Worth Fighting For (Warrior Fight Club 2.50)

“You first,” he said, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Because she was either about to put him all the way back in his place—or she wasn’t. And that…that he could work with.

The bell dinged, and the doors slid open to the lobby. Facing Tara, Jesse stood stock still.

“No,” she said with a small, nervous smile. “It’s nothing.”

The door slid shut, and he did nothing to catch it. “The truth, always. Right?”

Her chin dropped, but she nodded. “Right.” The elevator headed up again. “It’s just that, uh, I realized I didn’t actually know what I wanted to say.”

Jesse stepped closer, close enough to smell the fragrance of berries in her hair. “About what?”

One shoulder just barely lifted in a shrug. “About…not knowing if I can have or should have what I want.” The words spilled out in a rush until she just shook her head. The bell dinged their arrival to the eleventh floor.

Her words were uncomfortable and hopeful all at the same time, like she’d put her hand in his chest and now he’d find out if she’d done it to rip the useless organ out or hold it together. He tipped her chin up again, because he needed to see her when she answered this. “What do you want?”

The doors slid open, but she didn’t move. This time, Jesse caught the elevator before it closed. After a few seconds, an alarm buzzed.

Jesse leaned in until he almost could’ve rested his forehead on hers. Come on, Tara. “What do you want?” he whispered.

“What were you going to say?” she asked.

He shook his head and arched an eyebrow. “Tell me what you want first.”

She met his gaze head on. And she was so damn beautiful that it made him hurt with want. “You.”

Jesse was hard in an instant. Hard and fucking victorious. “Jesus, Tara, you can have me any damn time. That’s what I was going to say.”

One moment, she seemed torn and contemplative, and the next, Tara was all over him. He caught her around the waist with one arm as their mouths claimed one another, and then he was hauling her legs up around his hips so he could carry her out of the elevator.

Her hands were in his hair and her breasts pressed to his chest and her hips wiggled where his hands grasped her ass. Her actions were nearly frantic, like she was a live electric current he was trying to harness.

“Eleven twenty,” she rasped.

“I remember,” he said, arriving at her door. “Key?”

“In the pocket of my bag.” He fished for it with one hand until he was straining and she was laughing. “Put me down so I can get it.”

“No fucking way. I just got you in my arms again.” Finally, he found it, and he dangled it in front of her, goddamned proud of himself.

“My hero,” she said, leaning in for another kiss. And then another. And another. Her tongue slid over his so fucking good. And then she was sucking on his and rolling her hips against him and nearly taking him to his knees.

“Tara?” he managed around the edge of a kiss.

“Hmm?”

“How well do you know your neighbors?”

Her expression went comically confused. “Uh, not that well. Why?”

“Because in about ten seconds, I’m going to fuck you against this door unless we get inside.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Biting down on her lip, she gave him the sexiest damn smile. “That would actually be insanely hot, but, uh, not very neighborly.”

Jesse grinned. “Baby, what’s about to happen isn’t going to be very fucking neighborly either.” He finally got the key in the lock and let them inside.

Tara pushed the door closed behind them as they stumbled into the dark apartment. She dropped her bag, and he dropped his. “That way,” she said. “That way’s the bedroom.”

“Now you’re talking.”