Fight for You: A Second Chance Romance (A Warrior for Her Book 1)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "He scratched you trying to get your shirt off?" I ask, running my fingertips over the angry red mark as gently as possible.

  She nods. "Quan heard me screaming and opened the door. When he saw what was happening, he dragged Tony off me. I don't remember what happened after that, but Tony ran off." She shivers and pushes her body closer to mine. "Quan called the police and then called Titan to come and get me. Did they find Tony yet?"

  "Yeah, baby girl," I whisper to her. "He's in jail. He'll never hurt you again."

  "Okay," she whispers back, some of the tension draining out of her. Even then, she clings like she's terrified to let me go.

  I stay with January until she falls asleep.

  "Thank you," Jana whispers when I slip out of the bedroom a little while later. She's standing right outside, her back against the wall and tears in her eyes. Exhaustion weighs heavily on her. "I didn't think she'd ever stop crying."

  I pull her into a hug. She looks like she could use one.

  She pats my back. "You're so good to my little girl."

  "I'll always be good to her," I promise, meaning it.

  "I know you will. You're a sweet boy, Michael. Ma Rose would be so proud of you." She gives me a tired smile and then pats me on the cheek. "I'm going to sleep with her tonight so she won't be alone if she wakes up."

  "That's probably a good idea," I agree, although I want to be the one in that bed with January, protecting her. Her mom clearly needs to reassure herself that her little girl is okay though, so I won't fight her on it. I'll just crash on the couch so I'm here if my girl needs me. "I'm going to check on Titan."

  "The boy who did this to her is in jail?"

  "Yeah, Curtis Kaleo turned him in," I tell her.

  Jana nods and then slips into the bedroom with January.

  I watch as she climbs onto the bed with her and brushes her hair back from her face. They're so much alike, it's unreal. Jana is a little taller than January and her hair is graying. Weary lines are etched into the skin around her eyes, but she's as sweet as her daughter. She works so damn hard to take care of January and Titan. She's a nurse, working an ungodly number of hours each week. I think she and my mom would have been great friends had they ever met.

  I find Titan on the front porch, staring out into the dark.

  "She's sleeping," I tell him and then sink down into one of the chairs beside him.

  "She was hysterical," he says, pain in his voice. "Mom and I couldn't calm her down. I thought she was going to hyperventilate."

  "She'll be okay, Titan," I promise him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "We'll make sure of it."

  He jerks his chin in the semblance of a nod.

  "I may have fucked up."

  He glances over at me.

  "I went after Kaleo," I mutter, looking away from him to the street. Half the lights are out. Someone keeps busting them out with rocks. Every time I come home from school, I have to call and ask the city to have them replaced. I think they're about to give up on keeping this block lit up, but I don't want January out here without enough light to see in case Kaleo ever comes lurking around in the dark. "He's going to retaliate."

  "Figured that's what took you so long to get here," Titan says like he's not surprised. "You make it count?"

  "Yeah." I nod, staring down at my bruised knuckles. "I made it count. He won't come after January anymore. He knows I'll kill him if he tries. He says he turned Tony over to LAPD."

  "Good," Titan grunts, though I'm not sure if he's talking about me making it count or about Kaleo turning Tony in for the shit he tried to do to January today. Not sure it matters either way.

  "Maybe I should cut back on my course load so I'm around more," I muse, running my fingertip along a trail of dust on the arm of the chair.

  "I've got it, man," Titan says, shaking his head.

  "If he starts some shit–"

  "If he starts some shit, I'll handle it. If you hadn't gone after him for this, I would have." Titan shrugs a shoulder, shooting me a look I can't decipher. "He had it coming for sending that motherfucker after January. If he retaliates, I'll deal with it. That's what you have me for anyway."

  "You don't have to do it alone, Titan."

  "Yeah, I do." He shoots me another telling glance. Sadness lingers in his gaze. "You can't drop your classes. January will never forgive herself if you do. You're good at this school shit. You need to keep your nose clean and finish it so you can give her the kind of life she deserves. I can handle Kaleo. Besides, I've got the boys to help me if shit gets too out of hand around here."

