Holding Strong

by Lori Foster

  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 l
ot 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.”