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“The ones who lie and say they’re good guys. When really, they should be honest and own it. I’m bad. I do shitty things. I’d have more respect for them if they did.”
I love how frank she is.
I also decide that I love her dimples.
They press into her sweet face when she smiles.
I think a moment and then answer her question, “Being sergeant-at-arms means you have to do things you might not want to. Some of it is ugly.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s the most indirect yes if ever I’ve heard one.”
When I don’t say anything, her eyebrow drops, and for the first time, I see the uncertainty enter her beautiful eyes.
She pauses then asks, “Were any of them women?”
She’s direct, and I like that.
But that question—it’s loaded.
I recall what she said about her stepdaddy and how he hurt her and her mom.
I take a step closer, towering over her. “A man who lays a hand on a woman is not a man. He’s a coward, and I’m no coward. I especially hate that a coward hurt you.” I find the gentle curve on her face with my hand. Her throat works as she struggles to swallow, and she presses her face against my palm, closing her eyes. “I would never hurt you,” I say, hating that she would even need to hear me say it out loud.
She nods, and when she opens her eyes again, her kiss-swollen lips break into a soft smile, and I know I want to taste her plush lips again, just like I want to run my tongue along the creamy column of her slender throat again.
I step back, pick up my cup of coffee, and drain it.
I’m stalling, and I don’t know why.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re every man my mom warned me about rolled into one?” she asks.
“Because I probably am. Does that frighten you?”
“Should it?”
Yes, little one, it should.
I place down my cup. “I should go.”
She hugs her arms around her waist as she watches me, her eyes hungrily taking in every move.
Attraction crackles between us. It’s surprising because after the number of times we’ve both come in the last twelve hours, we should both be exhausted.
Rory gives me a shy smile as she lifts her cup to her lips. “Thanks for a memorable night.”
I think about what we did the night before and again in the early hours of this morning. Not to mention, twenty minutes ago in the shower. I should be exhausted, but my body reacts, and I begin to question why the hell I’m even leaving.
“Maybe I’ll see you at another fight sometime.”
“Maybe.” She gives me a coy look, her hair falling around her lovely face in icy blonde waves.
I can’t help myself, she’s beautiful, so I take her cup and lean down to kiss her. When she kisses me back, I walk her backward toward the bedroom.
“I thought you were leaving,” she says between kisses.
I cup her jaw and keep kissing her. “Pretty sure I left something in the bedroom.”
“Oh, really? What?”
