by Josie Kerr
“I would seriously reconsider touching me, bud.”
Kevin poked Nolan again, this time in his side. “Jesus Christ, you’re soft like a fat woman.” Another poke.
“Dude. This fat fuck is going to lay you out in about thirty seconds if you don’t get the hell out of this dressing room.”
“Oh yeah?” Another poke. “Make me.”
Nolan debated for a split second, and then Kevin swung at him.
Wrong move, shrimp.
Nolan caught Kevin’s fist in one big paw and bent his wrist backward.
“Oh, shit.”
Nolan nodded. “Night, shithead.” And he rapped along the side of Kevin’s neck.
Bridget came in a few moments later to find Nolan sitting back in the chair and Kevin splayed out on the floor.
“Wh-what the hell?” Bridget looked at Nolan, then at Kevin, and back at Nolan before falling to her knees at Kevin’s side.
Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Nolan belatedly reconsidered knocking Kevin out.
“Kevin? Kevin?” Bridget looked back at Nolan. “What did you do to him?”
Nolan shrugged. “I hit him in the brachial plexus.”
Bridget’s eyebrows arched. “Come again?”
“I hit him in the brachial plexus. I told him I was gonna do it. I gave him a thirty-second warning. He didn’t listen.”
Kevin groaned and shook his head, regaining consciousness. “Birdie girl, oh my God.”
He looked around frantically, blanching when he saw Nolan sitting in a nearby chair. “Keep him away from me!” He scuttled away from Nolan, who idly considered sticking his long leg out and tripping him up. “He knocked me out! I’m going to press charges!”
Bridget’s eyebrows returned to their normal height, and she narrowed her eyes. “What the hell did you do, Kevin?”
“N-n-nothing! I just came in to congratulate you on your win.”
“Uh-huh.” She pursed her lips.
Nolan recognized that look. He covered his mouth with his hand, hoping to appear concerned, but really, he was hiding a grin.
“I did! I did! You looked great, really great out there, Bridg. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, honey. We had twelve great years together, Bridget. Do you really wanna throw all that away?”
“News flash, motherfucker,” she exploded at him. “I am not the one who had an affair; you are. I’m not the one who gave your new fiancée the engagement ring that belonged to your ex-wife, the ring you were supposed to sell to finance your new big demo tape.”
“But, honey, you don’t understand. She gave me an ultimatum. I was afraid she was going to beat me up again. She demanded that I give her a ring! I panicked!”
Bridget’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs again. “You’re saying you’re a victim here.”
“Yes, yes! Thank God you understand,” Kevin babbled. “She’s weak. Hanna’s weak. Not like you, Birdie. She might have won a few fights, but she doesn’t have that champion spirit like you do. She wasn’t brave enough to give up everything for the man she claims she loves. You were brave enough to walk away from it all, Bridget. I want that back. I need that back. You can even continue to fight if you want to.”
The door hit the wall behind it with a crash, and Hanna Kowalczyk stood in the doorway, glowering.
“Holy crap, you are a fuckin’ idiot, aren’t you?” Nolan chortled. “Goddamn, man.”
Bridget looked at Nolan, her jaw dropped, and Nolan’s laugh died in his throat. Oh, shit. Good move, Nolan. Who’s the idiot in this room?
She shook her head. “This guy? This fucking guy?” She pointed at Kevin. “How the fuck was I so stupid for all those years? Oh my God.” Then she turned to Hanna. “I’m sorry, Hanna. You don’t deserve this piece of shit.”
Hanna stared at Kevin, blinking slowly once, twice. Then she walked over to Bridget and pressed something into her hand. “A thank-you gift from me to you.” She turned to Kevin. “I want your shit out of my apartment by Sunday.”
“But . . . but . . . that’s tomorrow.”
“Shoulda thought about that before, huh?” And she walked out the door.
“Looks like you need to get back to Boston, huh?” Bridget inhaled through her nose and then shook her head. “Good-bye, Kevin.”
