Hard Knocks: An Ultimate Novella. Lori Foster
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with caution.
“What are you doing?” he asked, because that sounded better than saying, “Damn, girl, I love your ass.”
Still in that tantalizing position, she peeked back at him, her brown hair swinging around her face, her enormous blue eyes direct. With her head down that way, blood rushed to her face and made her freckles more noticeable.
There were nights he couldn’t sleep for wondering about all the places she might have freckles. Many times he’d imagined stripping those clothes off her, piece by piece, so he could investigate all her more secret places.
Like him, she was a conservative dresser. Despite working at a secondhand boutique clothing store she always looked casual and comfortable. Her jeans and T-shirts gave an overview of sweet curves, but he’d love to get lost in the details if he could ever get her naked.
She straightened with two big boxes in her hands. “Armie had small juice containers out for the kids, but of course adults are going to want something different to drink. Same with the snacks. So I’m changing up the food spread.”
Due to her schedule at the boutique, Harper had been unable to attend the party with the youngsters, but she’d sent in snacks ahead of time. She had a knack for creating healthy treats that looked fun and got gobbled up. Some of the options had looked really tasty, but if she wanted to switch them out, he could at least help her.
She glanced at the slim watch on her wrist. “Lots to do before everyone shows up for the prelims.”
Since pride kept him at the rec center anyway... “What can I do to help?”
Her smile came slow and teasing. “All kinds of things, actually. Or—wait—do you mean with the setup?”
“I...what?” Was that a come-on? He couldn’t tell for sure—nothing new with Harper. Clearly she’d been pissed at him about something, but now, at her provocative words, his dick perked up with hopes of reconciliation.
Snickering, she walked up to him, gave him a hip bump, then headed out of the room. “Come on, big boy. You can give me a hand with the folding tables.”
As confusion warred with disgruntlement, he trailed after her. “All right, fine.” Then he thought to remind her, “But I’m not pathetic.”
Turning to face him, she walked backward. “Hit home with that one, did I?”
“No.” Yes.
“I can help you to fake it if you want.”
Despite the offhand way she tossed that out, it still sounded suggestive as hell. “Watch where you’re going.” Gage reached out, caught her arm and kept her from tripping over the edge of a mat.
Now that he had ahold of her, he decided to hang on. Where his fingers wrapped around her arm just above her elbow, she was soft and sleek and he couldn’t stop his thumb from playing over the warm silk of her skin.
“Thanks,” she said a little breathlessly, facing forward again and treading on.
“So.” Though he walked right beside her, Gage couldn’t resist leaning back a bit to watch the sway of her behind. “How would we fake it? Not that I need to fake shit, but you’ve got me curious.”
Laughing, she leaned into him, smiled up at him, and damn it, he wanted her. Bad.
Always had, probably always would.
He’d had his chance before he left for the new camp. Even with the demands of training, he’d wanted her while he was away. Now he was back and the wanting boiled over.
Her head perfectly reached his shoulder. He stood six-three, nine inches taller than her, and he outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds.
But for a slim woman, she packed one hell of a punch. “Harper,” he chided. She was the only person he knew who seemed to take maniacal delight in tormenting him.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “You are such a grouch when you’re being pathetic.” She stepped away to arrange the cups on a long table placed up against the wall. “Everyone feels terrible for you. And why not? We all know you’d have won. Maybe even with a first-round knockout.”
Did she really believe that? Or was she just placating him? “Darvey isn’t a slouch.” Gage wouldn’t want an easy fight. What the hell would that prove?
“No,” she agreed, “but you’d have creamed him.”
“That was the plan.” So many times he’d played it out in his head, the strategy he’d use, how he’d push the fight, how his cardio would carry him through if it went all three rounds. Darvey wasn’t known for his gas tank. He liked to use submissions, manipulating an arm or leg joint to get his opponent to tap before something broke. His plan was always to end things fast. But Gage knew how to defend against submissions, how to make it his fight, not anyone else’s.
“Sucks that you have to sit this one out,” Harper continued. “But since you do, I know you’d rather be brimming with confidence, instead of moping around like a sad sack.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he glared down at her. “I don’t mope.”
She eyed his biceps, inhaled slowly, blew the breath out even slower.
“Harper.”
Brows raised, she brought those big blue eyes up to focus on his face. “What?”
He dropped his arms and stepped closer, crowding her, getting near enough to breathe in her unique scent. “How do you figure we’d fake things?”
“Oh, yeah.” She glanced to one side, then the other. “People are looking at us.”
“Yeah?” Currently the only people in the gym were the guys helping to set it up for the party. Armie, Stack, Denver, a few others. “So?”
“So...” She licked her lips, hesitated only a second, then came up against him. In a slow tease, her hands crawled up and over his chest. Fitted against him, she went on tiptoe, giving him a full-body rub.
Without even thinking about it, Gage caught her waist, keeping her right there. Confusion at this abrupt turnaround of hers stopped him from doing what came naturally.
Didn’t bother her, though.
With her gaze locked on his, she curled her hands around his neck, drew him down to meet her halfway and put that soft, lush, taunting mouth against his.
Hell, yeah.
Her lips played over his, teasing, again provoking. They shared breath. Her thighs shifted against his. Her cool fingers moved over his nape and then into his hair. The kiss stayed light, slow and excruciating.
Until he took over.
Tilting his head, he fit his mouth more firmly against her, nudged her lips apart, licked in, deeper, hotter...
“Get a room already.”
Gasping at the interruption, Harper pulled away. Embarrassed, she pressed her face against his chest before rearing back and glaring at Armie.
Gage just watched her. He didn’t care what his dipshit friends said.
But he’d love to know what Harper was up to.
“Don’t give me that look,” Armie told her. “We have high school boys coming over tonight.”
“The biggest kids are already here!”
“Now, I know you don’t mean me,” Armie continued, always up for ribbing her. “You’re the one having a tantrum.”
Gage stood there while they fussed at each other. Harper was like that with all the guys. She helped out, gave as good as she got, and treated them all like pesky brothers that she both adored and endured.
Except for Gage.
From the get-go she’d been different with