Tough Love

by Lori Foster

  “Yeah, here. What of it?”

  Holding up his hands in surrender, Armie said, “Just didn’t realize you guys had gotten to the stage where you made yourself at home.”

  His shoulders bunched. “But you guys are okay moving in?”

  Armie grinned. “Dude, I get it. Jealousy is a bitch. But you know the guys better than that.”

  “I know all of you.” And that was part of the problem. Other than Gage, who was fully committed to Harper, they were all players.

  And Vanity had admired each of them.

  “You wanna back up that particular train wreck?”

  Yeah, maybe he did. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Stack said, “Fuck you,” by way of apology.

  And Armie took it as such. “Guys in love are so pathetic.”

  Love? Whoa. Rallying real anger and a heaving heapin’ of frustration, Stack took a stance and opened his mouth—

  “Checked the fence,” Armie said, cutting him off. “I fixed a few spots, and now it’s secure. I even did you a solid by taking the mutts out a few times so they could get used to things. Give them a few chews—which I picked up for you when I made a snack run—and they should give you an uninterrupted hour. Anything beyond that, though, is dicey.”

  Damn, but friends were nice. “I owe you.”

  “I won’t let you forget,” Armie promised him. “Now go take your shower. Make it cold enough to freeze out the stupidity.”

  Yeah, he’d shower, and hopefully that would revive him, too. “Keep it down. And seriously, the second halftime hits, I want everyone gone.”

  “Got it covered.”

  Yeah, he’d owe Armie. Big time. But right now, all he could think about was what he owed Vanity.

  It was a debt he couldn’t wait to pay.

  * * *

  WHEN THE BACKGROUND noise faded, Vanity stirred awake. A little disoriented, she lifted her head and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Wow, for sure she’d slept long enough.

  Levering up on to her forearms, she realized she hadn’t moved. She’d literally crashed to the mattress face-first, and that’s where she’d stayed. A touch to her cheek confirmed a few creases caused by the comforter. Yawning, she rolled to her back and indulged in some luxurious stretching.

  Now, finally, she’d get things underway with Stack. Smiling widely, she bounced out of the bed.

  Taking two minutes in the bathroom, she splashed her face, brushed the tangles from her hair, and quickly cleaned her teeth. Makeup was out. She just plain didn’t care enough. But she could at least change out of her wrinkled clothes.

  Still feeling ebullient, she rummaged in a drawer and found one of her favorite T-shirts representing the SBC. It had special meaning to her for many reasons.

  After she’d followed Yvette from California to Ohio, Cannon had given it to her. He’d told her it made her an official part of his family now that he and Yvette were reunited. Such a great guy. She couldn’t be happier for them.

  Lacking any close family, Yvette had become like a much-loved sister to her, and now she had a brother in Cannon, as well.

  She’d also seen Stack eyeing her in the shirt whenever she wore it. It was big and boxy—clearly a man’s shirt—from a limited-edition collection the SBC had done. Did Stack wonder if a fighter had given it to her?

  Let him. It couldn’t hurt her cause to keep him guessing.

  But another reason she liked it was that it represented his beloved sport. Stack was a fighter through and through, and she liked supporting him while wearing the shirt.

  Skipping a bra, she pulled on the shirt, pairing it with her most comfortably worn skinny jeans.

  Barefoot, she emerged from her bedroom feeling like a new woman ready to take on the world—or one very sexy light heavyweight fighter.

  Following the faint sounds of movement, she entered her kitchen and found Leese putting empty paper plates and napkins in the trash. As he bent over the can his T-shirt stretched tight over his shoulders, and his jeans hugged his backside.

  One thing about having fighters for friends—the view was amazing.

  The second she walked in, he looked up, then straightened. “Hey.”

  He spoke softly, and his smile looked wicked enough to seduce a hundred women. Just not her. “Hi. Everyone else is gone?”

  “Pretty much. Armie used pizza to bribe them away to his place during halftime.” Leese went to the sink and washed his hands, speaking to her over his shoulder. “Feeling better?”

