by Tia Louise
He rolled to the side, sliding out of me, and I sat up. “Give me two minutes.”
I scooped up the thin white tank he’d loaned me the night before, and in as short a time as possible, I was back, cleaned up and carrying a large slice of cake covered in mixed blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries. A generous dollop of whipped cream was on top.
Slayde had straightened the bed and sat with his back against the pillows. His green tee was still on, but with the sheet across his lap, I could tell he was nude from the waist down. His eyes traveled from what I carried down my body as I entered, and a spark simmered low in my stomach.
“Why so modest?” I teased, climbing on the bed beside him. Crossing to him on my knees, I forked a bite of cake and held it to his mouth.
He opened and took it. “I don’t understand.”
“The shirt.” I took a bite of cake. “I saw all of you last night, you know.”
“Mmm,” he looked down. “It was darker then. We were in the moonlight.”
“So I only get to see you in the moonlight? That doesn’t seem fair. Are you a shifter or something?”
He laughed. “Wrong nickname.”
My mind swirled around his words until finally it became clear Slayer. “You don’t have to hide your ink from me. I think it’s cool.”
His lips tightened and he looked down. “It’s not who I am anymore. Or who I want to be.”
Setting the cake on the nightstand, I turned back to him. His eyes rose to mine, and I tried to fill my gaze with warmth. “If you want to tell me, I’d like to listen. If not, I understand.”
He reached past me to the nightstand, dipping his finger in the whipped cream. “It can wait.”
Tracing his finger over my lips, he left a trail of cream on my mouth. His eyes darkened as he watched before leaning forward to lick the sweetness away. It was intensely erotic, and my lips parted allowing my tongue to meet his.
Finding the edge of my tank, he lifted it over my head, returning his hands to cup my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers. I moaned into his mouth as I reached for his shirt. I needed to feel his skin against mine again.
He allowed me to lift his shirt, but as soon as it was off, he turned me so my back was against his chest. One hand moved from my breast downward between my legs, and I moaned, dropping my head back against his shoulder. Sensations flooded my brain. His fingers circled my clit, and as he kissed a line from my neck to the center of my shoulders, the light scruff of his beard sent chills flying through my torso.
“Oh, god,” I felt like I was vibrating in his hands. They left me briefly to apply the condom, and then he was back, leaning me forward, his body never losing contact with mine.
My ass was lifted as he slid into me like a hot knife through butter. One of my arms was bent behind my back, and he grasped it as he thrust, bracing my hips with his forearm, his fingers still circling between my thighs.
He hit me deeper than he’d ever gone, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I saw stars. They were already shooting through my body making me tremble with desire.
“So beautiful,” I heard him murmur, and in that moment, the tightness burst through my limbs.
“Oh, Slayde… Slayde…” I moaned, fisting the sheets in one hand. My other was still pinned behind me as he used it to drive himself deeper into my clenching insides.
I came so hard, my eyes squeezed shut, and in two more swift moves, he fell over me, a ragged moan rippling from his chest. Gasping, he released my arm, circling my waist, holding me tight against his chest.
His heart beat at my back, and I heard his breathless whisper. “So fucking good.”
We lay that way, still connected, pulsing for several moments longer. I was snug against his body, eyes still closed, and his mouth was pressed to the back of my shoulder. I wanted to kiss him, so I moved forward before turning in the bed to face him.
Blue eyes smiled down on me as I touched his cheek. “I love the sound you make when you come,” I whispered, stretching my chin up to kiss his lips.
They parted and he licked inside, smooth and hungry. “You make me crazy. You’re so small, and yet so…”
“Responsive?” My nose wrinkled with my laugh, and he smiled back.
“I was going to say open.”
“Same thing.”
Resting my head on my hand, I traced a finger along the letters inked at the top of his chest. From the corner of my eye, I noticed his lips tighten, but I asked anyway. “What does it mean?”
He rose onto his forearm and reached for the white tank he’d taken off me. It was over his head and covering his torso faster than I could see anything lower.
“It was my fighter name,” he said, turning his back to dispose of the condom before lifting the bottle of water I’d left on my nightstand. I watched him almost drain it before leaning back against the headboard again. I pulled myself up beside him.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You had a career as a fighter. Lots of guys do that.”
His eyes dropped, and he looked at his hand, opened then clenched into a fist. “That name reminds me of what I was. It keeps me from going back there again.”
My voice was quiet. “What happened? Did you have an accident?”
He expression was so pained in that moment I almost couldn’t bear it.
“Nevermind,” I said fast. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry for asking.”
He met my eyes, brow clutched. “I used to be pretty messed up. It took a lot of work, but I learned to be a different person, to control it. Now I’m trying to start over and live a better life. A saner life.”
Smiling, I lay my palm flat against his cheek. “I hope you’ll let me help you.”
“You already have. More than you know.”
17
“Though she be little, she is fierce.”
Slayde
I didn’t spend the night with Kenny. I wanted to. Everything in me wanted to sleep with her all around me, make love to her again and again, the way we had the night before. But I had to get away and think about what was happening here. I had to think about the questions she was asking and how I wanted to answer them.
