The steady rhythm made his cock harden even more and a wave of desire rushed through him as he felt himself on the verge of release. “Colby, I’m going to come,” he said, tangling his fingers in her hair, giving her warning, though the last thing he wanted was for her mouth to leave him.
It didn’t. And a second later, a ripple of pleasure ran through his body as he collapsed back against the shower wall, his body shaking slightly, the water pouring across his face. He took a deep, steadying breath as he helped her to her feet and pulled her in close.
His arms went around her and he kissed her forehead.
Shit.
The expression in her eyes when they made eye contact mirrored his own thoughts.
That hadn’t felt friendly at all.
* * *
She couldn’t pick out the words, but it was obvious by the fear in his tone and the beads of sweat on his forehead on the pillow next to her that Dane was having a nightmare. Colby lay on her side, unsure of what to do. She felt like she was intruding somehow as she watched his head roll back and forth as though trying to shake the terrifying images away.
Why had she stayed? The sex had been nothing short of incredible, but she could recognize a one-night stand when she saw one. Not that she’d had many and certainly none that could escalate to a disaster as quickly as this one could.
She sighed. Having sex with Dane had been the dumbest idea she’d ever had, but unfortunately, hours before, she hadn’t exactly been thinking with her head. The fact that he now worked with her father and brothers only added another layer of complication to the mess she’d created.
She was trying to get a story on this guy and somehow convince him to return to the octagon, and here she was in his bed.
Even worse—she suspected she was starting to fall for him. The more time she spent with him, the more she got to know him, the harder it was to remember that she had an ulterior motive. She found herself drawn to him and attracted to him, more than any other man she’d met. He made it easy to forget about everything else when they were together. Which was bad. Very bad.
Man, why couldn’t she be more like Faith Hart? Sex for fun and sex for stories . . . never sex for love and commitment and all fucking complicated.
Dane gripped the thin, cotton bedsheet draped over his lower body and his face contorted in a troubled grimace.
She could guess what was causing him night terrors, and her heart ached for him. Almost a year later and the guilt still obviously had a tight hold on him. Reaching out, she softly touched his shoulder.
His eyes flew open and he clutched her hand tightly in his. Too tightly. “Ow . . .” she said, trying to move her hand free of his grasp.
He held on to it as he blinked and tried to shake off the dream. When he looked at her, his expression changed and he immediately released her hand. “Oh, shit . . . I’m sorry,” he said, gently rubbing the red flesh on the back of her hand. “Was I . . . ?”
She nodded.
Holding her hand close to his chest, he lay back against the pillow. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
She rested her head against the crook of her arm, looking at him. “It’s okay. Do the nightmares happen often?”
He nodded. “Every night. I usually don’t sleep more than a few hours at a time.”
“They are about the fight?” she asked softly.
“Sometimes. Most of the time. Tonight it was about Josh Consuelos.”
She frowned. “Who’s that?”
“Marco’s son. He’s almost eleven years old.” He stared at the ceiling and his chest heaved.
She remembered seeing footage of Marco’s wife on the news, at the funeral after the fight, and a few times protesting outside of the fights, but she hadn’t known the man had a son. She remained quiet, not sure what to say. Knowing nothing she could say would make him feel better or change anything.
“The dreams about him are the worst. Sometimes they are just him sitting on Marco’s tombstone crying.” He paused and she could see his Adam’s apple bob in the dim light coming from the streetlight outside. “Other times, it’s him in the cage with me and I can’t get out. I try the cage door, but it’s locked and he is there every way I turn.” His breath was labored and she squeezed his hand. “I try not to sleep,” he said, turning his pained expression to face her.
She leaned closer and brought her lips to his. She kissed him softly, a long, gentle kiss that screamed anything but one-night stand, and he reached around and pulled her on top of him. He cupped her face as he kissed her again, harder this time, a need for passion to help him forget, to erase the troubling images reaching her core through his desperate lips.
“I can’t take away the nightmares,” she whispered against his mouth as she angled her body to straddle his hips. “But I can help you not sleep.”
Chapter 6
Tucking the note next to Colby on the pillow the next morning, Dane hesitated as he watched her sleep, lying on her stomach, the bedsheet across her lower back. After their middle-of-the-night sex session, he’d have expected the desire he had for her to start to dissipate, especially in the bright light of day that only highlighted why the night before hadn’t been a great idea. But once again, he felt himself fighting an intense desire for her. The sun reflected off the natural copper highlights in her dark hair spread across his pillow and her long legs tangled in the sheets. She looked so tempting.
He had no idea how he was supposed to look at her father and her brothers at work in less than an hour. Looking at her wasn’t a problem though. In fact, it terrified him that he thought he could look at her every morning and never get enough.
Man, he was in trouble. The list of reasons why things couldn’t progress between them was at the forefront of his mind. He worked for her father, he was a broken mess of a man, and she was a ring girl, tied to the life he was so desperate to put behind him. Still, none of those reasons stopped him from leaning closer and placing the faintest kiss on the back of her smooth, silky shoulder before grabbing his truck keys from the counter and quietly leaving the apartment.
