Chapter 7

Having been unable to get Rory out of her head, Clare found herself going back to Legends later that evening to watch the sparring meet that Casey had told her about. She didn’t have to be at O’Leary’s tonight, and there wasn’t much else to do this early in the week. Never having been to an event like this, she nervously entered Legends, hoping she wasn’t overdressed in dark skinny jeans, tall black boots, and a thin, loose white blouse.

Her blouse was more than a little transparent, leaving little to the imagination as it displayed her silky skin and her black lace brassiere. Clare was hoping that Rory would notice, which felt like a juvenile quest, but she couldn’t resist. The idea of watching him compete in such a physical and brutal sport stirred something inside her that she hadn’t known she wanted before. Traipsing through the lobby, she kept replaying the last few kisses between them and she knew that she wanted more.

More of what, though?

Leaving the lobby, she made a quick trip down the main hallway before it opened onto the gym floor. The room was packed with people and all of the equipment had been pushed to outer edges to make room for them to stand around the center ring. The ring instantly intimidated her since the cage sides had been lowered from the ceiling to trap the fighters in. Two men she didn’t recognize were currently sparring, and the crowd was tightly packed as people shouted over one another to be heard.

“I totally called it!” someone shouted behind her and grabbed her arm.

Spinning around in alarm, Clare found herself face-to-face with a grinning Casey.

“Called what?”

“You. Coming tonight. And shit, Clare, you look hot!” Casey exclaimed, taking in her outfit as Clare blushed.

“I was bored, figured I would see what all the fuss is about.” She tried to shrug off her appearance tonight as mundane, but Casey wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, right. And you just happened to wear a fuck-me top? I don’t think so.” Casey linked her arm through Clare’s and directed her through the crowd until they were on the opposite side of the cage, up near the front.

“Clare.” Her eyes locked with Rory’s the moment that she emerged in front. His voice was low. There was an almost imperceptible hitch in his breathing as his eyes traveled across her, her own breath catching as she felt her skin heat under his gaze.

“Hi.” She attempted to keep her eyes locked with his, but was acutely aware of the fact that he was shirtless at the moment.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” The gleam in his eyes told her that her subtle peeks at his abs were not going unnoticed. She didn’t completely mind, since he was clearly doing the same, making her glad that she had chosen the risqué blouse.

“I invited her,” Casey chimed in, “so be nice. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go find Kane. He’s up next.”

The moment Casey left them, Rory’s eyes pierced through her and his hooded expression made her entire body vibrate. He closed the gap between them and hooked an arm around her back, pressing her against him. She tried to concentrate on anything but his warm, bare skin against hers.

“I’m glad you’re here.” His words came out in a hoarse whisper as he leaned close to her ear to be heard over the crowd around them.

“At least someone invited me,” she teased, leaning in to him.

“First rule in sparring, babe: Only throw punches in the ring.” Rory gave her a wicked grin, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I know,” she said confidently. “I’ve been training in Casey’s class, and not to brag, but I’m pretty awesome.”

“Are you now? I’d like to see it.” She loved that his eyelids grew heavy and hooded again at the thought.

“Maybe,” she teased, staying noncommittal. “I’m thinking of hiring a trainer to help me one-on-one.”

“You’re what? Where? Legends?” Rory’s expression shifted from intrigued to something darker, although she wasn’t exactly sure what or why.

“Yeah, so?”

“Who are you hiring?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t put much thought into it. Maybe your brother will help me.” Rory’s entire body stiffened and his arm tightened around her waist, leaving no room to breathe between them.

“Clare, you’re not training with anyone but me. There is no way in hell I’m letting another man have his hands all over you.” His voice was so deep she could feel it in his chest where her hand was resting.

“Rory,” she started to protest, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve just heard that he’s one of the best out there now.”

“Why learn from one of the best when you can learn from his teacher? Be here Monday before your shift and we can start.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Clare felt a smile threatening to take over her expression, which would completely ruin the mock anger she was trying to portray.

