Making Him Sweat & Taking Him Down. Meg Maguire
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was Jenna. Her body craved the same motions his did, and as her second climax began to rise, his pleasure was reaching its own crescendo. He grasped her hips, issuing orders, forcing the speed and aggression he needed.
“Yeah.” His teeth were gritted, eyes narrowed. His hips trembled beneath her, body begging. The look on his face excited her more than any physical sensation.
She came apart just as he neared the edge. He realized what was happening, the idea of it seeming to strike him like a whip. He swore. He held her hips still, thrusting up into her as he came, holding her hard.
When he let her go, she flopped to the mattress beside him. He left her only for a second to ditch the condom, and for minutes on end the room was filled with their heavy inhalations, occasionally accompanied by the odd voice from the street, the flare of an engine starting up, the slam of a car door.
You can’t wake up next to him tomorrow. She had to get back to her own bed….
She blinked, realizing she’d nodded off. Better find her clothes and…
Again she jerked awake. Mercer’s deep breathing said he’d succumbed to postsex male narcolepsy. Sounded awfully inviting. Still, she really ought to…
The thought abandoned her, and Jenna fell asleep, logical brain finally silent.
“WHOA.”
Mercer woke early, surprised for a moment to find a woman beside him. And not just any woman.
The clock said it was five-forty and the room had gone chilly. He wanted to pull the covers over Jenna, but he couldn’t free them without waking her. And waking her would probably rouse her from her orgasm-induced judgment lapse, and that would send her lovely, pale, naked body retreating to her own room. Tricky one.
Slow as tar, he crept from the bed, then padded to the living room and grabbed the old afghan from the back of the couch. He managed to drape it over her, but she roused as he climbed into bed beside her. Damn.
She made a soft noise of alarm.
He brushed the hair from her face. “Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly six. You sure you didn’t mean to ask, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’”
“I know exactly what I’m doing here,” she mumbled. “Arguing with you, which is no surprise.” She yawned, then tucked herself tighter under the covers.
Pleased she hadn’t bolted awake and out the door, Mercer relaxed, feeling warm from far more than the blanket.
Such a bad instinct, though. There was a semiuniversal rule observed by professional fighters—no sex in the three weeks preceding a match. Just stay away from women, period. They made you nuts, screwed with your focus, cooled your fire. All that pent-up testosterone was best saved and redirected to make yourself go berserk in the ring. Mercer hadn’t had a paid fight of his own in three years, but he still thought it was a wise philosophy. He loved women in all kinds of capacities, but life was infinitely simpler when there wasn’t one in the picture. Jenna complicated his life plenty with their clothes still on, and it was probably the worst romantic decision he’d ever made, waking up here naked with her. Though it hadn’t felt like a decision. Felt like goddamn force of nature.
Just as Mercer was settling back down for another hour’s sleep, reality intruded. Loudly. His phone buzzed on the side table, and when he saw Rich’s number on the screen, it could only mean one thing. He hit Talk before the ringer could kick in, then left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Lemme guess—your crappy-ass car’s broke down on the Tobin Bridge.”
“No, I’m downstairs. I just forgot my gym keys.”
Mercer rolled his eyes. “We’ve gotta get a keypad.”
“C’mon, man. Bobby’s down here. Don’t make this OCD bastard late for his workout.”
Mercer heard the man in question grumble something in the background.
“Fine. Lemme get some clothes on.” He clicked the phone off and headed back to his room. Jenna was sitting up, afghan hugged to her chest.
“Sorry. Rich locked himself out. I have to go down and let him in.”
She nodded through a yawn.
Mercer yanked boxers up his legs and grabbed a T-shirt. “Go back to sleep.”
He jogged downstairs and glared at his friend a moment through the glass door, then flipped the bolt.
“Thanks, man.” Rich swept in, giant Bobby and his gym bag right behind him, and Mercer led them down to the gym and unlocked the double doors.
Bobby was as OCD as Rich made out, and as soon as the lights were on he was heading for the warm-up area, clearly irked to be two minutes behind his daily regimen.
Rich gave Mercer and his outfit a glance. “Don’t dress up on my account. But now you’re awake, you wanna put some pants on and run drills with me?” He swiped a couple elbows in the air between them.
“Hell no. I’m going back to bed.”
“Wow, grumpy. I interrupt something good?”
It was a joke, but Mercer flinched, a deadly tell to a fellow fighter.
Rich’s face fell. “Oh shit. Sorry, man. I did, didn’t I?”
“Never mind. I’ll see you at ten with coffee.”
“Coffee and all the horny details,” Rich teased, but when Mercer didn’t reply quick enough, Rich’s expression shifted again, realization dawning. “Whoa. It’s not Jenna, is it? Did you bone Jenna?”
Mercer caught Rich in the shin with a kick. “I didn’t bone anybody.”
“Did you make sweet, sensitive love to Jenna, though? Because that is weird. Monty’s daughter… Basically your dad’s daughter. That makes her, like, your stepsister, Merce.”
“Shut up.”
“He would murder you if he was alive.”
“I’ll murder you right now if you don’t shut the hell up about it.”
Rich put his hands up. “Fine. But it’s wicked creepy, just so you know.”
“See you later.” Mercer jogged back up the stairs, annoyed. And was even more annoyed to hear the shower running when he got to the apartment.
Probably for the best. Maybe they’d been spared an awkward shared waking, or some quick tumble that would’ve only made things more confusing. He wouldn’t have minded a peek at her naked body in the daylight, though.
An idea he’d been toying with resurfaced, and Mercer decided it was a good one. When Jenna emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around her trunk, he offered her a goofy smile. She returned it with something a bit cagier, a good-natured smirk.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning. Sorry about that. Not the most relaxing way to wake up.”
She shrugged and Mercer wished he hadn’t noticed the dots of water on her shoulders, or how goddamn sexy she looked with wet hair and eyelashes and no makeup.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Probably good that I’m up so early. I have a million things to do today.”
“I’ll bet. And actually, I’ll make all that a little easier for you, and get out of your hair for the weekend.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “Delante could use a couple nights away from his family drama. I’m gonna drive him down to Hartford, have him spar with a couple guys a buddy of mine trains there. Get him focused. Plus it’ll get me away from you, since my boy’s not