With disappointment heavy in my chest, I told her goodnight, claiming I needed to get an early start the next morning. I left her standing in her doorway, beautiful in my dark green tee, after kissing her soft lips once more.
Everything about her called to me. For the first time in years, I wished my life were different and I could approach her like a regular guy. Not like a broken-down has-been with more baggage than a trans-Atlantic flight.
She deserved better, yet she wanted me. She touched my face and asked me to let her see inside my darkest places. Now I had to decide if I was brave enough to say yes, to risk losing her by granting her request.
We hadn’t met for an early morning workout in a few days. Yesterday, she’d been sleeping so well, curled like a kitten in my bed, I’d left a note and went in without disturbing her. This morning, she was there, waiting for me when I arrived.
“Ready to train?” She smiled as I entered the boxing room.
My brow relaxed at the sight of her in tight black exercise pants and a dark purple sports bra. Her hair was wrapped in a messy bun on her head, and I was certain I’d never seen anything more adorable.
“You bet,” I said, and she skipped over to kiss me. A little groan breathed from my throat. “Mmm, unless you keep doing that.”
“I missed you last night.” Her eyes sparkled with her smile, and she held her hand up. “Help me with my other glove.”
The thin black gloves she wore were fingerless and had gel cushions over the knuckles. They strapped around her wrists and were meant to stabilize and protect her joints against the impact. She’d already pulled on one, so I held the other at the center of my chest. Lifting her hand, palm facing me, she opened her fingers to push them into the slots.
That’s when I saw it—a tiny black teardrop inked i
n the center of her palm. A cool flush washed through my insides but I held my expression steady. I knew what that symbol meant, any tattoo artist would know what it meant, and for the first time since I met her, I considered the possibility that she might have secrets of her own she didn’t want to share.
She didn’t seem to notice my change as she lifted her now-gloved hand to eye-level at her cheekbone. “Ready when you are!”
Her smile was so genuinely flirty and cute. It didn’t make sense to me how a girl like her could be hiding a secret that big. Maybe to her I didn’t make sense either, but one thing was for sure—we had more talking to do.
“Show me what you got.”
We trained, me giving her pointers, correcting her form, until the clock told us both we had to call it quits. The group classes would be arriving, and I’d be stuck here late, waiting to clean the ladies’ locker room.
“You go ahead,” she said, using her teeth to pull the gloves off. I hadn’t even noticed the small tattoo before, yet now it was all I saw. “I’ll have my breakfast smoothie and let you finish.”
“I’ll have to work fast.”
Stepping back to kiss her brow, I took off toward the front.
18
“Surrender to what is.”
Kenny
Mariska waited with a matcha-tea smoothie for me when my last client of the day finally left.
“Smoothie on me.” She slid it across the counter.
“Thanks,” I said, noticing Slayde’s key was back in his slot. He’d left for the day without telling me, and I couldn’t stop a frown.
My best friend didn’t miss a thing. “What’s the latest on you and Batman?”
“Oh,” I tried to laugh it off, dropping my chin. “He… umm… had something to do this afternoon.” I couldn’t tell her the truth. I had no idea what was going on.
“It looked like things were getting pretty hot and heavy on Sunday.”
The smoothie she’d made me was good—tea with mint and a little sweetness. I took another long sip before answering. “Monday, too.”
“Well, it’s only Tuesday!” She laughed. “Why do you look like your favorite stiletto lost a heel?”
I stabbed my drink, wishing it were something stronger to numb this growing pain in my chest. “I’m afraid I might be pushing him too fast. That he’ll pull away all of a sudden.”
Her brow lined, and she stepped over to lean beside me against the counter. “I’m sure you’re not.” Reaching up, she slid a ringed finger down one of my long purple locks. “But I swear, the way he looks at you. He might be moving himself too fast.”
“Maybe.” I looked down, remembering last night in bed. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Two days ago, the center of my chest felt like it was expanding with joy. Now all that extra space was collapsing in on itself.
Mariska continued wrapping my hair around her fingers, watching my expression. “I want to have you both over for dinner and Turkish coffee Friday.”
Smiling, I blinked up at her. “I’m sure he’d like that. He told me he thinks you’re funny.”
“Then we’ll put it on the calendar in pencil.” Pulling me into a hug, she spoke against my ear. “Hang in there. Men get spooked when you touch them deeply, but he’s not going anywhere.”
I couldn’t tell her I’d been the one touched deeply. The speed of it all had my mind reeling, and I probably needed a little break to sort it out myself.
Squeezing her arm, I straightened up and pushed my hair behind my shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there Friday night. I can’t make my plans worrying about what some guy’s doing.”
“That’s the spirit. Friday it is—in pen.”
Lying on my couch, I pulled out my sketchpad and charcoal pencil. The drawing I’d started of Slayde had only partly come to life. I’d finished his eyes last night, shading them slightly oval, darker at the edges and clear in the center. I’d worked on them after he left, while they were still fresh in my mind. Tonight they made my stomach hurt they were so beautiful. I started on his jaw, shading and blending until I had the bone structure and texture of his light beard just right. That brought me to his perfect chin, and I exhaled a painful sigh as I finished it. Why didn’t he tell me goodbye? He hadn’t called or anything, and I didn’t know how to get in touch with him.