She turned to Nolan, her gaze softening. “Hey.”
“Uh, hey.” He smiled. “Um, congratulations. You looked really good. Oh, these are for you. I’m sorry if they’re kind of wilted.” Nolan handed her the roses, and she let out a little surprised “Oh!” before lowering her head to sniff the fragrant blooms.
“Oh, thank you.”
She stood on her tiptoes, and Nolan bent down to press his lips to hers. “You ready to get out of here.”
“Yeah, am I ever.”
“Then we will. This your bag?” Bridget nodded, and Nolan grabbed the duffel’s handles. “Anything else you need?”
She shook her head and went to his side to loop her arm around him. Before they walked through the door, together, Nolan turned to Kevin, who was standing frozen in place, seemingly in shock.
“You’re wrong, you know. Bridget doesn’t belong to you. She doesn’t belong to anyone. She sure as hell doesn’t belong to me. I can only hope to be the kind of man she wants, and strive to be a man who deserves her affection and love.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Bridget nestled into Nolan’s side, with her head on his shoulder, as they rode back to his apartment from the Foley’s after-party, where they’d stayed long enough for some celebratory toasts and congratulations.
“I’m surprised you want to stay at my place tonight.” Nolan’s quiet voice rumbled under Bridget’s hand where it rested on his abdomen.
“I thought about getting us a room, but I like the idea of being able to sleep as long as we want and not having to check out or anything.” She sighed contentedly. “Or, you know, not sleep as late as we want.”
She grinned and looked over at him to find the barest hint of pink creeping up his neck.
“Nolan, are you blushing?”
“Maybe.” He blew out a breath.
Bridget sat up, hoping to get a better look at him so she could fathom what in the world was going through his head. She left her hand on his arm and hoped her touch would reassure him about whatever existential crisis seemed to have suddenly overtaken him in the last thirty seconds.
“Talk to me, Nolan.”
“We’re here,” he deflected. When Bridget quirked an eyebrow at him, he grinned and brought her hand to his lips. “I’m good. I just . . . let’s go into the apartment. Please.”
Bridget felt a flutter in her tummy, though she didn’t know if it was anxiety or excitement. Nolan opened her car door for her, and they made their way up the stairs to his small apartment. He walked a few steps behind her, still not saying anything. With a frustrated grunt, Bridget suddenly whipped around and got in Nolan’s face, the stairs making it possible to look him right in the eye.
“What is going on with you, Nolan? Babe, if you don’t want me here, I’ll get a Lyft back to my place.” She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Talk to me, please.”
“This is what I was afraid was going to happen,” he muttered as he stroked a piece of her hair that escaped her topknot. He tucked the errant hair behind her ear, running his fingers along the soft curve of her cheek.
Bridget caught his fingers in hers and kissed his fingertips. “What were you afraid was going to happen?”
“That I would panic and be awkward and weird.”
“So . . . you’re panicking and being awkward and weird because you were afraid that you were going to panic and be awkward and weird?”
He chuckled. “Yeah? Self-fulfilling prophecy, I guess.” He wouldn’t look at her, but rather seemed to be studying his shoes, at least until Bridget leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth.
“Don’t, Nol. There is no pressure, okay?” She kissed him again and felt relief when he began to kis
s her back, softly, tentatively at first, but when she wrapped her hand around his neck, Nolan leaned into her, sliding his arms around her torso and pulling her to him. She yipped when his hands went under her rump to lift her off her feet, and Bridget wrapped her legs around his waist, cackling as he fumbled to unlock the door and carry her inside the apartment.
Nolan kicked the door shut with his foot and didn’t let go of her.
“I’m sorry I smushed your roses,” he said with a glance at the delicate blooms that were now crushed between their torsos. “I’ll get you more.”
Bridget pressed her lips to his jaw in answer, ignoring the roses that tickled her chin. She continued kissing him as he strode into the kitchen and set her on the counter. Bridget wrapped her hands around the collar of his shirt, pulling him close.
