by Josie Kerr
“I want . . . ,” he began and then licked his lips. He had her jaw gripped softly in his hand, and he compelled her to look into his eyes. “Bridget, I want . . .” He blew out a breath and rested his forehead against hers. “I want to love you.”
His heart throbbed in his chest. He was sure that she thought he was having a heart attack, his heart was beating that hard, especially when she moved those delicate, bruised hands to the line down his chest. But she surprised him by pulling her hands down and wiggling the lacy panties off and then pushing him over onto his back, straddling him.
Bridget sat up, her back straight and breasts thrust out as she slowly began to rock her hips. She thumbed the head of his cock, smearing the thick liquid that oozed from the tip. Then she stopped and took a deep breath.
Nolan chuckled and put his hands on her hips. “Yeah. Uh, I think I need to get . . .” He cleared his throat and fumbled for the nightstand drawer, but Bridget clasped her fingers through his, stopping him.
“Do you trust me?” Bridget squeezed his hand.
Nolan swallowed hard. It wasn’t her that he didn’t trust, but he squeezed her hand back anyway. When she smiled at him, the affection in her eyes tamped down all his anxiety. And when she guided his hard cock into her and began rocking against him, he forgot everything else. Absolutely nothing existed except the two of them in his king-size bed.
Bridget was smiling the little half smile that she got right before she dealt a devastating blow. She’d be a terrible poker player. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip while Nolan rolled his hips against hers, watching her as her mouth slackened with pleasure. Nolan ran his fingers over her eyebrows, her cheekbones, her lips before stroking the tips of her breasts with the back of his hands. She whimpered when he lightly rolled her tight nipples between his index finger and thumb. A fine coat of perspiration coated her chest, and Nolan couldn’t help but lick the moisture from her collarbone with his tongue. The cry that came from Bridget when he shifted caused his cock to twitch. He sat up and pulled Bridget up so they sat chest to breast, and he held her hips steady as he increased the pace of his thrusting.
“You doing okay?” he panted, adding his own guttural groan to Bridget’s.
Bridget didn’t open her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. “Perfect,” she whispered. She licked her lips and wriggled her hips in a figure eight. Her eyes popped open, and she threw her arms around Nolan’s neck.
“God, I’m so . . . close.” Bridget’s hands tightened in his hair, and her body jolted while her core spasmed around him. He pulled her down onto to his hard shaft, spearing her while thrusting in short, hard bursts until Bridget called his name, pulling at his hair almost painfully while she attacked his mouth with hers. When she dragged her fingernails over his own sensitive nipples, he couldn’t take the added sensation, so he held her tight as he blew, and they spiraled down together.
Finally, Nolan pulled Bridget down with him and they lay together, limbs intertwined as Nolan pressed soft, sweet kisses to her forehead while Bridget nuzzled into his neck.
“That’s just what I needed,” she murmured against his chest. Nolan chuckled, and when he felt Bridget begin to giggle, he was overwhelmed with the urge to just kiss her, so he did.
Chapter Thirty-five
After the cake-eating and lovemaking session, Nolan had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with some actual sustenance. Bridget hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she ate her portion and most of Nolan’s as well. He’d just grinned and gotten another two helpings. Then Nolan ran her a bath, and she had a soak while Nolan fed her more cake. After that, more lovemaking, and then finally, sleep.
The next morning, Bridget felt Nolan’s lips on the back of her neck and then his tongue tracing the curve of her ear. If they’d been in a match, he would have her in a full body lock with one hand circling her sensitive nub and the other wrapped around her torso, holding her close to him.
“Good morning, Birdie.” She liked hearing her nickname in Nolan’s rough voice. “I wanna make you make that noise again.”
The truth was, she was more than a bit sore—he was a big man—but it was more akin to the hard-won muscle ache of a good workout rather than actual pain. Bridget stretched, wiggling back against him and feeling his hard cock slip between her cheeks, teasing her with the promise of more pleasure. He ran his nose along the nape of her neck, taking little nips here and there.
