyton. The time of the night and so much dancing had left her bouncy blond hair a little messy, her makeup a little smudged, her skin flushed and dewy.

A soft V-necked shirt clung to her breasts and tight jeans hugged her ass.

She looked so damn hot, his dick twitched and his guts tightened.

Breathless, eyes wide, she asked, “Was Armie serious?”

Just to tease her, Denver asked, “About what?” when he knew damn good and well what she meant. He also knew he shouldn’t be engaging her more than necessary—except, well, his convictions had already started to fade.

After glancing around to ensure they had privacy, she whispered, “Spanking?”

Damn, but she always smelled so good. “I doubt it.” Settling back some so he wouldn’t keep breathing her in, he shrugged. “Armie’s into sex however he can get it. But I don’t think he particularly gravitates to the whole discipline scene.”

Scandalized, she said, “He’s awfully blatant about it.”

True, but her interest in Armie annoyed him. Her interest in all guys was the number one reason he’d always tried so hard to avoid her.

Because he flat-out didn’t share.

Cherry Peyton might be the most appealing woman he’d ever met—sexy, sweet, funny—but she was a world-class flirt.

That fact bugged him just enough that he asked, “Why?” He leaned to the side a little to see her heart-shaped ass. “You like the idea of getting your backside warmed?”

Instead of embarrassing her, the question made her smile bright enough to stir him.

He almost got hard before she said, “No, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Too damn late for that. He’d had ideas from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

One hand on the stool next to him, she asked, “Mind if I join you?”

Yeah, he did. It would have been easier for him if she kept her distance. So far she hadn’t done that. She teased and toyed with him constantly—along with every other guy in the vicinity. Tonight had seemed different and he’d thought maybe she’d finally given up—but now that she was done dancing with everyone else...

Struggling with himself, Denver hesitated too long, causing her to retrench.

“Unless you’d rather I didn’t?” Watching him with big dark eyes that now looked wounded, she let out a breath. “You’re probably hoping to hook up, right? Stack and Miles already did, so I didn’t want to get in their way.”

So she’d only approached him to give them space?

When he still said nothing, Cherry took a step back. “Guess I shouldn’t get in your way, either.”

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.

“I like it when you breathe hard,” he told her. “It does interesting things to you here.”

Here being the breast that he continued to fondle so carefully.

“All this soft flesh.” He finally looked down at her, made a rough sound and bent his head to draw her in.

Putting her head back against the wall, Cherry held her breath to smother a groan. From the moment she’d met him months ago, Denver had epitomized the elemental male.

As a heavyweight fighter, he was big and so incredibly strong, with amazing biceps, tight abs and thighs that made her breathless. All of the fighters at the rec center were big and brawny, but other than Gage, Denver was the biggest.

All of it honed strength.

He had confidence down to a fine art, but he never bullied. In fact, she’d witnessed his very big heart overflowing with kindness and generosity. She loved watching the men work with the at-risk neighborhood kids, but because of his size it always seemed more amazing to see Denver tussle with a child, coach a youth or instruct a high school kid.

He could break the average guy in two, but he tempered all that strength with gentle control. Such a turn-on.

With his sense of humor, he made her laugh as often as he made her sigh with lust. But when it came to those things that mattered to him, he had laser-beam focus.

Working with kids.

Supporting his friends.

Training for the sport he loved.

She so desperately wanted him to focus on her, too. But after what had felt like a great connection, their interest mutual, each of them flirting with the other, he’d suddenly cut her cold and she had no idea why.

If they weren’t to have a relationship, she at least had to have this—the intimate knowledge of him, a memory to hold, a fantasy for the dark, lonely nights.

“Stay with me, honey.” He took her mouth again, keeping her from giving a reply.

Stay with him? She was here, in the moment, 100 percent.

As he deepened the kiss more, he smoothed his hand down her back...and into her jeans and panties.

She went to her tiptoes in surprise.

He rumbled in appreciation at feeling her body go flush to his.

Finally freeing her hair, he lifted his mouth and melted her with his heated gaze. “You have the finest ass I have ever seen.” As he spoke, he worked his fingers lower, cupping one whole cheek.

“Um...” Still up on her toes, she glanced toward the bed.

“Soon,” he told her. “Once we’re there, I’m done for, and I want this first time to last.”

It could last forever if he’d let it. But of course she didn’t say that. Just getting him to this point had taken a lot of work.

Lightning seared the dark night, illuminating the room for two seconds, followed by a crash of thunder that rattled the window. She felt all that turbulence deep inside, making her head swim and her knees shake.

Keeping her trapped in his sights, Denver brought his free hand around and opened the snap on her jeans.

Cherry held her breath as the material loosened. He eased down the zipper with excruciating slowness, then slipped both hands into her jeans to work them down her thighs.

Being mostly bare from the waist down was startling enough, but when he went to one knee, her heart almost popped out of her chest. She staggered slightly before his hands gripped her hips.

Looking up at her, he said with concern, “You okay?”

Denver Lewis was on his knees in front of her and her jeans were down.

Not wanting him to stop, she bobbed her head. “Yes. Fine.” In a frenzy of need. Taut with expectation. Incapable of more than one-word replies—but otherwise fine and dandy.

Unconvinced, he continued to scrutinize her. “You’re sure you’re not drunk?”

“Swear.” Yes, she felt a little dizzy and her headache lingered, but she knew exactly what she wanted.

Denver. This.

Now.

His hands never left her, but he settled back on his heels, a frown in place, and Cherry panicked.

“So help me, Denver, if you walk away now, I’ll...”

“What?” Tipping his head, he looked her over. “What would you do?”

Lifting her chin, Cherry said, “I’ll spread a rumor that you’re a lousy lay.”

His slow, crooked grin reassured her. “Can’t have that now, can I?” Giving his attention back to her body, he touched his mouth to her skin, nuzzling her belly, nibbling over to her hipbone while his hands coasted up and down the backs of her thighs. “You are so soft, and damn girl, you smell good.”

Again she wanted to melt, this time from sensation overload. His big hands continued to coast over her skin, lifting every so often to her tush to squeeze and cuddle. His lips were warm, his tongue teasing, and right through her skimpy panties he gave her a soft love bite.

Oh my God. Flattening her hands to the wall for support, Cherry stared down at him. She hadn’t lied about his light brown hair; it really was beyond sexy. But then everything about Denver was downright scrumptious. “I’d love it if you took off your shirt.”

He paused long enough to reach over his own shoulder, grab a fistful of material, and jerk the shirt up and over his head. He stood again, breathing a little more heavily, and murmured, “Your turn.”

So many times she’d seen his gorgeous body in no more than boxing shorts, but never before had she been given the opportunity to touch. She reached for him, but he caught her hands, kissed each palm, and lifted them high over her head.

“Keep them right there for me.” And with that, he lifted the hem of her shirt, drawing it slowly up and over her face until he caught the material between her elbows one-handed—pinning her there, all stretched out.

Hardly fair! “Denver—”

“I’ve thought about stripping you a million times,” he murmured. “Let me have my fun.”

He’d been thinking about stripping her? Oh. Well then... “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

She frowned, but with his palm playing over her from shoulder to hip as if savoring her, she couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to protest the ridiculous endearment.

Briefly, he came in for a hot eating kiss that left her shaking before levering back so he could open the front closure on her bra.

She heard the small catch of his breath as the cups parted, showing the inner swells of her breasts, but not quite revealing both nipples.

“So fucking stacked,” he whispered roughly, lowering his head to nuzzle aside the material with his mouth.

Going perfectly still, her pulse buzzing and her vision narrowing to the crown of his overlong hair, she waited—and felt his hot breath, then the touch of his hotter tongue...

And he sucked her in.

The vibrating moan came out loud and high as she stiffened, her muscles all going taut in a rush of pleasure.

“Relax.” He kissed his way to her other breast and drew that nipple into the damp heat of his mouth. At the same time she felt his fingertips lightly tracing over the crotch of her panties.

Frantic to touch him, Cherry struggled against the restraint of her shirt.

He released her, saying, “Take it easy,” while helping to free her hands. The second she could, she leaned into him, her hands everywhere, all over him, relishing the light furring of hair on his chest, those sleek hard shoulders, the bulge of his rock-hard biceps. She trailed a hand down his abdomen, following that silky happy trail until it disappeared into his low-hanging jeans. Almost desperate, she suggested, “The bed...”

He caught her wandering hand. “I said no.” With far too much ease, he turned her suddenly so that she faced the wall. Stepping in close to her back, he nestled his erection against her bottom. “Trust me, okay?”

She felt too warm, dazed with wanting. Nodding, she whispered, “Okay.” But she honestly didn’t know how much longer she could stand there. Her legs seemed almost incapable of holding her up and she had a rushing in her ears.

With a kiss to her temple, he slipped one foot between hers, nudging her legs wider apart. When she accommodated him, he murmured, “Good girl. Just like that.”

Breathless, she said, “You are so sexist.”

“Maybe. Sorry.” His arms came around her, one hand cupping a breast, the other wedging between her thighs. “I’m too turned on to worry about it.”

He stroked and... Yeah. She didn’t want him to worry about it, either.

Unless... “Wait.”

His hands curled, holding her more firmly. And given where they were, wow. She just might faint.

“What now?” he breathed near her ear.

“You have protection?”

“A rubber.” He nibbled on her earlobe, touched his tongue inside her ear. “More in my room if we get that far.”

More if we... This time, her “Okay” ended on a squeak as he readjusted to put his hand inside her panties.

“Mmmm,” he growled, his fingers already exploring lightly, opening her, playing with her. “You need me to take care of you first, don’t you, girl?”

Be strong, Cherry told herself. Tell him you’re a woman, not a girl. Tell him...

His finger worked into her.

“Yes,” she moaned, arching back against him.

“That’s good.” He stroked into her, deliberately teasing. “You’re nice and wet, but small, too. And since I’m not so small, I need to—”

“Armie told me,” she admitted, her thoughts mostly centered on how it felt to be held to his hard frame, his strong arms around her, his fingers doing those amazingly erotic things to her.

Denver stilled. Quietly, his tone off, he said, “Armie told you what?”

“That you’re big.” She wiggled her bottom against him, both to acknowledge his size and to hopefully get him back to stroking her. She was equally excited and a little nervous.

From head to toes he went as cold and hard as granite, then in one quick move turned her to face him again.

Her shoulders touched the wall and Denver leaned into her. “Why the fuck were you discussing my dick with Armie?”

The whispered question sounded more lethal than a shout. Accompanied with that look in his eyes, she couldn’t think.

“Umm...”

He waited with throbbing impatience, not budging, not asking again.

Man, she had a big mouth. “See...Yvette and I were talking.” Mostly it was her, pretty much mooning over Denver. But he didn’t look receptive to hearing that right now, so she did her best to summarize judiciously. “You know, about how nicely ripped fighters are? And Armie overheard us.”

Denver’s glittering gaze narrowed. But she wasn’t afraid of him. Never that.

She just really wanted to get past this so they could get back to what they’d been doing before she so badly misspoke.

Clearing her throat, she offered, “You know how Armie is.”

“I do,” he agreed in an unsettling whisper. “How well do you know him?”

“Well enough that I was only a little embarrassed that he busted us. He accused us—”

“You and Yvette?”

She nodded, but admitted sheepishly, “Mostly me.”

“Go on.”

“He said we were being shallower than men just because we appreciate how sexy you guys are.”

His jaw locked.

Very slowly, Cherry reached out until her hand cupped him through his jeans. Lips parting at the reality of his length and thickness, she wavered, for the first time wondering if maybe he was too big.

“You’ll take me,” he assured her, his voice low and rough. His eyelids went heavier, his mouth tighter, but he didn’t move away.

When she stayed silent, overwhelmed, he encouraged her, saying, “Go on.”

So she stroked him.

“No.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “Get to the part where you and Armie discussed my junk.”

“Oh.” She would much rather explore him. “Armie overheard me talking about you and—”

He stopped her long enough to open his jeans, ease down the zipper, then carry her hand inside. Hot and sleek and big enough that her fingers didn’t quite circle him.

Like a flash fire, heat rolled through her.