  "You know this is the most you've said to me since Ma Rose died?"

  "Told you then we were drifting," he mutters.

  "Bullshit," I growl at him. "We weren't drifting. You backed away. You didn't want us to leave you behind, so you decided to leave us behind first."

  He shrugs again. "It is what it is. Fact is, you and January were always meant for more than this neighborhood. I'm not going to stand in the way or be the reason the two of you don't make it out of here. She's yours to take care of now, so I suggest you worry about her and let me worry about shit around here. It works better for everyone that way."

  "For everyone or for you?" I ask him when he climbs to his feet.

  "For everyone," he says, jogging down the steps. "Believe me, man. I'm the last person you need dragging you down. You're going to get the fuck out of here and take my sister with you. That's all you need to be worried about."

  With that, he jogs down the sidewalk without a backward glance.

  "Fuck," I swear, wishing like hell he'd snap out of whatever he's thinking and realize we're going to worry about him regardless of how much distance he tries to put between us. He's her brother and my best friend. Nothing will ever change that. I just wish he'd get that through his thick skull and stop all this bullshit.

  Chapter Eleven

  January

  Present Day

  Sunlight trickles in through the windows, sending warm rays of light across my face. I groan and pull the blanket up over my head, trying to disappear back into my dreams. I don't want to wake up. I'm comfortable and warm, and for the first time in a long time, my dreams weren't painful.

  I felt like Cade was with me, keeping the nightmares away. Letting that peaceful feeling go hurts…and then I realize I still smell like him. I can still feel him between my legs. I didn't dream anything. He really is back.

  He told me that he's still not over me.

  My eyes fly open, my gaze settling on the window across from my bed before flitting to the clock on my nightstand. It's still early, barely even seven in the morning. Since it's Sunday, I don't have to leave the bed or Cade until I feel like it. A little shiver of excitement rolls through me at the thought.

  Somehow, I'm naked. I guess I took my bra off at some point in the night. That works for me.

  I turn over in the bed, but Cade isn't beside me.

  My heart sinks, realization setting in. He left. Apparently, he's fine with fucking me senseless, but not with sticking around to face the morning after.

  For someone who was always there, he sure is good at leaving.

  Frustration rolls through me in a powerful wave. I climb out of the bed and grab a robe, wrapping it around me. I push my hair back from my face and toss it up into a messy ponytail. Once that's done, I slip my feet into a pair of flip-flops and march out of the room, determined to storm next door and tell him he can fuck right the hell off with this leaving crap. He doesn't get to sleep with me and then pretend like it never happened.

  "Hey."

  "Shit!" I scream and damn near fall over as his voice sounds from across the living room.

  He peers up at me from the couch and gives me a tentative smile. He's sprawled out on his back, his legs hanging off the end. His cock tents the fabric of his boxers. His white t-shirt is all wrinkled up. His jaw is scruffy and his blond hair is a mess. He looks adorably sleepy and sexy as hell at the same time, like a
wild lion at rest.

  "Sorry," he mumbles and sits up. He runs a hand down his face, his pinky bumping the piercing in his nose. "Didn't mean to scare you. What time is it?"

  "Not even seven." I press my hand over my heart like that's going to slow the way it pounds. I'm no longer sure if it's racing because he scared the crap out of me, or because he looks like sin and I want to climb his body and have my way with him. Why is he on my couch? "Did you sleep out here?"

  "Yeah, I…" He trails off and dips his head, avoiding my gaze. "Fuck. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about waking up with me in your bed, but I didn't want to leave either, so…" He turns his face away and swallows audibly. "I figured this was the best solution."

  "Cade," I whisper.

  "I'll go if you want me to," he mumbles, still not meeting my gaze. "I just…I wanted to be close to you."

  Watching him walk out my door is the last thing I want.

