Holding Strong

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Holding Strong Page 11

by Lori Foster


  “You being in here with me.”

  Giving her a heated look, he pushed the door shut. It closed with a click.

  Oh wow. She didn’t mean to, but when her knees went weak she dropped to sit on the side of the bed. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Denver closed the small distance between them, took her shoulders and pressed her flat, coming down to his elbow beside her. He slipped one big rough hand in under her shirt to rest on her bare midriff, then bent and nuzzled her throat.

  “You...you’re going to get sick too if you don’t stop that.”

  “I never get sick,” he told her, and nibbled his way around to her collarbone before raising his head.

  “Well, still...” The touch of his warm, damp mouth lulled her. She so badly wanted to take advantage of all this awesome attention. Knowing she didn’t have it in her left her even more maudlin. “Honestly, Denver, the spirit is willing, but the body is just kaput.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Relax, girl.” He stroked his hand up and over her breast. “I just want to touch you. That’s all.”

  But the way he touched her was enough to fry what few wits she had left. “Yeah, but—”

  “Shh.” As he sat up, he lifted the shirt to expose her. Cupping one breast in his hand, he cuddled her.

  It was a sexual touch—but then again, it wasn’t. Sexual, because it was her breast. However, he didn’t ply her nipple, didn’t try to excite her.

  If he’d held her elbow like that, no problem.

  But whether he meant to turn her on or not, she was so acutely aware of him and where he had his hand, she almost couldn’t bear it.

  Under his breath, more to himself than her, he murmured, “Damn, you are put together fine.” As if they’d been together forever, he kissed the top of each breast, pulled her shirt back down and stood. “Do you need anything?”

  You, definitely. She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Anxiety crept in. Would he leave her now? And if so, when would she see him again?

  “You can take your meds in an hour or so.” He dug them out of her bag and put them on her nightstand. “Even if you’re feeling better, be sure to take the cough medicine.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Trying to figure out what to say and do, she lay there like a washed-out mop.

  “I’m going to make you more comfortable, then I need to head home for a bit.”

  Make her more comfortable how? And how long was a bit? Surely he didn’t plan to return yet again today, not after all that driving and— Her thoughts scattered when his big hands went to the waistband of her jeans. Whoa!

  Warm fingers curled under the material and inadvertently brushed her stomach. He opened the snap, slowly slid down the zipper, and by small degrees tugged the snug-fitting jeans past her hips, her thighs, her knees, and off her feet.

  Yes, he’d seen her naked already, but this was different in so many ways! Her hands knotted in the coverlet and she bit her lip.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Denver surveyed her body. Even though she knew how wretched she looked, she saw his appreciation, and so much more.

  He definitely still wanted her.

  Nervous chatter erupted. “You’ve already done so much for me—”

  “You need a little help right now.” His attention lifted, locked on her eyes, and no matter how she tried she couldn’t look away. “When you’re well, I plan to see to you properly.”

  The roughness in his tone teased her nerve endings like a warning, causing her heart to skip a beat, then lurch into double time. She tried a laugh that came off nervous and squeaky.

  His intent expression didn’t change.

  And that, too, rattled her. “I... What does that mean?”

  Resting a hand on her belly, he narrowed his eyes. “It’s a lot to take in, I know, because I’ve been living with it since meeting you.”

  “Living with...?”

  Silently, he considered things, almost stewing before flashing his predator’s gaze to her face. “The overwhelming need to fuck you senseless, to make you come again and again until the only man you can see is me.”

  Wow. He said that so calmly, all while watching her to gauge her reaction.

  The words sounded both sexual and forceful. A hot combo—at least when coming from Denver.

  Any other man and she’d—

  “I want to see you sweat,” he added, interrupting her thoughts. “Hear you panting, maybe screaming.”

  Screaming?

  He visibly struggled with himself. “I need to hear you saying my name.”

  Something dark and vulnerable shadowed his expression. “Denver?” she whispered in question.

  The slightest of smiles curled his mouth. “Not like that, girl. I want you to want me so much you’re crazy with it. I want to hear it. I want to fucking feel it. And I will.” The fingertips of his right hand teased the inside of her thigh, and then fell away. “When you’re well.”

  The seconds ticked by while Cherry struggled to get her thoughts ordered. Everything Denver had done to her she’d loved. A lot. But what he mentioned now, well, she just didn’t know. “That sounds...a little intimidating.”

  With a casual shrug, he cupped his hand over her sex and looked into her eyes. “You’re going to love it, I promise.”

  Somehow everything had gotten badly off track, leaving her tongue-tied when she hadn’t been for years.

  His attention went to her breasts, then her panties. “You can consider our first time just a taste, okay?”

  Wow. Okay, that might finish her off right there. To add to it, he shifted her around in the bed, tucked her under the covers, and kissed her forehead. So gentle and attentive. He was the strongest man she knew, and the sexiest.

  Until now, she hadn’t realized he was also the sweetest.

  “Before I let you sleep, I need to know something.”