Quickly.
Before he could change his mind and crawl back into bed beside her.
* * *
The sound of her cell phone ringing woke her and Colby jumped up, searching for it on a bedside table that wasn’t there. She blinked as she scanned her surroundings. It took a brief second to realize where she was, and another second to realize she was alone.
The phone rang again. Kate’s familiar ringtone sounding muffled.
Tossing the sheet aside, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her discarded jeans on the floor. Reaching into the back pocket, she retrieved the cell and answered the call before it went to voice mail. “Hi Kate,” she said, hoping there was no such thing as walk-of-shame voice.
“Are you running late?” her friend asked, sounding tired.
Shit. What time was it? Moving the phone away from her ear, she checked the time. Eight thirty. Damn. She’d planned on getting home to change into fresh clothes and do something with her crazy-still-damp-from-the-sexy-shower hair before meeting her best friend for their usual coffee date. “Oh, yes . . . I am, sorry. Have you been waiting long?” She glanced around the room, looking for her tank top and bra.
“About twenty minutes,” Kate said.
Seeing the bra poking out from underneath the bed, she picked it up and, cradling her phone against her shoulder, slid it on and clasped the back. “Sorry . . . I should have texted you,” she said, scooping her tank top off of the floor and pulling it on over her head.
“Are you on the way, at least?”
She sighed. “No . . .” From her own house, she could leave right that second and be there in less than ten minutes, but from Dane’s apartment across town, it would take her at least a half hour in morning traffic, and she still looked a mess.
“Is everything okay?”
She swallowed hard, hating lying to her best friend, but she couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, that she’d spent the night with a story source.
Not that that was the truth either.
Shit.
“Yes, everything’s great. I overslept.”
“Oh. Well, if you want, I can bring coffee and muffins to you,” Kate said.
Such a good friend. Even more reason to feel like crap keeping things from her. “I’m not home . . .” she said slowly.
“Well, where are . . .” Kate paused. “Oh, my God! I knew it. I totally knew you were sleeping with Dylan.”
Colby shut her eyes.
“Is it serious? Or just a fun, casual thing?” Suddenly her friend sounded wide awake. “And how does this affect the promotion? Ohhh, was it heated, competitive sex?”
Her friend worked too much and read too many romance novels to compensate for her own lack of relationships. “No.”
“No to which one?”
“All of it. Listen, Kate, I have to go. I’m so sorry again for bailing on you this morning,” she said, looking for her sandals.
“Hey, I get it. If I ever find time to get laid, I’ll forget all about you too,” she said. “I just want to hear all about it,” she said, her excitement making Colby feel even worse. They usually told each other everything, but this was something she had to keep to herself. It was bad enough that she was planning to use Kate as another source for her story, and now she was doing the unthinkable and had to lie about it.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” Colby said.
“Oh, right, you’re still there with him . . . okay,” Kate whispered excitedly. “Talk later.”
As she hung up, Colby sighed, hating the sneaky, deceitful person she was turning into for this story. If being a successful journalist meant lying all the time to the people she cared about, she wasn’t sure she could do it. Working on the set in Seattle, the stories were always handed to her to report. Now, she wondered how much work had actually gone into getting them, and she was seeing her former coworkers in a new light.
Maybe she should send a fruit basket or something.
Seeing a note on the bed next to the pillow, she picked it up and read,
I didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for last night. Friend?
What a loaded question mark, she thought staring at it. Friend. Huh. No other friend had ever made her feel the intense passion she had the night before. And no other friend had ever made her chest ache with a longing to make him feel better, take away his pain and make him whole again.
No. She was pretty sure friend wasn’t the right word.
She folded the note and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Not one to wake up in strange apartments, she didn’t even carry a brush in her purse.
Sliding her feet into her sandals, she reached for her purse. She needed to get home and cleaned up and then get to the studio. Jack was back from vacation that morning and they were filming interviews with the local high school cheerleading squads before they headed out to their national competition in San Diego that evening.
The reminder of that day’s assignment helped to put things back into perspective and ease a little of her guilt. She couldn’t keep working on Get Fit Las Vegas. She needed this promotion.
As she headed for the door, she scanned the apartment a final time for anything she might have forgotten and paused, noticing a closet door at the far end of the apartment. She hadn’t noticed it the night before. Everything Dane owned was out in the open in the bachelor-style, six-hundred-square-foot space. She hesitated, but knowing her naturally curious nature wouldn’t allow her to leave without checking it out, she went to the closet and opened the door.
On the top shelf was an oversized duffel bag, and a quick glance inside confirmed that it was all of his old training gear. She wrinkled her nose as the musty smell of old leather gloves and hand wraps reached her. She quickly zipped it shut and shoved it back onto the shelf.
On the shelf below were several boxes. Opening the lid on the first one, she saw old bills and receipts and what looked like tax files. She replaced the lid and, fighting the returning uneasiness in the pit of her stomach, she opened the next one.