  I kick my flip-flops off. One sails across the floor before hitting the wall. I take a tentative step toward him. "I was on my way to kick your ass for leaving," I tell him.

  His gaze flies to mine, shock written all over his face. Any other day, I'd probably laugh at seeing that half-hopeful, half-confused, completely surprised look on his gorgeous face, but not today.

  "I was pissed you weren't in my bed when I woke up."

  "Yeah?" he says and swallows hard. His gaze roams across my body and I know he can see how hard my nipples are through the fabric of my robe. His cock jerks in his boxers.

  I take another step toward him and then say screw it and close the distance between us. He places a hand on my hip. I take that as an invitation and crawl into his lap to straddle him. Both of us groan as I rub my pussy over the bulge in his boxers.

  "You wake up hurting for me, baby girl?" he asks.

  I bite my lip and nod.

  "Shit. I'll fix it," he says and then tugs at the tie on my robe. His gaze drops to my breasts and then lower, landing on the tattoo usually hidden by my bra. "You got a tattoo."

  "Yeah," I whisper. The tattoo is simple, the words "Stay strong" scrawled in an elegant script beneath my right breast. I got it on my twenty-first birthday as a reminder to myself that I could be strong even without him and Titan to fight for me.

  He runs his fingers gently over the words and then leans forward. His lips land against the tattoo, soft and sweet. "You've always been strong, January," he whispers into my skin.

  Before I can tell him that he's wrong, his lips trail up my ribcage and then latch around my nipple. I lose track of what I wanted to say and moan embarrassingly loud, but he seems to like it. He grunts and pushes me down with the hand wrapped around my hip to grind against his cock. He's so big and hard. So much bigger than I remember.

  Desire courses through me, sending wetness to trickle down my thighs. He's always been able to drive me crazy with a single touch. Even when we were barely more than kids, he'd kiss me and it took everything I had not to crawl into his lap and let him have his way with me. Had it not been for his resolve to keep me innocent for as long as possible, I would have given him my virginity the first time he slipped his hand beneath my shirt when I was fifteen.

  "Cade, please," I whimper when he releases my nipple just to repeat the delicious torment on the other.

  He pulls my robe off and tosses it away before running his hands all over my body. They're rougher than I remember, but still somehow perfect.

  I want him naked too, but when I reach for his shirt, he flips me over. I land on my back on the couch with him hovering over me. He stares down at me, those eyes the dark gray color they always were when he was inside me. God, I think I missed seeing those stormy gray eyes stripping me bare. No one has ever looked at me like he does…like he sees all the way into my soul and finds every little piece of me worthy.

  "I never got my mouth on you last night," he breathes and then kisses me hard.

  Before I can wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, he prowls down my body, kissing and nipping as he goes. My legs fall open in invitation. It's been so long since he's had his mouth on me…I need it.

  "Please," I beg him, shameless and aching.

  He places a sweet little kiss just below my belly button and then shoulders my legs apart. "Jesus fuck, you smell so goddamn good," he growls, leaning forward until his nose bumps my clit. He inhales deeply. "Like sugar."

  He spreads my lips open and swipes his tongue through my folds.

  "Cade!" I shout, my hips arching off the couch.

  "You forget how good I can make you feel?" he asks me and then takes another long lick. "This little body was made for me. Maybe I need to remind you who it belongs to. Remind you that this delicious pussy needs me to take care of it."

  Shit. I don't know why him claiming ownership over my body is so hot, but it is. I want to tell him that my body is his for the taking, but he snarls against my pussy and then dives in. Reality spins away. I can't get the words out. I'm no longer sure I even know words. All that's left is the way he eats at me like he can't get enough, and the filthy sounds he makes. He's greedy, pushing my legs apart as far as he can get them as he attacks me with his mouth.

  He's not gentle about it. He's wild with need. When we were together before, he was always so careful with me, almost like he was afraid to unleash on me. Cade at twenty-one was a sweet, attentive lover. Cade at thirty-one is a beast, taking what he wants without apology. He isn't careful. He doesn't keep himself in check. The control he used to have is long gone, eradicated by need or want or the last ten years of being apart.

