Fighter's Secret Page 9

  I follow him across the living area and into a bedroom that’s far from what I’m expecting. Cream-colored walls, drapes a masculine shade of green. A door to a bathroom that stands ajar and through which I can see a hot tub on the far wall. There are a couple of closets and some clothes strewn on the floor, but overall it’s minimalist and tidy. Hardly the den of sin I imagined. There’s not even a box of condoms on the nightstand, although I’m assuming he has them somewhere.

  “Surprised?” he asks.

  “A little.” I’m not too rigid to admit it.

  Pivoting to face me, he sinks onto the edge of the bed, his knees spread as though inviting me to step into the V of them. “Wanna know what I was doing before you knocked?”

  My gaze darts to the pillows, which are rumpled, and back to him. I press my legs together to quell the need to squirm. My voice is husky when I ask, “What were you doing?”

  “Jacking off.” One of his hands slips inside his sweatpants and even though I can’t see it, I can perfectly picture it fisting around his cock. “While I thought about you.”

  “Oh, God.” My pussy throbs. It’s wet, and he’s only making things worse. “Can I see?”

  His eyes widen and his abs flex as he puts one hand behind himself and leans back, supporting his weight on it. “Yeah.”

  With his other hand, he shoves his pants down, and his hard-as-granite erection slaps his lower belly. It’s dark and smooth and looks like it would feel amazing inside me. He curls his palm around it and pumps slowly, watching my face as he pleasures himself. I squeeze my thighs tightly together, moisture seeping between them.

  “You like that,” he rumbles.

  “Duh.” I pop one of my fingers into my mouth, then part my legs and slip it into my panties, slicking through the center of my folds. “I bet you like to watch, too.”

  A groan tears from him. “No fair. You’re covered up, I’m not.”

  Smirking, I slip one of the fingers inside me. “Who said I play fair?”

  “God. Fuck.” He releases his dick as precum beads on the head. “Show me. Now.”

  I tut. “Demanding.”

  But I want to. I want to see the look in his eyes when he realizes he’s as helpless to the attraction blazing between us as I am, so I shimmy my panties down, and I’m about to pick up where I left off when I pause, suddenly self-conscious. I don’t know what Devon is used to, but I don’t wax. Frankly, I do enough to hurt myself and I’ve never seen the point. I trim, but maybe he’s used to landscaped Las Vegas babes.

  “Keep going,” he urges, all lust and unfulfilled horniness. He doesn’t care. I stroke through the slickness of my own desire, marveling at how strange it feels to do something so private in plain view of someone else. The thrill of it has my pulse pounding. It’s naughty and freeing at the same time. “Come here.” He pats the bed beside him. “I need to kiss you again.”

  I ditch my hoodie and yank my sports bra over my head, rendering myself completely naked, and his eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.

  “Where were you hiding those?”

  Grinning, I glance down. I’m not well-endowed, but for an athlete, I’ve got more going on than most. I’ve never been one of those girls who feels the need to show them off. In a training environment, it’s better if the men think of me as one of their own, and having tits in their face tends to ruin that. But now, I’m grateful for them.

  I perch on the edge of the bed, my gaze drawn once again to his dick. He’s stopped touching it and it bobs against his stomach with a life of its own.

  “Keep looking at it like that and I won’t even last until I’m inside you,” he says, sounding strained.

  I trace a finger up his navel, following a sprinkling of dark hair, and work my way to his face, then lean over and kiss him. His hand goes to my jaw and he captures my mouth in a hot, wet exchange that’s all tongues and panted breaths. My heart rate shoots up and my pussy throbs again, demanding attention. His hand settles over it and I whimper. He swallows the sound and torments me with his fingers.

  “More,” I gasp as we break apart.

  He growls, and I love it. “You’re so fucking hot. This little pussy is going to feel amazing wrapped around me.”