“We’ll see.”

She didn’t have a chance to protest before someone called Rory’s name, announcing that it was his turn in the cage. He released her and turned his attention to the caller. She felt unsteady on her feet after the exchange between them, but wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to regain her poise.

What had she just agreed to? Although “agreed” was putting it mildly. She had just allowed Rory to boss her around, something she had moved across the country to get away from. She frowned as she thought about this, while watching Rory step into the cage and pull on his gear.

“Why do you look like someone just shit in your cornflakes?” Casey popped up beside her, analyzing her expression.

Clare said nothing, but Casey followed her gaze to where Rory was standing.

“Ah, so Rory is the cornflake shitter?” Casey ribbed.

“It’s fine, it’s nothing,” Clare reassured Casey, as the announcer started the fight, introducing the once-famous fighter to an outpouring of applause.

“Girl, let me give you a word of advice. These boys are like my brothers. I love them to death, but the Kavanagh men are not known for their sensitivity. Aunt Dee is a strong woman; she demands the best from each one of them.” Casey spoke closely to her so as to be heard over the crowd.

“I remember—she is very sweet, but definitely knows how to take charge of a room.”

“Exactly, and that’s what each of these boneheaded alpha men need: a woman to bring out the best in them,” Casey concluded, raising her eyebrows as her eyes met Clare’s.

“I’m not, I mean, Rory is just—” Clare became flustered at the implication, choking on her words before Casey silenced her with a wave of her hand.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re single. I remember,” Casey mocked, making Clare blush. Luckily the attention quickly shifted from her to the cage as the fight began.

Clare pitied Rory’s opponent, who was clearly a novice and nervous as hell. The two went a few rounds, grappling and throwing blows. Rory was wearing down his opponent. He wasn’t just knocking him out, which she had no doubt that he could do. Instead, he was almost training the rookie, letting him get a feel for the cage and work through some of his nerves. By the third round, the fight seemed more level and Rory pressed “play” on his unmatched talent, taking his opponent down in a single move.

The crowd cheered and Clare exhaled loudly, surprising herself when she realized that she had been holding her breath. She hadn’t noticed, but somehow her entire body had turned tense and on edge as she watched Rory attempting to circumvent potential harm.

Rory peered out from the cage, searching for something until his eyes finally landed on her. She felt her cheeks flush as his eyes blazed through her. She smiled and gave him a silly thumbs-up sign to congratulate him on the win. He just winked in response and then turned his focus back to the announcer as he was placed into his second match of the evening.

Later that night, Rory pulled his tired body out of the locker room and headed toward the front lobby of Legends. His eyes were scanning the gym for Clare as people were filtering out after the meet had ended. He finally spotted her leaning against the counter, having a lively discussion with Casey.

He straightened his stance as he walked over, pretending the pain in his leg wasn’t radiating throughout his entire body. He had just taken a few pills, but they had yet to stave off the throbbing he felt.

“I’m headed out, Case.” Rory nodded to his cousin, then rested his eyes on Clare, who had pushed herself off the counter when she saw him coming.

“See you tomorrow.” Casey nodded back before being distracted by members coming up to the desk.

Clare stepped over to Rory, traveling with him toward the front door. He held it open for her, watching her pass him with no attempt to hide his wandering eyes.

“You know, I’m fully capable of walking myself home,” he told her.

“I don’t know—in your weakened state?” She flashed him a mischievous grin, eyeing the bruises on his face. The cold air swept around them and he shrugged his jacket off to drape over her shoulders. She was wearing a very thin shirt, which he greatly appreciated, but which made it that much easier to see her shivering.

“Harsh.” He chuckled, reaching out to grab her hand as she smiled thankfully at him and pulled the jacket tighter around herself.