  “Okay.” True, she felt like crud, but she wasn’t as weak as he thought. Not anymore anyway.

  “How close were you to that dude from the elevator? Leese something?”

  “Phelps?”

  He gave an impatient shake of his head. “Yeah. Whatever. How well do you know him?”

  Never could she believe Denver was jealous. So why did he ask? He had to know that no other man measured up to him.

  “Stop trying to analyze things, Cherry. It’s important, so just tell me.”

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  He tipped his head back, frustration showing. When he looked at her again, she saw the heat in his eyes but he sounded calm enough when he said, “I’d appreciate it if you could tell me about your relationship with Phelps.”

  Much better. “He flirted a few times. We talked. But that’s it.”

  “Does he have your number?”

  She shook her head.

  “You never told him where you live?”

  “Not my house address or anything.”

  “Shit.” He stood and took a few steps away. Keeping his back to her, he asked, “So he knows you live in Ohio? In Warfield?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t understand this strange mood of his. “Casual conversation, Denver. That’s all it was.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t trust him.” He turned back to her with new resolve showing in every line of his big, hard body. “Tell me about your family.”

  The shift in conversation threw her, making her wary. “I already did.”

  As if that reply displeased him, his eyes narrowed. “You told me about your parents.”

  “Right.” It made her want to squirm, the probing way he watched her. “There isn’t anything more—”

  “What about your brothers?”

  A scalding wave of heat rushed over her and for one blinding second, she felt light-headed.

  Denver wasn’t asking. He mentioned her brothers as if he...

  He knew, and damn him, he dared to look at her as if she might be holding back? “You bastard.”

  His brows went up.

  The shout she’d
intended came out as a hurt, pathetic whisper.

  That wouldn’t do.

  Throwing back the coverlet, she swung her feet over the side of the bed—and would have dropped if Denver hadn’t moved close to grab her shoulders. “Settle down.”

  “Go to hell.” Remorse gave her strength to struggle, but not enough.

  Not nearly enough.

  He pressed her flat to the bed, sprawling out over her. When she shoved against his shoulders, he trapped her hands and pinned them down at her sides.

  Looming over her, his eyes bright with concern, his hair dropping forward, almost touching her cheeks, he held her immobile. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  That calm tone infuriated her. “You know them!” Oh God, it hurt. Worse than anything she’d ever imagined.

  Had she really been such a fool? Again?

  “Of them, at least.” He raised her hands above her head so he could hold them in one of his. With the other, he tenderly tucked her hair behind her ears. “I didn’t like what I saw, and liked even less talking with them. But I have to say, you’ve thrown me for a loop.” Obvious restraint held him in check as he bent to lightly kiss her open mouth. “Tell me why they upset you so much.”

  Panic ebbed beneath the sincerity of his words, leaving behind only a dull throb. She had a million questions, but first...she had to know. “Is that why you finally slept with me?”

  He stared down at her with blank confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Did they put you up to it?”

  For what felt like forever, he contemplated her accusation. Concern drew his brows together, made his gaze more intrusive. “We had sex because we’d both gotten to the boiling point.”

  “You didn’t want to!”

  “I always wanted to, but I resisted.” He moved against her, settling in and getting comfortable. “You and I still have differences to work out, but that has nothing to do with the trio of idiots.”

  Was that really how he saw them? They were idiots. They were also cruel and manipulative and a very real threat. Always.

  Beginning to feel a little foolish, Cherry did a quick comparison between Denver and the trio. No, she couldn’t see them as Denver’s friends. She definitely couldn’t see them as cohorts.

  Closing her eyes did nothing to salve her shame. “Will you let me go?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes popped open again.

  “Not now,” he said. “Not tomorrow. Not for the foreseeable future. Anything else you need to know before you explain?”

  Her mouth opened, but she had to think what to say. “I meant will you let me up—”

  “The answer is still no.”

  Resentment left her bristling.

  “Sorry, girl, but I like you right where you are. Now talk to me.”

  “Fine.” It seemed he only called her “girl” when sexually charged. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  Doubt and suspicion tightened his mouth. “Cherry—”

  “I don’t!” If he accused her of lying, she’d— Cough.

  Damn. Her raised voice brought it on, and once she started coughing, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  Denver moved quickly to her side, then helped her to sit up. He stayed beside her, one hand bracing the middle of her back. “Slow, shallow breaths.”

  When the fit subsided a little, he stood and walked out of her room but returned seconds later with a glass of water. Again he sat by her, causing the bed to dip so that she tilted into him. With his arm around her, keeping her close, he handed her the glass.

  She sipped.

  “The nasty cough is going to hang around a few days, so try not to screech at me anymore.”

  Her glare, she hoped, was more effective than a screech.

  But given his smile, maybe not.

  He relieved her of the glass, looped both arms around her, and said, “I only met Carver, Gene and Mitty today.”

  Just hearing their names made her skin crawl. She would have launched herself away from Denver, but apparently he’d been prepared for that because she didn’t manage to get a single inch of space between them.

