Fighting For Irish (A Fighting for Love Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The sounds of car doors banging followed by the low rumblings of male voices penetrated the light sleep Kat had managed to slip into. Wanting to see Irish after her long shift at Lou’s, she’d driven over to his place. She’d been disappointed to find him and Xander gone, but she wasn’t his mother. He didn’t need to check in with her or get her permission. As much as the not-knowing stung, she’d turned around with every intention of going home to Murphy…until she saw that Ally had moved to the bottom of the steps. Then she hastily decided to hang out and wait for the guys to return.

Yawning, she uncurled herself from the corner of the couch and stretched her aching limbs. Kat folded herself back in, wrapping her arms around her legs, when a thought flitted through her mind. Would Irish be upset she’d come over unannounced? Maybe he’d really taken the night off because he needed space from her. Or maybe he’d simply grown tired of her already and wanted to move on but didn’t know how to tell her.

Shit!
What had she been thinking coming over uninvited? Now she felt ten kinds of dumb.

She heard Xander ordering the alligator to “quit her bitching,” followed by heavy footsteps ascending the creaking wooden stairs. Kat launched off the couch, suddenly feeling like she had no right to be there, much less lounging on the couch. Clasping her hands in front of her, she prepared to explain her presence, apologize, and make a hasty retreat. But the moment the guys walked through the door, her plan was all but forgotten.

Her fingers flew up to her mouth on a gasp. “Holy shit, what happened to you two?”

Xander’s eye was cut and his face looked like he’d come from the dentist and forgot to take the cotton rolls out of his cheek. Irish wasn’t much better, with a black right eye under a one-inch gash and swollen bottom lip where his healing cut had split open again. Xander cut a presumably innocent glance at his friend. The kind that asked whether he was supposed to make up a story or beat feet. Some women may have missed the “guilty” signals, but she’d become adept at picking up on people’s tells. A perpetual distrust of her fellow man and years of working in bars and diners attributed to that particular talent.

Irish gave a slight shake of his head and dropped a large gym bag at his feet. Xan clapped his hands together. “You know what I just remembered? I was supposed to go over to Sandy’s tonight, so I’ll just take a quick shower—”

A throat clearing interrupted him.

“Or I could take one over at her place.”

Irish inclined his head. “That’d be good.”

“Right, then,” Xander said on his way to the door. “Lovely to see you again, Kat.”

“Night, Xander.”

They stood there, not moving or speaking until they could no longer hear the roar of the Nova. Finally, he broke the silence. “I need to shower.”

“I can see that. Basic first aid might not be a bad idea, either. Want to tell me what happened?”

“I entered that underground tournament Xander’s in. I had a fight tonight. Xan, too.”

She canted her head. “I thought you never wanted to fight again.”

He shrugged one shoulder and she found herself resenting the T-shirt for hiding the undulating muscles underneath. “Been reconsidering. There’s this big-time manager, Victor McManus. He’s scouting out there for new talent. Figured I’d give it a shot.”

Kat couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear grin from spreading on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“I think it’s great. I’m so happy for you.” Unable to hold back any longer, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He sucked in a sharp breath and cursed as he grabbed her arms to hold her back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing serious. Just a few bruises.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” She stared at his torso as though she’d be able to see the damage. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but it’d be great if you hold off on giving me any bear hugs for a couple weeks,” he said with a wry half grin. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t give me any of your kitten hugs.”

Kat raised an eyebrow. “What are my kitten hugs?”

“You know the ones.” He took hold of her hands and brought them up behind his neck, even though the strain on his face told her it caused him pain. “Your arms go up like that, mine go around your waist, and you lean into me all soft and sweet…” He pulled her body flush with his. “Like this.”

“Ah, yes, now I remember,” she quipped, gazing up at him. “These are the kind conducive to kissing, am I right?”

“Yeah, they are.”