  He lifts his finger to his mouth and sucks it. I gulp. Then he threads his fingers between mine and shifts around, pressing me back into the bed, my hands pinned above my head. I simply relax and let him climb atop me. There are times to fight for dominance, and this isn’t one of them. Not when his weight feels so delicious, and his erection grinds into me, setting off flashes of white behind my eyes as it rubs over my clit. I nip the skin on the side of his neck, then lick it to soothe the sting. His hips jerk, then he stills.

  “Don’t stop,” I urge.

  “Just. Need. A. Moment.” He grits the words out, and I squirm against him, unable to help myself. “Oh, shit.”

  “You should get that condom.”

  “Good plan.” He rolls off me, flops his feet onto the floor, and rustles around in the top draw of his nightstand, emerging victorious with a foil wrapper. He tears it open, and sits on the edge of the bed as he guides it over his length. I get onto my knees on the mattress, and his brows draw together. “What are you doing?”

  “Like this.” I straddle his thighs and watch realization dawn. He grips his cock and I sink onto it inch by inch, taking him so deep inside of me I could swear he touches my heart. His hands journey around to my ass and I bite my lower lip as I adjust to the size of him. He exhales and his fingers tremble as they dig into my flesh. His eyes are nearly black with desire and I keep mine locked on them while I start to move, lowering myself up and down. I cup my breasts and pinch the nipples lightly. He sits back and enjoys the show, his breath growing more ragged. After letting me be in control for a short while, he takes action, thrusting his hips and filling me so full of his cock that I see stars.

  “Oh!”

  He does it again, and my head flops onto his shoulder. His arms band around me and he supports me as he drills my pussy. Having him hold me like this is unexpectedly sweet, and emotion clogs my throat. I want to be able to see him, so I ease back and rest my forehead on his. We move in sync, riding higher, each caress of him inside me driving us to the brink of wildness. We exchange breath and kisses, not taking our eyes off each other as our pleasure crescendos.

  It’s intimate. So fucking intimate that I’m tempted to squeeze my eyes shut and deny him this moment of connection because it feels like he can see all the way to my soul. But for some crazy reason, I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead, the intensity between us builds along with the pleasure so I see the exact moment his expression becomes raw with need. He hammers into me over and over and I sob as a shiver wracks my body. I come apart in his arms, shuddering and moaning, clinging desperately to the emotional thread that binds us together. My orgasm seems to trigger his. He stiffens and growls, low and dirty, his dick jerking inside of me. On and on it goes and I ride him all the way through it, until his muscles finally loosen and he hugs me tight to his chest.

  A strange emotion boils up my throat. I can’t put a name to it, but it seems intrinsically linked with Devon and makes me feel like someone has been digging around in my heart, unearthing everything I’ve ever tried to bury in there.

  “That was incredible,” he murmurs in my ear, and gently disengages.

  I climb off him and watch as he removes the condom and takes it to the bathroom. A few seconds later, he’s back, and he stretches out on the covers, his glorious body making me tingle all over again.

  “Come join me,” he says.

  I hover, unsure whether I should dress and leave, but he smooths a hand along my hip and guides me into position beside him. When I lie down, he slings an arm over my waist and kisses the tip of my nose.

  “That was so much better than what I had planned for the night.”

  “Me too.” I wriggle closer and whisper, “I’m not sure what the protocol is now.”

  He rolls his eyes. “There is no protocol. But if you’re saying you don’t know whether to stay or go, then stay. I want you here.”

  I want you here.

  How often have I heard those words? Not often enough, because they flay me. Although I lived around my fellow fighters and friends at the gym in Thailand, I’ve always been solitary. I keep my own confidence, and I’m usually a take-it-or-leave-it personality. Except for my family, it’s rare for anyone to particularly care if I’m around.

  That must be why I kiss his full lips and agree. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  He nuzzles me, and I like it a little too much. Something in the pit of my stomach tells me I’m in a lot of trouble. On top of that, I have to hope Seth won’t notice I’m not home tomorrow morning. He’s an early riser, so I cross my fingers that he’ll assume I’m sleeping late and leave for the gym before he realizes I’m not there. Surely I’m owed that much good luck.

