Clincher (DS Fight Club Book 6)

by Josie Kerr

  “Bridg? What did I do wrong?” A million thoughts raced through his brain: She was having second thoughts. She thought the loose skin on his body was gross. He was too hairy in all the wrong places. When he met her eyes, she was just shaking her head.

  “You are . . . kind of arrogant and self-absorbed, you know, Nolan. Sometimes, it’s not about you.” She swung her leg over and drew them up, wrapping herself into a ball, concealing her body.

  Nolan mirrored her posture and remained silent. He had nothing to say for himself because she spoke the truth. He was so worried about what she thought about his body that he’d ruined a potentially life-changing night.

  “Okay, that wasn’t fair to you, Nolan. I’m sorry. You know how you have those boneheaded freak-outs?” He nodded, wary. “Well, I just had one, and you don’t even know. You couldn’t know, because I’ve never told anyone. Well, Kevin knows, but . . . no one else.”

  Bridget stretched out on the sofa and pointed to three light but uneven scars, two on either side of her belly and one above her mound. “You’re not the only one who chooses clothing to hide scars.” She smiled a sad little smile. “Two ectopic pregnancies.” She ran her fingers over the scars.

  He blinked in sudden realization. “You can’t have children. That was part of why your marriage failed.”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, darlin’. I am so sorry.”

  Bridget inhaled deeply and then blew out a meditative breath. “But that also means, if you’re comfortable with it, we don’t have to use condoms. I mean, if you’re clean, because, you know, I am.”

  Nolan scrubbed his face. “Oh God.”

  Bridget sat up. “Nolan? Is there something you need to tell me?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Oh God. Uh, yeah, but it’s probably the exact opposite of what you are expecting.”

  “What? Oh my God.” She had a horrified look on her face. “You’re a virgin.”

  “Not anymore. But I was until I was thirty-five, and then Tobias took pity on me and hired a . . .”

  “Expert.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Yeah, that’s a good word for her.”

  “So . . . she’s the only one?”

  He nodded. “Surprise!”

  Bridget squinted at him. “She . . . did a good job.” And then she snorted. “She did a fucking damn good job.”

  Nolan chuckled and could feel his face heating, though he didn’t know if it was from praise or embarrassment.

  “So.” He cleared his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

  “You still have a hard-on.”

  “Well, yeah.” He gaped at her. “I mean, a gorgeous woman is sitting on my couch, half-naked, and apparently she doesn’t think I’m some sort of freak. Yeah, man, I’ve still got a boner.”

  Bridget lay back on the couch and cackled until Nolan leaned over and kissed her sweetly on the mouth.

  “We can do whatever you want to do, Bridget.” Another sweet kiss, followed by more giggling from Bridget. “I want to ask you one thing, though.”

  Her laughter immediately stopped, and all signs of mirth disappeared. “What do you want to ask me?”

  Nolan took Bridget’s hand in his and pressed his lips against her palm. “Stay the night with me?”

  She smiled and nodded. “I . . . might have put a bag out in the car with some things in it, just in case.”

  Now Nolan’s grin disappeared. “ ‘Things’ ?”

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “Clothes and whatnot, so I don’t have to roll up to the house, wearing the same outfit I left in the night before.”

  “Oh, okay. Sure. If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll go out to the car and grab your bag since I’ve got more clothes on.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Bridget pointed to where her keys lay on the sofa table, and Nolan rolled off the couch. He grabbed the set and ran out the door to her car, not caring if he seemed desperate. He just didn’t want her to change her mind.

  He grabbed her bag from the trunk, locked the car, and sprinted up the stairs. When he got back into the apartment, Bridget was still on the couch, but she was tucked into the corner with her eyes wide.

  “Bridget?”

  “I think your cat is pissed. He started yowling the moment you left, and I noticed his leash was still on. I tried to get it off, but he’s not having it.”

  “Oh, fuck. Iggy, sorry, buddy. Let me get that leash off you.” Nolan snapped the lead and halter from the unhappy feline, who swiped and hissed at him. “You just need to slow your roll, Ignatius. Being ugly doesn’t get this done any faster. There.”

  Nolan dropped the lead on the sofa table and turned back to Bridget, who was stretched out on his couch, completely naked and staring at him. He didn’t know where to look first, so he let his gaze wander from her beautiful face, over her high, small breasts with their hard nipples and puckered areolas, and down over her flat stomach to her bare mound.

  “Holy shit, you’re almost bare down there.”

  She grinned and put her arms behind her head. “Yeah, I am. And you are wearing entirely too many clothes now that you’re back inside. So strip ’em off, Nolan Harper, and come here to me.”

  “Bossy,” he said with a laugh even as he began dropping his pants and boxers. Nolan hesitated for a moment while Bridget did her own inspection, but when she opened her arms, he went to her, nestling into her arms, skin to skin.

  Bridget wrapped her long legs around him, and Nolan began to nibble on her neck and her ear. “I want to taste you tonight, Birdie. I want to taste you, and not just on my fingers. Will you let me?”

  “Please.”

