Page 63 of Back in Black

“’Course not.” Somehow he got his hand under her shirt, to her bare skin. His thumb stroked along her ribs, almost touching the bottom of her breast.

Voice low, somehow soothing, he said, “Those fights are nothing like the professional bouts put on by legitimate MMA organizations.” He nuzzled her jaw. “The cop on the phone said he’d check into it.”

Just like that? No arguments, no misunderstandings. She should have known, should have trusted him. Brett wasn’t a thickheaded lout with no understanding of danger.

The cat let out a loud “Rowwrrr,” making Brett chuckle.

“Stay put while I feed her, and I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he said it, Spice launched herself off Audrey’s lap and loped into the tiny kitchenette. Brett followed, leaving Audrey with the opportunity to familiarize herself with his home.

When they’d first entered, she’d been under a barrage of emotional memories. Seeing those young men with their cocky attitudes and reckless disregard for danger had hit home in a big way. Their love of bloodshed could be deadlier than any of them guessed.

But she didn’t want to dwell on the past right now. She wanted to focus on Brett and how unique it felt to be with him like this.

The sofa was cushy beneath her, threadbare on the arms, but clean. One old leather lounge chair sat in front of a modest television with a crate beside it for an end table. There were no lamps, just old-fashioned ceiling lights.

A modern, covered cat box dominated one corner of the room.

A trunk holding gym paraphernalia sat in the other corner, along with a set of weights on the floor.

The kitchenette was separated from the TV area by a two-seater bar. No room for a dining table. Down a short hall she saw two doors, and she assumed one would be his bathroom, the other . . . his bedroom.

Leaving her purse behind on the sofa, she wandered toward the hall. A small distance away, Brett spoke with the cat just like he would a baby. She found it endearing that he pampered his pet as easily in front of her as he did alone.

All in all, his home was ultraorganized, clean, sparse, and barren of even a single photograph.

Based on Drew Black’s comments about his childhood, he might not want any mementos. More than anything, Audrey wanted to make a difference in his life. She wanted to ease the bad memories from his past, to help heal any hurts he might still suffer.

She wanted . . . to love him.

Feeling far too brazen and wicked, Audrey went down the hall and opened the first door. His black-and-white-tiled bathroom smelled of shaving cream. She breathed in the scent, and her desire tightened.

Already Brett had made a difference in her life. Without even knowing her past, he had helped alleviate the pain of memories. By being himself, he made her doubt her perceptions about fighting and the motivation of fighters. She had a lot of reevaluating to do.

But for now, she craved to know more about him, physically, emotionally.

Intimately.

Heart thudding in slow, heavy beats, Audrey went to the next door and pushed it open. A full-size bed dominated the room, accompanied by a dresser and one nightstand. Fading light spilled through a window on an opposite wall. He’d left it open enough to keep the air cool.

Brett had tidied the room by smoothing out the sheet and a colorful, worn quilt. The dresser held some change, a few receipts, and nothing else.

Drawn to the bed, Audrey went into the room. She sat on the edge of the mattress and put her palm on one of the two pillows, where she imagined Brett would lay his head.

When she heard the door click shut again, she looked up, and Brett stood there, watching her. Saying nothing, he walked to the dresser and took out his wallet, his keys. He turned back to her and, still silent, reached over his shoulder for a fistful of shirt. He pulled it off over his head and dropped it to the floor.

God Almighty, the man had such a fine body.

Audrey’s pulse sped up when he unbuckled his belt and slid it free of the loops in his jeans.

If he shed his pants right here, right now, she’d probably embarrass herself with her enthusiasm.

To her mingled disappointment and relief, he didn’t. He took off his shoes and socks and came to stand by her, his bare feet braced apart. One hand touched her chin, and the other hung loose at his side.

She was eye level with the most remarkable set of abs she’d ever seenanda definite erection beneath his fly. Her mouth went dry.

CHAPTER 10

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