Fighting Love (Love to the Extreme)

by Niles, Abby

  Their eyes connected.

  He couldn’t look away. He could feel the heat in his own eyes as he communicated exactly what he was feeling with his gaze and not his mouth—and God how he wanted to communicate with his mouth, right between those beautiful thighs. Jesus. He tore his gaze away and mentally cursed himself.

  This was not a thought he approved of when it came to Julie. This was how he thought about the women he took to his bed who didn’t mean anything to him, no more than he’d meant to them. Their focus had been on the sex, the pleasure…the physical gratification. Julie meant something to him. With her it had to be different. Long kisses. Holding her damn hand. Treating her sweetly. Any other behavior was unacceptable.

  Maybe her getting hurt had been some kind of omen. A way for him to see that he was incapable of change. That he would always be the male version of his mom. It was all he knew. All he’d seen. The endless parade of men.. And as soon as he’d started dating, he’d followed the exact same pattern. The older he got, the more he realized he was cut from the same cloth as his mother—because no woman interested him for longer than a really good night in bed. By morning, he was gone, and on to the next.

  What if he did that to Julie?

  He needed to reassess his plan. Staying away from her was the better option, after all.

  “You can give me the outfit now,” she said. “I’ll get it on.”

  “I’ll help.” When he stepped forward, she started shaking her head.

  “Uh. No. I’ve got it.” When he hesitated, she said, “Seriously. I’ve. Got. It. Why don’t you, uh, go do something else?”

  As he turned to leave, tension knotted his shoulders. There had been no way she hadn’t seen his blatant desire for her. And her response had been to tell him to leave. Because of fucking Brody Minton?

  Tommy didn’t give a rat’s ass what the universe was trying to tell him. Julie would not be with that man. And if that meant Tommy had to keep his cock in his pants for the next fucking year, he’d keep his damn cock in his pants, and like it.

  Julie deserved better than both of them.

  …

  Julie really hated being in Tommy’s bed. The pillows smelled like him. His scent surrounded her. Suffocated her. She’d go back to her own bed in a hot minute if she could, but with her muscles all tensed up, she was pretty much stationary. And there was no way she was asking him to carry her again.

  Hell, no.

  Not after what she’d imagined she’d seen in his eyes as he’d looked at her almost naked body. Had the desire really been there, or had it been her own desperation rearing up again?

  If it had been any other man, there wouldn’t have been a second of doubt in her mind. But he wasn’t any other man. He was Tommy. And Tommy came with a long history that directly contradicted anything she thought she might have seen. But…

  No. She gave herself a mental shake. It hadn’t been there. He did not want her. Not that way.

  When he walked into the bedroom carrying some muscle ointment and an ice pack, she focused on petting the top of Lucy’s head.

  The pup whined but pushed her head up into Julie’s palm.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you under the covers. That muscle relaxer should start kicking in soon.”

  After he pulled the covers back, he helped her under them—thank God she’d been able to pull on the fleece sweats by herself—and tucked the blankets around her, then he leaned down and kissed her cheek. The heat of his lips seared her skin. He lifted slightly to gaze down at her. As she met his green eyes, her breath hitched hard in her lungs. Had they just dropped to her lips?

  Don’t do that!

  “I’m going to take good care of you,” he murmured. “Now I think we need to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

  He straightened and grabbed some clothes out of the dresser. Over the course of the last hour, his black shirt had come untucked and he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. His blond hair, perfectly styled hours ago, now stuck up in odd directions, as though he’d continuously run his hand through it.

  Guilt swamped over her. Here she was picking apart every one of his actions, while he was simply worried about her pain level.

  He dropped his clothes on the end of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, paying no mind to the fact that she lay mere feet away, acting as if she found herself in his bed every day, watching him get undressed.

  When he finished with the buttons and peeled his shirt back over his shoulders, revealing his chiseled six-pack, she bit the inside of her bottom lip. His muscles moved, holding her captivated. A wave of lust pooled low in her stomach. Her mouth went dry, and she had to force a swallow.