“As much as I’d like to feel you around my cock, I haven’t tasted you since that night we had dinner.” A whisper of a kiss on her shoulder. “Would you like me to do that? Taste you?”
“Oh yeah.”
Nolan chuckled deep in his throat, and suddenly she was flat on her back with her hands gripping the headboard and her legs splayed wide while Nolan alternately gazed at her and tasted her. He teased her with his mouth, licking, nibbling, and ultimately fucking her with his tongue and fingers. He sucked her clit and rolled it in his fingers, and when she was practically vibrating with need, he flipped her over and took her from behind. He drove hard and deep, and she swore she almost blacked out from pleasure a few times before the waves of orgasm finally finished.
“Holy shit, Nolan,” she panted when they were finished, her flat on her back and panting, him facedown on the bed and grinning like an idiot. He leaned over and kissed her mound, with a bonus tongue swipe over her clit. She jolted, another shock of orgasm wracking through her, while Nolan cackled.
Bridget glanced at the clock. They probably needed to get going. She thought an open house the day after a fight was both brilliant and insane. Thankfully, every one of the DS Fight Club fighters won their respective bouts; otherwise, this little meet and greet most likely would be an unmitigated disaster. The fact that Colin put Nolan in charge of refreshments was pure serendipity. What better opportunity to showcase some of his talent?
“I guess we need to get going.” Nolan had pulled the top sheet over their bodies and gathered her in his arms, holding her like he never wanted to let her go.
“Yeah, we do, I suppose.” She pushed him over, flat on his back, and stretched out on top of him. She quirked an eyebrow at his stiffening cock. “Really? I thought guys were slowing down at your age,” she teased.
Nolan crossed his arms behind his head and grinned. “I was a late bloomer, so maybe I’m behind the curve on the hard-on front as well.”
“Oh, good grief,” Bridget groused, but with a grin. She gave Nolan a peck on the lips. “The sooner I get to the fight club, the sooner I can be back here in your bed. Or in my bed with you.” She sat up. “Oh, I know. My bathtub with you. And cake. There you go: afternoon plans.”
Nolan laughed. Bridget loved that sound. He hadn’t laughed like that in a while. “You’re good with quitting your job, huh?”
“Yeah, for now. I’ll freak out in a few days when it sinks in that I don’t have a steady paycheck anymore.” He shrugged. “But life’s too short to spend your days doing something you actively hate. I’ll figure out something. But now, we both need a shower.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Earlier, after shower shenanigans, Bridget had watched Nolan load what seemed like the contents of his entire refrigerator into insulated thermal bags and put them in the backseat of his truck. He’d just grinned at her when she arched an eyebrow at him, and said, “It’s really not that much.”
Now, after four hours of the open house and countless people, including a group of teenage fighters from the youth center up the road, there was quite a bit of food left, and not because people hadn’t sampled it. Looking at the various trays, Nolan murmured, “Hmm. Maybe it was a little much.”
Bridget snagged a carrot stick from a stack of extras. “I’m not saying anything.”
He made a silly mocking face and continued to pack the extra food away. “So, good turnout today. Was C pleased?”
Bridget shrugged a shoulder. “He seemed to be. Though you’ve been working with him for a wh
ile, he’s kind of hard to read. He and the new matchmaker are hashing some stuff out right now.”
“Matchmaker? Like a dating service?”
Bridget snorted. Matchmaking for fights was kind of like dating. There had to be the right mix of personality and motivation to make a relationship successful, and fights followed the same premise.
“Nah, the matchmaker pairs up fighters according to style and ability. DS Fight Club’s never had a matchmaker on-site. Junior, C, or Paddy suggested fighters for promotions, and then the companies have just done their thing, but sometimes it’s not a good pairing. For example, you wouldn’t want two heavyweights like C, who are wrestlers, because they have a tendency to get the other guy on the ground and just lie on them, which is boring as fuck.”
Nolan laughed at Bridget’s shocked face. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. I hope C didn’t hear me.” She peered out the door. “But it’s true,” she whispered.
“Actually, no it’s not,” she mused, reconsidering. “C knows enough Jiu Jitsu to make it exciting. After, you know, he lies on the other dude for a while.”