“I spy with my little eye . . . a big cake,” she whispered. “Is that for me?”
Nolan got that glint in his eye that she loved, and nodded. He nestled a little closer between her thighs and whispered in her ear, “You want some?”
“Oh yeah.”
Nolan winked and then stepped back to open a drawer and remove a silver cake knife and server. He winked again and sliced through the thick chocolate ganache. A whimper escaped Bridget’s mouth.
“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she breathed.
“What?” He froze with a large slice of the cake perched on the server.
“You. You are the sexiest beast I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“You sure Hanna didn’t clock you?” he teased, his ears pinking.
Bridget grunted. “What did I tell you about that?”
“To shut the fuck up and take a compliment.”
“That’s right.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Nolan used the side of the fork to cut through the layers of crepe, crème, and chocolate, and Bridget squirmed on the countertop. No, that was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He put the cake-laden fork up to her lips, and whispered, “Open.”
“Yes, sir.” She opened her mouth, and Nolan slid the morsel of cake off the tines and onto her tongue.
“Oh my God, Nolan,” Bridget groaned with ecstasy after she swallowed the bite. “More, please.”
Nolan proceeded to feed her cake until the plate was clean. He placed the plate in the sink and leaned over to give Bridget a kiss on the side of the mouth. “You had a little bit of cream right there.” He kissed the other side of her mouth. “And there, too.”
He cradled her neck in his hands, tilting her chin up to get better access to her mouth. “And maybe here, too,” he murmured before kissing her softly, deeply.
Bridget melted into him, her own hands slipping over his broad shoulders to meet in the back of his neck. She felt his hands slip under the hem of her blouse and coast over her back. Nolan made a pleased sound when he realized she forwent the bra, and she smiled against his mouth when she felt his fingers move to undo the buttons on her blouse. Once again his hands slipped inside against the soft skin of her torso, skimming her waist and roaming her lower back as Bridget began to unbutton Nolan’s shirt so she could get skin to skin with him. She faltered and fumbled when he moved from her mouth to her neck, nipping at the curve of her shoulder.
Holy!
She managed to get his shirt off his shoulders, only to be frustrated by a singlet he had tucked into his chinos. She pulled the undershirt up, exposing his hair-dusted belly. She ran her hands over his torso, under the singlet. Nolan sucked his breath through his teeth when she dragged her nails over his nipples, and Bridget felt his erection grow harder and longer as she wriggled against him.
“Take it off, Nolan.” She tugged at the singlet. “I wanna see you.” Bridget watched the gleam of arousal dim, and she began to shake her head. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to hide inside here.” She tapped the side of his head. “Talk to me, Nolan.”
“There’s . . . a reason why I wear a shirt, you know, even if I’m really uncomfortable.”
“Nolan, I’ve already seen your scar. Please let me see you—all of you—again,” she pleaded. “Please.” She ran her hands over his bare arms, tracing the patterns of the half-sleeve tattoos, and smiled reassuringly at him. “I’ll even go first.”
She shrugged her shirt off and dropped it to the floor, very aware that she now sat half-naked on his kitchen counter. Bridget forced herself to keep her hands down, and she relaxed so that, hopefully, Nolan would feel the same way. He stroked her shoulder with the back of his hand and then pulled the singlet over his head and let it drop to the ground.
“May I?” she whispered. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Bridget touched the scar that ran down the middle of his sternum. “This,” she said, “is just outward proof that you’re a survivor, Nolan.” She laid her hand flat in the center of his chest, and he folded his hands on top of hers.
Bridget leaned forward and pressed her lips to where his pulse thrummed in his throat, and then on his folded hands. She sighed and laid her head against his hands and wondered how she could convince this sweet, caring man that he was deserving, that he was more than enough. She felt him slide his hands from where they rested under her cheek to stroke her hair and then her back.