Denver gave a soft growl, covered her hand with his own, and guided her in a slow stroke. After three deep breaths, he asked, “What were you saying exactly?”

How could he chat right now? She certainly couldn’t. “I don’t remember.”

“Cherry.”

Wanting the discussion over with, she shook her head. “Something about liking your shoulders and your thighs.”

He flattened his free hand on the wall next to her temple and just stared at her while enjoying her touch. “Still listening.”

“Right. So he, ah, suggested...” To get it over with before she fainted, Cherry blurted, “That you would happily give me a viewing, and that you were bigger than most.”

“Those aren’t the words he used.”

“I can’t think!”

He brushed his mouth against her temple. “Try.”

How had she missed this bossy streak of Denver’s? “He...he said you’d gladly give me a show and you were the best hung one in the bunch.” The second the words were out, she felt his smile.

“Yeah. That sounds more like Armie.”

“He was right.” She lifted her other hand, now holding him in both. “Honest to God, Denver, I never imagined—”

His choked laugh was accompanied by a hug. “It’s not all that.”

“I...I need to sit down.” She seriously did.

“Soon.” With two fingers under her chin he lifted her face. “No more talking about my cock with other men.”

For a second there, his wording dazed her, then she nodded. “Okay, sure.” She hadn’t meant to have that discussion with Armie anyway. “No problem.”

Smile going crooked, he added, “You can brag to the other ladies all you want.”

Jealousy spiked through her; he wanted the attention of the other women? “You—”

“Now, if we’re done with interruptions...?” He pulled her hands away and went back to one knee, dragging her panties down at the same time. “Step out.”

Sidetracked, she took in his position at her feet, his gaze level on her body, and nothing else existed. Another bright flash of lightning emphasized the stark intensity in his eyes as he took in her nudity.

No one had ever looked at her quite that thoroughly.

She no sooner had that thought than bad memories tried to intrude, memories of being scrutinized critically, against her will—

No. Ruthlessly, she quashed those thoughts.

She was with Denver—nothing bad in that. He was unlike any man she’d ever known, definitely better than most. When it came to ugly experiences, there was no comparison.

Keeping his focus on her body, he held her hand to steady her as she stepped free of the underwear. Brushing them aside with the rest of their discarded clothes, Denver said, “Jesus, Cherry, you have a smokin’ body.” He touched his fingertips down her belly to her sex. “I’m dying to taste you.”

With no more warning than that, he cupped her backside, pulled her forward, and pressed his face to her.

Gasping, Cherry sank her fingers into his hair and held on.

Apparently done waiting, his hands—easily twice the size of her own—roamed over her body while he treated her to soft, devouring kisses that forced her to lock her knees and use the wall for support.

Putting his palms to the inside of each thigh, he urged her to widen her stance. Once he had her arranged to his liking, he stroked two fingers of one hand into her, and used two fingers of his other hand to part her.

Another throaty growl of appreciation, and he closed his mouth over her throbbing clitoris, suckling softly while rasping with his tongue.

Oh God, oh God, oh God... His hair felt cool brushing her thighs, his fingers working inside her, pressing, and he kept making those low sounds of hunger...and appreciation.

Thunder shook the floor beneath them. Wind lashed the rain against the window. The strobe effect of the lightning increased to an almost constant flash.

Locking her hands in his hair, she cried out as he drove her higher, as pleasure drew her tighter. Like a powder keg with a short fuse, she surprised herself by exploding so quickly. Denver supported her easily, and good thing because she went boneless, her tripping heart leaving her breathless and far too weak.

CHAPTER THREE

DENVER SCOOPED UP her lax body and carried her to the bed, putting her on her back and then taking a step away so he could look at her as he took off his shoes and socks, pushed down his jeans and removed his boxers. The storm raged on, matching his turbulent lust.

How she’d come, the sounds she’d made in her pleasure and the taste of her, left him primed. He’d always known they’d be scorching together; the easy way he’d just gotten her off proved it.

Now he wanted more. A lot more.

Eyes still closed, she half turned, drawing one knee up to help hide her sex while crossing her arms over her chest.

That pose just fired his blood more. She looked equal parts timid and boldly sexual.

She had the most amazing breasts, big and soft and real, trembling with her heavy, broken breaths. In her pale throat he could see her pulse still tripping.

“Let me see you.” Gently, he clasped her wrists and moved her arms to her sides. “You don’t ever need to hide from me.”

Her nipples were softer now that she’d come, her hair more tangled. She wasn’t as slim as most of the women who hung out at the rec center.

She was better.

Rounder in the right places and so damn sexy he knew it was going to be a struggle to hold back. Thinking that, he got the condom from his wallet, tossed his wallet on the nightstand and opened the rubber.

Cherry never moved.

Soaking up the sight of her, he smiled. “Girl, you didn’t fall asleep, did you?”

She shook her head, sucked in air, and whispered, “No.”

“Then how about you open those pretty eyes and look at me?”

She did, her gaze going straight to his dick. Eyes widening, she bit her lip and put a hand over her heart.

For some reason, that reaction almost made him laugh. “You’re overreacting, honey.” Coming down next to her, he promised gruffly, “I’m going to wear you out—and you’re going to love it.”

When he started to kiss her, she straight-armed him. “Can I ask you something first?”

Well, hell. He hadn’t expected all this reserve from her. Most women were excited by the size of his package.

But from the get-go, he’d known Cherry wasn’t like most women.

He smoothed back her hair, kissed her forehead. “Ask away.” Not like he had anything else to do.

She looked from his eyes to his chest, his shoulders. Letting out a sigh, she gently pawed him, as if testing his strength. “You are so hard.”

If she’d reach a little lower he could show her just how hard. “Comes with the territory.”

“Being a fighter?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Nonstop training.”

“Will you stay the night with me?”

After throwing that out there, she defiantly met his gaze—and bit her lip again.

“Yeah.” He bent to her mouth to do a little biting of his own. When she groaned, he tangled his hand in her messy hair to keep her still. In so many ways he wanted to crush her to him and work off the raging lust until he could get her out of his system.

Then again, he hated the idea of not wanting her.

He kissed from her mouth to her downy cheek, her warm neck, her silky shoulder, and down to one plump nipple. “I’m not going anywhere unless you boot me out.”

Her arms came around him. “Never.” And now it was her kissing him and he felt scorched not just by her sexual need, but her unguarded caring.

She seemed to think he didn’t like her, that he didn’t want her, and still she left herself open. It made him feel ultraprotective—and even more possessive.

Her heated skin repeatedly drew his hands, his mouth. Over and over he breathed in her scent until it filled his lungs, his head and his heart. He’d never known a woman who smelled so good, her hair, her skin, the fragrant, moist heat between her thighs.

She’d tasted good, too, and thinking that, he worked his way down her body again.

“Denver,” she moaned in protest. “No.”

“Yes.” Her belly sucked in as he licked her skin, and she squirmed when he teased over her hipbone.

Trying to draw him back up to her, she tunneled her fingers into his hair, but it didn’t slow him down. She’d be more sensitive now, every touch and lick more acute, and they both knew it.

It left her trembling, and him determined.

As soon as he parted her soft thighs, she dropped to her back again, then arched up as he explored her with fingers and tongue.

“I can’t,” she moaned.

He took a lot of satisfaction in telling her, “You already are.”

Refusing to be rushed, Denver took his time, and even after she came again, this time with high, weak, broken cries, he didn’t move over her. He’d been wanting her long enough that savoring her was more his speed.

He got her right to the edge a third time, loving the way she quivered all over, her hoarse moans and dewy skin. With two fingers pressed deep in her, he moved up her body to kiss her parted lips. Damp hair clung to her temples and her lungs labored.

“God,” she rasped, sliding one leg up and over his. “No more.”

“I’m nowhere near done,” he told her.

Her hand clenched in his hair, drawing him back so she could see his face. “Then please, at least stop playing.”

“But playing with you is so much fun,” he whispered, adding a third finger to ensure she was ready for him.

She gasped, and as her eyes closed she bowed her body, her head twisting on the pillow.

He kissed her hard as he moved over her, kneeing her thighs wider and slowly, very slowly, taking his fingers from her.

She tensed, but he murmured to her, calming her. “Shush. Just relax for me.”

Breathless, she half laughed. “You’re nuts.”

“And you’re ready.”

“More than ready. It’s just—” Her explanation ended on a sharp inhalation as he barely entered her.

Immediately she tensed up too much, forcing him to pause with his muscles locked, nowhere near buried the way he wanted to be. All that teasing left him with dwindling control.

Three deep breaths later, she whispered, “I’m okay.”

He nibbled on her bottom lip. “I know.” Now he needed her to believe it. He was hung, no two ways about it. But he’d never in his life hurt a woman and he sure as hell wouldn’t start with Cherry.

On straightened arms, he watched her, eased out a little—and pressed in more.

She held on to his arms just above his elbows, her fingers gripping tight, her nails stinging as if she thought she could hold him back if she decided to.

“Tell me you want me.” Again he withdrew, only to rock in farther.

“I do,” she gasped. Her legs strained against him. “I have for a long time.”

“Then stop fighting me.”

“I’m not.”

Wasn’t easy, but he smiled. “You’re tense from head to toes, girl. Take a deep breath.”

She did, urgently, turning it into a pant.

“Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “It’s just...I can feel you.”

“Damn, I hope so.”

Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back. “You know what I mean.”

“Know what I feel?” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “I feel you squeezing my cock like you want it there.” Saying it only turned him on more, and he clenched his jaw. “I feel you getting wetter. And hotter.”

Another squeeze—this one of excitement, he was sure.

He kissed her jaw. His voice rough as gravel, he said, “You want more, don’t you?” Please say yes. His restraint was about to unravel.

She shifted against him, and moaned, “Yesss...”

Coming down to an elbow, he scooped one arm under her hips for a better hold, and thrust in a little harder, a little deeper.

Almost there.

As he filled her up and then some, her heels dug into his thighs, maybe in protest, but he was lost. He felt the giving of her body as she accepted him, knew she squirmed to adjust, and it destroyed him.

He watched the movement of her breasts as he rocked them both, saw her face as, amazingly, she neared yet another release. Wanting that a lot, he kept up a steady rhythm, each stroke harder, taking him deeper, and when he knew she was ready to come he encouraged her, doing his best to hang on, determined to feel the grip of her body as she climaxed, this time with him buried deep.

Legs wrapped around him and eyes squeezed tight, she bowed her body hard. “Denver.”

Fuck yeah. “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” As soon as he felt her winding down, he gave up the fight. Driving into her one last time, he held himself deep, groaning harshly as the pumping release drained away his tension.

By small degrees, he sank down onto Cherry’s soft, giving body.

He knew he should move off her, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

She had both hands knotted in his hair.

From the inside out, he felt like smiling.

Her fingers loosening, she kissed his chest and went limp.

Lifting his head, he looked at her—and the smile turned into a grin. Ms. Cherry Peyton was dead to the world.

Carefully, Denver turned to the side of her and sprawled out, welcoming the cool air that washed over his damp, heated skin.

Lord have mercy, she was incredible, even hotter than he’d hoped for. His heartbeat still rocked him and getting enough air into his lungs wasn’t easy, but he had to touch her.

He rested a palm on her silky upper thigh, amazed to find her skin still so warm.

She didn’t stir.

Because lethargy pulled at him, too, he forced himself from the bed. Give him an hour and he’d be ready to go again, so he needed to run to his room to get his stuff, which included more condoms. As he stepped into his jeans commando, he glanced around her room, looking for the key card, but didn’t see it anywhere. Not on the desk, the dresser, the nightstand. He eyed her purse on the desk chair, then her utterly relaxed body.

No reason to wake her, he decided, and he opened her purse, rummaging around a wallet, comb, cell phone, phone book and a few makeup items. No key card. He peeked in the wallet. She carried only forty bucks on her, a few credit cards and ID. Flipping open the small phone book, he finally found the key card jammed inside between the pages—and a listing of phone numbers for all the fighters.

Cannon, Armie, Stack, Miles...his number was there, too, though she’d never called him.

Had she called any of the other guys?

