Fighting Dirty

by Lori Foster

  She jerked her head around to watch as he took his time closing the soft cuff around her very narrow wrist.

  “I want you most of all,” he told her, and then clarified, “But I want to fuck you hard.”

  She lifted a brow, tested her hand in the cuff, then looked at him. “Okay.”

  For only a second he closed his eyes, divided over whether or not he liked her easy compliance. Rissy wasn’t like other women, not in the most important ways. She never had been. He understood that, and now it was past time for her to understand.

  He took her other wrist and fastened the second cuff around it. “Right now you have plenty of slack, but I’d like to tighten that some.”

  She tugged experimentally, then gave a timid nod of agreement.

  Armie straddled her naked body, staying on his knees as he reached for the center of the headboard and the slide loop that pulled her arms up tighter, and tighter still.

  He liked this too much, having Rissy stretched out, contained, helpless beneath him.

  His to do with as he pleased.

  This particular position robbed her breasts of fullness and made her stomach even flatter. He scooted back so that he rested over her long thighs—and could see all of her.

  “Armie...?”

  “Hush.” Very lightly, he trailed his fingertips from her elbows, paused over her breasts to toy with her now-tight nipples, then down her sides, making her squirm. He continued over her belly until both thumbs moved over her sex.

  “Armie,” she said again.

  “I have a gag, you know.” Idly he stroked her, parted her to look at her, admired her growing dampness.

  “I wouldn’t suggest you try it.”

  At her mean tone, his gaze lifted to hers. “Why not?” Calm, quiet and in control, he continued to touch her. “You don’t like the idea of silence? You plan on giving me hell, telling me how you’ll do as you please regardless of what I want?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”

  The side of his mouth curled. “I’d like to put you in the ankle cuffs.”

  “No.” With her face beet red, she insisted, “Not happening.”

  “You don’t like for me to look at you?” He cupped his palm over her. “You’re pretty here, Rissy. All soft and, yeah...” He watched her as he moved one finger inside her. “Wet.”

  Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she lifted her hips against him. “Mmm...”

  “You like that.” Of course she did. She was getting her way and it excited her.

  Hell, it excited him, too.

  After two breaths, she said, “I don’t care if you look at me, but you’re not going to—”

  He added another finger, making her trail off with a gasp. “I wasn’t asking permission, honey.” He pressed deeper, curled his fingers a little and found just the right spot that arched her body and wrenched a moan from her. “I like this, being fully dressed with you naked and restrained.”

  “Get...get naked.”

  “Not yet. Not for a while.”

  Her heavy eyes focused on him. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to watch you come a few times first. And, Stretch? No faking. I’ll know if you do and I won’t like it.”

  “I wouldn’t.” She shifted against his hand, then squeezed his fingers. “With you, I don’t have—” she panted, twisted and squeaked out “—to.”

  Satisfaction unfurled. “Getting close, huh? Maybe this’ll help.” With his other hand, he touched her breasts, lightly stroking, circling around her nipples without touching them. She turned her head from one side to the other, then pressed it back with a frustrated moan.

  Taking her by surprise, Armie closed his fingers around her nipple. Watching her face, seeing every hint of response, he rolled, gently squeezed, then tugged until she started making those stirring, sexy sounds of excitement.

  “Armie.”

  “Hmm?” New moisture bathed his fingers as he continued the slow, measured glide against her, in her. “You ready to come for me, Rissy?”

  She didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure she could. Her body drew taut, heated, then bowed as she ground out a harsh climax, gradually going limp afterward, now with a light sheen glowing on her chest and cheekbones.

  Slowly he withdrew his fingers and put them to his mouth.

  Rissy lifted her lashes to watch him, her eyes midnight blue and hazy.

  “I like how you taste.” Moving to the side of her, Armie pulled off his shirt and dropped it over the side of the bed. Next he pulled off his shoes and socks and tossed them toward the closet. Leaving on his jeans he turned back to her.