He bent his head and she noticed a smear of dark red, caked-on blood below his ear. She stopped him with a palm held between their faces. Gingerly touching the area, she winced at the thought of what might be under there. “Does that one hurt?”

He reached up, prodded, then scraped off the mark. “Blood’s not mine.”

Kat gaped at his nonchalance. “Gross!” Stepping out of his arms, she said, “
Your
blood and sweat is one thing, but I’m not making out with you while you’re wearing someone else’s DNA.”

Chuckling at her retreat, he advanced. “Fair enough. I’m sure you’d appreciate a relaxing hot shower after your long shift. Why don’t we take one together? Conserve water and all that.”

Sex in the shower? Surely that took some sort of finesse. Some experience. Both of which she didn’t possess. Their relationship was new enough that she still cared whether she made an extreme fool of herself. Beyond that, with her luck she’d cause them to slip and fall and he’d suffer an injury that forced him to withdraw from the tournament, ruining his chances for resurrecting his career. No way could she have that on her conscience.

More steps back for her. More steps forward for him.

“You’re right. A relaxing shower
does
sound great.”
Thud.
The doorframe of the bathroom wedged between her shoulder blades. He’d caught her between a rock and a… Kat glanced down to the bulge behind his shorts.
Very,
very
hard place.
Swallowing thickly, she met his gaze. “But the look in your eyes says you have other things on your mind than a quick lather, rinse, and repeat.”

“So what if I promise that we’ll only do shower stuff, then will you?”

Kat studied him, searching for the telltale smirk that meant he was making promises he didn’t intend to keep in order to get his way. But she didn’t see it. The heat left his eyes and was replaced with something else. Something more tender.

“Kat, I missed you today. I don’t wanna waste any more time being away from you.” He braced one hand on the wall above her head and leaned in close. The fingers of his free hand stroked her cheek lightly. “Lemme take care of you.”

If she’d thought before that she had the strength to deny this man anything, she’d been a fool. In truth, she hadn’t been able to deny him from the very beginning. Not when he insisted on looking after her in the bar. Not when he demanded he take her to the hospital for her hand. Not even when he insanely wanted to handle her situation with Sicoli’s men.

And she hadn’t a prayer when he asked her to stay and be with him.

A part of her said she should be concerned that her will seemed to evaporate around him. She’d spent her entire life bending to the will of others and her conviction to never allow that again was only months old. But another part of her knew Irish was different. He wasn’t like the others. Nothing he wanted her to do benefited him. It was always about her.

She smiled up at him from under her lashes. “Okay.”

He thanked her with a gentle kiss, then took her hand and led her into the bathroom. He started the shower, letting the water warm up while they undressed. It was a relief to peel off the stench of the bar. Since she hadn’t planned the trip, she’d have to borrow some of Irish’s clothes again. The thought of wearing his scent on her skin made her nipples pebble. Then she took in the sight of his naked form—all hard and sinewy with his cock rigid and jutting out from his body—and warmth pooled between her legs.

Holding the curtain back, he offered her his hand. Her gaze moved from his eyes, to his erection, then back up. An amused, lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Getting hard when I’m around you is inevitable, but that doesn’t mean I have to do anything with it.” When she placed her hand in his, he drew her to him and whispered in her ear, “Yet.”

A fluttering stirred in her belly at his wicked promise. To hide her reaction, she slapped his chest playfully and stepped into the tub. He chuckled and followed her in, drawing the plastic lining across the rod. Eager to feel the warm water, Kat moved under the spray. Her lids slid closed on a sigh as she lifted her face to the ceiling. Using her hands, she pushed her hair back from her face.

“Jesus.”

Her eyes snapped open to find him devouring her with his eyes, one hand gripping the curtain rod and the other pressed against the white fiberglass wall.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

She didn’t. She knew she was average, maybe a little better on a good hair and makeup day, but she was no beauty. Only, when Irish complimented her, it never sounded fake or said for her benefit. It was genuine. Real. Just the way he looked at her made her
feel
like the most beautiful woman in the world. And she was never sure what to do with that.