  Nolan made his way down her body, trailing kisses over her breasts and down her torso. He pressed his mouth reverently against the scars she was so self-conscious about before he began to dart his tongue between her folds. He nibbled on her sensitive nub, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, all the while stroking her breasts and body, loving her with his whole being.

  “Nolan,” she moaned. “Oh God, Nolan.” She spread her legs wider, giving him more access, and he dove deeper. He felt her begin to quiver around him, her thighs shaking and her breathing growing increasingly ragged until she let out a primal cry and pulled his head up by the hair so she could kiss him. He could feel the tremors of the aftermath of her climax, and when she wrapped her fingers around his sac and stroked that soft space behind, the pleasure was too much for him to handle, and he succumbed to the ecstasy before he could warn her, though she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to revel in making him lose control, milking his orgasm by pumping his hard cock until he was the one who was quaking, until he was so spent that he collapsed against her.

  “Nolan,” she whispered in his ear, kissing the side of his face. “I . . . wow.”

  He chuckled and cupped her face in between his hands, kissing her sweetly. “Yeah.” He kissed her again and then scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Mmm. So warm. Don’t wanna leave.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Bridget nuzzled against Nolan’s broad back after silencing the alarm, but she knew she needed to get going. She petted his chest, running her hand across his pecs and down his belly. She’d just begun to fondle his heavy balls when he groaned and pried her fingers away.

  “Darlin’, there’s no way you have time to finish what you’re trying to start, so let’s just leave it be.”

  Nolan rolled onto his back and pulled Bridget on top of him. She kissed the tip of his nose and then nibbled on his ear lobe.

  “How is this leaving it be, hmm?” she murmured in his ear, wiggling against him as he squeezed her butt in his big hands. Bridget propped herself up on her elbows so she could get a good look at him in the early morning light. “Hey.”

  Nolan chuckled. “Hey yourself.” He gave her ass another squeeze. “So, what’s the plan today?”

  She ran h
er fingers through his mop of hair. “Laundry, meal prep, a light workout. Then maybe a naked selfie session.” She gave him a peck on the lips. “But only if you’re very good. Or very bad. I haven’t decided.”

  Nolan laughed and hugged her tighter to him. “Well, how about I make you some breakfast before you head out, hmm? Protein pancakes, turkey bacon, and fruit?”

  Bridget’s stomach gurgled at the mention of food, and Nolan laughed more. “I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, babe. Up and at ’em.”

  Bridget squealed as he rolled off the bed with her still in his arms and carried her into the kitchen. He set her on the kitchen counter and pulled a T-shirt over her head.

  “Where did you get this T-shirt?” she asked, taking the opportunity to gaze at all six and a half feet of naked Nolan in the brightly lit kitchen.

  He glanced back at her. “The Widespread Panic show, years ago? Oh, you mean, just now. I snagged it as I was bringing you out here. I figured you might not want to be sitting completely bare-assed on my counter.”

  As he began pulling things from the pantry and refrigerator, she asked, “Are you planning on frying bacon in your birthday suit?”

  “Nah, I bake the bacon. It’s better—nice and crispy.” He winked at her as he tied an apron around his waist.

  She stole a strawberry from the colander he’d placed in the sink and watched Nolan move efficiently around his small kitchen. He bent over in an exaggerated manner to get a sheet pan from a bottom cabinet, wiggling his bare ass that the apron left uncovered. She loved the small dimples in his lower back, which seemed to be made just for her to dig her fingers or heels into. Her admiration of Nolan’s body was interrupted by him clearing his throat.

  “So. Um. I have to ask you something.”

  “Sure,” she replied, trying to seem casual, but instantly on alert.

  He concentrated on lining the sheet pan with aluminum foil. “Um, you didn’t mind that we didn’t . . . seal the deal last night, did you?”

  With a very unladylike snort, Bridget hopped off the counter and slipped between Nolan and the counter. “Listen here, and listen good, Nolan Harper. You cannot tell me we didn’t make love, okay? And yes, we fucked, too, and it was amazing. Amazing. So just stop it, okay? I’m not going to let you believe otherwise.”

  “God, I really like you a lot.” Nolan grasped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. “You don’t let me get away with any bullshit.” He kissed her again, and Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck and hitched a leg around his thigh, essentially climbing him. Nolan laughed when she whooped when he dug his fingers into her bare ass.

  “You’d better remember that, okay? Now, you need to feed me so we can have another go at it before I have to head out.”

  Nolan gave her a bright grin, so big his eyes crinkled. He nipped at her chin and said, “Sure thing, darlin’.”

  It was damn hard to leave Nolan, but fate ensured Bridget stayed on task by having his obnoxious boss call his landline and his cell multiple times until Nolan couldn’t ignore him any longer. Bridget watched him closely as he talked to Steve, and saw him grow tense during the brief exchange. She hated seeing him so unhappy and frustrated and might have overstepped her bounds by telling him so, but if they were going to do this, whatever this was, then she needed to say something. But he’d just sighed and kissed her again and rested his forehead on hers, and whatever misgivings Bridget had had about speaking up melted away.