Nolan moved away from her, just a bit, and she began to panic; regardless of what she said earlier, it would absolutely not be okay if he didn’t want her here. But then he bent and caught her mouth in a hard, desperate kiss, and she knew he needed her to be there as much as she needed to be with him. She felt those big, strong hands cup her backside and then felt herself being lifted off the counter. Bridget smiled against Nolan’s mouth and clung to his shoulders as he carried her from the kitchen.
Chapter Thirty-four
Yep, she could squeeze those thighs tight around his waist. Holy.
Nolan made a split-second decision to head directly into the bedroom instead of the living room, which was closer, mainly because the couch was barely long enough for him to stretch his seventy-eight inches out on and he had no desire to end up on the floor. Between her doing something to his ear with her tongue and teeth and the subtle bounce of her breasts against his chest, he almost second-guessed the bedroom decision, but he groaned and picked up the pace into his sleeping space.
Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a lot of sleeping going on tonight.
He tried to keep his cool and sit down calmly, but the moment he began to lower himself, Bridget loosened her grip on his waist and somehow managed to get him flat on his back on the bed. She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously and kissed the tip of his nose.
“How the hell did you do that?” he asked and then groaned when she undulated across his torso and groin.
“Oh, no, you’re not going to get all of my secrets out of me,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.
Bridget covered his mouth with hers in a hot kiss that had his cock straining against his zipper. She wriggled against Nolan’s chest, the tips of her nipples tautened into hard peaks. He danced his fingers down her back and up her sides, ending at her breasts. She sucked in a breath, arching her back, which thrust her breasts closer to him and gave him better access to catch those taut tips in his mouth. Nolan slid one hand under her jeans, delighted that she was wearing another tiny pair of thong underwear.
“Well, it’s no secret that I like these.” He grinned and ran a thick digit against the cleft of her ass and down to her folds. Bridget whimpered as he slipped one finger inside, a sound that made his cock jump. Breathing heavily, Nolan slipped his other hand between their two bodies and flicked the button of her jeans until he worked it through the buttonhole, and then he dragged down her zipper.
He moved his other hand, and she growled—growled—at him. “Nolan,” she threatened. She was breathing hard, her mouth slack with perceived want, so he kissed her as he began working her jeans over her hips. This lasted about thirty seconds before Bridget popped up and pushed her pants down. While she tried to free her feet from the con
straints of her trousers, she fumbled with Nolan’s button fly, grunting.
“You are not allowed to wear button fly pants anymore, buddy boy.” She unfastened the last button and grasped the waistband of his jeans. But then she looked him in the eye and licked her lips. “Please say you want this, Nol.”
“Oh, fuck yeah, I want it.”
“Thank God.” She wrestled his pants down his legs and off his body and then began to crawl up the bed. Only, she forgot that her pants weren’t completely off, and she went down in a heap on the floor.
“Bridget?” Nolan sat bolt upright to find Bridget on the floor, her mouth in an “O” of surprise. “You okay?”
Bridget cackled until she snorted, and then laughed harder. Tears ran down her face as she paddled her feet to remove the constraining jeans. And then she sat cross-legged on the floor and laughed some more, only to emit a surprised yip when Nolan hauled her up onto the bed and rolled her under him.
“Oh, yeah. I’m okay,” she whispered with a shy grin. She shrugged a shoulder and looked at him with such affection that Nolan found himself with a lump in his throat.
“Nolan.”
“Bridget.”
She stroked his jaw, her fingers curling into his beard. “Nolan,” she repeated and kissed him.
He pulled her closer, very conscious of his cock rubbing against the lace of her panties, which she had not removed. He pressed his hand into her lower back and did one tentative grind against her. “Bridget, is this okay?” he asked in a shaky voice.
She answered by wrapping her thighs around his and winding her arms around his back so that she was pressed against him in a full body hug.
“Yes,” she whispered back, curling up into him once, twice. “Yes, please.”
He took her face in his hands, kissing her reverently, softly, and then harder, biting her lip, nipping her chin. He moved to her neck, to her delicate earlobe, lips whispering kisses and words while he explored her body’s curves, the dips above her hips, the dimples on her lower back.