  "I could eat you all day, baby girl," he groans, thrusting two thick fingers inside me. "You taste like candy. I'm going to die in this pussy. I know I am. It's too good. I can't stop. Fuck, January. Come on my tongue."

  "Cade!" I scream as he sends me over the edge into a rolling orgasm. My hips buck and my head thrashes back and forth. The sensation is overwhelming, but he doesn't let me get away. He keeps at me, diving in over and over.

  "Not yet," he pleads. "Don't make me stop yet." He curls his fingers up, stroking them across my g-spot.

  I come again, screaming his name. My hands clutch in his hair, yanking. I'm not sure if I'm trying to keep him where he's at or push him away though. I want both as tidal waves of pleasure crash through me repeatedly. They go on forever, leaving me gasping and shaking.

  "One more," he whispers, lifting his head long enough to meet my gaze. There's something desperate in his eyes, something that makes my chest ache and my insides melt at the same time. "Give me one more, baby girl."

  With that plea reflected in his eyes, I can't deny him.

  He lifts me toward his mouth once more, running his tongue in circles around my clit. He fucks me hard with the two fingers inside of me, making sure they rub across my g-spot each time he slides them inside. His lips seam around my clit, sucking it into his mouth.

  I fly apart again, and this time, I know I can't take any more. If he makes me come any more, I'm going to explode into pieces too small to put back together. My entire body hums with pleasure. Even the beads of sweat rolling down my skin feel like sensory overload.

  "Goddamn, you're beautiful when you come," he whispers, rising up on his knees. His gaze locks on mine, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. He places a hand over my chest, his palm flat between my breasts. Something flares in his eyes that I can't read, but I love the sight of it there. He stays like that for a minute, staring at me as he feels the way my heart pounds for him.

  A second later, he yanks his boxers down, freeing his cock. I groan at the sight of it. He's long and thick. A bead of pre-cum slides down the broad head. He wraps his hand around himself and squeezes. His head tips back, a groan leaving his lips as he uses my juices to jerk himself off.

  My gaze flits back and forth between his hand on his cock and the expression on his face. He's fierce with his gray eyes at half-mast and his lips curled up in a combination of pleasure and pain. He works his
cock hard, jacking himself off roughly. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

  And then he tops it by crying out my name and coming all over my stomach and thighs.

  I moan his name loudly as spurt after spurt of his come jets out and lands on my skin. His strokes slow, but he doesn't stop until he's worked out the last drop. He stays where he's at for a second, breathing heavily, and then he angles his head down to peer at me.

  A lazy grin tips his lips up. Those dimples of his pop out, sending another wave of lust through me. Jesus, how is it possible that he got even hotter over the years?

  The whole bad boy thing works for him. He's menacing and hot as hell at the same time. I want to see more…want to know where those tattoos on his arms lead. His body is hard everywhere, so much bigger and more defined than it was ten years ago. I need to see it for myself. See what I've been missing for so damn long.

  I tug at his shirt, wanting it off him.

  He yanks it off over his head and I'm not sure where to look first. His body is as incredible as I knew it would be. He's rock solid from head to toe, not an ounce of fat on him. He's also covered in tattoos and scars. The symbols on his arms go all the way to his shoulders. There are images captured between them, twisted up like the symbols are trying to squeeze them out of existence. I think they make up some sort of story, but I don't know what it says.

  His chest and abdomen are covered in tattoos too. There's an intricate hourglass tattooed over his heart with a distorted clock inside seemingly being sucked down into the bottom of the hourglass. The glass is shattered, the sand escaping through the cracks to blow away. The hands of the clock are frozen at 10:19. The words "just breathe" are barely visible in the design, as if he wanted the reminder to keep breathing tattooed in his skin, but didn't want it to mean anything to anyone but him.

  My name runs along the left side of his ribcage, but each letter is crafted from words I can't quite make out.