That damn jealousy nudged in, disturbing his peace of mind. Why the hell did she need contact info for men she wasn’t dating? He knew for a fact none of them had been out with her. Their circle was a close one. He’d have heard. Hell, he’d have seen.

Feeling like a damned snoop, he dropped the phone book back in her purse.

If she’d had plans to play the field, he’d convince her otherwise. Together they were combustible; he’d keep her so satisfied she wouldn’t even think of other men.

With that decision made, he gave another quick glance at her still sleeping form. The ways she affected him... He shook his head.

Forcing himself to head to the door, he slipped silently out of the room. Despite his current disgruntlement, he wanted her again. At times, he thought he might always want her.

Soon as possible, he’d spell out to her exactly what he needed: exclusivity—and no flirting with other men.

* * *

THE BANGING ON the door caused Cherry’s heavy eyelids to lift. Her head hurt, her throat was scratchy, and she only wanted to go back to sleep.

But the knocking didn’t stop.

When she sat up, the room seemed to swim around her, causing her stomach to pitch. Whoa. She held on to the mattress a moment to get her bearings.

Shivers wracked her as she looked around the room in confusion—and realized she was naked.

Oh yeah. Denver.

Where had he gone? Her brows pinched, making her head pound harder as she tried to figure out how she’d gone from drowning in pleasure to waking alone and feeling so wretched.

More knocking sounded and, thinking that might be Denver, she tried to get herself together.

Wrapping the sheet around her body she made her way across the room, every step an effort. When she peered out the small security hole, she saw Armie instead of Denver.

With Denver gone, immediate worries settled in and she pulled open the door. “What’s the matter?”

Until she spoke, she didn’t realize how croaky her voice would sound. She tried clearing her throat, but that just made it worse.

Armie had his hand raised to knock again, his mouth open to speak—but the second he saw her, his gaze dropped to roam quickly over her sheet-shrouded body.

Brows lifting, his gaze finally met hers. “Damn, Cherry, way to stop my heart.”

Feeling more miserable by the second, she slumped against the door frame to stay upright. “Where’s Denver?”

“He’s not with you?” He peered in around her with a frown. “Because honestly, doll, you look like he’s been here.”

Confused, she looked around the room, trying to sort it out. “He was, but I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah?” Grinning, Armie sidled in uninvited. “So you two were together? That’s what Stack told me.”

Walking away, Cherry went to the bed and more or less collapsed to sit on the side. Staying upright took great concentration. Freezing, she hugged the sheet tighter and tried for a deep breath. But that hurt most of all.

“What’s wrong?” Armie approached cautiously. “You’re not going to keel over, are you?”

“No. I just don’t feel well.”

He put the back of his hand to her forehead, then whistled. Crouching down in front of her, he tried to see her averted face. “You’re burning up.”

Wrong. “I’m freezing.”

“That’d be the fever.” He reached around her for the blanket, and that’s when Denver walked in carrying an overnight case. He drew up short at the sight of Cherry on the bed in a sheet, Armie touching her.

Even through bleary eyes, she read the suspicion in his gaze. Before he could speak, she did. “Where did you go?”

He dropped a duffel bag and crossed his arms. “I went to get my things.”

So cold that she couldn’t stop shaking, she wanted only to be alone. In her throaty voice, she said, “Will you two leave? I need to get dressed.”

“Dressed to go where?”

“Back to bed?” She seriously wasn’t up to anything else.

Denver’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve already seen you.”

“Lucky bastard,” Armie murmured, and then with a disapproving frown, “But I haven’t seen her, so walk me out. I came to see you anyway.”

Denver hesitated, studying her a moment, but finally he nodded. Thank God. A minute longer and she’d have crawled back under the covers just to hide.

As soon as the door closed, she dragged herself out of the bed and found a T-shirt and panties. Shivering almost uncontrollably, she went into the bathroom. One look in the mirror and hiding became a real possibility.

Such a mess. Wild hair, ruined makeup, red eyes and a pale face.

But she flat-out didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Just getting her shirt and underwear on proved a trial. No way could she wash off her makeup or tidy her hair. By the time she staggered out of the bathroom, she felt weak as a baby. And that made her weepy.

This was supposed to be her big night with Denver—and here she’d gone and gotten sick.

* * *

“FIRST,” ARMIE SAID, the second the door closed, “get that shit out of your head.”

Knowing exactly what he meant, Denver said, “Fine. Then tell me why you’re here.”

“Not to hit on her, and you know it.”

For ten seconds longer, they had a stare-off.

And Denver realized he was being absurd.

Not only was Armie trustworthy, he didn’t go for girls like Cherry. Hell, for the most part he avoided them.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he dropped back against the wall. What he felt for Cherry blew his control. He had to get a grip, and fast, before he made an ass of himself.

Or rather, more of an ass. “Right. Sorry. I know she’s not your type.”

“Didn’t say that.”

New volatility demolished Denver’s relaxed posture.

With a half grin, Armie admitted, “If you hadn’t stepped up, I’d have been all over it.”

“Bullshit.” Armie’s preferences were well known—because he made them known. He was congenial with all women, but made it clear that he divided the fairer sex into three categories: women up for grabs because they were fast, nasty and rough around the edges, or in other words, perfect for his tastes; nice women, which he considered all fluff and uninteresting; and women related to anyone he knew, which put them off-limits—like Cannon’s sister, Merissa.

Although Denver thought Armie might fight a losing battle with the last.

Through his teeth, Denver said, “I thought you didn’t like nice girls.”

With a shrug, Armie murmured, “Cherry is a different type of nice.”

Didn’t he know it. She was the perfect mix of sweet and sexy. Her brand of nice could give any guy a boner.

Determined to set Armie straight right now, Denver came forward in a single aggressive step—

And Armie laughed at him.

Far from amused, Denver warned him, “You’re pushing your luck.”

“And you’re being entertaining.” Armie shook his head, then said with mock pity, “I can be a prick, Denver, I know. But I wouldn’t do that.”

Shit. No, he wouldn’t. Denver retreated with a deep breath that didn’t even come close to helping. “Yeah, I do know it. Sorry again.”

“Tell it to her, not me.”

“Already planning that particular chat with her.”

Snorting, Armie said, “Good luck with that.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re coming on too strong, man. But then, hey, who am I to say? Maybe she’s into that caveman shit.”

If Armie didn’t stop being so deliberately provoking, he’d flatten him just for the fun of it.

With a clap on the shoulder, Armie said, “I can see you’ll enjoy unleashing that big badass protective streak tonight, huh?”

Shaking his head, Denver scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s why I’m here, actually.” Going far too serious for Denver’s peace of mind, Armie said, “I overheard some stuff and I figured you should know. When I didn’t find you in your room, Stack said you’d be here.”

“What stuff?” More than anything, he wanted to get back inside with Cherry. He’d lose his edge in her soft body and then maybe he could feel like himself again instead of suffering so many chaotic emotions.

“I went to my car, but Havoc, the sneaky bastard, was hanging around there, so instead I went back toward the bar—”

“You dodged Havoc? Jesus man, just talk to him already.”

“And,” Armie went on with emphasis, ignoring both the interruption and the derision, “off to the side of the bar, three guys were talking about Cherry.”

Forgetting Havoc, Denver straightened. “What do you mean, they were talking about her?”

Armie rubbed the back of his neck. “See, that’s the troubling part. It sounded all covert and underhanded, so I got closer.”

“What did they say?”

“Something about having to see her, but knowing she wouldn’t welcome them, so they’d have to catch her off guard then force the issue.”

None of that made sense, but still it pissed him off. “You’re sure they were talking about my Cherry?”

Armie grinned. “Already claimed her, huh?”

“Armie—”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. See, when I heard the biggest one use her name, I interrupted. Not like Cherry is a real common name, ya know?”

Figured Armie would get involved. “What happened?”

“I asked if they were talking about Cherry Peyton. You should have seen their faces. They were busted and knew it. The youngest one got all shifty and asked if I knew her. I said yes, and he asked what room she was in.”

When they traveled together, the group always shared room numbers for emergencies, but he knew Armie wouldn’t give that info to an unknown. “I hope you told him to fuck off.”

“Those exact words, actually.”

Impatient, Denver glared at him. “Jesus man, it’s like pulling teeth. Spit it out already, will you?”

Armie shrugged. “The biggest one—who, by the way, is bigger than you—tried to insist that I spill my guts. And by insist, I mean he went ugly real fast. Actually grabbed my shoulder and tried slamming me to the brick wall.”

“Stupid.”

“Yeah. But the dumbest part? The oldest one pulled a knife.”

“Jesus,” Denver breathed again. His brain scrambled, wondering what the men wanted with Cherry.

“Punches were thrown. I kneed the knife wielder in the balls. Decked the other one. Some other people got in on it and the oldest of the three called a halt. The cowards were going to limp off but I figured you’d want some answers, right?”

He didn’t give Denver a chance to reply.

“So I...insisted.”

“You insisted?”

“Yeah. I mean, Cherry’s one of us, right? Like you said, she’s your Cherry. And if they meant to hassle her—”

Jumping past all that, Denver asked, “What’d you find out?”

“They claim to be related to her.” Armie heaved a sigh. “And given how they told it, I sort of believe them. I mean, they were snotty about it, like maybe defiant. I dunno. I’d have grilled them more, but Havoc nosed in and trapped me.”

Damn. Lousy timing. “He interfered?”

“Not really.” Now evasive, Armie glanced at the door. “You aren’t going to rush in there and take care of her?”

Of all the... “That’s none of your damn business.”

Armie’s smile cracked. “Yeah, see, I didn’t mean in the sack. I meant because she’s sick.”

Denver gave him a blank stare.

“She has a fever, man.” And then, “You didn’t know?”

“No.” Damn it, he’d thought she was too warm, but he’d still been wallowing in satisfaction and not thinking straight—or rather, he’d mostly been thinking about a repeat performance.

Fists low on his hips, Armie frowned at him. “Why the hell did you think I was feeling her head? Not exactly what I zero in on, you know.”

Shoving the door open again, Denver stepped in to find Cherry back in the bed with the covers pulled all the way up to her ears. Even from across the length of the room, he could see her shivering.

His heart turned over as he strode to her. Sitting beside her on the bed, he smoothed back her hair. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small raspy voice without opening her eyes. “I think I’m sick.”

Heat poured off her. “Yeah, baby, you definitely are.” He realized Armie had followed him in. Ignoring him, he asked, “Have you taken anything?”

“Don’t have anything. I just want to sleep.”

She’d said earlier that she had a headache, and she hadn’t wanted to eat. She’d been unsteady on her feet—and he’d assumed she’d drank too much.

Armie shifted closer. “Want me to go grab some stuff before I head out?”

Head out? Denver turned to him. “You’re not staying ’til morning?”

“Now that both Havoc and that crazy chick know where to find me, it’s best if I just get on the road.”

With a roll of his eyes, Denver said, “I thought you were taking the girl to her room.”

“Did that, then left. But she followed me.”

Cherry made a choked sound and Armie eyed her with interest. “Don’t expire, honey. Turned out she mostly just wanted me to talk dirty to her.”

She cracked open one eye. “Bet you’re good at that.”

Smiling, Armie said, “Yeah.”

“Here’s a news flash,” Denver interjected, just to keep the two of them from teasing in front of him. “Havoc can find you at the rec center, too.”

“Nah, he wouldn’t bother coming to Ohio.” Looking past Denver, Armie studied Cherry with concern. “Something for fever? Anything else?”

Again Denver stroked her hair away from her face, put his mouth to her forehead, and flinched. “The gift shop is closed.”

“So I’ll make a run to the store. Not a problem.”

“You don’t mind?” Denver didn’t want to leave her.

Pushing herself up against the headboard, Cherry huddled a little tighter and, teeth chattering, said, “You can both go. I can take care of myself.” That statement ended with a cough.

Which Denver had been expecting.

He needed to get her fever down. While walking Armie to the door, he rattled off a list of things for him to grab. When he reached for his wallet, Armie refused him.

“You paid for my drinks. We’ll call it even.”