  “Are you sorry I forced my way in?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry for a lot of things.” Not that particularly, but yeah, he regretted how much she affected him—and he regretted that he hadn’t been strong enough to leave her alone.

  “Then unhook me.” Expression hurt, she tugged at her arms. “I’ll leave now.”

  “Naked?” Again he cupped his hand over her sex. She still throbbed gently. “Soaking wet?”

  Twisting her hips away, she said, “You want me to leave, so I’ll leave!”

  “Now that you got off? I don’t think so. I’m still on the edge here.”

  “So get naked and—”

  “Not yet.”

  She growled, and again tugged at her arms.

  Deciding he’d talked about it enough, Armie shifted around between her knees, lifted her legs over his shoulders and said, “Give me two minutes and you’ll be moaning again.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Armie, wait. I’m still—”

  “Sensitive? I know.” Gently, he drew his tongue over her and felt her flinch. “Christ, you smell good.” He nuzzled closer, breathing her in while ignoring her small gasps and futile efforts to shy away. He teased with his tongue, lightly at first, laving softly until her breathing changed and she no longer resisted. Cupping her hips in his hands he lifted her, then closed his mouth around her clitoris.

  She gave a guttural moan broken by sexy whimpers that grew into sharp cries, and far too quickly she broke again.

  Armie was so hard he hurt, and in record time he’d stripped off his jeans and rolled on a condom. He was back over her before she’d even gotten her eyes open. Pressing her knees back, seeing her how she would have looked in the ankle cuffs, he watched as his erection slowly pressed into her. Other than a faint, vibrating moan, she didn’t stir.

  “So wet,” he growled. “So soft and slick.” He pressed deep, ground himself against her and knew he wouldn’t last. Not after witnessing her pleasure twice. Maybe with a different woman—but not with her, not with Rissy. “God,” he whispered, because that was better than making admissions he shouldn’t make. “God.”

  Amazingly enough, as he came, so did she—a third time.

  Luckily, long minutes later when he freed her arms and pulled her against him, she said only, “I’m staying.”

  Troubles faded away and Armie smiled. “I know.”

  With him holding her close, she snuggled in comfortably and faded off to sleep. Armie, however, stayed awake much of the night.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IT WAS STILL dark when the ringing of Armie’s phone caused Merissa to stir. She lifted her head and found Armie looking at her.

  A blush immediately burned her cheeks. She’d refused to be put off, had forced her way into his house, and then allowed him to cuff her to his bed.

  Giving her a knowing smile, Armie lifted her hand from his chest and kissed her wrist. “Next time,” he rumbled in a sleep-heavy voice, “we’ll use the ankle cuffs, too.”

  “No—” she shook her head to emphasize that denial “—we won’t.”

  “Little by little, Rissy. You’ll come around.” Releasing her, he stretched, then picked up the phone to see who had called. “Your brother,” he told her, already pushing up to sit against the headboard.

  While he called Cannon back, Merissa made her getaway to the restroom. Sc
enes from the night before kept playing through her head. Armie hadn’t wanted her there.

  If it hadn’t been for the noises she’d heard in her house, pride would have kept her from pushing the issue. As she had in the past, she would have walked away from him.

  But the idea of going home alone spooked her, no way would she have imposed on her brother and Yvette—not after Yvette had just bought massage oil—and she wasn’t about to rent a room in her own small town.

  So she’d swallowed her pride, forced herself on Armie and gotten phenomenal sex in return.

  Not a bad trade-off.

  Today, however, she needed to tell her brother what she suspected. Armie, too, in fact. Because she honestly believed someone had been in her house, they both needed to know. She wasn’t a dummy and didn’t take unnecessary risks. Never mind that the nice officer hadn’t found anything; she wasn’t an alarmist, and that meant someone might have intruded.

  Better safe than sorry.