  Chapter Eleven

  Devon

  One eye cracks open and the glare of the morning light almost blinds me. The drapes have been opened. I feel around in the bed, but I’m alone. Bolting upright, I’m struck by a realization. I’m alone. Did I imagine last night? Did I only dream of falling asleep wrapped around Harley’s lean, perfect body, inhaling the scent of her hair while her languid limbs were tangled in mine?

  Surely not.

  Studying the bed, I notice it’s mussed. I’m usually a calm sleeper—that’s how I manage to have so much energy the rest of the time. Harley was definitely here, but she’s gone. A clink outside the bedroom draws my attention, and I pause to listen. Through the bedroom door, I can hear faint noises coming from the living area. Relief seeps into my pores. She didn’t do an early morning walk of shame. She’s still here. Before she can get it into her head to leave, I pull on a pair of boxers and follow the sounds to the kitchen, where I find her at the counter, pouring granola into a bowl. The sight punches me in the gut. She looks like she belongs barefoot in my kitchen.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  A flush stains her cheeks and she doesn’t look at me until she’s covered her breakfast with skim milk. “You’re a heavy sleeper.”

  I shrug. “One of my best qualities.”

  When she gives me her attention, her eyes widen as they greedily look up and down my torso. I smirk, and tense my abs as her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. Yeah, she likes what she sees.

  “You’re not dressed.” Her tone is accusatory, as if she actually expected me to take the time to put clothes on before making sure she hadn’t disappeared. Unfortunately, she is dressed. She’s wearing the crop top and yoga pants from yesterday, and I can’t help but be disappointed. She looks good in them, but better naked.

  “Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ with relish. “I see you helped yourself to my cupboards.”

  “I did,” she says agreeably. “Hope you don’t mind. I’m pretty accustomed to eating other people’s food.”

  “You can eat my food any day.”

  She rolls her eyes but smiles. Behind her, the kettle boils, and she turns and fills a mug. “You want tea or coffee?”

  “I’ll make a coffee. The good stuff.” But for now, I’m enjoying the sight of her in my kitchen. It’s so fucking domestic my heart almost can’t take it. This is what I want with her for years into the future.

  “When are you heading into the gym this morning?” she asks. “I want to make sure we don’t turn up at the same time and make Seth suspicious.”

  Damn. Just when I’m riding an emotional high, she has to go and say that. I sneak a peek at her. She’s sipping a green tea she must have found somewhere in the back of my pantry, and it’s difficult to read her expression. I can’t tell whether she regrets being with me, but surely the fact she’s here bodes well.

  “Actually…” I draw the word out. “I was thinking we could play hooky. It’s a Sunday, after all. The gym is basically dead.”

  She raises her eyes to mine over the rim of her mug. “But you usually train on Sundays, and so do I, whether it’s dead or not.”

  “Today isn’t a typical Sunday. Spend the day with me.” I waggle my eyebrows. “You know you want to.”

  She snorts, and it’s adorable. “If we both don’t turn up, Seth will know something is going on.”

  There it is again. The mention of Seth. A sliver of discomfort lodges in my spine. I really hate this whole being secretive thing. It’s not in my nature. I’m an open person because I know how much untruths can hurt, and Seth is my friend. Keeping shit from him seems all kinds of wrong. But it won’t be for long, right?

  “How about the morning, then? You can go in later and I’ll stay home so it doesn’t look like we’ve been together.” I round the counter and go to her, setting a hand on each of her hips, which are slim and golden from the sun. “Or are you planning to dine and dash?”

  She sighs as if she’s hard done by but her eyes glitter with amusement. “Okay, I’ll stay. Just for the morning.”

  “Awesome!” Leaning over her mug carefully, so as not to knock it, I press a kiss to her forehead. “We could go for a walk. See some of the sights.”