“Thanks.” Soon as he left, Denver went into the bathroom and dampened a washcloth. When he headed back, Cherry watched him with alarm.

“What are you going to do?”

“Smothering a fever won’t help anything, babe. You need to lose the blanket.”

“No.”

The demonic tone might have amused him at any other time. But not now. She looked miserable and it twisted his heart.

He sat beside her again. Putting the damp cloth on the nightstand, he took hold of her blanket.

“Denver, no,” she whimpered.

“Trust me, okay?” Relentlessly he wrested the blanket from her, but let her keep the sheet—for now. “I’ll make you more comfortable.”

Around more coughing, she growled, “You’re not a damn doctor.”

“My father is.”

That stalled her. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He rarely shared his family history. No point to it. But if conversation helped her to relax, hell, he’d tell her fairy tales if she wanted to hear them. “He has his own practice.”

While she licked very dry lips and thought about that, he stroked the cool cloth over her face and then her neck.

At first she sucked in a breath. A second later she leaned into his hand.

If, as he suspected, she had the bug that’d been going around, sex was off the table for at least a week. It’d take her that long to start feeling human again.

Her hair was smashed on one side, frazzled out on the other. And he’d never seen her makeup so wrecked. But he wanted to hold her close and care for her, and for however long it took for her to get well, he wanted to be with her. With or without her looking her usual irresistible self.

With or without sex.

Armie had great instincts and if he didn’t trust the guys claiming to be her family, then Denver didn’t trust them, either. So at least for now he had a damn good reason to stick close—beyond the fact that for the first time in his life, a woman had him in over his head and he knew it.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN DENVER TUGGED her sheet away, too, and then urged her against his body, bone-deep chills had Cherry trying to burrow closer. “This is awful,” she mumbled.

“Me holding you?”

Never that. His attention was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to her.

But the timing was the worst.

Almost too drained to reply, she whispered, “You seeing me like this.” When he lifted up the back of her T-shirt, she braced herself. The first touch of that cloth felt like ice on her spine and she hissed in a breath that brought on a nasty coughing fit.

He stroked her, rocked her, made soft shushing sounds—those same husky sounds he’d made while holding her legs open and gently squeezing into her.

Remembering his size, the delicious sensation of being filled, Cherry ducked her face. “This sucks so badly.”

“I’m glad I’m here with you.” Holding her hair up with one hand, the cool cloth in the other, he stroked it from her nape all the way down her back to the top of her barely there underwear. “And I love your panties.”

She groaned. “If I’d known I was going to be sick—”

“Don’t say you wouldn’t have worn them.”

“I don’t own any other kind.” But by God, she’d have bought some briefs if she’d known it wouldn’t do her any good to tempt him.

He went still, then hugged her carefully before easing her to her back on the bed. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

She reached for the sheet, but he stopped her, saying again, “Trust me.”

Trusting him had nothing to do with the teeth-rattling shivers. “Hurry.”

She watched through gritty eyes as he went into the bathroom to rinse out the cloth.

Trying to concentrate on something other than her discomfort, she rasped, “Tell me about your dad.”

After a long pause, he said, “He’s a terrific doctor. Well respected.” He returned in less than half a minute and again sat beside her hip. He started on her legs, and sure enough, some of the awful chills let up so that she mostly felt lethargic and very achy all over.

She studied Denver’s face. With his head bent down, his wavy hair hung forward, concealing his high cheekbones. This late in the day, he had a very appealing beard shadow on his jaw and chin. His nose was narrow with a slight crook from once being broken. Long lashes framed his amazing topaz eyes.

And his mouth, firm and sexy... “Does he look like you?”

“He’s as tall as me,” Denver remarked while working to cool her down. “Athletic, but never competed.”

“Meaning he’s not all buff like you.”

Denver smiled. “Same features, but his coloring is different. Lighter than mine. He’s fit.”

As he leaned over her legs, she lifted a hand and stroked her fingers through his shaggy hair. Jogging under the afternoon sun had added golden streaks to the light brown color. It was just long enough to be held in a rubber band when he fought. “Bet he wears his hair different.”

“Military short.” He lifted one leg and moved the cool cloth behind her knee. “He doesn’t say much about my hair, but I know he doesn’t like it. My stepmother does, though.”

Cherry looked from his hair to his face and saw his lean jaw tighten. “Your stepmother?”

He tensed, then suddenly turned and lifted the front of her shirt all the way above her breasts. “Yeah.” For just a moment he cupped his large hand over her left breast, his thumb teasing dangerously close to her nipple. “You are so damned pretty.”

A sweet talker—who wanted to change the subject. “I look terrible.”

He bent to her breast for a soft kiss, almost stopping her heart. “You just look sick, honey—but not here.” He kissed her very briefly again, the press of his warm mouth gentle, and then he straightened. Gaze riveted, he touched the cloth over her upper chest, around each breast, down to her belly.

She squirmed, both from the coolness of the touch and from the absorbed way he looked at her body.

Tears burned her eyes and she sniffled. “I wish I wasn’t sick, damn it.”

One brow lifted. “I wish you weren’t, either.”

Melancholy weighed heavy on her, and she knew she had to ask. “Will this be it?”

With the cloth held still high on her inner thigh, his gaze locked on hers. “Come again?”

Scrambling away from his touch, she pushed her shirt down and pulled the sheet over her. Shoving her ratty hair back, she sniffled, feeling so dreadful it was almost unbearable. “It’s taken me forever to get you here, and now—” That awesome accusation got interrupted with harsh coughing that hurt all the way through to her back.

Denver left the bed to fetch a juice from the in-room bar.

“Don’t,” she wheezed. “It’ll cost a fortune.”

Ignoring that order, he twisted the cap off the bottle and again sat beside her. “My treat.” He tipped it to her mouth. “Come on, Cherry, drink.”

Since he gave her little choice, she did, swallowing down half the container before stopping.

He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. “Better?”

She nodded. It was, but the insistent way he had of making her feel helpless was both sweet and a little unsettling. “Denver...”

“To answer your question, no, this isn’t it.” He set the juice on the nightstand before giving her a direct look.

Complaints disappeared under his scrutiny. “It isn’t?”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Oh.” A million questions came to her at once, but Denver spoke before she had decided where to start.

“Armie is picking up more juice. You need to stay hydrated. How’s your belly?”

“Fine.” She wasn’t nauseous, thank God. “Well, unless I move too fast.”

He cupped the back of her neck and looked into her eyes. “Head still hurt?”

“Some.” Growing in intensity, but she really didn’t want to come off as whiny. It was bad enough that tears kept pricking her eyes.

“What else?” When she didn’t immediately answer—what woman wanted to spend her first night with the man of her dreams by complaining?—he used both hands to hold her face. “You’re right, I’m not a doctor. But I’ve learned a lot from Dad, and from the sport.”

“The sport?”

“Sure. Fighters have to know their own bodies well enough to stay healthy. So quit stalling. Your head, your throat. I’m guessing your chest with that cough. What else?”

She didn’t think he’d let it go, so she admitted the truth. “Pretty much everything.”

“Body aches?”

She nodded. “And my eyes burn.” Maybe that’d be a good excuse for the tears.

“That’s probably from the fever. Soon as Armie gets back we’ll get some meds in you.” Once more his thumb teased over her bottom lip and he let out a pent-up breath. “I’m so damn sorry.”

“You didn’t make me sick.”

“I also didn’t pay close enough attention to realize you weren’t feeling well.”

She hadn’t paid enough attention, either. At the time, with Denver touching and kissing her, she’d been focused only on feeling. “You thought I was drunk.”

“I worried about it, yeah. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Talking hurt her throat, but she still had to say it. “When I had to practically beg you?”

His eyes narrowed in thought. “You should have told me, you know.”

“I didn’t realize—” she started to say.

“Shh.” He kissed her forehead, softening his rebuke. “Don’t lie to me, Cherry. Ever.”

How could he so easily make her feel guilty? She bit her lip. “Well...”

“There’s no way you couldn’t have known you were getting sick.”

True enough—to a point. “I didn’t feel well, but—” She coughed some more, then had to bite back a groan at the radiating discomfort.

Denver supported her, rubbing her back until she’d quieted again.

Holding on to him, she drew a careful breath. “I didn’t know I’d be this bad,” she wheezed. “Honest. I wouldn’t have risked getting you sick.”

“I’m not worried about that.” He helped her resettle in the bed. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

She started to again bite her lip, but when his gaze focused on her mouth, she stopped herself. In a hoarse whisper, she said, “It’s embarrassing.”

As if her embarrassment didn’t factor into things, he shook his head. “I need you to always be honest with me, Cherry, no matter what.”

It irked her, this persistence that she might not be truthful. “I’m not a liar.”

“No. But there are layers of honesty.” Firm, he tilted his head to stare into her eyes. “I have to have one hundred percent.”

“Fine.” Though she felt like death warmed over, she lifted her chin. “I was afraid if I told you, you’d use it as an excuse to walk away.”

His piercing gaze softened at her admission. “Am I walking away?”

“No.” And it confused her so much. “But I don’t know why not.”

He took her hand. “You think I’d walk out on you when you’re so ill?”

She didn’t want his pity. “If that’s the only reason you’re staying—”

“It’s not.”

“Oh.” With her eyes gritty and her head throbbing, she could barely stay upright. She persisted anyway, drawing in a slow breath to keep from coughing. “Long as we’re being honest, why did you ignore me?”

For the longest time he stared down at their clasped hands and she felt the tumult of his thoughts, his resistance and even a sort of muted resentment.

She got nervous, dreading what he might say. It had been tough to take his unspoken rejections on good days. Being wretchedly sick, this was not a good day. But if she cried in front of him, she’d just die.

Finally he lifted his head. The piercing focus of his attention unnerved her. “Mostly I avoided you because I wanted you too fucking much.”

Wow. Never had she expected that. How did that even make sense?

“The way you smell,” he murmured, dipping his nose to her temple and inhaling. “The way you look. How you laugh and the bounce of your hair, your tits, that amazing ass...”

She gulped. His tone was gritty, almost raw, and she couldn’t think of a reply except to say, “Oh,” again.

“Every time you’d get near me, hell, even in the same room, I could smell you.”

“That’s...unsettling.”

“You smell good, girl. So fucking good.” Keeping her pinned in his gaze, uncaring about her mute surprise, he continued. “You know you’re stacked. There’s no way you could not know. But I’ve known plenty of built women.”

She scowled, making her head protest with ramped up pain.

“But they aren’t you. It’s the combo, I think. Your bod, your attitude—which drove me nuts, by the way.”

In a croak, she asked, “My attitude?”

“Party girl,” he accused. “Tease.”

Despite being ill, her shoulders stiffened. “I am not—”

“You tease every guy who gets near you.”

Her gasp choked her, making it impossible to protest. She did not tease. How dare he—

“You do,” he stated, “even if you don’t mean to.” Working his jaw, his gaze went over her body, his hands following suit until he clasped her hips. “You have no idea how it affected me.”

If it got him to this point—in bed with her—then she’d accept the blame.

“I hate to admit it, but that’s probably why I went overboard.” His voice dropped. “Swear to God, girl, if you weren’t sick I’d be inside you right now.”

Her eyes widened on a startled breath, and of course that set off a spate of coughing again.

Denver pulled her against his hard chest, cradling her gently. “Easy now.” She’d only barely gotten her air back when he added, “I’m betting I’ve wanted this longer than you have. So damn long, I was going nuts. Then to finally give in—”

Give in? What did that even mean?

“That’s not an excuse for pushing you so hard, but fact is, you do it for me. Around you, I stay so primed it’s almost agonizing.”

Ducking her face against him, Cherry said, “That’s exactly how I felt, too. As to you pushing me...” She shivered, remembering. “I liked it.”

She felt his smile when he kissed her temple. “I know you did. But you’ll like it more when you’re feeling like yourself.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “There’s still a lot I want to do to you.”

Oh Lord. Not with her, but to her? How was she supposed to breathe normally when he said things like that?

For Denver, it sounded like everything was sexual. It thrilled her to finally make some headway—but what she felt was so much more.