  She knew he didn’t think it was a big deal, since he walked around here shirtless all the time. But it was a big deal to her. It had always been.

  Pain or no pain, Tommy’s actions still made forbidden thoughts fly through her head.

  God, she was pathetic.

  Closing her eyes, she turned her head into the pillows, blocking out the image of him. She carefully shifted onto her side, turning her body away from the empty side of the bed, needing to avoid looking at him.

  When the mattress dipped, her eyes sprang open. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting into bed. What do you think?”

  Gingerly she rolled over to look at him, then immediately wished she hadn’t, since the jerk didn’t have a damn shirt on and his well-defined pecs dusted with blond hair filled her vision, tormenting her. She pointed to the door. “I think you need to get your ass down the hall into my bed?”

  Oh man, she’d liked giving him that order way too much. He needed to go. Now.

  “You’re kidding, right?” The hurt confusion on his face irked her even more. The man had no clue why she didn’t want him in the same bed as her.

  “Uh, no? What the hell, Tommy?”

  “No way am I leaving you on your own, hurt like this. You couldn’t even get up to go to your own room a minute ago. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

  “That was years ago, when I was home from college. I’ve pulled my back since then, and I’ve done just fine on my own.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” He slid into bed, obviously intending to completely ignore her wishes. “It’s what best friends do.”

  Best friends, she reminded herself sternly as her heart sank ten different ways. That’s all this is.

  She clenched her eyes closed, her entire body stiffening as the blankets shifted, and his naked leg brushed against hers. He spooned up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and perching his chin on her shoulder. A half-naked Tommy all cuddled up behind her—holy Mother of God.

  “How you feeling?”

  How the hell did he think? Like she was jumping out of her damn skin. “Fine,” she managed to croak.

  “Come on, I’m serious. Does it still hurt as much?”

  Oh. My. God. He wanted to talk? All she could think about was the feel of his freaking naked body pressed behind hers, him holding her tight.

  Okay. Deep breath. At least he was trying to give her something to do other than wanting to wiggle her body backward, closer to his. “No, I’m b-better.”

  “Meds working?”

  “Moving…a little easier. Making me sleepy, too.”

  “Good. Slide your top off.”

  Her eyes popped open again. “W-What?”

  “I’ll massage your shoulders. You’re so rigid. I also want to put some muscle cream on your back. Trust me, this stuff works great.”

  “I’m fine.” There was no possible way she was allowing him to touch her like that.

  He scooted backward then rose to kneel beside her. “Come on, Julie. I feel terrible you’re hurting, and it’s something I can do. Let me help. Please.”

  The pleading in his voice made her waver. “Fine. But I’ll keep my shirt on, thank you.”

  “You know as well as I do that you can’t get a proper massage with a
shirt on. It’s not a big deal. Take it off.”

  Not a big deal, she mimicked in her mind. Of course it wasn’t. For him.

  God. How many more reminders would she need before it finally sank in?

  Sighing, she tugged on the sleeves and pulled the top over her head. Thank God she still had her bra on. Easing onto her stomach, she balled the shirt under her chin. As the sharp smell of mint hit her nose, his warm hands rubbed into the sore muscles across her lower back first. The medicated rub heated her skin, penetrating deep. But the heat was nothing in comparison to the way his palms scorched her flesh as he moved to knead her shoulders. She kept focus on the way the massage made her feel and not on who was doing it. The more he manipulated the stiff muscles of her shoulders, the more she felt the tension leave her body.

  Until he unclasped the back of her bra—then all the tension poured back in. She gasped. “Tommy! What are you doing?”

  His hands hesitated for a moment. “Rubbing your back.”

  His tone made her annoyed at herself. He was just trying to make her feel better. It wasn’t his fault that unclasping her bra made her immediately think of sex.