Squeezing her fingers between his, he rubbed his thumb against her soft skin as she leaned in to him. He took the motion as an invitation and pulled her closer to his side, before turning to face her and press her chest into his. Leaning down, he peppered her lips with small kisses, making sure to leave no spot untouched.

He had been wanting to do that all night, but with the fights and the crowd, he hadn’t felt like he could. Now they had a moment of privacy, and he wanted to take full advantage of it. Although, in truth, it had become increasingly difficult over the last week to refrain from escalating things.

He didn’t want to jump into bed with her—okay, that wasn’t true. He definitely wanted to be all over a bed with her, but he wanted to wait. He wanted her to know it meant something to him, because he knew that she had heard of his reputation. Taking things seriously with women had never been his forte, but he wanted that now.

With her, and only her.

“Why me, Rory?” She breathed quietly as they pulled apart, staring into each other’s eyes.

Her cheeks were flushed and her nose was rosy from the cold, but he was focusing on her eyes. Fear passed through them and it unsettled him; he wanted to wipe it away, but he felt paralyzed instead. He felt the same fear inside of him that was written all over her face, fear that she would up and leave him at any moment. Fear that he had finally chosen someone to commit to, no doubt in his mind, except that she might not make the same choice.

“You’re beautiful in every way, Clare. Why not you?” He kissed her forehead and pulled away, starting to stroll hand in hand again.

“There are plenty of pretty girls around here.”

“Woodlawn is pretty small. Maybe I’ve already been with all the other pretty girls.” Oh, that was dumb. Shouldn’t have said that.

His worries were confirmed when he saw Clare’s jaw drop, and she paused in her step, staring him down. She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. He couldn’t help but find the fury bubbling up in her face comical for such a small woman. His initial thought was right, though; he probably shouldn’t have reminded her of his past like that. Idiot.

“Seriously?”

“Clare, I’m kidding.”

“How do I know that?” She suddenly started moving again, more briskly, and she pushed past him.

He watched for a moment, confirming to himself this hadn’t been the right moment to provoke her with that joke. However, her reaction intrigued him. He had no interest in flirting with or dating anyone else, and he was wondering if his fears were unfounded. Maybe she did feel the same way as he did.

“Why do you care?” He jogged to catch up to her, quickly coming alongside her again as curiosity got the better of him.

“I don’t.”

“Could it be that my mhuirnín is jealous? Of imaginary women?” Rory teased her, trying not to sound as hopeful as he felt, while he pulled her hand into his once more.

He saw uncertainty cross her face as she clearly thought about untangling her fingers from his, but she couldn’t seem to convince her body to follow through. He was glad because her hand was warm and inviting, making his entire body relax at the simple contact. She was better than any drink or pain medication; just her touch was able to soothe him.

“I can’t be jealous of someone I don’t know. And we don’t really know each other. We’re no more than acquaintances at most.”

“You think so?” He stopped as they reached an intersection and he pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the back gently. They were not merely acquaintances; at least he certainly didn’t feel that way about her. If the look in her eyes right now was any indicator, then she didn’t, either.

“This acquaintance knows that you love animals, maybe even more than people. You wish you had a pet, but you’re waiting until you have a home to give one. You want to be a vet, but you’re working toward saving for the tuition first.” He started listing things as she stared at her hand in his, near his lips.

“Everyone knows that stuff.”

“You also grew up in California, but you’re starting to love New York more. Maybe you were always meant to be here. You don’t have any family left, but you crave it. I see the way you look at my family, envying their dynamic. You always smell like vanilla, although you don’t wear perfume. Your cocktails are pretty weak and I’m guessing you lied on your résumé about being a bartender before.” He continued until he finished his list, beaming proudly as she narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she scoffed, but he ignored her protest and placed her palm on his chest above his heart with both of his hands over hers. He wanted her to feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers, to know that nothing about him was unfamiliar. He didn’t know how to tell her or how to describe their dynamic more clearly than he already was, but he knew that the pulse of his heart would reveal more than words could.