He rubbed his hand down her back toward her bottom—but stopped short. “Soon as you’re well, we’ll try this all again.” His lips teased her ear, and he whispered, “When you can take it, I’ll make you beg.”

Wow. As unnerving as that sounded, she could hardly wait.

His fist under her chin tipped up her burning face. “Far as I’m concerned, there’s no end date in sight.” He searched her eyes, then focused on her mouth. “You okay with that?”

She’d been hung up on Denver Lewis from the day she’d laid eyes on him and every day since she’d fallen harder. If he asked her to marry him right now, she’d probably say yes.

Instead, he wanted unlimited sex, and the answer was still a resounding, “Yes.”

“Good.” He tucked her hair back, then leaned away to see her body. “You’re shivering again.”

With nervousness, excitement, and yes, fever. The way he’d cooled her down had helped, but not for long.

He pulled off his shirt—a treat no matter how sick she might be—and kicked off his shoes, then crawled into bed beside her and hugged her up to his warm chest. “Better?”

Heavenly. “Yes.”

“Doze off if you want.” Stretching out his long legs and then reaching for the remote, he got comfortable with the TV on low. “I’ll wake you when Armie gets back.”

Tired as she was, she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. Not with her head feeling like it might explode off her body and her throat getting scratchier by the second. “Could we chat some more?” By chat, she meant her resting against him while he shared details of his life.

“About what?”

So many things. “Tell me about your family.”

“Already did. Dad’s a doctor.”

The way he summed that up, to the point of being curt, made her wonder. Did he have a bad relationship with his dad? “You mentioned a stepmother?”

“Yeah. Dad remarried years ago.”

Curling up next to him, her cheek on his bare chest, his arm around her, felt more comforting than meds ever could. The heat of his body seemed to permeate her aching muscles, and his scent wrapped around her. When she rested a hand over his abdomen, the incredible muscles there tightened. “How old were you?”

“Nineteen.” Covering her hand with his own, he moved his thumb over her knuckles. “You are so soft.”

Changing the subject again? “You like your stepmother?”

Silence stretched out while Denver played with her fingers. She didn’t rush him. If he chose not to answer, she’d let it go.

She knew all about family issues better kept private.

Then he said, “Dad loves her. I figure that’s what’s important.”

She turned her face up to see him. “You don’t get along with her?” Given Denver was so wonderful, she couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him.

Again, he took his time thinking. Finally he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “It’s complicated.” After a quick hug and a kiss on the top of her head, he promised, “We’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re feeling better. It’s late. You should sleep.”

She didn’t want to, but lethargy pulled at her. Soon as Denver tucked the sheet around her, she felt herself slipping away.

Sometime later, more sluggish than ever, she woke to whispering and realized Armie was back. While trying to orient herself, she heard a low, angry conversation on relatives.

If anything, she felt worse now, bad enough that she didn’t even care what they talked about. Pulling the covers over her head, she groaned, “Thanks Armie. Now go away please.”

He didn’t leave, of course. In fact, she sensed when both men came to loom over her. The testosterone ramped up enough to strangle her.

Armie crouched down by her shrouded head. “How you feelin’, doll?”

She curled a little tighter to ensure he wouldn’t unwrap her. “Bad enough I don’t want anyone to see me.”

A big, warm hand settled on her shoulder—Armie.

She was still adjusting to the impact of that when another hand settled on her hip—Denver.

Good Lord.

Her heart almost stopped. Were they trying to kill her with their combined machismo?

One large, hunky guy focused on her was enough. The two combined left her shivering with awareness. Though she wanted only Denver, they were both studs and she wasn’t used to anything even close to this. Beneath the concealing covers, she squeezed her eyes shut—and since she had no idea what to do, she played possum.

Until both men’s hands sympathetically squeezed, rubbed...

Surprise wrought a groan that ended in a rasping cough.

“Move,” she heard Denver say, and a second later he’d pulled the covers to her waist, leaving her hideous hair and smudged makeup exposed. At least they’d kept the lights low, giving her shadows to hide in.

Denver helped her to sit up while giving her a drink of cold juice.

She needed the drink—but he’d pulled the sheet so low that snatching it back up seemed her first priority. Once she’d preserved her modesty, she accepted the drink.

So very aware of Armie standing there, taking it all in, seeing her in such a mess, she wanted to wither. But the juice eased the pain of her throat so she ignored her awful embarrassment and drank it all.

When she’d finished, Denver smoothed down her hair. “Let’s get you started on some meds.”

She seriously hated being babied so much. Never, ever, had she been the center of so much attention. “I can do it. You should go home with Armie.”

Grinning at her, Armie said, “Damn, Cherry, way to insult a guy.”

Tone level but uncompromising, Denver said, “I’m not going anywhere.” He opened two different pill bottles and some cough medicine.

“You don’t need to be stuck here.”

This time Armie shook his head and, deliberately provoking, said to Denver, “Women.”

“We already settled this,” Denver said as he handed the pills to Cherry. “Can you swallow them?”

“Yes.” But man, it hurt getting them down. Soon as she finished, he held up the tiny medicine cup of cough liquid.

That went down easier and didn’t even taste too awful. Pulling the covers tight around herself again, her vision a little muzzy, she asked, “What time is it?”

“It’ll be dawn soon,” Denver told her.

“I was gone an hour,” Armie told her. “Sorry about that. The store wasn’t quite as close as I’d figured.”

“Thanks.” She started to recline again.

Denver caught her shoulders. “I want to take your temperature.”

“Can she hold the thermometer in her mouth?” Armie asked.

Denver grinned, but Cherry choked on a gasp then coughed hard enough that she dropped the sheet and covered her mouth.

And still she tried to curse Armie, assuring him that there was no way—

“He’s teasing, girl. Calm down.”

“Not funny,” she managed to croak around broken breaths and a lot of glassy-eyed glaring.

Concern brought Armie’s brows together. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to cause all that.”

She wiped her watering eyes and concentrated on carefully catching her breath.

Coming closer, Armie stepped around Denver and felt her head again. “You sure she doesn’t have pneumonia?”

This was all too weird. No one would ever mistake Denver Lewis or Armie Jacobson for nurses. Big, muscular, macho guys should never tend the sick, especially not in freaking pairs.

Having them both try to pamper her at the same time was like an overdose of fantasy—only she’d never even dared fantasize anything that unreal.

How was she supposed to deal with it?

When Armie’s warm palm remained on her forehead, Cherry leaned out of his reach. He looked surprised until he took in her expression, then he grinned and winked at her, all in all being far too familiar when she looked and felt as she did and clearly wasn’t up to bantering with him.

Shaking the thermometer, Denver said, “Can’t know for sure but I doubt it. You know something’s been making the rounds.” He turned, waited for Cherry to open, and slipped the thermometer under her tongue. “If her fever gets too high, I’ll run her to the hospital to be safe.”

How dare they make plans without her input? Around the thermometer she said, “No hospital.”

“Not yet anyway,” Denver agreed, tapping the bottom of her chin as a reminder to keep her lips closed.

“Somehow,” Armie remarked, “it doesn’t seem as bad when it’s a dude who’s sick.”

“I know.”

“Sexist,” she muttered, then slumped against the headboard.

While waiting the requisite time to get a temperature reading, they both watched her far too closely, making her almost squirm. She wore only a T-shirt and panties, in a bed, in a hotel room—and she had two megahunks focused on her.

The upside to this whole awful scenario would be telling her girlfriends, Yvette, Rissy, Harper and Vanity about it. She just knew they’d love the details and would embellish some for laughs.

They might even envy her...since they didn’t actually have to suffer it.

Finally Denver deemed it time to take the thermometer from her mouth, and she collapsed back in the bed, pulling the sheet to her chin. He held it under the bedside lamp to read it, then with a frown told Armie, “A little over 101.”

Well. No wonder she felt like crap.

“Damn.” Armie checked the time. “I’d give it an hour and check again. If the meds haven’t brought it down by then—”

“Yeah.” Denver glanced at her, but said in an aside to Armie, “I’ll take care of it.”

Pigheaded men. She could damn well decide if she needed the hospital. Right now, though, all she wanted to do was hide, so she pulled the blankets over her head.

She heard Denver say low, “She’s going to suffocate herself. You better go.”

“You don’t need anything else?”

“Got it covered.”

“All right, then.” Voices dropped more, moved farther away, and Armie said quietly, “You’ll let me know if anything else happens?”

“Yeah. But I’ll keep a close eye out, so don’t sweat it.”

A close eye out for what? Cherry lowered the sheet enough to see both men standing by the open door.

Armie half stepped out. “Think you’ll be back at the rec center tomorrow?”

“Depends on how she feels in the morning.” When Denver glanced back at her, she quickly closed her eyes, and he said to Armie, “I’ll call in and let you know.”

“I hate for her to go through that long drive home if she’s not up to it.”

If she’d had the strength, Cherry would have set Armie straight. She wasn’t a frail little girl—but at the moment, she sure felt like one.

“I know,” Denver agreed. “If it is the current bug, she should feel a little better tomorrow. Not as feverish anyway.”

“But still wiped out.” Armie hesitated before saying, “You had, what? A kids’ class and then your turn at the self-defense for women?”

“Intermediates at five-thirty, then the women at seven-thirty.”

Oh wow, Cherry thought. He wasn’t getting any sleep, and then he’d have all that way to drive, his own workout to do, then two classes... Guilt made her feel even lower. All the guys pitched in at the rec center. It was sort of a tradeoff for getting to use the place, being able to mix and mingle with the better established fighters that visited Cannon on occasion, but also because they were close friends with Cannon and enjoyed pitching in.

Armie said, “Why don’t I just cover for you?”

“You’re coming off a tourney,” Denver reminded him.

“So?”

“You sure you’re up for it?”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Denver laughed. “All right, sure. Thanks.”

More was said, but Cherry couldn’t hear it all, and then the door lock clicked and she knew Denver was returning to her. Curious as to what he’d do, she opened her eyes and watched him.

“Medicine kicking in yet?”

She took stock of her body, realized she wasn’t trembling as badly, and nodded. “I think so.”

He smiled down at her. “You look drowsy.”

She knew how she looked and she didn’t want to talk about it. “Will you come back to bed?”

“Yeah. We both need some sleep.”

Without a single care, he stripped off his clothes, even taking off his boxers.

Watching him, her eyes went wide, then wider still when he turned to fold everything on a chair. Figured he’d sleep naked, which added to her torment since she wasn’t up to taking advantage of that hot bod. His muscled butt was a thing of beauty. And his wide, strong back and shoulders made her sigh.

Apparently he heard her wistful sigh because he glanced back at her. “No coughing. That’s good.”

She just might be too stunned by his nudity to cough.

Turning to face her, Denver said, “You don’t mind?”

Seeing him in the raw? Heck no. She shook her head while letting her gaze track all over him.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll join you.” He picked up his overnight bag and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard running water and the sounds of him brushing his teeth.

That made her feel extra funky, and as soon as he finished she dragged herself out of the bed. Even knowing she walked like an ancient zombie, she couldn’t move any faster.

Denver took her arm and helped her to the small john. He tipped up her chin. “If you need me, let me know.”

“Thanks.” She closed the door on him. It took the last of her reserves but she washed off her destroyed makeup, brushed her teeth, used the john, and knew she had no energy left for dealing with the impossible mess of her hair.

Denver was right there when she opened the door and he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Once he had her tucked in, he turned out the lights and scooted in behind her, drawing her close. He slid one arm under her head, the other around her, under her T-shirt and over one breast. “Okay?”

His massive fists had knockout power, but right now his open palm and long fingers were so gentle it left her awed. “Yes.”

He kissed her shoulder. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when you need to take more meds.”

Relishing his nearness, she closed her eyes and faded away.

CHAPTER FIVE

DENVER HELD HER as she slept restlessly until bright sunshine shone through the curtains. An hour or so ago, he’d gotten up to cool her down again, to give her meds and get her to drink. He knew she needed time, rest and meds more than anything, and somehow he’d see that she got it.

He hadn’t slept much, but then, she was so sick, and he felt so damn guilty, it was a wonder he could relax at all. Thanks to his colossal ego, and yeah, pent-up lust for her, he’d pushed her hard, making her come again and again. That hadn’t helped her.