Reaching inside, she removed several gold metals. First-place awards for the Golden Gloves boxing tournaments several years before. Next, she found a small jewelry case and her mouth went dry. He said he didn’t have a girlfriend now . . . but had he been ready to propose at one time? She hesitated, unsure whether she really wanted to know. Then, opening it quickly, she released a sigh of relief as she saw a gold chain with a boxing gloves-shaped gold pendant hanging on it.
Putting it back inside, she picked up an envelope of photos and scanned the images of Dane as a kid . . . he must not have been more than five or six, standing next to a small charter plane with an older man, who she assumed must be his dad. He looked so happy, so carefree. He’d said his father had left when he was a kid, so these must be the only photos he had. There were several others of him in the boxing ring with a different man—his former boxing coach, she’d guess—and again his expression was one of excitement. She barely recognized the look from the defeated, troubled one he wore when he thought she wasn’t watching.
Inside the octagon, he’d been happy. Maybe it wasn’t so wrong that she was trying to get him back in there.
The smell of bacon reached her before she heard the knock on the door, and she stuffed the envelope of photos back inside the box and into the closet.
She closed the closet door quickly and, turning, she saw the top of a woman’s head, visible in the tiny, frosted glass window of the door. She froze. Who the hell was that? Did she answer it?
Dane’s words about the unsafe neighborhood rang in her mind and her pulse raced. Damn. Her crazy suspicious mind came solely from the fact that she was the bad guy—the deceiving one, the snooping one. Going to the door, she unlocked it and opened it. “Hi.”
“Oh, good, you’re still here,” the lady, maybe in her early sixties, said, moving past her into the apartment.
Okay.
“I thought I saw Dane bring a friend in here last night, so I made sure to bring enough food for two.” She glanced around the apartment. “Where is he?”
Colby blinked. “He left for work already . . . I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“I’m Mrs. Everwood. I own Linked Souls, the wedding chapel downstairs.”
“Oh. Hi. I’m Colby,” she said, watching the woman as she uncovered the plates to reveal bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast. Her stomach growled and, seeing a pot of coffee, her heart actually leaped with joy. “May I?” she asked, motioning to the pot.
“Of course, dear,” the woman said, opening the cupboard where Dane’s eclectic collection of mugs was kept.
She obviously knew her way around his kitchen.
She poured the coffee and handed Colby the cup. “So, Dane’s gone to work?”
Colby took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Yes. He . . . uh . . . started a new job a few weeks ago.” She had no idea of his connection to this woman or how much he’d want her to know, but the woman had brought breakfast as though it were a regular thing.
Her face lit up. “I know. I think it’s great. I hated him working at that casino bar,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed. “So dangerous.”
As opposed to living above a pawnshop where he’d told her he’d witnessed two men getting shot? She nodded. “Yeah . . . um . . . well, thank you for the coffee.” She took another big gulp, wondering if Dane would mind her taking the cup with her and returning it to him next time she saw him. Which begged the question—when would that be? It wasn’t as though last night’s meet-up had been prearranged. Would that be their thing?
“Why don’t you stay and eat?” Mrs. Everwood said, cutting into her
thoughts. “It would be a shame to waste all of this.” She pulled out a chair, obviously with the intent of staying.
Colby hesitated, but she was starving, and the idea of going into the station on an empty stomach didn’t appeal to her. She’d need all her strength to make it through the interviews with the cheerleaders. She pulled out a chair and sat. “Okay. Thank you.” She picked up a piece of crispy bacon and almost moaned as the grease hit her tongue. “So, are you and Dane related?” He hadn’t mentioned it, but why else would the woman bring him breakfast?
“Oh, no. He’s just such a sweet boy . . .”
Colby blushed. Sweet wasn’t exactly the thought that came to mind when she envisioned him pinning her arms above her head on the pillow while he kissed her neck the night before.
“My son moved away last year, so it’s just me here now . . . Gotta take care of someone,” she said with a laugh, buttering a piece of toast. Instead of eating it, she placed it on Colby’s plate.
Colby took another sip of coffee. “How long has he lived here, above the chapel?” she asked, wondering if he’d moved into the place before or after his fighting career had ended. From his record and stats, she thought he’d be earning a pretty good payday from the MFL. And he’d also been working as a coach at Punisher Athletics. Surely he could afford a better place?
“About nine or ten months now, I believe. My brain gets fuzzy with dates,” she said.
Either way, after the fight. “Do you run the chapel alone?” Colby asked.
The woman nodded. “Yes. My brother used to own it with me until he died last year . . .”
“I’m sorry,” she said through a mouthful of toast.
“Me too. The wedding business doesn’t do so well with the pawnshop next door,” she said, stabbing a hash brown. “Before Dane moved in here, I’d been planning to shut down the business, but all it took was him setting those pawn boys straight one night and they’ve left me and my business alone.” She smiled. “Such a sweet boy,” she said again. Then she winked at Colby. “But I’m sure you know that better than anyone.”
Pushing the Limits Page 10