  She scrunched farther down onto the mattress, trying again to focus only on the massage and not the towering, dominating man who had his hands roaming over her naked back. It didn’t work quite as well this time. She could feel his warm breath on her neck as he bent over her and the gentle way he handled her, as if she were made of precious glass.

  She inhaled, and her eyes drooped. She blinked a few times, astonished at her sudden sleepiness, thankful that the muscles relaxers had finally worked their way into her system. She gave a drowsy smile. Well, if she couldn’t ignore him, at least she’d pass out.

  His hands worked their way down the middle of her spine, then spread out to her sides. Again he kneaded every bit of tension out of her muscles, the mixture of meds and his lulling massage making her feel like a puddle of honey. She sighed, sinking deeper and deeper into the fuzzy shirt under her chin.

  She needed some good, solid rest, so she could beat this thing and get back on her feet. Fast.

  She couldn’t let him take care of her.

  If she did, she might never recover from the damage he’d do to her heart.

  Chapter 9

  The soft, even breathing coming from beside him slowly penetrated Tommy’s dreamless sleep. He blinked open his eyes, immediately aware of the feminine body curled under the blankets next to him.

  Julie.

  He studied the ceiling before turning his head on the pillow to stare at the naked shoulder peeking out from under the covers, tempting him. On the rare occasion he woke up next to a woman, his immediate instinct was to get her out of his bed—out of his house. Or vice versa. He didn’t feel that need right now. Not at all. It was quite the opposite, actually. He wanted to roll over to her side and wake her with deliberate touches. Kiss the beautiful skin of her shoulder.

  Was that only because he hadn’t slept with her yet? Would that change the moment he did? If his past was any indication, the answer was yes. Then he’d lose her. If he did nothing, he would eventually lose her to someone else.

  God, both outcomes scared the hell out of him. She scared the hell out of him.

  As he glanced at her bare back again, he smothered a groan. He should’ve made her put her top back on last night. Thank God he’d had the foresight to re-hook her bra. After he’d massaged her shoulders for a few minutes, he’d glanced up to see she’d passed out. He hadn’t had the heart to wake her.

  And he still didn’t. So he needed to get the hell out of this room. Before he did something he’d regret.

  Or worse, that he didn’t regret…

  He slid out of bed and glanced at the clock.

  Eight thirty a.m.

  Mac would be here in thirty minutes. He had called his friend last night while waiting for Julie to change into her fleece PJs. He wanted to do something special for her so she didn’t have to lift a finger today. Cooking was not his specialty. Luckily, he happened to know a Michelin-star chef who loved to cook for others.

  He gathered some clothes from the closet, then quietly called the dogs off the end of the bed and headed out of the room, closing the door behind them. After unlocking the doggie door and filling their bowls, he went into the bathroom and showered.

  Just as he stepped into the living room, a soft knock came from the front door. Tommy cringed, waiting for the animals to start barking and wake Julie, but they didn’t utter a peep. As he made his way to let Mac in, he peered into the kitchen to see their bowls empty and not one dog in sight. God, he loved that doggie door.

  Tommy ushered Mac in, who had two bags of groceries in his arms.

  “How much do I owe you?” he asked, knowing nothing in those bags had been cheap. Not if Mac was making it.

  Shaking his head, his friend set the bags on the counter. “My treat.” When Tommy immediately opened his mouth to object, his friend held up his hand. “No. Seriously. The last meal I made for someone else was Dante and Cait. I miss cooking for other people, so I really want to do this.”

  “If you’re sure, but I owe you, okay? Anything. All you have to do is ask.”

  Mac smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. You never know when you need to cash in a favor.”

  “You know, if you miss cooking so much, you should get your ass back in a swanky restaurant.” Tommy rounded the counter and came to stand beside his friend in front of the stove.

  The easy smile on Mac’s lips vanished as a haunted look darkened the man’s eyes and his jaw tensed. “That’s not an option.”