  She finished up and was about to leave the bathroom until she saw her wrecked hair in the mirror. She quickly brushed it, then went ahead and gargled and splashed her face. Still naked, she dried her hands—and Armie pounded on the bathroom door, making her nearly jump out of her skin. “Good grief, Armie!”

  “Open up, Stretch.”

  What in the world? She unlocked the door and Armie stepped in. He, too, was naked, and looking fairly pissed off.

  Hands on her hips, Merissa asked, “What’s your problem?”

  “You had the cops at your house last night and didn’t tell me.”

  Oh. That. “How did you—”

  “That’s why Cannon called. Damn it, Stretch, you should have told me last night.” He loomed closer, crowding her with testosterone and an angry vibe. “If I’d known that was why you wanted to stay over so badly, I wouldn’t have—”

  “What?” she asked, her own temper sparking. And then leaning into his space even more, asked succinctly, “Cuffed me to your bed?”

  Scowling, Armie opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  With a hand on his chest she shoved her way past him. “And for your information, I’d planned to tell both you and Cannon this morning.” How her brother had found out already, she wasn’t sure. Maybe Detective Riske had talked with him or something.

  Behind her, Armie said nothing. After a long pause she heard the quiet closing of the bathroom door.

  She headed into the bedroom to pull on clothes. The tight jeans, turned inside out and tangled on the floor, didn’t appeal, so instead she snatched up the T-shirt Armie had removed the night before. She and Armie were of a similar height but given the breadth of his chest and shoulders, the shirt drooped enough to cover her completely like a very baggy dress.

  It was still early so she went to the kitchen to make some much-needed coffee. She’d just finished when Armie walked in carrying the book she’d bought and wearing only loose boxers that read: This is where my monster hides.

  Fighting a grin, Merissa turned away to stare out the kitchen window. The view wasn’t great: just more buildings and a part of the street. But she could see the moon fading into the horizon as dawn lent a purplish hue to the skies.

  She heard the book drop to the table and a second later, warm arms closed around her, pulling her back into a warmer chest. Her hands naturally settled over his taut forearms, and she stroked the soft hair covering his colorful tats.

  Armie’s whisker-rough cheek brushed her throat. “I’m sorry.”

  Because she hadn’t expected that, she asked cautiously, “For what?”

  “Being a dick, mostly.” He gave a toe-curling love bite to her shoulder. “But not for the sex, because the sex was a milestone for me.”

  She doubted that, but said, “For me, too.” The sex was always amazing with Armie.

  “I like your book.”

  She snorted. “You would.”

  His smile teased against her skin. “You planning to try some of the stuff in it?”

  “I don’t know.” She wasn’t entirely sure what the book included. “Maybe it depends on whether or not you continue being a dick.”

  Sighing, he let her go and stepped back, leaning on the table and crossing his powerful arms. “We both know I probably will, even when I don’t mean to.”

  That gave Merissa pause. “You know I don’t expect you to be perfect, right?” The coffee finished and she poured two cups.

  When he only watched her, she handed him the cup and smiled. “Since I’m not perfect myself, I don’t expect you to be. We’ll both screw up sometimes. No big deal.”

  He rubbed at a shoulder. “Last night sucked.”

  Her heart clutched.

  “Before you, I mean.”

  Thankful for the clarification, Merissa took a seat and asked, “Will you tell me about it?”

  He eyed the coffee, took a sip and made a sound of bliss. “All right. But right after, we’re talking about you.”

  She could handle that. Gesturing at the chair opposite her, she said, “We have time this morning, right?”

  “It’s early still.” He sat, sipped again, and then being far too brief, told her about the fighter, Carter Fletcher, and the boy, Bray Huggins.

  “Someone is trying to sabotage your debut in the SBC?”

  “I assume that’s what the note is about.”

  He seemed less concerned with that than he was for Bray. “What will you do?”

  His lean jaw bunched and he looked away. “No idea yet, but it’s probably going to get ugly.”

  And he expected her to run scared?

  His eyes narrowed. “It could also get dangerous.”