“I know you want to walk home by yourself from work to prove you’re independent, but secretly you love that I join you; and if one day I wasn’t there to meet you, you would miss me. I know you’re hiding things you think make you unlovable, pushing people away to keep them from getting too close, to keep from giving them the chance to hurt you.”

A lone tear was beginning to brim over her bottom lashes. Her body was completely betraying her, telling him that she agreed with everything he was saying. He felt his heart quicken, and he lowered his voice, speaking more softly to her.

“But more than any of that, I know that if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m positive my entire body will explode.” Without a doubt in his mind, he knew he had to have her right then. They had kissed several times before, even tonight. But he needed something different: He needed to tell her how he felt in a single act. And that terrified him.

He didn’t want to just kiss her; he wanted to possess her, to overtake every part of her with his lips and let her taste his words, know how true they were. She swayed slightly, her body quivering gently at his words. He steadied her with one hand, grabbing her waist and sliding his hand around her back with his other. He pulled her flush against him, his head leaning down only inches from her lips.

“Clare?” His voice was deep and husky, but a whisper.

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She stared at his lips before licking her own in anticipation. The sight almost undid him right then and there. He wanted to devour every inch of her in the middle of this New York sidewalk.

But he waited. He held back, tensing his entire body in an attempt to restrain himself. He needed her to want this just as much as he did. He needed to know she felt the same way.

“I need you to tell me what you want, Clare.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and he could tell he had surprised her with his request.

“Rory…” She shuddered out his name in a breathy tone.

“Yes, mhuirnín?”

“Kiss me.” She kept her eyes on his, not faltering or even blinking as they stared at each other.

He didn’t waste a moment finding her lips with his, crashing down on her fiercely. Her hands slid up around his neck, wrapping herself around him and leaning up on the tips of her toes to meet him. His hand on her lower back was pulling her fervently against him, while the other was on the back of her neck, guiding her.

After a few moments, he disconnected their bodies before finally pulling away from her mouth. She blinked a few times and then peered up at him, a shy smile on her swollen lips. He would never get tired of that smile.

“So, Clare, are we still acquaintances?” he asked, his arms still around her, her lips an enticing inch or two from his.

“God, you’re so arrogant.” She rolled her eyes at him, but a smirk stole its way onto her lips.

He leaned down and buried his face in her neck, kissing her skin gently at first, then nipping it playfully. He breathed in, causing her skin to dimple into goosebumps as she giggled and pushed him away.

“Ah, vanilla.”

“You’re sniffing me now?” She began to cross the street, nudging him.

“I’m an overstepping acquaintance. I have no boundaries.” He grabbed her hand again and sniffed her loudly in an exaggerated motion, causing more laughter to erupt from her tiny frame.

“I loved watching you tonight,” she told him.

“Good. I wasn’t really at my best, though. I wish you’d seen me on a different night when I’d practiced more. I’m only just getting back into everything.” He downplayed his performance, feeling self-conscious.

“Seriously? I thought you were amazing.”

“Not even close. I was a mess.”

“Stop being such a girl,” she huffed, causing him to turn and glare at her.

“Excuse me?” No one he knew had the courage to say something like that to him. Ballsy.

“You heard me.” She stuck her chin out defiantly, but he caught a glimmer of nerves pass through her before she tightened her jaw and stood by her statement.

“Clare, I spent five years on the circuit as one of the top-ten fighters in the nation. They called me Knockout Kavanagh. I think I know what I’m talking about when I say that tonight wasn’t great.”

“Nope, you don’t. You’d say that no matter what. It’s your attitude that is the problem, not your moves in the ring.”

“It’s a cage.”

“Whatever.” She waved him off, unfazed. “You were great tonight. I know it and everyone in there cheering for you knew it, too. But if you’re not going to believe in yourself, then why should anyone else?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it just as quickly. Only his parents ever called him out on a personal level like this, never a peer and most certainly never any woman he had been interested in.

