"Nah, that's okay. I've got my luck right here." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead-soft, probably, to not disturb his cut lip too much.
"I've instituted a new rule since we've been apart," she told him later as they plowed through the door into the bedroom of his suite, his hands on her hips, his mouth at her neck heedless of the cut.
It had taken ten forevers to get here. Postfight press conference. Photos. They'd rubbed him down, iced him, and patched him up. Now, finally, he and Savannah were free, but only because they'd practically shut the door on his still celebratory team. They had some celebrating of their own to do.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, nuzzling against her ear and sending shivers through her as he spoke. "What's that?"
"I only fuck heavyweight champions."
"Then you're in the right place, baby."
"Mmm, indeed I am."
"Thank God Meyers didn't win."
She recoiled in horror. "That wouldn't have happened, I can assure you." They paused by the bed and she gently caught his cheeks in her hands, pulling him back to observe all of his hurts. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
"Darlin', there is nothing better after a fight to work out the rest of the aggression."
"I guess you speak from experience," she said wryly, getting a laugh from him.
"A little. Sorry."
Still she worried, keeping her kisses and touches gentle as she stripped off his shirt and he rid her of her pesky jeans and T-shirt. "You must be in pain," she murmured, distressed as they fell back on the bed and he winced a bit.
"There's only one pain I'm feeling right now." He drew her hand down to where she could feel his fierce rigid length through his shorts. God, it had seemed like forever. "You've got the remedy for that."
"Mmm." Loving the silky slide of the fabric between their heated skin, she delighted herself for a moment in rubbing him through his shorts while his eyes closed and his head sank deeper into his pillow. When she slipped her hand into his waistband, he groaned in torment, his hand encircling her wrist though he exerted no force to stop her. Her wrist felt so delicate in his sizable grip; another flush of pleasure washed through her. His cock pulsed in the circle of her fingers.
"God, I won't last long," he ground out as she continued to stroke. "I haven't touched it in a month."
She giggled. "You buy into that whole abstinence before a fight thing? ‘Women weaken legs'?" Another Rocky quote.
"You weaken me, that much I know."
"You feel pretty strong here," she quipped, nibbling at his neck as she extended her reach to cup his balls, drawn up so tight. "Aw, so neglected." He hissed in a breath as she played.
"Savannah, I haven't come in my shorts since I was a teenager and I damn sure don't mean to do it now."
Suddenly, he surged up and over her, pinning her beneath the weight of his body as she gasped and spread her thighs to accommodate his hips. "Weak my ass."
His only reply was a dark laugh. He sat up, reaching into his waistband to pull his cock out, giving it an unhurried stroke as her greedy gaze ate up the sight. His other hand reached for the cotton panel of her panties between her legs, wrenching it aside in his fist. Oh, God. Savannah tilted her hips up, waiting, waiting.
But he didn't fill that aching emptiness yet. He bent down and gave her one long, languid lick, from the flat of his tongue at her entrance to the tip on her clit, tearing a cry from her throat. And another. And another. "Fuck, you're sweet," he murmured then in a desperate rush of breath, easing down and settling on his stomach. Yes.
And he took his time, making up for that month of misery by unabashedly worshiping between her legs. It was the only way she could describe what he did to her, how he looked at her up the length of her body, how he moaned into her hot, needful flesh as he watched her body come alive and throb for him.
"Michael, Michael, Michael," she chanted, her hands going to his head. His tongue flickered across her like damp fire, or maybe it was her body that was burning while he merely stoked it higher and higher. His hands went to her breasts, her nipples peeking between his fingers. "Please . . ."
"Tell me what you want," he said, the words sending maddening vibrations through her.
She wanted everything. This. Him. Inside her. Outside her. All around, everywhere, all the time, from now on. "You!" she cried with a little sobbing hitch in her voice.
"You have me."
"Forever?"
"As long as there's breath in my body, darlin'. And beyond."
Savannah reached for him then, drawing him up her body with the gentlest of touches, and he kissed her all the way until their mouths joined in tender fusion; she was careful not to exert too much pressure on his cut lip. She allowed her hands to roam over his chest and around to his back, testing the firmness of his muscles with her nails. Before this was over, she thought, she might have ripped him to shreds. He felt good over her, at once possessive and protective. Big. Everywhere. Especially that rock-hard weight resting on her thigh right now, mere inches away from where she needed it. His hand slipped between their bodies to bring him to her.
"Slow," he whispered, drawing the word out as he entered . . . but slow was too weak a word. He moved like ice cream melting on a hot summer day. Like the approach of Christmas morning when it was only New Year's-because it seemed to take a year before he was nestled all the way inside, deep, throbbing, and they were both breathless and shuddering and slicked with sweat. He filled her, body, heart, and soul, his forehead resting against hers, the shaking breaths they shared each other's.
And maybe he wasn't the first to be here, but she damn sure wanted him to be the last.
"I love you," he whispered.
Her heart burst with joy and her hands went to his cherished face. "I love you. Oh, God, Michael, I love you, and I won't leave you again." Because that was what she had done; he might've been the one to walk out of her apartment, but she'd left him when he needed her most, and she would carry the guilt to her grave.
"I'll give it up for you," he said, starting to move, starting to make her die a little with every push.
"I won't make you. Just be safe for me."
"I will." It was the most important promise he could make to her right now. She closed her eyes, prayed she wasn't dreaming, and let him love her until tears leaked from her eyes from the beauty of it.
Afterward, when they lay staring at each other in sweet exhaustion, he drew her left hand up to look at her heart tattoo. "I think you must have hidden it from me at first. Held your fingers together, or something."
Her lips curled in a drowsy smile. "Maybe you just didn't see it until it was the right time."
"Did you really see the eagle again?"
"I did. Maybe it wasn't the eagle, but one was there. And I know it's silly, but I took it as a sign."
"Why is that silly?"
She let her gaze caress his beloved face. "Because I realize now that I didn't need it. I knew coming to you was the right thing all along."
"I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it."
"That's a long time," she said, giving him a teasing pinch.
He looked at her for a long time, his blue eyes warmer than she'd ever seen them. "Not long enough."
Acknowledgments
This book wouldn't have been written without the trust and encouragement of my editor, Rose Hilliard. Thank you for believing in me. To my agent, Louise Fury, who was there for me even at ten o'clock on a Friday night when I thought the world was ending: you are amazing!
As always, thanks to my husband and fellow Rocky enthusiast, who lets me chase my dreams and listens to all the meltdowns that go with the territory. As a fight fan, he also had some very helpful input on that aspect of this story, but any mistakes are my own.
And a million thanks to the readers and bloggers who have bought my books, reviewed them, and helped spread the word about them. You've stuck by me. You've been patient. You are all so wonderful and supportive, and I cannot thank you enough. You've changed my life, and I love you all.