Fighting Dirty. Lori FosterЧитать онлайн книгу.
down a good three inches on one side, showing a strip of paler flesh over the top of his firm butt. With one fingertip she traced his spine, and still he didn’t stir.
Would he remember any of this tomorrow morning? Oh, it was evil of her, but she almost hoped he wouldn’t. It’d be fun to give him a hard time, to reveal to him, little by little, everything they’d discussed and how many times he’d kissed her.
As to that, she smiled, thinking wicked, very naughty thoughts as she watched him sleep. Her gaze went to his partially exposed backside.
Well, she did leave her signature note everywhere.
Grinning, she slipped from the bed but returned within a minute. Armie’s breathing had turned into a light snore, and he slept through the writing of her note.
With that done she crawled back into the bed, curled up close to him and fell asleep with a happy smile on her face.
* * *
ARMIE WOKE SLOWLY, his eyes blurry, his head more so. When he moved, several things hurt. Nothing new in that. He sparred hard, fought hard and often woke with sore muscles or minor injuries. He stretched awake.
And suddenly remembered.
Sitting up with a jolt, he looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty. He was out of the room in a heartbeat, searching until he found the pot of coffee in the kitchen and the note folded against it that read Rissy was here. Damn.
Turning to the kitchen sink, he splashed his face and tried to get his bearings. He remembered her coming over, remembered her leading him off to his bedroom.
Remembered her stripping off her jeans.
His gaze shot down, and relief rolled through him when he saw he still wore his boxers. That told him a lot because no way would he have worked around them if they’d gotten busy.
So clearly they hadn’t.
Dropping back against the sink, he racked his brain and finally remembered his lame plan. He’d figured on pretending to be asleep to both discourage her from asking sexual questions and encourage him to keep his hands to himself.
Unfortunately, he must have actually passed out on her.
Embarrassing, but also a lifesaver.
Had he held her all night? Turning, he strode back down the hall to his bedroom and stalled at the sight of his bed.
He’d been there with Merissa. Memories of touching her, kissing her, teasing and talking with her all drifted in and out of his thoughts.
He recalled those long, killer legs of hers tangling up with his. Her dark, thick hair trailing through his fingers. Her nipples pushing against the T-shirt. Her warmth and curiosity and openness with him.
No one comes to my bed wanting just me.
I would. I do.
When the cell phone rang, he jumped a foot, then rushed to answer. Glancing at the screen first, he saw it was Cannon, and braced himself. “’Lo.”
“How do you feel?”
Armie held the phone out, stared at it, then put it back to his ear. “I’m fine. Why?”
Cannon laughed. “You were in the middle of a bank robbery yesterday. You got clubbed on the head and across the back.”
And I slept with your sister. “It’s all good.” He faked a yawn. “Just woke up.”
“Yeah. Rissy texted me a half hour ago. After everything that had happened I wanted to talk to her, too. She sounded fine, like her old self. Said she was running home to shower and change before work, but that you were still snoring.”
Armie’s heart dropped to his feet. His sexcapades were vast and varied, but had never involved a discussion with anyone’s brother.
With humor in his tone, Cannon said, “We have a special guest today, so do you think you can hustle it up?”
In a rasp, he asked, “Special guest?”
“Jude Jamison.”
Holy hell. Jude owned mega stock in the SBC organization. He’d once been a champion fighter before he left and became an even more famous actor. Then he got accused of murder, survived a grueling trial where most believed he was guilty but couldn’t prove it, fell in love and finally cleared his name. “Why?”
“You already know why. The organization is focused on you.”
He grumbled, rubbed his tired eyes and knew there’d be no help for it. “This sucks.”
Cannon laughed. “Most fighters would be thrilled to get Jamison’s attention.”
Yeah, well, he wasn’t most fighters. Already heading to his dresser, he pulled out clean socks and sweatpants and sat on the side of the bed to dress. “I was going to grab a cup of coffee and then stop on my way to get my regular cell phone fixed.”
“Harper can get it fixed for you.”
Harper, who’d started as a volunteer until she’d married Gage, now worked full-time at the rec center and was there almost as often as Armie. Since the cell store was only half a block down, she probably wouldn’t mind. “Fine. I’ll come right in. Okay if I drain the pipes and clean my teeth first?”
“Sure. And take five minutes to put some fuel in the tank. I have a feeling Jamison will put you through a workout.” And with that, Cannon disconnected.
“Pain in the ass,” Armie muttered, and finished pulling on his socks. Knowing he’d shower at the rec center, he packed his gym bag, brushed his teeth and ignored the whiskers on his face and his unkempt hair. Since he could smell the coffee, he filled a travel mug to take with him then rinsed out the carafe. He’d have to explain to Rissy that he tried to avoid caffeine.
No, wait. He wouldn’t have her over again so he didn’t need to explain jack shit to her.
Of course the coffee was perfect. Everything about her was perfect.
He wished she had awakened him before leaving. Now, despite what Cannon had said, he’d be wondering all day whether or not she’d slept, and if she was nervous about returning to work.
Last night she’d wanted to be with him.
Today, how would she feel? He chowed down a protein-rich breakfast bar on the way to the rec center. For most of the ride he stewed and finally gave in. As soon as he parked his truck he called Merissa.
On the third ring she answered with a rushed, “Armie, hey!”
She sounded breathless, which sort of stole his breath, too. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Sorry, just out of the shower and hustling to get dressed so I get to the bank on time.”
That put an immediate visual in the forefront of his brain.
“Armie?”
He shook off the image of her wrapped in a small towel, her skin still damp, her face flushed. “How are you?”
“You and Cannon,” she teased. “I’m fine. What about you?”
“I’m good.” He paused, but couldn’t hold back. “You should have woken me up before you left.”
“I’m sorry. You looked so peaceful, and I knew I couldn’t stay anyway. It seemed a waste for us both to be up rushing.” Now she paused, then added, “Thank you for inviting me over again tonight. I appreciate that.”
Armie went blank. He’d invited her back over?
“I get off work at five, but it’ll probably be five-thirty before I get away. Then I’ll need to run home and change. I’m thinking six, maybe six-thirty. Does that work for you? I thought I’d cook you dinner.”
“Um...” He scrambled for an excuse, came