Worth Fighting For (Warrior Fight Club 2.50)

“I’m in the red-brick apartment building with the coffee shop, bagel place, and pizzeria down at street level.”

“That’s like everything you need in your whole life all in one place.”

Her whole face lit up as she laughed. “Right? It’s expensive as hell but those helped sell me. What part of the city are you looking at?”

“I’d like to stay by the water if I can find something I like, but I’ve just started looking.”

She enumerated the pros and cons of several different nearby neighborhoods, some of which he’d started exploring for himself, and then made an offer that surprised him—in a good way. “If I can help, just let me know.”

How had he gotten so lucky tonight to walk into that bar and meet someone as cool as Tara? And to maybe have the chance to see her again? Because good surprises were not the norm for him. Never had been. “You might regret making that offer,” he teased.

“I doubt it, but if so, I think I can handle myself,” she said with a sexy smirk.

Somehow, he didn’t doubt it one bit. “Right, the MMA training.”

“Mmhmm. For starters.”

“Consider me intrigued.”

She chuckled as they approached the intersection where they could cross over to the waterfront. “I probably shouldn’t ruin my mystique by admitting that intriguing isn’t how most people would describe me.”

He threw her a skeptical look. To him, she was definitely fucking intriguing. Sexy and confident, outgoing and generous. “And how is it you think people would describe you?”

The walk sign flashed, and they started across the broad avenue. “I’m kind of a nerd.”

Jesse barked out a laugh. “If you’re a nerd—”

A blaring horn sounded out from their left. Jesse turned to find a cabby tearing through the intersection despite the red light. The yellow car swerved widely around them as Jesse grasped Tara by the shoulders and hauled her onto the median.

“Jesus,” she gasped out, trembling underneath his hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to manhandle you,” he said, realizing that he’d overreacted. But too many people had died on his watch, and he’d had to write too many letters to his guys’ families, and the fucking reminder of all of that surged anger and adrenaline through his blood.

Wide blue eyes peered up at him. “God, don’t apologize, Jesse. That guy was an asshole.”

He wasn’t sure why he found that funny, except that the letdown in the form of humor was probably better than the letdown he’d get from beating the shit out of something. “Yeah, he really fucking was,” he said, giving her a wink.

She chuckled. “Welcome to DC.”

He guffawed. “You really know how to show a guy a good time.”

She gaped. Then smirked. Then punched him in the chest. “That wasn’t my freaking fault.” The words didn’t hold any heat. He grasped the hand she’d smacked him with, and she stumbled into him, making them both chuckle.

Jesse peered down at her. He had a good seven or eight inches on her and, standing so close, she had to tilt her head way back to meet his gaze. Slowly the adrenaline and the humor and the whole damn night closed in around them, making him hyperaware of all the places her body touched his.

Hunger absolutely tore through his blood. His gaze dropped to the full bow of her lips. He wanted a taste of her so damn bad, but he didn’t want to push her somewhere she didn’t want to go.

Her fingers tightened around his, and their gazes collided. And thank fuck, he wasn’t in this alone. Because he saw his own desire reflected back at him. In spades.

“Tara—”

“Yes,” she said.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

His free hand slid into her hair and cupped the back of her head, pulling them together. And then his mouth was on hers. Just a press of skin to skin, but enough to chase the cold away. Especially when she fisted her hand in his coat and pulled herself closer.

“Damn,” he gasped, winding his other arm around her back and hauling her in tight.