  Maybe it already had. Maybe that had something to do with her break-in? If there’d been a break-in. She still didn’t know.

  Refusing to look intimidated, Merissa asked, “And the boy? Were you able to resolve anything?”

  Armie shook his head. “He’s back in protective custody. He’ll probably go to a familiar foster family—a family who cares for him. But...” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It all sucks for him. A kid should be safe at home. He should have parents who protect him.”

  With a heavy heart, Merissa reached out and touched his wrist. She knew Armie genuinely cared for Bray, but the situation was similar enough to his own as a youth, it had to be an awful reminder. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s why I needed some time last night.” His big hand curled into a fist on the tabletop. “I was feeling seriously...”

  “Violent?” she offered, imagining how a man with Armie’s heart and sense of honor would react to threats both against himself and a boy.

  “Good word for it, yeah.” He stared at his coffee. “I didn’t want to bring that to you.”

  So he’d tried to brush her off to protect her—at a time when he’d probably needed her most. “It’s understandable that you’d be furious. But, Armie, no matter what, I know you’d never hurt me.” Deciding there was too much space between them, Merissa left her seat and instead crawled into Armie’s lap. “Can I ask you something?”

  He gave a rueful half smile. “Pretty sure I couldn’t stop you, even if I wanted to.”

  True enough. Worried for the answer, she put her cheek to his shoulder and avoided his gaze. “You didn’t want me over last night, but you did want sex. Does that mean you planned to call another woman?”

  He was quiet so long, Merissa got annoyed and sat up to glare at him.

  Unfortunately, he glared right back. “Now you’re doubting my word?”

  “What?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t see any other women, but you just—”

  “No I didn’t.” Okay, she had, but denial seemed like a good way to go. Merissa hugged him tight again for good measure. “I believe you... I really do.”

  As if he couldn’t resist, Armie tucked her closer. He sounded pained when he admitted, “I don’t want anyone but you.”

  Then she was doubly glad she’d forced her way in last
night. “So.” Hoping to lighten his mood, she asked, “What were you planning to do before you cuffed me to the bed?”

  She felt his body tense, then deliberately relax. “Truthfully? I’d planned to jog and maybe look for trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind where I could expend some energy.”

  “Armie!” He couldn’t be that cavalier about risking his career. “You have an upcoming fight.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  His dry tone didn’t sit well with her. She frowned. “Then you should know that you can’t go brawling in the streets, risking injury or—”

  “Right.” Cutting off further remonstrations, he tipped her back, looked at her mouth and kissed her. “Now you. What happened last night?”

  This would require more coffee. She was reaching for her cup when a knock sounded on Armie’s front door.

  He blew out a breath and stood her on her feet. “He got here quick.”

  “Who?”

  “Your brother.”

  “What?”

  “Just as well,” Armie said, as if she wasn’t standing there wearing nothing more than one of his shirts. “You can explain to both of us at once, instead of retelling it to him later.”

  “You could have told me he was coming over!” Men. Dashing away, Merissa headed for the bedroom and more clothes.

  Behind her, Armie laughed.

  She was still untangling her jeans when she heard antagonistic voices—and neither of them belonged to Cannon.

  * * *

  LIKE A PUNCH to the chest, the sight of his father at the front door stole Armie’s air. For damn near a decade he’d imagined the day when he’d see his dad again. He’d planned out what he’d say, how he’d react. Over and over in his head, he’d rehearsed the whole damn thing.

  Now, in this particular moment, none of that mattered.

  All he felt was crushing resentment.

  He started to slam the door, but Mac Jacobson got his size-twelve foot in first.

  “Is that any way to greet your dad?” his father asked.

  Jaw muscles ticking, Armie said, “We disowned each other years ago, so get lost.”

  Since his father didn’t remove his foot, Armie couldn’t slam the door in his face. But that didn’t mean he’d let the man in. Bluffing, he said, “Move it or lose it.”