“Plus, didn’t you just tell me that you were going to train me one-on-one? Since you’re the teacher to the best? What happened to that confidence?”

“Just because I’m one of the best doesn’t mean I’m at my best,” he corrected her, his voice icy.

“I don’t want to hear it.” She slid her hand out of his. “I’m so tired of the constant pity party you’re always throwing yourself. As if I can’t smell the alcohol on you. As if we all can’t, every single day. You have an amazing life—why would you not want to experience it?”

“Clare,” he interrupted, but she put up her hand to stop him.

“I’m not done.” Her hands were on her hips now as she glared at him, illuminated under a streetlamp. “You’ve got more money than you know what to do with. A job that isn’t really a job, letting you make your own schedule. And I’ve met your parents and your brothers—they’re wonderful. Do you know what I would do to have a family like that? Or a family at all?”

Guilt passed through him as he remembered her story of her deceased parents.

“Shit, Clare, tell me how you really feel,” he said and exhaled slowly, with sarcasm.

She stared at him, unrelenting. Worry etched her features and he felt an overwhelming urge to run and hide. Fuck, I’m an ungrateful jerk.

Here was this woman before him who had clearly been through hell in her own life and she was still stronger than he was. He had nothing to complain about and yet it’s all he ever did. Guilt dug at him as he raked his hands through his long, thick hair.

“I’m sorry, Rory. I just can’t stand to hear all that self-pity talk anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

“Plus, I’m only going to let the best of the best train me.” She smirked, lightening the tension that had descended between them as she sauntered down the sidewalk.

“I’m going to be your trainer, Clare,” he growled, not enjoying the image in his mind of another man’s hands on her, training her. The thought irked him as he slid his arm protectively across her shoulders.

“Then you better be the best. Otherwise, I’m going with someone else.” She fought back a smile, but he didn’t miss the twitch of her lips.

“Fuck, I’m the best, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” He loved the way she had just turned his own words against himself.

“You’re what? I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m the best fucking fighter at Legends and probably in New York. No, definitely in New York, maybe in the nation. So I, and only I,” he stressed, “will train you.”

“Well, if you insist,” she jested, and he snorted at her sarcasm as he squeezed her against him.

Within a few more blocks, they reached her apartment, and he unlocked the building’s front door for her as always, then handed her back her keys. She turned around in the doorway to study him, two steps down from her yet on eye level with her.

“Rory,” she paused, fiddling with her keys as he took the two steps up to close the gap between them.

“You want me to kiss you again, don’t you, mhuirnín?” She narrowed her eyes at him, her nostrils flaring, but he knew that he was right.

“Maybe you’re not just an acquaintance.”

“I need more than ‘maybe’ if you want me to kiss you, Clare.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, surprising her.

“Maybe you could come inside for a few minutes and I could show you.” She spoke so softly, he almost hadn’t heard her.

His brows shot up in surprise at the invitation as he watched her shuffle her feet nervously, glancing up at him through long, thick lashes.

“Are you asking me to stay the night, Clare?” He leaned forward slightly.

“Depends on what your answer is…” A small smile crept across her face as she kept her eyes trained on his.

“Fuck, yes.” Rory didn’t need her to ask him twice.

He stole her keys out of her hand and slid them into his pants pocket. With both hands free, he took hold of her and swept her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

“Rory!” she protested, stiffening at the unexpected contact. He ignored her as he continued moving quickly up the stairs to her apartment.

“What’s your apartment number?”

“It’s 3B,” she said, giving in, curling farther into his chest, with one hand hooked over his shoulder for support.

It didn’t take them long to reach her floor and turn down the hall toward her apartment. Her eyes were trained on him the entire time, nervously taking in the determination on his face. His eyes had darkened from their usual light silver, and the change caused butterflies to swirl through her body.