“What the hell are you playing at, motherfucker?” Colin’s voice boomed from the hallway.
“Oh, fuck. How the hell did he hear me?” Bridget hissed. She looked at Nolan, who just shook his head and shrugged. “Shit.”
“I swear, C, I had no idea. No idea she was your wife. No idea.” Tommy sounded hysterical.
“I’m calling bullshit on that, Tom, oh, excuse me, Buddy. If you think you can waltz in here, pretty as you please, after the fucking selfish, cowardly shit you pulled? No, I don’t think so. You need to get the fuck out of my fight club, asshole. Right the fuck now.”
“C, please, hear me—”
“Now, motherfucker. Get your ass out of here now!”
“Holy shit. Colin doesn’t do anything halfway, does he?” Nolan whispered.
He was bug-eyed with fear, and Bridget didn’t blame him. She’d never seen C blow up. Ever. Yell? Sure. Cuss someone out? She’d be worried if he didn’t. But that scene outside the break room? That was downright frightening.
“Colin Brennan Carmichael, you just hold on a damn minute. You need to keep a rein on that temper of yours and get your ass back in that office. Buddy, you too. I’m not finished with either of you.” Bailey’s sweet voice had a steel in it that Bridget had never heard. “No, Colin. Don’t even think about telling me how I’m supposed to feel about this. You don’t get to do that.”
“Bailey, babydoll, I wasn’t . . .” Colin’s voice faded out, and Bridget couldn’t hear the rest of what he said, nor did she hear Tommy.
“Holy shit.” Nolan was still standing at the counter, clutching a bag of carrots in his hand. “That’s all I got. Holy shit.”
Tig, his face pale under his tan and the bright blue of his hair making him look that much pastier, slunk into the break room. He whistled low. “I suppose y’all heard.”
“What is going on?” Bridget was still shaken from the amount of rage she heard in Colin’s voice.
Tig lifted both his shoulders in a shrug as he shoved deli meat into his mouth as fast as he could. “Sorry, I eat when I get anxious.”
“I hear ya, buddy,” Nolan said and snapped a celery stick with his teeth.
Tig swallowed and blew out a breath. “All I know is, I was talking to Bailey about—never mind what we were talking about—we were just talking, and she had Nora on her shoulder, and Maude’s got her coloring book and is being quiet just like she always is, and C comes in and introduces Bailey to Tommy—”
Bridget interrupted Tig. “He’s her brother. Oh my God. All this time, I thought I knew him from somewhere, which was ridiculous, right? But they look just alike, other than her having redder hair. Holy crap.”
“Bingo. And then all of a sudden, C is pissed and scaring the crap out of everyone with his yelling, and Bailey’s sobbing, but it didn’t look like sad tears, more like happy tears, and then Tommy, whose name is apparently actually Buddy, pulls Bailey into a big bear hug, and she’s still holding the baby, and C just completely loses his shit.” Tig blew out a breath. “Dude. Ima have to go home and have a drink after that. Good Lord.”
“Nolan Harper.”
All three people in the room turned their heads to look at the glowering giant in the doorway.
Bridget saw Nolan swallow hard. “Heya, uh, C.”
“You in for that prepped meal service that we’d talked about?” Bridget could see a vein throbbing in Colin’s temple. Yikes! She turned to Nolan, who was trying to look relaxed by leaning against the counter. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about that. I . . . kind of quit my other job, so I’ve got plenty of time to—”
“Good. People want ’em whenever you’re ready to start providing them.” He held up a big hand, showing Bridget a palm. “Yeah, shit just went down. I’m . . . working through it. Doherty, take the rest of the weekend. You deserve it. But be ready to work your ass off on Monday. Announcement’s coming across the wire tonight: women’s featherweight is a go. Welcome to the big leagues. Mashburn, just . . . be Tig. I’ll fill everyone in whenever I figure out what the good goddamn fuck is going on. Jesus.”
Nolan exhaled audibly, and Bridget went to him and slipped an arm around his waist. “Okay, so. That . . . seemed good? Good-ish?”