  Then he turned away, opening cabinets. Noting the tension radiating from his friend, Tommy dropped the subject. “Whatchya looking for?”

  “Pots and pans.”

  He pointed to the cabinet two doors down.

  “Ah. Thanks.” Mac grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove.

  “So what are we making for breakfast?” Tommy asked.

  “A classic. Eggs Benedict with a side of sliced fresh fruit.” Mac started pulling items from the grocery bag—eggs, English muffins, strawberries, pineapple. And the ingredients kept coming.

  “Jeez. And for lunch and dinner, too, I take it?”

  Mac made a face at him. “Lunch is a nice lobster bisque and mixed green salad with a red-wine vinaigrette. And for dinner, we’re going all out. Dover sole with crabmeat and seafood stuffing.”

  Most of this sounded Greek to Tommy. He sighed. “You do realize Julie will know I didn’t make this alone, right?”

  Mac chuckled. “Sorry about that. When I got to shopping, I got a little carried away.”

  The statement made Tommy wonder even more why Mac refused to be a chef again. He obviously loved to cook. Had been—still was—damn good at it. What could have happened that made his friend stop doing something he loved so much?

  Mac unwrapped the fresh English muffins and thrust them at Tommy, breaking into his thoughts. “Throw these in the oven. Then we’ll start on the hollandaise sauce.”

  Mac took the lead on poaching the eggs, which was fine with Tommy. If they weren’t scrambled he had no idea how to fix them. He watched Mac slide the eggs into simmering water while Tommy sautéed the Canadian bacon.

  “How is Julie, anyway?” Mac asked, breaking the companionable silence.

  “She was hurting pretty badly last night. I’m hoping the muscle cream and relaxers have worked some their magic today.”

  Mac removed the eggs from the water with a slotted spoon and placed them on a paper towel, dabbing off the excess water. “Glad it wasn’t worse.” He paused a moment before saying, “Mike let the guys know you’re coming back tomorrow. Thought I’d give you a heads up that some of the guys aren’t too thrilled.”

  Tommy had expected that. Right before it all imploded around him, several of the guys didn’t even want to be in the gym while he was there. Damn, he must have been a real douche. “Mike said I had a lot t
o prove, and I know I do. Not just to him and Ethan, either. To everyone. I wronged a lot of people there at the end, so I get that it’s going to take time for people to trust me again.”

  “I won’t sugarcoat it. The guys were glad to see you go back then.” His friend looked over at him as Tommy winced. “There were a couple of times I wanted to punch you in the face myself. Especially when you’d show up an hour late for practice, then be a complete dickhead to everyone around you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have any excuses, Mac. Something happened to me after I won that belt. I changed, and not for the better. Priorities got skewed.” He slashed a hand through his hair. “Some people handle fame with grace. I was not one of them. If I get a second chance, believe me, the outcome won’t be the same. I realize I have way more to lose now.”

  “Unfortunately, it takes losing everything you have to realize what meant the most.” Mac squinted for a second, then gave his head a shake.

  Tommy wanted to offer his friend support, but Mac was a very private person and wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, so he said, “Anyway, the guys may get a bit of a reprieve. I’m going to postpone my return until Julie is up and moving around on her own.”

  “I figured that would be the case.” Mac stepped back from the stove and clapped his hands. “Okay. Sauce is done. All we’ve got to do is set the plate. You want to do that?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Mac instructed Tommy on how to layer the English muffin just right. “Now drizzle the sauce on top.”

  After he’d done so, and added a serving of grapes, pineapples, and strawberries, he placed the plate on a tray with a tall glass of orange juice.

  Mac frowned.

  “What?” Tommy asked.

  “It needs something. Hold on.” He sliced another ring from the pineapple, then cut away the hard exterior and carved out chunks until it had six pointed sides like a star. Grabbing a toothpick, he stabbed it through one of the smaller strawberries and threaded it through the middle of the pineapple so the red fruit sat on top. Then he placed it on the corner of the plate.