It definitely hadn’t helped him any, because now that he knew the feel of her, the sounds she made in her pleasure, how she clenched all around him, he couldn’t stop thinking about doing it all again.

He rubbed a hand over his face, then got himself together.

She was with him, thank God, not alone. When he considered his own stubbornness, how he’d almost let her go back to her room alone, it made him want to kick his own ass. Right now she needed someone.

He wanted that someone to be him.

Luckily he had time to spare, and though he hated to see her feeling so poorly and would have spared her if he could, he’d enjoy caring for her.

First thing was cancelling their checkout.

He slipped from the bed without disturbing her, then just stood there looking down at her.

During the night when her fever had broken, she’d turned to her back, one hand up above her head, the other resting over her middle.

The sheet and blanket were now down to her knees.

Torture.

She had the sweetest, curviest little body he’d ever seen.

And those panties... They were mostly a strip of lace over the front, a thong in the back, and they made him hazy with churning lust.

Making himself turn away, Denver picked up his clothes and slipped into the bathroom to dress and shave. Shaving was a concession for her delicate skin. He rarely bothered anymore, except when meeting with clients through his work as an accountant. But since making the SBC, he’d cut way back on that—and on shaving. Now he only had a few longtime clients he continued to work with.

After brushing his teeth, he finger-combed his long hair and stepped out again.

Cherry hadn’t stirred. Her badly mussed blond curls spilled out over the pillow. Sunlight cut across her face and even sick and without makeup, she looked beautiful, her skin creamy, her lips full and soft.

If he didn’t have a fight rolling up, he wouldn’t mind spending an entire week at the hotel with her.

Just the two of them.

Most of their time spent in bed. Or the shower. Hell, he’d enjoy bending her over the desk so he could appreciate that spectacular ass even more.

But he would never shirk his training, so a week was out.

They’d have most of today, but she wouldn’t be up for any of the things he burned to do to her.

Looking away from temptation, he put his wallet in his pocket and picked up the room key card, then slipped out without making a sound.

At the front desk, he checked out of his own room and extended her stay, explaining that she was sick. There was a good chance that once awake, she’d feel up to the ride home later. But he didn’t want her rushed.

With that done, he visited the hotel restaurant and grabbed an assortment of food for himself, drinks for her. Carrying his haul, he headed for the elevator...until he felt eyes on him. Pausing with a frown, he glanced over his shoulder.

From across the lobby two men tracked his every move. Being unshaven, rough and in sloppy clothes didn’t conceal their bulky shoulders and probable strength.

Or their aura of danger.

Suspicion sharpened, while priorities left Denver divided.

He needed to get back to Cherry. But what if these two were part of the trio Armie had mentioned? They could be a threat to her.

Decision made, Denver turned and, never once breaking eye contact with the biggest guy, headed toward them.

Clearly that surprised them because the big guy lost the challenge in his gaze, straightening with new awareness. The smaller man—which didn’t make him small by any stretch—said something to the other and... Damn it.

Denver watched them go through the rotating doors and disappear. His jaw ticked. Should he go after them? In his experience, men only ran if they had a reason.

So hell yes, he needed to go after them.

He saw a couple of female fight fans eyeing him and, ready to take advantage, gave them a smile. “Could I ask a favor?”

A slim brunette returned his smile. “Sure.”

“Watch my food for a minute?”

“Oh...um...”

In a rush, he set everything on the top of her rolling suitcase. “Swear I’ll only be a couple of minutes.” He hoped.

A more petite blonde next to her bobbed her head. “Okay. Sure.”

“Thanks.” Jogging, he went out the same doors, looked left, turned right—and saw the two men duck around the side of the building.

He stalked forward and rounded the corner cautiously. Three hulking men now stood together, all openly belligerent. Idiots. Did they think being together somehow gave them an advantage?

And why would they need an advantage anyway? What were they up to?

If they were in any way related to Cherry, it didn’t show. Though two of them wore hats, Denver could see they were dark-haired, muscular but with signs of dissipation, eyes reddened from drugs or alcohol, maybe both.

The third guy had a close-cropped Mohawk with the side of his head tattooed.

Taking his time, Denver looked over each of them, then raised a brow. “You ran from me.”

One man spit tobacco that came entirely too damn close to Denver’s foot. He waited without moving.

“Wasn’t running.”

“Looked like it to me.” They had their backs to a long, narrow alleyway that opened to a cross street behind the hotel. If he had to chase them, he’d catch at least one, probably two, no problem. “Why were you staring at me?”

“Check your ego, man. I wasn’t.”

Smiling, Denver took another step forward, ready to provoke if that’d get him some straight answers. “That’s a lie.”

The big guy—who, as Armie had said, was taller than Denver’s six-two—bunched up.

The one who had spit now laughed. “Chill, okay? We were jus’ tryin’ to figure out if you’re with Cherry Peyton. We heard she’s hangin’ with a fighter, and last night a different fighter caused a scene—”

“Which one of you got it in the balls?”

None of them were amused. Denver knew one of them had pulled a knife. He almost wished the chickenshits would try that now.

Pulling off a trucker’s cap, running a hand through his hair and then sticking the hat on his head again, the spitter glanced at the quietest of the three.

Taking that as his cue, the Mohawk wearer stepped forward. “That was Gene.” He gestured at the spitter.

“Still got a knife on you?” he asked Gene.

It was Mohawk who answered. “Yeah, he does.” The hand he offered showed tats on his knuckles, a few scars. “I’m Carver Nelson.”

Denver ignored his extended hand.

“Gene always carries his knife. It doesn’t mean anything.” Pulling his hand back, Carver said, “These are my brothers. Mitty and Gene.”

Mitty, the biggest, continued to glare. Gene, the knife carrier, spit yet again.

“That’s a nasty-ass habit you have.”

Gene bunched up.

“So,” Carver said. “Are you with Cherry?”

“And if I am?”

“We’re trying to find her, that’s all.”

No way could Denver reconcile the idea of Cherry with any of these men, but especially not the guy now talking to him. In the fight world, he saw every style there was; tattoos and crazy haircuts didn’t faze him.

But he knew a thug when he saw one. Carver was that—and more.

“Why?”

Mitty said, “She’s our little sis.”

No fucking way. Knowing his disdain and disbelief showed, Denver again looked them over.

Cherry was bubbly, all smiles, sweet and stacked, soft and sexy.

These men looked like low-life goons. “Seems to me you’d have her number and know a better way to contact her than skulking around hotels.”

The big guy fisted his hands. “Wasn’t skulking.”

“We got estranged a while back,” Carver said, speaking over his brother. “Had a family disagreement and lost touch. That’s all.”

“But now we wanna reunite,” Gene added with a tobacco-stained leer.

Hoping to get the truth, Denver fought to moderate his tone. “How did you know she’d be here, at the fights?”

Carver shrugged. “Knew she was a fight fan, knew she lived in these parts.” He folded his arms over his chest, putting muscular arms on display. “Just figured.”

He didn’t want to, but to be fair, Denver made an offer. “Give me a number where she can reach you, and I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“No good,” Gene told him. “She won’t call.”

More so than the others, Denver wanted to knock Gene on his ass, make him choke on his chew.

It seemed Carver attempted diplomacy, and Mitty was too stupid to do more than mutter incomplete sentences. He figured Carver for the leader, Mitty for the muscle when necessary.

But Gene had no problem inciting his rage. Denver would love to unleash it on him and a blade wouldn’t make any difference at all.

Instead, knowing it’d bug the man, he directed his answer to Carver. “Then I guess you’re out of luck, aren’t you?”

After giving both of his brothers a quelling scowl, Carver stepped in front of them. “There’s been a death in the family.”

“Who?”

“Our pops.”

If they were related, would Cherry be devastated? It wasn’t something he could keep from her. “Sorry to hear it. I’ll let her know.” Anxious to get back to her, he said, “So you want to give me a number or not?”

“Yeah, sure.” Carver patted his pockets with theatric flair. “Damn. Ain’t got a pen or paper on me.”

“I guess a business card is out?”

“Left mine at home,” Carver joked.

“Go into the hotel and tell the front desk that you want to leave me a message. Ask them to hold it for Denver Lewis. I’ll pick it up before checking out.”

“Yeah? When is that exactly?”

Denver laughed, but he didn’t feel even a smidge of humor. Carver tried to be slick and failed miserably. “I don’t know yet, but you’d be smart not to be there when I do.” He was just about to walk away when he felt the approach of someone behind him. He didn’t take his attention off the brothers, but he did go more alert.

Until he heard, “Need a hand?”

Relaxing again, he turned to see Dean Connor, better known as Havoc, standing a few feet away, arms folded, expression amused.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

“I’ll just wait, then.”

Because he wanted to discuss Armie. Shit, shit, shit. Denver didn’t have time for this. He wanted to get back to Cherry.

Damn Armie for being so stubborn.

No way would he disrespect Dean, so he said, “Suit yourself.”

“Always do.”

Facing the brothers again, Denver pointed at Carver. “Don’t bother her. That’s the only warning you’ll get. Do we understand each other?”

In no way intimidated, Carver gave a slight nod. “Yeah, I think we do.”

That Carver tried to say it like a warning didn’t bother Denver at all. He walked toward Dean and the three yahoos went in the other direction. If they weren’t as dumb as they looked, they’d keep walking.

“Friends of yours?” Dean asked when he joined him.

Shaking his head, Denver said, “They’re nobody.”

“Funny. That’s the same thing Armie told me last night.”

“Maybe because it’s true.”

“Or more likely, you consider it none of my business.” When Denver would have backtracked, Dean held up a hand. “Whoever they are, I think you put the fear of God in them. Glad we already have you signed with the SBC.”

“Like dealing with street punks would prove anything?”

Dean shrugged. “You handled yourself well and you kept your cool.” And then, with an amused smile, “At least better than Armie did last night.”

He’d met Dean a few times, but he wouldn’t say they were friends. More like acquaintances. Being newer to the SBC, Denver always appreciated the time Dean, who was a legend, gave to him.

Except for now.

“Armie has plenty of control when he needs it.” Because Armie didn’t always show that control, Denver added, “Like when he fights.”

“Agreed.” Dean fell into step beside him. “You’re in a hurry?”

“I don’t mean to be rude—”

“No problem. I’ll walk with you.”

With no way around it, Denver said, “Sure.”

They stepped through the hotel doors. “Actually, I wanted to talk about Armie.”

Already shaking his head, Denver said, “Not my business.”

“I get that. No pressure. Just pass along a message for me, will you?”

The two women were still there, anxiously watching for Denver. “Hang on.” He went over to them, apologizing as he approached. “Sorry. That took longer than I thought it would.”

The blonde beamed at him. “It’s okay.”

He picked up his bags of food and drinks. “Where’re you both headed? The airport?”

The brunette nodded, but her gaze had moved beyond Denver to Dean and she looked ready to faint.

Pasting on his patented “fan smile,” Dean stepped forward and offered his hand.

Things got smoothed over when Dean took a picture with the ladies and Denver paid for their cab.

With that resolved, Dean followed Denver to the elevator.

“Sorry about that,” Denver told him. “What did you want me to tell Armie?”

“To quit running from me. Tell him I said to man up and give me an opportunity to talk to him.”

Denver whistled. “That won’t win him over.”

“No, but it will force him out.” He surprised Denver by stepping into the elevator with him.

“Was there something else?”

“Yeah, but I’ll make it quick. I want to know how Cannon runs his rec center. It’s unique, the combo of a top-notch training center, the opp to spar with and learn from him, while also helping the neighborhood. How’s that work exactly? I’d ask Cannon, but he’s too humble about it.”

Now this was a topic Denver could sink his teeth into. He and Cannon had been friends forever, and he respected him more than any man he knew. “Cannon has it set up so that everyone takes turns pitching in, some once a week, some an hour every day. Now that Cannon’s made it big, Armie carries the lion’s share of the load. He sets the schedule and lines up the volunteers. Whenever Cannon is out of town, Armie runs things.”

“He’s an employee, or a partner?”