  So now Bridget returned home, sated from a full breakfast and one more round of orgasms from Nolan’s talented mouth and fingers. He’d pored over her body, laying his hands and mouth on every inch of her skin until she hummed with need, and then he took care of her with such tenderness that she found herself misty-eyed. Yeah, she was beyond falling for the gentle giant; she was way down in the deep end.

  “Hey, Miss Lady! Did you have fun last night?” Annie, who was pulling up weeds in the flower bed that lined the porch of her house, grinned up at Bridget from beneath her sun hat.

  Bridget laughed. Busted. “Yeah, I did. It was nice to not think about the fight for a few hours.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said knowingly. “I know how that is. I mean, I don’t know know, but, you know, I know.” She frowned. “I think I’m gonna go back to weeding. I obviously can’t really talk today.”

  Bridget laughed and waved good-bye and then went into her little house, which suddenly, seemed very echoey and bare. She looked around the living room, noting the single love seat and club chair that sat on either side of the trunk she was using for a coffee table. Very different from Nolan’s apartment, which was packed with furniture, and shelves that overflowed with books and all sorts of knickknacks. Her house seemed very transient in comparison, like the person who lived in it wasn’t planning on staying, which was ridiculous because for the first time in a long while, Bridget felt like she belonged somewhere. And so she made a promise to herself that she was going to make sure her home reflected her emotional state.

  “But first, laundry. Bleh.”

  She stripped her bed and put the sheets in to wash, and then she headed to the kitchen to begin her meal prep for the week. She was eyeing her protein options and thinking about the wonderful flank steak that Nolan had prepared the evening before, when the flashing notification light on her home phone alerted her to a message. She balanced the phone on her shoulder while she listened to the message and tore open the package of chicken breasts.

  Hey, Birdie. I . . . I heard you’re fighting Hanna in a few weeks. I, uh, also heard that you found out about the engagement at the press conference. I didn’t mean for you to find out that way. But hey, Hanna wants me to move to someplace right outside of Atlanta — Alpharetta, maybe? — since that’s where she’s training now. So maybe we’ll be neighbors again. Anyway. I was just thinking about you. I’ll talk to you later.

  Bridget stood in shock until the voice of the recording told her she needed to hang up if she wasn’t going to make a call. She clicked off the phone and leaned back against the cabinets. She’d been so committed to moving on and putting Kevin out of her mind that she’d not considered the true ramifications of Kevin and Hanna’s engagement. The last thing she needed was her ex-husband breathing down her neck, and she knew he would be. Oh. God.

  The phone’s ringing caused her to jump, as she’d not realized she still gripped it in her hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Birdie girl!”

  “Kevin, what the hell?”

  “Don’t sound so excited, jeez.”

  “Well, I’m not. What . . . what the hell, Kevin?” Bridget repeated, irritated.

  “Bridget, babe, just think, it’ll be like old times, right? You and me, going to see live music, you coming to see me play—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back it the fuck up, Kev. There’s not going to be a ‘you and me’ doing anything together, much less going to see live music.”

  “Well, why not?”

  Bridget scoffed. “We. Are. Divorced. D-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. As in ‘no longer married.’ ”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.”

  “Oh my God, you can’t be this clueless. News flash: the last person you should want to hang out with is your former spouse.”

  “Lots of exes hang out together.”

  “Well, not this one, at least not yet. And how do you think Hanna’s going to react to this? Does she even realize you’ve been calling me?”

  “She knows we’re friendly.”

  “Oh my God, Kevin.” Shit. No wonder Hanna hates me. Hell, I’d hate me. Bridget sucked in a calming breath before she spoke again. “Kevin, what do you want from me?”

  “Birdie, I miss you. I mean, I really miss you. You and me, we have something special, something—”

  “Oh no, no, no, no. Stop right there. We are not doing this. I am not doing this. Good-bye, Kevin. Do not call me again. I mean it. And you sound sober, so you should remember it, but I’m going to say again: Do. Not. Cal
l. Me. Good-bye, Kevin.”

  She hung up the phone and placed it back in its cradle.

  What the actual fucking fuck?

  Chapter Thirty

  Nolan carefully poked his head out of his cube to spy on Steve. The man’s door was shut, meaning he was either on a conference call or looking at porn. Nolan glanced at the clock and began quickly gathering his things. He’d heard Steve bitching about having to come in over the weekend, and he knew damn well that the guy would pull rank and try to make him come in as well.

  Not this weekend, Satan. I have plans.

  Nolan shut down his computer and was gathering up another ream of menus, this time for Foley’s Public House, when his phone rang.

  “Hey, Meghan, what’s up?” he whispered into the phone.

  “Why are you whispering?” she whispered back.

  “I’m trying to get the hell out of here before someone snags me and I have to beat their ass.”

  Meghan laughed. “Don’t do anything drastic, Nolan. I was just going say that you can drop off the special Fight Night menus at the front of the bar. Just tell Ronnie to leave them in my office. I’ve . . . got to deal with stuff, but I’ll be here for Fight Night, so don’t worry.”

  “Is your dad okay?”

  Meghan burst out with a small, hysterical laugh. “Oh, no. He’s not. Um, but we’ll get through it. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “If you need anything at all, Meghan, let me know. I mean it.”

  “You know any bartenders? I’m gonna need someone soon, I think.”