Holding Strong
Page 63

She ducked her face again. “The guys were discussing close calls.”
“In the cage?”
She nodded, then looked at him. “Miles said you got...hit in an unfair place.”
The grin tugged at his mouth. “No way is that how Miles put it.”
“No.”
“Say it.” Teasing her, his tone a dare, he whispered, “Say it.”
Trying not to smile, she slicked her tongue over her lips. “He said you got nutted.”
“Yeah.” When she smiled, she looked even prettier—if such a thing were possible. “I remember that fight well.” A car door closed quietly, then another. An engine started. He turned his head to watch Brand’s SUV pull away from the curb. They’d parked a few houses up, maybe to keep any creeps from knowing they were around.
Since they all ended up on the front porch, it didn’t much matter in the end. But he appreciated their forethought.
“When you get racked, at first it doesn’t hurt,” Denver explained. “It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, but you know it’s coming, and then you just go sick and weak.”
“Miles said the ref didn’t see it.”
“Not until he watched the replay, and then he was full of wincing apologies.” Remembering made him grin. “Bastard kneed me so hard he cracked my cup.”
“On purpose?”
Her outrage almost made him laugh. “No, he was going for an inside leg kick. It happens and sometimes even the best ref misses things.”
“Tell me how you won.”
“If you know I won, then Miles and Brand already told you.”
Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she slipped her hand under the neckline of his shirt to stroke his heated skin. “I want to hear you tell it.”
Since it ended well, he didn’t mind. Shortly they’d have much more serious things to go over. Maybe that’s why she wanted to hear it, too.
“When the pain sank in, I dropped my guard. He caught me with a wild haymaker, then followed up with a jab that got me right on the chin. I went down and I swear, I thought that might’ve been it.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t there,” she said, squeezing him tight.
Usually a woman fussing would grate on his nerves. Not so with Cherry. He liked the shielding way she hugged him.
While rubbing her back, he inhaled her scent. “Every fighter gets caught now and then. Stick around long enough and you will see it.”
She sat up to meet his gaze. “I am sticking around.”
“Yeah, you are.” He gave her a quick kiss.
Appeased, she settled against him again. “So then what happened?”
“He landed on me, going for some ground and pound. Instincts kicked in and I defended by rote, gutted it out, and finally my head cleared. When he thought he’d finished me, he got sloppy and I caught him with an arm bar. He tapped out.”
“Miles said the audience went nuts.”
“Yeah.” One by one, stars burst into the sky. It was a quiet night, only the distant whine of a siren and the occasional bark of a dog disturbing the peace. Such an illusion. They both knew trouble waited right around the corner.
“That’s the night the SBC called?”
He nodded. “Signed my first contract with them.”
“And soon now you’ll be on the main card.”
Something in the way she said that set off alarm bells in his head. “A couple of months from now.”
“That is such an amazing thing.”
It was, but he’d worked so long and hard that it had felt inevitable more than anything else. He curved a hand around her nape, kissing her forehead, the bridge of her nose, nudging her face up until he got to her mouth. “You’re amazing.” He tried to kiss her hotly enough to show her he meant it.
But she pulled away. “I need to talk to you.”
Groaning, he dropped back against the porch steps, arms and legs thrown out, eyes closed. “Somehow, I knew this was coming.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHERRY’S SMALL HAND smacked his chest. “You do not read my mind!”
“No, but I understand you.” Still with his head back, his eyes closed, he blew out a breath. Damn, he really just wanted to take her to bed and hold her all night—then in the morning, assuming she’d be recovered enough, he’d finally have her again. “Let’s hear it.”
Scrambling off his lap, Cherry sat beside his shoulder. “You can’t dictate to me.”
“Never tried to.”