Tig nodded. “Good-ish. I still need a drink. I’ll catch y’all on the flip side.” The lanky cowboy practically stumbled out of the break room, and Bridget found herself laughing into Nolan’s chest as he blinked, seemingly stunned.
“Prepped meal service?”
Nolan blushed. “Yeah, apparently people are really lazy. They liked my menu plans, but they also like the idea of having these meals delivered to them, all prepped and ready to go. It’s something that C had asked me if I was interested in doing, but I really didn’t think anything would come of it, you know? I mean, people say they want stuff all the time, and then they back off, right?”
Bridget took a deep breath. “Yeah, but when they really want something and they realize it’s the best and it’s one of a kind, hopefully they’re smart enough to recognize that they’ll be missing out on a great thing if they don’t jump on that opportunity,” she said carefully, leveling a hard look at Nolan.
He grinned and pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. “That’s exactly how I hoped you’d feel. You know, about meal prep. And maybe other stuff.”
“Yep. We’re on exactly the same page, Nolan Harper. Exactly the same page.”
Epilogue
Six months later
“Nolan, babe. You didn’t have to cook all this. We could’ve gotten a caterer.”
Nolan leveled her a withering look. “I run a concierge chef business—it would be bad form to hire a caterer. Besides, I enjoy it.”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Yep. It’s like it’s not even work.” Nolan dabbed a bit of extra frosting on top of the cake and then placed five perfect candied hazelnuts in the center. “There. The desserts are finished now. I just need to set out the platters, and we’re good to go.”
“Man, I love hazelnut. It’s my favorite!” Bridget swiped a dollop of frosting from the spatula that Nolan had abandoned on the counter.
“Oh really? I thought raspberry was your favorite.” Nolan held up a perfect piece of fruit, tantalizing her. Bridget opened her mouth, and Nolan placed the ripe berry on her tongue.
He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. He tasted of chocolate, hazelnut, raspberry, and Nolan.
“Oh, no. This is definitely my favorite, hands down.” She kissed him back and wound her arms around his broad shoulders. Nolan grabbed her hips and set her up on the counter.
“This is my favorite, too.” He nipped her chin. “Mmm-hmmm. Delicious.” Nolan nibbled on her neck and her collarbone. He’d just popped the button on her trousers when a familiar voice called, “Knock, knock, y�
�all!” followed by a clatter of footsteps on the hardwood floors.
Nolan kissed her again, and then he whispered in her ear, “Guess this is going to have to tide me over until after the party.”
A happy squeal of “Iggy!” came from the living room. Bridget snorted a laugh and hopped down from the counter. She popped around the corner to see Bailey, with baby Nora on her hip, and Colin, with a platter of deviled eggs in one hand and a frown that was directed at their other daughter.
“I think you might need to put the kitty down, Maude. He doesn’t look too happy.”
Maude had Iggy in her arms. The cat’s hind legs stretched to try to reach the ground, but the little girl had a firm grip on him. “He likes being held! Plus, he’s so squishy. I love him!” Iggy threw Bridget a pleading look as Maude hugged the big cat tighter.
“Oof! You’re really heavy. Okay, Iggy, we’ll play again later.” Maude placed a big, smacking kiss on the top of Iggy’s head and set the big cat down. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Iggy took off like a shot, feet slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor as he skittered around the corner. Serves you right, you bastard. Bridget and Iggy had an uneasy truce—even so, Bridget fully expected to find poop in her gym bag or her shoes some morning.
“Maude, do you wanna help me set everything out on the table?” Nolan came into the living room and took the egg platter from Colin, who seemed relieved to be rid of the delicate glassware.
Maude nodded enthusiastically and took off for the dining room.
“Baby, wash your hands since you’ve been touching the cat.”
Bailey chuckled as her daughter heaved a big sigh and answered, “Yes, Mama.”
“Come here and give me a hug, lady.” Bailey held her arms out, and Bridget knew she wouldn’t get out of giving the woman a hug. “I love what you’ve done with the house, Bridget.”