She sensed the color heating her cheeks and lowered her eyes.
Shit!
That was a mistake. Seeing his thick erection had only served to make her flush even more. There was no way they were getting through this shower without screwing each other’s brains out. There was probably an old proverb that said lovers couldn’t shower together without having sex. Like the one that said men and women can’t be just friends.

Stepping back, she gestured for him to take his turn under the water. He rinsed off the grime from his night, being careful to avoid direct contact with the cut over his eye. She picked up the berry-scented shampoo (Xander kept the bathroom stocked with “girl crap” for his frequent house guests) and poured some into her palm.

“So,” she said, “did you win?”

“Yep.”

He scraped the shampoo from her hand into his, then grabbed the bottle from her and squeezed out more before putting it back. Pointing his index finger up, he twirled it in a circle, silently instructing her to face the other direction. With the water now sluicing down her front, Irish gathered the length of her hair and piled it atop her head as he worked the soap into a lather.

The steam floated around her, caressing her skin where the water didn’t, carrying with it the wafting scent of ripe summer berries. His fingertips massaged her scalp in slow circles, drawing out the tension in her body little by little.

Keep talking. If you’re making small talk you won’t want to jump his bones every five seconds. Probably…maybe.
“So,” she forced herself to say, “isn’t this where you give me a play-by-play of the fight?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” When he spoke again, she heard the smile in his voice. “Why, do you want me to give you a play-by-play?”

She thought about that for a second as he turned her around and rinsed the soap from her hair. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in hearing about something that was—whether he copped to it or not—a huge part of who he was. But she couldn’t even imagine Irish bragging like she’d seen so many guys do when trying to impress a girl or their friends. He’d probably say something like, “I hit him, he hit me, then I hit him harder and I won.”

Kat almost giggled at her own musings but stopped herself in time. She lost the thread of conversation as he then worked a healthy amount of creamy conditioner into her snarls. Finally she said, “How about telling me how you won. It can be by knockout or submission, right?”

She was glad she’d paid attention when Xander talked up his fights the other morning when they made breakfast together. Xan was definitely the play-by-play type, but somehow he managed to make his arrogance come off as endearing. A total mystery, considering she found that sort of thing a turn-off.

“Or by the judges’ decision if neither fighter finishes it, but yeah. It was close, but I ended up submitting him with an arm bar.”

“Congratulations.” He muttered a thanks, then turned her around so he could rinse her hair one last time. “I’d like to come to your next fight.”

He paused and glanced down at her before refocusing on his task. “I’m not really on my A game yet, you know? Maybe someday.”

Kat got it. He wanted to wait until he had his confidence back before she watched him. If she had anything she was good at, she’d probably want the same thing. As it was, though, she’d never had time to explore any interests she did have. That was something she should add to her to-do list.
Discover hobbies or possible talents.

“God, I love your hair,” he said, running his fingers through the now-silky mass.

“This is nothing. You should see my sist—” Kat cut herself off. She’d let her guard down so much around Irish she forgot to keep up the ruse of having no family. Maybe he didn’t catch it.

“You never told me you had a sister.”

She sighed. Of course he caught it. Irish actually listened when a woman talked. Men like him were extremely rare. Actually, in her experience, they were more like unicorns: talked about as though they might exist, but really just a creature of girlish fairy tales.

It didn’t matter anymore, she supposed. Irish wasn’t a threat to Nessie. She’d always kept her sister a secret so no one could ever use that knowledge against her. On the seedy side of the tracks in life, people didn’t hesitate to threaten your loved ones to get you to do what they wanted.

She’d even convinced Lenny years ago that she’d received word Vanessa died in a car accident. If there was one thing Kat had been adamant about since she was fourteen, it was that Vanessa’s life would never be tainted by hers. She’d protected Kat when they were growing up. The least she could do was try and protect her older sister now that they were adults.

“I have an older sister, Vanessa. But we don’t keep in contact.”