  “Or we could stay here.” She places her mug on the counter, comes to me and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder. “Have some alone time together…”

  Harley

  Devon’s uncertainty is written all over his face. He likes the idea of going back to bed, but hates the thought of hiding away, and that makes him so much sexier because it means he’s unlikely to betray me like Thaklaew did. I can’t imagine a guy like him sneaking around behind my back, and that’s an incredible relief. I’m lucky he’s willing to humor me. I know I’m asking a lot.

  I tilt my chin up at the same time he dips his and our mouths meet in a gentle kiss that slowly builds. I nip his lower lip and he angles his hips, rubbing his hard dick into the V of my yoga pants. His boxers hardly conceal anything and it’s a miracle I’ve been able to keep my hands off him for this long. His tongue meets mine and he groans.

  “Maybe staying in is a good idea,” he says.

  Grinning, I back him into the counter and go onto my tiptoes, letting him take my weight. He brushes those delicious lips over my forehead, and I’ll never admit how much I love his tender kisses. Then, faster than I can comprehend, he spins us around and lifts me up, depositing my butt on the counter. He steps into the space between my thighs and I laugh, delighted. It’s not often someone catches me off guard.

  “Are you laughing at my mad skills?” he demands, pretending to pout.

  “Admiring them.” I cup his face in my hands and show him how much I like his moves with my lips and tongue. His breath is warm and sweet because apparently he’s a freak of nature who doesn’t get morning breath. As for me, I popped a mint from the collection I found in his pantry before he got out of bed.

  He pulls away and steps back. “Eat your breakfast, before I decide you’re breakfast.”

  “I have no objection to that,” I tell him, but he shakes his head.

  “No, we’re going to spend time together that doesn’t involve being naked. Let’s actually talk.”

  My hand goes to my chest. “Oh, the horror.”

  Surprisingly, I’m not feeling bad about it. He’s fun to be around, and after the rigmarole he put me through last night, I’m prepared for anything. Hopping off the counter, I land lightly on my toes, then grab the cereal and take it to the two-person dining table on the other side of the room. He makes his coffee and grabs a mixing bowl, which he cracks several eggs into. Next he adds herbs, spices, and a few diced vegetables.

  “Omelet?” I ask. I’d expected him simply to have cereal like me, but I can’t blame him for wanting something more exciting; the smell coming from the bowl is enough to make my mouth water.

  “Not just an omelet. The best damned omelet in the world.”

  I smirk. “You talk a big game.”

  He pours the mix into a pan and turns to face me, resting his forearms on the counter. “There are five things I cook well, and I’m awesome at them. Everything else is a total bust.”

  “Good to know.” Helping myself to another spoonful of cereal, I can’t help thinking how much worse it tastes now that I can smell the omelet cooking. I have regrets. I should have waited for him to get up before eating anything, but I thought he might be one of those people who sleep until mid-morning, and I’d have fainted from hunger by then. My body needs regular fuel.

  “What else can you cook?” I ask.

  “Hmm.” He studies the countertop thoughtfully. “I make a mean stir fry. Fried rice. Thanks to Mom, I can do a Sunday roast. Oh, and my mashed potatoes are fucking delicious.” He purses his lips and twists them to the side. “Yeah, that’s about it. How about you? Do you like to cook?”

  “Yeah,” I admit, even though it’s something I keep quiet because it doesn’t exactly go with my tough reputation. “I learned how to make traditional Thai food from the locals in Phuket, and I make it a few times a week. It’s one of the things I most miss about Thailand.”

  He nods. “They do have great food.” While I finish my cereal, he flips his omelet and then plates it. “Would you like some?”

  “Maybe a little.” I hold my thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

  “No problem.” He portions off a second small serving and joins me. We sit together and talk. Not about anything in particular, but the kind of stuff that people in a relationship ought to know about each other. Like how his parents don’t understand his love of MMA, which must be difficult for him. My mom has always been supportive, even when it scared her. In return, I tell him stories about growing up in small-town Oregon, and about the places I visited while I was living overseas. We’ve long since finished breakfast and are lounging on his sofa trading fight stories when my phone rings. I glance at the Caller ID. Seth.