Fighting the Fire (Warrior Fight Club 3)

And it sounded a helluva lot like an invitation.

Chapter Nine

Sean should’ve played it off. He knew he should’ve. But he hadn’t been able to resist pushing her, teasing her, challenging her. Because ever since she’d leaned over his body to try to nick his laptop and he’d laid his hands on her, he’d been strung tight. Not to mention, he was fucking enjoying spending time with her—her playfulness and laughter, how invested she was becoming in something he loved, the fact that he’d found yet more things they had in common.

And even though she was staring at him like she was thinking about fleeing, he still couldn’t back down. “What else of mine would you like to have?”

She swallowed hard and gave a single shake of her head. “Nothing.” It came out as a whisper.

He turned toward her. “You sure about that?”

Sean fully expected her to say “yes” and then they’d play it off and get back to ‘Ironman 2’. But what she said was, “You’re hurt.”

For a split second he was confused about how that followed from what he’d asked, and then realization hit him over the head like a fucking sledgehammer. She wanted something that she worried he was too injured to give.

Or do.

Holy shit. She wanted…him.

Sore chest be damned, he was hard in a fuckin’ instant.

Sean moved closer, his knee touching her thigh. “Not that hurt.” His heart played a bass beat. “What is it you want from me, D? Name it.”

She ducked her chin, her gaze going to her jeans-covered lap, where she was worrying at a silver wrap ring in the shape of two feathers that she always wore on the middle finger of her right hand. Dani took a deep breath and lifted her head to nail him with a stare. “Nothing. It’s not a good idea.”

“What’s not a good idea?” He leaned closer.

“Whatever is…happening between us.”

She felt it, too? “What’s happening?” He was dying to know how she’d describe it.

“This…pull.”

Heat lanced through his veins. “Fuck, Daniela. I feel it, too.”

She licked her lips, and a beautiful flush spread over her face. “Sean, I…”

When she didn’t finish her sentence, he laid it out plain. “Whatever it is you want, whatever it is you need, you can use me to have it.”

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“Or, tell me ‘no’ and I’ll drop it. We’ll watch ‘Ironman’ and eat popcorn and try to forget that this heat exists between us whether we want it to or not.”

“I just want to get out of my head, but I don’t want to use you to do it.” The words spilled out of Dani in a rush, opening up all sorts of questions in Sean’s mind. First among them was what was going on that made her need to get out of her own head? Because, fuck, he knew what that was like.

But if what she needed was a distraction, he could be that for her. “What if I want you to use me?”

Sean wasn’t sure if he moved first or she did, but in the next moment, they were all over each other. Mouths fused, his hands in her long hair, her hands gripping hard on his shoulders. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she tasted salty and sweet. Perfect. With one hand, he trailed his touch down her body—over her breast, down her ribs, until he finally grasped her ass and pulled her closer.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head. “I’m okay.” Their kisses grew urgent, frantic, almost aggressive. She was moaning into his mouth, and the sound went right to his dick. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her ear. “What do you need from me?”

“I…I don’t know.” She tilted her head back, a surrender to the explorations of his mouth, and one of her hands gripped his ass.

“Want to know what I want then?” He tore at the Velcro straps around his chest, almost frantically trying to free himself from the ice machine’s padding.

Swallowing hard under his lips, she nodded.

“I wanna put my mouth on you, Dani.” He wanted her shattered by pleasure, and he wanted to be the one to do it. In case she regretted this later, at least she’d have that.

“Yes,” she rasped, helping him unstick a bit of Velcro he couldn’t reach.

Finally free, he pushed her back onto the big sofa. His gaze connected with hers, and he unbuttoned her jeans and slid those and her black panties off. Arching her back, she pulled off the dark green V-neck she’d worn, leaving her in an almost sheer lacy black bra.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the picture she made sprawled out against the buttery black leather of his couch. Her beautiful curves, the warm tan of her skin, the neat triangle of black hair where her thighs met. Fucking gorgeous, every inch.