  “Much, thank you.” The day had totally gotten away from her. Had Stack decided against coming to see her? God, she hoped not. She could barely wait a minute more; waiting another day was out of the question.

  Drying his hands, Leese grinned at her. “You are so transparent.”

  “Really?” Not that it’d take a mind reader for Leese to know where her thoughts had gone. More than the others, he knew of her interest in Stack. She confided in her girlfriends—to a point. And she got along great with all the guys. But Leese had become a very dear friend, and whether he liked it or not, a confidante.

  After putting aside the dish towel, he tweaked a long hank of her hair. “He’s passed out on the couch.”

  “Stack?”

  That made him laugh. “I sure didn’t mean the pope.”

  Turning in a rush, Vanity headed to her living room but slowed at the sight of Stack’s long, leanly muscled body slumped in the corner of the couch, legs stretched out and feet crossed on the coffee table. Maggie lay in his lap, and Norwood sprawled on his back with his head tucked up against Stack’s side.

  Her heart turned over. It was the oddest feeling, sweet but disturbing, life-altering.

  Denial had only worked for so long. After seeing him rescue people without concern for his own safety, watching him interact with his sister and care for his mother...well, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She loved him. So, so much.

  It looked as though his light brown hair had dried without being combed, and he’d recently shaved.

  “You’ve got it bad,” Leese said beside her, then he looked at Stack and grinned. “Lucky bastard.”

  “Shhh!”

  But it was already too late. With a deep rumbling, Stack stretched out his arms and tucked in his chin, flexing all those gloriously hot muscles on his gloriously hot body, making her pulse quicken in a delicious way.

  She spun to Leese and said, “Thanks for everything. Appreciate it. You can go now.”

  His quirking smile turned to a grin, and that led to a bark of laughter. His gaze went from her face to the couch, and he said, “She’s throwing me out.”

  Vanity pivoted to Stack and wanted to sigh with greed.

  Now relaxed, his eyes heavy but open, Stack stared at Vanity while saying, “Good idea. Later, Leese.”

  One-armed, Leese drew her in for a hug. “If you need anything else with the dogs, give a holler.”

  She nodded and walked him to the door. She watched as he got in his truck and backed out of the driveway before closing the door. She turned and almost ran into a solid wall of muscle. Eye level with Stack’s chest, she said, “Good grief. You move like a ninja.”

  Both dogs sat beside him, expressions anxious to see what would happen. Reaching past her, Stack locked the door.

  “Oh.” Her heartbeat started tripping. She gazed at his mouth. Man, she loved his mouth. Looking at it made her mouth tingle, and she started to go on tiptoe to reach him.

  “Hold that thought.” After brushing his knuckles along her cheek, Stack headed for the back of the house. “You guys want to go out?”

  Barking enthusiasm shattered the quiet. The dogs took off in a zigzagging run, occasionally turning circles, leaping.

  Vanity rushed behind them. “Aren’t we going to—”

  “Damn straight.” He opened the back door, and the dogs shot out without a care.

  Huh. That morning she’d had one heck of a time getting them out. They’d only wanted to go if she also w
ent, and whenever she tried to come back in, they followed.

  Hands on her hips, she watched Maggie and Norwood chase after a bird, then bark at a squirrel. Together they ran the perimeter of the yard, then tussled like happy children.

  “Remarkable.”

  “Armie said he worked with them a little while you napped.”

  “Armie, too, is remarkable.”

  That made him frown—and almost made her grin.

  “Armie also bought them some treats. I should have thought of that myself—” he sent her a scalding look “—but I was too busy trying to get you naked.”

  Wondering how soon they could get to it, Vanity bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  Standing in the open doorway to the yard, Stack slowly looked her over. “Speaking of naked, you aren’t wearing a bra.”

  “No.”

  “Where’d you get the shirt?”

  So he had been wondering. Nervous, anxious fingers twisted in the hem. “Cannon gave it to me.”

  That seemed to appease him. “Looks good on you.” Turning, he whistled to the dogs, and once he had their attention, he knelt down and offered the big chew toys.

