Fighting for Keeps (Rocky River Fighters 2)

Amelia nodded seriously before laughing again. “That’s what I was thinking just a moment ago. That I set a new lightweight record. Hey, I’m a lightweight. Isn’t that a fighter thing? I’m becoming one of you!”

An inscrutable expression passed across his face, and she wondered at it, even as she flung her hand out to gesture to the rest of the table. She bumped into her drink again, and this time it started to tumble over. In a movement that was almost too fast to follow, Seth reached out and grabbed it, righting it before more than a few drops could slosh out of the rim.

“She’s definitely drunk,” Cammie said in amusement as Amelia swayed in her seat. “Seth, do you think you could drive her home? We’re not quite ready to leave yet.”

She watched as Seth shot a look at Cammie, and her brow furrowed as his face blurred and he separated into two Seths. She blinked hard, trying to force her eyes to focus as he exhaled and stood up, coming around to stand at her side.

“Come on, lightweight. Let’s get you home.”

Nodding, she wobbled to her feet, grateful when Seth put a steadying hand on her elbow. His touch brought goosebumps on her skin, and she basked in the heat of it as he guided her outside. She paused just outside the door and took a couple deep breaths, hoping to clear her head a little. Seth waited patiently, studying her closely.

“Are you good enough to walk to the car now?” he asked, amused.

“Pshhh. I’m totally fine,” she said as she stepped onto the gravel. She promptly tripped, and Seth rushed forward to grab her arm, steadying her. “S’okay. I got this,” she assured him.

He didn’t look like he believed her at all, but he didn’t say anything as he walked her slowly to his car. Her eyes widened as she took it in, then squinted because the bright orange of the car was glaring, even in the darkness. But it was pretty, and it absolutely looked like something Seth would drive.

“This is nice,” she said, running her hand over the hood of the car as Seth guided her to the passenger seat. “What is it? A Mustang, right?”

His pained groan echoed through the empty parking lot. “A Mustang, really? It’s a 1968 Dodge Charger.”

“Close enough,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s a classic American muscle car, just like a Mustang.”

“Close enough? Seriously? The Charger is nothing like a Mustang—” cutting himself off, he shook his head. “Why am I arguing with a drunk Brit about my car? Come on, let’s get you inside. And whatever you do, don’t puke in Daisy.”

“Daisy?” she asked as she eased into the seat, irrational jealousy over his car washing over her. She made no promises not to puke in Daisy.

“Yeah, Daisy. You know, for Daisy Duke,” he replied like it should be obvious what he was talking about, leaning across her to buckle her seatbelt.

The smartass remark on her lips died when his arm brushed her breast. She sucked in a breath as he froze, not moving a muscle other than to slowly turn his head and meet her gaze. Her breath caught at the heat in his brown eyes, watching as they dropped to her lips and stayed there. Breathlessly, she wet her lips, waiting on him to do what they both wanted, and kiss her.

Instead, he swallowed hard and backed out of the car, shutting the door gently. Taking a deep breath, she watched as he walked around and got in on his side. Her head was swimming again, but she wasn’t at all sure if it was from the alcohol, or his nearness.

His car started with a rumbling growl, and he pulled out of the parking lot, the sound of the gravel crunching under the tires and the loud exhaust the only noises in the car. Leaning her head back against the leather seat, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The car smelled of leather polish and Seth, a spicy scent she wasn’t sure she’d ever get enough of.

It felt like only moments had passed when they pulled up to her house, and she blinked her eyes open, looking around blearily. Maybe she dozed off, because it felt like they just left Cocky Pete’s moments ago. Cursing herself for losing time spent with Seth, she pushed open her door and prepared to get out, stilling when he put his hand on her arm.

“Let me help you out. You’re probably still unsteady on your feet.”

Breath trapped in her chest as tingles raced over her skin from his touch, she nodded, not saying anything. He came around and helped her out, keeping his hand wrapped around her arm as he walked her to the door.

“Can you manage from here?” he asked, voice husky as he searched her eyes.

“I think so,” she said shakily, fighting the urge to lean into him more fully. “Do you want to come in?”

He shook his head as his eyes dropped to her lips. Meeting her gaze again, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I’m gonna head back to Rocky River, if you’re okay. Take an aspirin and drink a glass of water before you go to bed. You didn’t drink a lot, but judging by how fast you got drunk, you might have a hangover in the morning. Those will help.”

Shoulders slumping in defeat, she nodded. “I suck as a seductress,” she muttered under her breath, prepared to tell him goodnight. She paused when he froze, sucking i

n a breath like he heard her. Oh, bloody hell, supernatural hearing. She totally forgot. Cheeks burning, she dropped her gaze quickly. She felt him cup her cheek, and she gasped at the unexpected contact, her eyes shooting up to meet his.

“You, suck as a seductress? I think if you were any better at it, I’d be worshipping at your feet day and night,” he replied, his voice gravelly and strained. “As it is, I don’t know how I’ve managed to refrain up till now. You’re fucking potent, Amelia. It’s been all I can do to keep my hands off you tonight.” His thumb brushed her cheek as his gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, and when he looked up, they were a blazing golden color. “I want to kiss you more than I want my next breath, but I won’t do it while you’re drunk. I want both of us to be fully sober, aware of every moment. I want us to savor, to enjoy, to remember it when we wake up.”

“Oh,” she said softly, heart racing and unable to form more words, her lips parted as he passed his thumb gently over her bottom lip.

“Go inside, do what I told you to do, and go to bed. We’ll pick this up later. That’s a promise,” he said softly, taking her keys from her hand and unlocking the door for her, gesturing her through. “Goodnight, Amelia.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, mind still fuzzy from his touch and his words, taking the keys back from him.