“Both, I guess.” Denver had never really gotten into the details with Armie, but knowing Cannon, he assumed Armie was well compensated for all the time he contributed. “Armie has a high energy level and refuses to have idle time.”

Grinning, Dean said, “I thought he spent all his free time with the ladies.”

“He fits that in, believe me.” There were times when it seemed Armie wouldn’t sleep for days on end—and yet he never dragged.

Laughing, Dean pulled a card from his pocket. “Give Armie my message. And hey, next time you’re in Harmony, let’s grab dinner.”

“Sure.” Since Harmony wasn’t that far, just a little south in Kentucky, he got down that way often. Denver pocketed the card. “I’d like that.”

When the elevator stopped, Dean stayed inside, but held the door open after Denver had stepped out. “You know,” Dean said, “I wouldn’t have let that motley crew around my lady, either.” After that parting shot he allowed the doors to close.

Huh. So Dean had understood more than he’d let on.

Denver had a lot to think about—later.

Right now, he only wanted to see Cherry.

To his surprise, when he opened the hotel room door, he found the bed empty. As he slowly let the door shut, he heard the shower running. Heat expanded and his body grew taut as he set down his packages...and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

SHE’D STRUGGLED TO pin up her hair, to start the shower, to stand under the spray and wash from head to toe. Now slumped against the tiled wall, Cherry realized her mistake. Never in her entire life had she been so drained. Even staying upright seemed to take an incredible amount of energy—energy that had quickly faded away.

Home, alone, she wouldn’t have bothered.

But it was bad enough to be so pathetically sick with Denver. She wouldn’t be grungy, too. Besides, she honestly believed she’d feel better once she was clean.

Instead, she wasn’t sure she could muster up the strength to turn off the taps, much less get dry, dressed and back in the bed.

She literally wanted to sink down to the tub and go back to sleep, even with the water raining down on her. If she knew for certain she wouldn’t run out of warm water or drown herself, she might’ve done just that.

In fact, it was still a toss-up.

That thought had barely cleared her brain before the shower curtain opened and Denver stood there, his smoldering gaze going all over her. He appeared stern, and a little turned on.

A unique combo.

“Damn, girl, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

A lump of misery caught in her throat. “I was... I can’t...” She braced a hand on the shower wall and said simply, “Big mistake.”

He reached in and turned off the water. Grabbing up a big white towel, he wrapped it around her and, uncaring if he got wet, lifted her out against him. One-handed, he flipped down the toilet lid and lowered her to sit.

“Denver...”

“Hush. I’ll take care of it.” Going to one knee, he dried her calves, up her legs, over her belly.

She held herself as upright as possible, completely mortified, all too aware of where and how he touched her. For him it seemed so impersonal; for her it was as personal as it could get.

When his gaze met hers, he said, “Breathe, girl. Slow and easy.”

The husky timbre of his voice made her want to melt. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

“You should have waited for me.” More gently, he dried her breasts, and as the soft terry towel moved over her nipples, she swallowed hard. The cooler air after her shower made her shiver—and made her nipples draw tight.

“Almost done,” he told her, and he sounded as strained as she felt. Finally giving up on her breasts, he briskly dried her shoulders and gently patted the towel to her face. “Up you go.” He drew her to her feet and supported her against his body.

So warm. Closing her eyes, Cherry honestly thought she could doze off just like that, with him holding her so carefully.

After he dried her shoulders and the small of her back, he spent an inordinate amount of time on her bottom, looking over her shoulder until she said sleepily, “Denver.”

He kissed her neck, wrapped the towel around her and scooped her up. She knew he was strong; anyone could look at him and see that. But he held her with such ease it still impressed her and made her feel like the quintessential “little lady.”

As he strode to the bed, he said, “I’m glad you didn’t try washing your hair.”

Resting her cheek against his hard shoulder, one hand over his heartbeat, she admitted, “I couldn’t.”

He paused by the bed with her still comfortably in his arms. “Are you feeling any better at all?” His mouth brushed her temple. “You don’t feel as feverish.”

Around a yawn, she whispered, “That’s why I thought I could shower.” But halfway through she’d known it was a very bad idea.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” He tilted her back a little to look at her. “Do you have anything to wear?”

With the way he held her, the towel barely kept her concealed. Then she noticed Denver glancing at the dresser mirror beyond and when she looked... Oh God. She squirmed to get free.

He only tightened his hold. “Settle down.”

“Stop looking at me!”

He gave one more long perusal at the mirror. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”

The image in the mirror showed her legs tucked up over his arm, the loose towel hanging well beneath her backside, and a whole lot of nakedness in between. He could literally see from back of the thighs to the middle of her back.

Her heart hurt in her chest and red-hot humiliation scalded her. “Denver...”

He hugged her—and turned so that her behind was no longer aimed at the mirror, but still didn’t put her down. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. I like looking at you.”

“Not like that!”

“Especially like that.” He nuzzled against her. “I want to see every part of you.”

Tucking her burning face against his throat, she groaned, “This is so awful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, low and rough near her ear.

That was not a beautiful shot, but she didn’t have the will to debate it with him right now. “My shirt...” She glanced at the same shirt she’d removed before getting in the shower. It was now badly rumpled, but anything would be better than staying so vulnerable.

Denver continued to study her face. “One day soon, you’ll show me everything I want to see.”

Ready to die of embarrassment and half afraid he was right, she said nothing.

He took in her expression, then turned his head to eye her discarded shirt on the dresser. “I brought a few extras if you want one of mine instead.” His smile went crooked. “Much as I enjoy seeing you, it’ll probably be better for my sanity if you don’t stay naked.”

“I wouldn’t!”

He grunted. “Left on your own, we both know you wouldn’t have had the grit to worry about it.”

True enough. “Somehow,” she muttered, “I’d have figured it out.”

“Maybe.” After lowering her to the bed, he pulled away the towel and his attention moved over her in minute detail again. “Now you don’t have to.” He kissed her forehead, her shoulder, and the top of one breast before going to his bag and removing a black SBC T-shirt.

Hating her own weakness, Cherry managed to sit back up before he got to her, but she let him drop the shirt over her head and even tug her arms through the short sleeves.

Wearing an indulgent, very male smile, he said, “Poor baby. You’re really shot, aren’t you?” He pulled the sheet over her lap and propped the bed pillows behind her.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing.” He pulled the band from her hair and ran his fingers through it to smooth it out. “I told you there’s something going around. I’ve seen a few fighters go down for the count.”

And she wasn’t a big, muscled, extremely fit fighter. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You just need to take it easy a few days.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Think you can stay awake long enough to take some medicine and get down some fluids?”

“Yes.” Honestly, now that she was back in the bed, she knew she did feel better for being clean. “What time do we have to check out?”

He opened an orange juice and handed her pills to take, then liquid cough medicine, before answering. “I extended your stay another day.”

Something must have shown on her face, because he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”

Cherry shook her head. It was enough that he’d taken on caring for her. She did not want him financially taxed, too. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No, you won’t.” Ignoring her indignation, he said, “I’m staying here, too, so don’t sweat it. Now stay put while I go get some ice. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait a min—”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “You’re not up for arguing with me, girl, so just relax, okay?” Another kiss and then he strode to the door.

The shower had cleared the fog of lethargy enough for reality to intrude. The timing was a problem in more ways than the obvious.

The second Denver returned with the ice bucket filled, she said, “I have to work tomorrow.”

“Around kids?” His brows climbed high. “That’s not happening.”

“I’m feeling better.” Better, but still on the dark side of rotten. And since she worked in a day care, she probably shouldn’t be around little kids. Still...

“Hate to tell you, honey, but you’re going to need at least two more days. Maybe three.” He looked her over. “Or more.”

Unacceptable, but knowing he might be right got her head to pounding.

The ice clinked in a glass as Denver dropped it in, then poured juice over it. “You want a straw?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No.”

He handed it to her and went to the small table to open up some bags. “I grabbed food for myself, but I wasn’t sure—”

She held up a hand. “No. No food for me.”

“I figured.” His expression softened. “Will it bother you for me to eat?”

“No, just...don’t talk about it.”

Smiling, he shook his head and pulled out a seat. “If it makes you nauseous, tell me.”

Turning to her side, she snuggled down in the bed. Keeping her eyes open wasn’t easy, but she’d been enough of a pill already. “What will you do today?”

He opened several containers. “What do you mean?”

“You usually work out? Or jog?”

“Both, but I can miss a day.”

She watched him dig into what looked like cottage cheese. She closed her eyes. “Denver?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you do me a huge favor?” When she opened her eyes, she saw that he’d turned toward her and was waiting. “Please, will you go make use of the gym? Or at least jog?”

“You planning another shower?”

His teasing made her smile tiredly. “No.” She yawned, sank a little deeper into the bed. “I’m going to doze and I’ll feel better knowing I didn’t completely ruin your day.”

He pushed his chair back and came to sit on the side of the bed. “I like being here with you.”

“Not like this.”

“Even like this.”

Could that be true? And if so, did that mean he actually cared for her? They had so much to work out, but first... “Please?”

Hesitation showed through his frown. “You promise to stay in bed?”

Since she didn’t think she could move anyway, she nodded.

“All right. I’ll finish eating then take off for an hour or so.” He bent to put his forehead to hers. “Be good while I’m gone.”

Soon as she got well, Cherry decided, she’d set him straight on his bossiness. But until then...yeah, sleep seemed like a very good idea.

CHAPTER SIX

DENVER HAD TO ADMIT, the jog did him good. He’d still been tense from his clash with Cherry’s supposed family. He hadn’t gone too far from the hotel and he’d stayed alert while pushing himself, but he hadn’t seen them anywhere when he left or when he returned. With a little luck, they’d taken his advice and split.

Most of the fight crowd had finally cleared out by the time he returned so he made it to their floor without getting stopped even once. Wearing a sweaty T-shirt and running shorts, his phone and the key card in a special carrier strapped with Velcro around his wrist, he headed to the door.

The sudden splitting noise of a fire alarm obliterated the calm he’d just achieved by the long run. Jogging the last few steps to the door, he jerked it open and found Cherry sitting up, groggy and confused.

“What happened?”

“Fire alarm.” In rapid order he went about shoving his things into his overnight bag, then started on her stuff, grabbing up discarded clothes, shoes, makeup she’d left in the bathroom...

“What are you doing?”

“We have to clear out,” he said while finding her a pair of jeans and her underwear, “and I figure we may as well head home.”

“Oh.” Little by little the sleepy daze cleared from her eyes.

Odds were the cough medicine had wiped her out as much as illness.

She started to leave the bed so he went to help her.

“I need the restroom.”

“Okay, but we have to hurry.” A voice came over an intercom of sorts in the room, directing guests to follow the guidelines on the backs of their entry doors. He led her to the bathroom, put the jeans and panties on the vanity, and stepped back. “Where’s your phone?”

“Nightstand,” she said, and shoved the door closed.

He saw she’d missed a call on her cell and on the room phone. Everything about this situation felt wrong, from the roughnecks claiming a relationship with her, to the sudden fire alarm and evacuation.

Damn it, he would not take chances with her.

He listened to the voice mail on the room phone first.

“Listen up, Cherry. You need to get in touch. I mean it. No more fucking around.”

Angry tension invaded every muscle in Denver’s body. When the caller, who he thought might be Carver, left a number, Denver held the phone between his shoulder and jaw and scrawled it down on a notepad. He tucked the paper into his wallet.

“Tonight, Cherry. You’ve caused enough trouble. Don’t make me chase you down.” And with that, the call ended.

He needed to know what the hell was going on. Now, before anything else happened. To be on the safe side, he glanced at her cell and saw that the missed call was from her roommate, Rissy. There was also a text that said only, Rissy was here. Typical MO for Merissa Colter. Under other circumstances, Denver might’ve smiled.

Right now he was as far from a smile as a man could get.

When he dropped the cell phone and charger into Cherry’s purse, he saw her car keys. He fished them out and stuffed them into his front pocket. He’d just finished gathering up the meds and putting them in her purse when the bathroom door opened.

Cherry more or less crept out, now in the jeans, pale with fatigue, exhaustion showing in every line of her body.

