Holding Strong

He almost got hard before she said, “No, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Too damn late for that. He’d had ideas from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

One hand on the stool next to him, she asked, “Mind if I join you?”

Yeah, he did. It would have been easier for him if she kept her distance. So far she hadn’t done that. She teased and toyed with him constantly—along with every other guy in the vicinity. Tonight had seemed different and he’d thought maybe she’d finally given up—but now that she was done dancing with everyone else...

Struggling with himself, Denver hesitated too long, causing her to retrench.

“Unless you’d rather I didn’t?” Watching him with big dark eyes that now looked wounded, she let out a breath. “You’re probably hoping to hook up, right? Stack and Miles already did, so I didn’t want to get in their way.”

So she’d only approached him to give them space?

When he still said nothing, Cherry took a step back. “Guess I shouldn’t get in your way, either.”

Yeah, until he’d gotten preoccupied with watching her, that had been the plan. A one-night stand with a nameless woman he’d never have to see again. Relieve some stress. Get his head together. Then walk away.

Man, had shit gone awry on that plan.

He’d known all along that Cherry had driven down for the fights; she was as supportive of Armie as everyone else in their group. At the venue, with every seat filled, he’d barely seen her. Here at the club, he couldn’t keep his gaze off her.

And again, he’d hesitated too long.

Twisting her mouth, she nodded. “Got it.” She tucked her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. “Sorry I intruded. It won’t happen again.” Her cheeks were hot, her eyes glassy as she turned away.

“Hey.” Before she’d taken a full step, Denver gestured at the seat. “Suit yourself.”

Given the length of time it had taken him to issue the invite, she should have been insulted. He half expected her to tell him to go to hell.

Instead, after considering him for several heartbeats, she slid that shapely ass up next to him.

He wanted her enough that small talk wasn’t easy. He had to concentrate to say, “You want something to drink?”

The shake of her head sent all those soft curls tumbling over her shoulders. “I better not.” Without looking at him, she wrinkled her nose. “Three wine coolers is my limit.”

Was she toasted? If so, he couldn’t very well leave her on her own, right? He glanced back and sure enough, as she’d said, Stack had one lady on his lap while Miles made out with another.

Worse, the guy who’d hit on her was across the floor keeping her in his sights. Denver mean-mugged him until he averted his gaze.

“You’re staying in the hotel across the street, too?”

The question brought Denver’s attention back to her. With an elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand, she looked tired.

The damn music was so loud he felt the beat in his chest.

Or maybe sitting so close to Cherry caused the heavy thumping of his heartbeat.

Why did she ask about the hotel? Looking at her lips, he said, “Yeah.”

“So am I.”

Damn, he didn’t need to know that.

She blew a curl away from her face. “I’m glad I decided not to drive back tonight.” Releasing a deep breath, she closed her eyes. “I’m beat.”

Driving home to Warfield, Ohio would have meant two hours in the car, and it was already one in the morning. The after-party was in full swing even though Armie, who would have been the man of the hour, had already booked with a babe.

Denver didn’t know if it was the kinky redhead or the threat of interest from the SBC that had driven Armie off so quickly.

Seeing Cherry rub her temples, he asked, “Headache?”

“It’s so loud in here.”

A hint that they should go? Having her this close tempted him... “Maybe you’re hungry. Want me to get you—”

“No.” She shook her head in denial. “I don’t even want to think about food.” Curving an arm around her middle, she said, “I’m starting to feel a little green.”

Frowning, Denver stroked back her soft hair and put his palm to her forehead. Damn it. “You’re hot.”

At first she froze, while the rise and fall of her breasts gave away her deeper breathing.

Because of a simple touch? How was he supposed to resist that? Slowly, he withdrew.

And she relaxed. “Thanks. I think you’re hot, too.” She smiled at her jest. “Too much dancing, I guess. It’s so noisy and warm and...I should probably turn in.”

Denver watched her slide back off that barstool without commenting, without an offer to walk her over, without...anything.

She hesitated, giving him plenty of opportunity, and he saw the moment she gave up—probably on more than tonight.

Maybe for good.

It’d be for the best, but damn, the idea bothered him.

After a soft sigh, she said, “Good night, Denver.”

He felt like a fickle prick. Worse, he felt like a coward. “Cherry.” Reaching out, he caught her wrist.

She turned, her gaze searching his.

“Hang on.”

Her short, humorless laugh cut him. “Why?”

Without meaning to, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Her hand was so small, delicate and soft.

There were a lot of rowdy guys hanging around, adrenaline pumping from the fights, either from watching or partaking, their discretion weakened by alcohol.

That excuse served as good as any.