I dropped my head back on the couch cushion. I’d been happily alone for so long… well, somewhat happily. Then all of a sudden, he came along in a blast of intensely erotic and unexpectedly sweet companionship. Now I was even worse off than I’d been before. The tightness in my chest, that inability to breathe was almost unbearable.
Lying on my side, I ran my finger down the line of his square jaw on my large pad. I traced the side of my thumb down the center of his chin. Closing my eyes, I could still feel the brush of his lips over mine. The memory of his beard scratching the sensitive skin behind my neck made me shiver. I remembered him holding my breasts, pulling them into his mouth, and…
“Dammit!” I shouted, standing up fast and kicking the side of the couch as hard as I could. “Ouch!” I screamed, dropping back again. “Shit shit shit!!!”
Pulling my foot up, I jerked off my sock. My toe wasn’t broken but it was already dark red. “Shit!” I hissed, standing and limping to the bathroom. “Fuck you, Slayde Bennett.” I growled, turning on the water. “You are fucking not going to make me feel this way. You can kiss my ass.”
I jerked my hair up into a messy bun and stepped into the tub. I’d shower and I’d brush my teeth. Then I’d get in my bed and read a good book, and I would not be jerked around by a guy. Not ever again.
Just like clockwork, my eyes popped open at six a.m. I threw the covers back and stood quickly, then sat back down again with a hiss. “Dammit!”
My toe was swollen today, and I could barely walk. It only made me angrier. A good night’s sleep had not made me feel better. I was ready to beat the shit out of something. Limping over to my drawers, I pulled out my exercise clothes and jerked them on. I’d be at the gym in thirty minutes.
The sound of gloves slamming against canvass met my ears before I’d even rounded the corner of the small boxing room. I paused for a moment, taking several deep breaths, trying to decide how I felt as I watched him move. His muscles flexed with every stroke, breaking into deep lines and taut ripples, causing my fingers to burn with desire to touch him. God, he was gorgeous.
It didn’t matter. I felt fine. That was how I felt. Fine. Lifting my chin, I limped confidently to the bench, dropping my bag beside it like always and pulling on my first glove. Slayde didn’t stop punching. He didn’t even pause. I didn’t even care. I pushed my hand into one of the gloves and struggled to get on the other. I’d always been able to get both gloves on before. No reason why I couldn’t do it now.
Fumbling with the second glove, I hadn’t noticed the punching stop. I was distracted and mad when I felt his hand on my elbow.
“Need me to help you?” I hated the way his voice made my insides squeeze.
“No, thank you,” I said without even looking up.
He ignored my response and took the glove out of my hand, holding it at the center of his chest just like yesterday.
“I said I could do it.” I cut my eyes at him before pushing my hand into the glove. Taking my hand back, I waited, unsure what to do next. “Are you almost finished?”
He looked down at his shoes as if he were trying to find the correct answer.
“It’s a simple yes or no question, Slayde.”
“Kenny…” he exhaled deeply before pressing his lips together. “You can have this. I’ll work on the speed bag.”
Angry or not, I couldn’t help watching him go to the small bag hanging from the ceiling. I’d always wanted to master that little bastard, ever since it knocked me in the head. Now he was walking over to it just as confident as I knew he’d be.
Waiting, I watched as he lifted his arms, elbows high and began the bicycle movement, k
nocking it quickly in a rhythm as his biceps and shoulders flexed.
Right, tat tat
Left, tat-tat
Right, tat-tat
Left, tat-tat
He kept going and going, a ripped statue of boxing gorgeousness, just like nothing had happened. Turning to the heavy bag, I decided if he didn’t care, neither did I. Holding out my fist, I stepped a little more than arm’s length away. Proper stance, elbows tight at my ribs, shoulders up, I tucked my chin and threw a series of punches.
Right, left, right, right, left hook
Left, right, left, left, right hook
Right, left, right, left, right, left
Left, right, left, right, left, right
Faster and faster I hit it, chasing after the release of that tension in my chest. The warm hand on my shoulder caused me to let out a little yell. I jumped forward, holding the bag as if it were my opponent.
“I’m sorry.” Slayde’s glove was off, and the dark green 21 was plainly visible on the hand touching me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What do you want?”
His eyes hadn’t met mine. His brow was furrowed like it always was before, and he focused on my gloved hands.
“I’m sorry I left yesterday without a word. It wasn’t until I got home that I remembered I don’t have your number.”
My back was to the bag, and I only waited. So he didn’t have my number. Bayville wasn’t that big, and he knew where I lived. His eyes met mine then, and I hated that my stomach tingled in response.
“Last night I thought it might be better if we took a little break, make sure we’re not moving too fast.”
Pressing my lips together, I nodded. “Okay.” I started to turn and resume my workout, but he stopped me.
“Can I have your number?”