  Norwood got his first. Eyes big with gluttony, he carried it over to a tree and hunkered down to enjoy it.

  Maggie sniffed hers excitedly, then with delicate care, closed her teeth around it and joined Norwood.

  “That ought to keep them busy.”

  Yes, she wanted uninterrupted time with Stack, but she refused to put the dogs at risk. “Is it safe?”

  “Armie said he checked your fence. It’s all good. And trust me, if they want back in, they’ll let us know.”

  Ridiculous shyness came over her. “We’re finally going to do this?”

  Stepping in and quietly closing the door, Stack watched her. “You tell me.”

  “What?” He didn’t sound all that anxious.

  Snagging her hand, he pulled her in close and feathered a kiss over the bridge of her nose, the top of her cheek, her jaw. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.” One hand opened over her back, urging her closer. “But if you think you need more time, I’ll deal with it.”

  Such a remarkable offer. “You are the sweetest man.”

  Squeezing her in close, he put a tickling, growling bite to that sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

  Vanity wanted to both melt and giggle. “Stack.”

  “I’m not sweet, I’m horny.” He cupped her face. “So what’s the verdict?”

  “It sure isn’t waiting.” She pushed out of his arms, grabbed his hand and practically hauled him down the hallway. Laughing behind her, Stack allowed himself to be led.

  Right before they reached her bedroom, he took the lead, drew her into the room and closed the door with her up against it. Pressing his body to hers, he took her mouth, all soft and gentle—for about three seconds. Angling his head for a better fit, he licked her bottom lip, then stroked his way inside, playing with her tongue, exploring, getting her hotter by the second.

  She clung to his shoulders and felt the rising tension in him as the kiss went deeper, wetter, more possessive. He needed this worse than she did—and that was saying a lot, given how badly she wanted him. But where he’d ensured her pleasure, twice, he’d forgone his own.

  He could deny it all he wanted, but he was about the sweetest man on the face of the earth.

  Snaking a hand down his shoulder, Vanity reveled in his strength, how her touch caused him to skip a beat in the middle of the devouring kiss—then to ramp it up tenfold with a deep groan of encouragement.

  His abs were a thing of beauty, and when she slipped her hand up under his shirt to touch his hot, taut skin, he freed his mouth. His forehead to hers, he breathed heavily—and waited.

  “I love your body,” Vanity whispered, touching him all over, reaching around to his back, to the granite muscles there, the hot, sleek skin. Gliding her palm back to his chest, she dragged her fingers through the chest hair there, then followed the happy trail down to the front of his jeans.

  Using only one finger, she traced his erection beneath the denim. His breathing stilled; his cock did not. She felt him pulsing, flexing as she wrapped her fingers around him as much as she could, stroking through the stiff material.

  In a sudden rush he brushed her hand away, opened the snap of his jeans, lowered the zipper and shoved the jeans halfway down his hips, freeing himself. He lifted her hand and, looking into her eyes, kissed her palm, then wrapped her hand around him again, this time flesh to flesh.

  His hand over hers kept her grip snug.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes closed and his jaw clenching. Now that she understood how he wanted it, he flattened both palms on the wall at either side of her head.

  She loved watching his face, the contraction of small muscles that signaled nearly painful pleasure. His posture gave her easy access to kiss his throat and jaw. She nibbled, licked, sucked on his hot skin—all the while working him firmly with her hand.

  Cheekbones flushed, he turned his face against her, rubbing his nose over her hair, growling softly, trembling a little.

  She brought her thumb up over the head—and his breath caught. “That’s enough.” Quickly he freed himself.

  The sudden halt surprised her. “But—”

  “Sorry, darlin’. I can’t take any more.”

  She tried a pout, but that only made him smile with heated wickedness.

  “Arms up,” he said, seconds before he whisked her shirt up and over her head. Now in a rush, he gathered her close and kissed her breasts, drew on her nipples. Wherever his mouth wasn’t, his hands were. She realized he’d opened her jeans when he easily slid both hands, fingers spread, into the back, covering her tush.