  Denver drew her against him. “I hope it’s true, that they’re not related to you. But could you tell me why they claimed to be, and why you freaked out over it?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Total freakout, girl. Don’t deny it, okay?”

  Hedging, she asked, “Why were you talking to them?”

  “You first.”

  If she weren’t so weak, she’d elbow him, hard, right in the middle. “They’re part of the foster family that took me in after my folks were killed.”

  His stroking hands paused, but only for a moment, then they resumed. “Huh. I hadn’t figured on that. Actually, I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to wonder who had raised you.”

  “It wasn’t them,” she assured him with more sarcastic bite than she intended. No, instead of becoming family support they’d been another hardship—the worst one that she’d had to endure. “I was already fourteen and I raised myself.”

  “So...” Denver tipped her back to see her. “I take it you don’t like them?”

  Dislike didn’t even come close to conveying how she felt about them. She loathed, despised, detested them.

  And she feared them. Horribly.

  Saying all that would leave her emotionally raw, so she settled on a less volatile truth. “I’ll be happy if I never see them again.”

  “Tell me why.”

  Cherry shook her head. Even sick, she refused to be a complete pushover. “It’s your turn. Why and when did you meet them?”

  “They were hanging around the hotel we just left.”

  Alarm squeezed her throat and she almost lost her breath again.

  Standing, Denver stared down at her, visibly pondering her reaction. “Armie overheard them ask about you. When he questioned them, it didn’t go well. He tussled with them, and then he told me.”

  Oh God. “They tussled?” Shock kept her voice a whisper of sound. They were looking for her. Had Armie inadvertently put himself on their radar? No, no, no.

  Seeing the alarm she couldn’t hide, Denver crossed his arms. “Don’t worry about Armie. He’s fine.”

  “But—”

  “The next morning, I saw some disreputable-looking dudes watching me in the hotel, figured it was them and decided to ask a few questions.”

  Good Lord, was he nuts? “Why in the world would you do that?”

  Denver held up a hand. “You aren’t up for a long convo, honey, so forget it. The bare bones are that they claimed to be your brothers and wanted me to lead them to you. I already told you that I didn’t like the looks of them, but I also figured siblings would have your number, right? Unless you were avoiding them for a reason.” He shrugged. “So I said no.”

  And yet he was here to tell her about it. There must be a reason they hadn’t attacked him.

  She knew they still could.

  “How did they know we were...friends?”

  “I’m guessing Phelps. They were probably asking around until they found someone who knew you.”

  Leese Phelps. She worried for him, but other, bigger worries took precedence.

  “They’d already seen me in the hotel,” Denver said. “It didn’t take a genius to know you were there, too.”

  She rubbed her temples, trying to wrap her mind around it.

  “They left you a message on the hotel room phone. You must have slept through their call.”

  Her head snapped up and she stared at him. “Do you know what they said?”

  “That you needed to get in touch.” His eyes narrowed. “To be exact, the caller said you shouldn’t fuck around.”

  Closing her arms around herself, Cherry resisted the urge to rock in restless anxiety. She didn’t want to be in touch. One demand always led to another and another until... “When?”

  “By tonight.”

  In other words: now.


  Denver stood there looking at her, so she had to say something that didn’t give away every awful emotion she felt. She sat up a little straighter and looked him in the eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Maybe seeing too much despite her attempt at bravado, Denver shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  It’d be so easy to let him guide her—but he didn’t know them, didn’t understand the situation and what could happen if she ignored a summons now that they’d actually found her. She’d thought they’d given up on her, had prayed it was so. Instead, they’d tracked her down.

  Never had she felt so lost.

  “We’ll work it out, okay?”

  Cherry blinked away the fog. We, as in the two of them? God, no. He’d taken care of her, driven her home, been downright amazing. But this was different.

  No way would she further involve him with her twisted, redneck foster brothers. Brothers. She laughed at the absurdity of the concept, then slapped a hand over her mouth when apprehension brought Denver closer. No, they were no relation to her, not in any way at all.

  Thank the heavens.

  Somehow, she’d deal with them. “It’s my problem.”

  Denver studied her. “You must be feeling a little better.”

  Just because she didn’t agree with everything he said? “I am.”

  “There’s more.” He propped a shoulder against the wall. “I hope it won’t hurt you, but I think you need to know.”

  What else could there be? She waited, braced for the worst.

  “They said their pops had passed away.”

  Breath left her and her shoulders slumped—this time with relief. No, she hadn’t wished anyone dead. She’d only wished to be free of them. But she wouldn’t mourn, either. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Tone thick with irony, he replied, “You’re welcome.”

  Why did they want to see her? Not because they thought she cared. They knew better. So then what?

  “Will you promise me something?”

  Not trusting that silky tone, she eyed Denver warily. “I don’t know. What?”

  “Promise me you won’t contact them.” Pushing away from the wall, he stalked closer. “Promise me you’ll take your meds, rest up and get well. Then we can talk about it.”

  “It’s not your problem.”

  He frowned. “I don’t want you to shut me out.”

 

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