He grabbed up the bags and put an arm around her. “Come on, honey, we need to go.” He didn’t think there was a real fire, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“My shoes.”

“Damn. Sorry, but I already packed them. I’ll find them for you in the car.” He got her out the door and then had to veer her away from the elevator. “Not with a fire alarm going off.”

“Oh, right.”

He took in her red eyes, her defeated posture, and shook his head as he transferred the bags and her purse into one fist. “Sorry.”

“Wha—” The word ended on a gasp when he dipped, caught her around the hips, and hoisted her up and over his shoulder. “Denver!”

“We’re on the sixth floor, girl. You can barely go six steps.”

To his surprise, she didn’t fight him. She just clutched at his shirt and said, “Don’t drop me!”

“Never.”

He tried not to jostle her as he went down several flights of stairs. On the second floor, they ran into other people so he lowered her back to her feet to keep from embarrassing her, but put an arm around her waist to help support her. Near her ear, he asked, “Okay?”

With the strain obvious on her face, she nodded. When they finally reached the lobby, guests congested the front entrance, so Denver detoured with her down a short hall and out a side door.

The storms had moved out even before his jog, leaving the air fresh and clean. A blinding sun shone in a cloudless blue sky.

“Come on. You’re parked this way, right?”

“Yes.” She stumbled, coughed, and righted herself.

Worry stopped him. “Need me to carry you again?”

She shook her head, firm. “No.”

“That’d be pride talking.”

Mouth pinched, she trudged on.

Rocks and weeds littered the walkway. “Watch your step then.” They were almost to the car when he spotted her supposed “brothers” in front of the bar across the street—in close conversation with Leese Phelps, the same idiot who’d hit on her yesterday.

The reservations were adding up.

And so were the men.

They all kept their eyes trained on the front of the hotel, probably hoping to hijack Cherry when she emerged. But why?

Had they pulled the fire alarm? It seemed possible and damn it, he didn’t like it, any of it.

An approaching fire engine, sirens and lights blazing, thankfully drew their attention and kept them from searching beyond the front of the hotel.

Cherry had her head down so she didn’t see them. Denver hustled her along a little more quickly and got her into the front seat before dumping the bags in the back.

“My purse.”

“I’ll get it in a minute.” He freed the keys from his pocket while circling the car, and got behind the wheel. “Buckle up, honey.” He was just pulling out when the men looked up and saw him. Leese shaded his eyes, just watching them go. The others straightened, cursed, and started off, presumably for their own transportation.

His sweaty T-shirt stuck to his back. He’d rather be wearing jeans than running shorts.

He would have loved a shower.

But he blocked those discomforts as he drove straight for the expressway, repeatedly checking the rearview mirror for anyone following. Cherry slumped in the corner of her seat, her eyes closed, shivering.

Working his jaw, Denver wondered when would be the best time to question her. His instinct was to coddle her, to make her as comfortable as possible.

But somehow she was embroiled in a whole bunch of brewing trouble. Even if the guys were her brothers, he recognized them as bad news. And that ominous phone message...

When he saw the second exit he took it, drove down to a small convenience store and pulled around back.

He didn’t think anyone had tailed them, not that it mattered much.

With Leese’s help, if Carver and the others wanted to track her down, it’d only be a matter of time before they showed up at her front door.

Even to Denver, his reaction to that was telling. Brothers or not, he didn’t like the guys and he didn’t want them anywhere near Cherry. How he’d keep them away, he wasn’t sure yet. Maybe, he decided, it’d be best if he just stuck close so he’d be with her when they finally showed up.

When he put the car in Park, she stirred. Soft, sick, trusting.

His.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Not yet. Contrary to the belief that athletes were all brawn and no brains, he wasn’t an idiot. He learned from his experiences, especially the experiences that altered life.

There were facets to Cherry that he might never be able to accept. But while he figured that out, he’d damn well see her safe.

“Why are we stopped?”

Her voice sounded raspy and rough, her eyes looked sleep-heavy. Being near her and not touching her proved impossible. Knowing his expression to be grave, he stroked her thigh through her jeans. “I wanted to get you better settled. It’s a long drive.”

“I’m okay.” Straightening, she unhooked her seatbelt and looked around before turning a quizzical gaze on him. “I just realized we didn’t officially check out.”

“The hotel has our info. I’ll call once we’re home.” He put the back of his hand to her forehead. Warm. Too warm. Snagging her purse from the backseat, he opened it between them and dug around for the medicine.

Cherry looked at him, then at his hands in her purse. “Sure,” she said, her gravelly tone dry, “help yourself.”

He moved aside the phone book. “Have anything to hide?”

“No. It’s just—” A big yawn took her by surprise. “Sorry.”

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t know.” She chewed her lower lip. “Personal?”

He handed her two aspirin, then reached back again for a bottle of water. “And having sex with me wasn’t?”

“It’s different and you know it.” She swallowed the pills without complaint, then eyed the store.

Denver took her hand. “These are odd circumstances, right? I don’t want you to think I’m just snooping through your stuff. But with you pretty much out of it, and—”

“The fire alarm at the hotel.” She leaned toward him and put her forehead on his shoulder. “The way we had to leave there.”

“Babe.” He levered her back. “I’m sweaty.”

“Because you didn’t have a chance to change.” She nestled up against him again. “You’re so warm.”

If she didn’t mind, he wouldn’t worry about it, either. He brushed his fingers through her hair. Usually she had soft curls, but now her hair was straighter, tangled. He tucked it behind her ears. “I was already in your purse once before.”

Stiffening, she tipped her head back to share her displeasure.

This close, her brown eyes looked bigger and softer. And damn, he wanted her bad, maybe even more now that he’d had her than before getting a taste.

Smiling, he touched her mouth, amused by the mulish set to her lips. “I had to find your key card.” He let his hand drop to her narrow shoulder. “Wanna tell me about that phone book?”

Her brows puckered. “I usually keep numbers stored in my phone, but if my phone dies—”

“Sure. But why are you carrying numbers for Armie, Stack or Miles in the first place?”

Very slowly she eased away from him, her breaths slow and shallow. The lack of makeup added to her wounded expression, and her cough-strained voice finished it off. “What are you accusing me of?”

“I’m just asking.” Because you’re mine. Damn it.

Her eyes searched his. “No, I think it’s more than that.”

Right. It was the near-savage need to stake a claim. Knowing he couldn’t say anything that over-the-top, he said instead, “I think you and I need to come to an understanding.”

“What kind of understanding?”

“Several actually, but let’s start with exclusivity.”

Uncertain, she slicked her tongue over her bottom lip. “So...you won’t be seeing anyone but me?”

Hell, since meeting her no other woman had appealed anyway. “And vice versa.”

Her chin lifted. “For how long?”

She’d come around in one hell of a mood. His jaw ticked, but he wasn’t about to say how much it mattered to him. “As long as it lasts.”

Looking like that answer bothered her, she deflated, closing her arms around herself and putting her head back on the seat. “Cannon insisted I have the numbers. I live with Rissy and you know how he is.” She lifted a hand, flapped the air. “Two women, all alone. He wants me able to reach him—or one of you—if anything happens.”

Yeah, that made sense. And now, seeing her so closed off, he felt like a damned bully. He tugged on a lock of her hair. “If there ever is reason to make that call, call me first.”

She flashed him a weary smile. “Funny, but Cannon insisted the same thing.”

Denver held silent. Cannon had rights that he didn’t have—yet.

Saving him from coming up with a reply, Cherry put a hand to her stomach. “You know, I think I’m actually a little hungry.”

A good sign. “Perfect timing, since we’re at a quickie mart.”

She looked down at her bare feet, touched her mussed hair. “I’ll need my sandals.”

“I can run in for you.”

Relief showed, though she tried to hide it. “You wouldn’t mind?”

How could he not kiss her? Drawing her close, he touched his mouth to the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. Soon as she was well, he planned to taste her again. All over. “Glad to do it. What would you like?”

“Maybe...pretzels? And a cola?”

It’d be better if he let her eat before grilling her more. He should have talked with her about her damned relatives instead of the phone book anyway. “You got a call from Merissa while you were sleeping. Why don’t you text her back while I’m in the store. And Cherry? Stay in the car with the doors locked, okay?”

Busy digging out her phone, she said, “I don’t suppose you’d let me pay—”

“No.” He caught her chin and turned her face toward his. “I’m serious, girl. Promise me you’ll stay in the car, doors locked.”

Confusion tweaked her brows, but she nodded. “All right.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” He took the keys with him, pressed the automatic door locks, and closed the door behind him.

There were only a few teenagers in the lot, an older man walking with a cane and a mother with two kids. Still, he rushed through buying her things and was back out to the car in under three minutes.

With the phone to her ear, Cherry smiled and nodded, but when she saw him, she hastily ended the call.

As he got in, he asked, “Merissa?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Something in the way she acted, avoiding his gaze, her cheeks flushed, got his attention. “You told her you were sick?”

“Yup.”

“Cherry.” When she looked up, he cocked his head. “What else did you talk about?”

A darker rush of color stained her cheeks, but it wasn’t from fever this time. “She, um, wanted details.”

“About?” Able to guess and entertained by it, Denver opened her cola and handed it to her. “Us?”

In a rush she said, “Everyone knows I’ve been hung up on you forever.”

Hung up on him, so not just looking for some fun? Nice. And if true, it gave him plenty to think about.

She gulped, and her voice faded. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“You don’t want me to know you care about me?”

Making a rude sound, she asked, “How could you not know? I’ve been so obvious.”

True, but he hadn’t realized anyone else was paying that much attention—especially with the easy way she teased with every man who got near her. “Others picked up on it?”

Nodding, she shifted nervously. “Rissy said I should stop chasing you so hard. She said I made it too easy for you.”

“Rissy was wrong.” His feelings for her had never been easy. Had Merissa warned her off flirting with other men, as well? Or had he been singled out?

Confused, she chewed her lower lip. “She and Vanity both told me I should accept a few other dates.”

Jesus, he hated the games some women played. “Other guys asked you out?”

“Well...” She looked at him like he was nuts. “Yeah.”

Of course they had. He knew how badly he’d wanted her, so it stood to reason other men reacted to her the same way.

Her smile flickered and she teased him, saying, “You know, Denver, I don’t always look like this.”

No, she usually looked hot as hell. “First, you don’t look bad, so stop saying that. Actually, if you were up to it, I’d be all over you right now.”

She blinked in surprise. “You would?”

He let his attention drift over her face, her throat, her body. “You look soft and mellow and extremely fuckable.”

“Oh.”

“Second, these other guys sniffing around—you refused them?”

“After meeting you, why would I want anyone else?” The second she said it, her eyes widened and she fell back in her seat with a dramatic groan. Given her thin, raspy voice, that groan held a lot of effect. “I probably shouldn’t have said that to you, either.”

By the second his mood improved. “You can say whatever you want to me.”

Her disbelieving laugh turned to a cough.

Denver waited until she’d caught her breath again. “Merissa and Vanity are wrong, okay? Just be honest with me, always, and things will work out better.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she agreed with a nod anyway.

“So, what’d you tell Rissy about us?”

Her gaze skittered away and she cleared her throat.

“Come on, Cherry.” Despite himself, he felt his mouth quirking. “What details did you share?”

Lacing her fingers together and again looking at her feet, she muttered, “Only that you’re amazing.”

Nice. But not for a second did he think that covered it all. “And?”

She lifted her shoulders, looked out the window. “That you’re—” she toyed with her hair, took time for a big swig of cola, and finally muttered low “—even bigger than we’d imagined.”

“What’s that?” Pretending he hadn’t heard her, Denver hitched a brow.

Wincing, she faced him again and said in a rush, “You said I could brag to my girlfriends, and Rissy is my best friend. She knew I wanted you forever and that you’d been dodging me and—”

“Slow down before you get yourself coughing again.”

“—she’d heard the same things I’d heard.”

Unbelievable. “About the size of my cock?”

Again her eyes flared and she inhaled so sharply that she coughed, then had to swill more cola before she could answer. “We’re close, Denver,” she explained, still wheezing. “We talk all the time.”

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