  She automatically arched into him.

  “Yeah,” he murmured in approval. “Damn, you have a sweet ass.”

  She wiggled, loving the sensation of moving against his body.

  “Nice.” He shoved the jeans and panties down to her knees, then scooped her up and took the two long strides necessary to reach her rumpled bed.

  He laid her down, then whisked away her jeans and panties. Keeping his gaze on her body, he shed his own jeans before putting two condoms on the nightstand.

  Vanity realized in that moment that she wanted this to be different. For her and for him. What better way to make it more memorable than to give him something she hadn’t given to anyone else?

  He came down over her, kissing her hotly, all that bare flesh accessible to her hands, her thighs, her belly. She arched against him to feel more, lifted her thigh along his hip, and he pressed her legs open.

  Knowing what he would do, she whimpered softly, and oh, God, when his fingers moved hotly over her, and then in her, it was even more electrifying than she remembered.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her cheek, “but I can’t go slow. Not this time.” He started to move away, to get a condom, she knew.

  “Stack, wait.”

  Breathing heavily, moving his hand to her breast, he admitted, “Not sure I can.”

  She nodded to acknowledge that. “Do you trust me?” Please, say yes.

  Instead he said, “Maybe.” Then kissed her again. “About what?”

  An idea that felt so right in her mind, also felt very daring to say aloud. She moved a hand up his arm, over his thick shoulder. Mustering her courage, she met his gaze. “Going bareback.”

  He stilled, groaned, squeezed his eyes shut. “Good as that sounds, darlin’, I never leave anything to chance.”

  “You wouldn’t be,” she rushed to assure him. “Because neither do I. I know you’re healthy as a horse. And I promise I’m covered.”

  “Covered?”

  “I won’t get pregnant. I get the shot every three months like clockwork, I promise. I’m every bit as healthy as you are. And I sooo want to feel you and only you—I’ve been torturing myself about that since I first propositioned you.”

  His thumb
moved over her nipple. “Yeah.”

  What he did, how absorbed he looked doing it, made it hard for her to focus. “You’ve been tortured, too?”

  “You have no idea.” He lightly rolled her nipple. “But the reality of you is far better than anything I could have dreamed up.”

  Now, see, how could she not love him?

  “Stack.” Holding his gaze, she drew him back to her, opening her legs so he could naturally settle between them. Locking her arms around his neck, she whispered, “Please, Stack.”

  He wanted to, she could tell, yet he fought it.

  “Never, before right now with you, have I asked any man to skip the rubber. I swear it. You’d be the first—”

  His mouth took the rest of her words, voracious and demanding. Without breaking the kiss he reached between their bodies. His fingers briefly explored her, petting, teasing, opening her...and she felt the head of his erection nudging against her.

  She squeezed him tighter.

  Lifting his head, his gaze fixed on her every small reaction, Stack eased in.

  Moaning softly, she wrapped her legs around him, spurred him with her heels—and he broke, taking her in one powerful thrust.

  Vanity cried out at the sensation of being filled, then cried out again as he began the slow, heavy rhythm that they’d both been anticipating for so long.

  Keeping her crushed to him, Stack scooped an arm beneath her hips, angling her just right so that every thrust of his now slick cock stroked against her swollen clit. The feeling was so acute she tried to wiggle back, but Stack kept her locked in place.

  “Shh...” he whispered, and then, with his mouth against her jaw, he added low, “So wet and hot.”

  “Ah...” Sweet pleasure sparked, then caught flame. “God.”

  He took her mouth, stealing her breath, heating her skin, driving her to the edge with the steady way he moved over her, in her. She felt every part of him, inside her, against her breasts and the insides of her thighs, her belly... The man knew how to kiss, and how to utilize a whole body caress.

  Vanity tangled her fingers in his hair, locked her ankles at the small of his back, and let herself go. Less than a minute later an orgasm crashed over her.

  Trembling, clenching around his erection, she freed her mouth and cried brokenly as burning pleasure escalated, peaked, then gradually receded in throbbing waves, leaving her quiet, boneless and replete.