Fighting to Forget

by J. B. Salsbury

  “You get sick? As in . . .”

  He shrugs and drops his gaze. “I get nauseated, puke, gag . . .”

  That first night I kissed him on the bed, when he jumped up, he was holding his stomach. The memory of his random muscle cramp at Jonah’s floods my mind. He was gripping his shirt at his stomach then too.

  And last night, when we were both catching our breath, he buried his face in my hair, but wouldn’t speak. Was he fighting to hold it down?

  Hooking my fingers under his chin, I force him to look me in the eye. “I don’t care. We can take this wherever you want it to go whenever you want to go there. The only thing I want from you is a chance.”

  He stares at me for a few long seconds, eyebrows pinched, and then turns his face to kiss my palm. “You’ve got it.”

  I’ve got it. A chance. A future. Hope for something more than the dismal life I’ve led up to this point.

  The past can be forgotten. Like Rex, I can evolve into a new me who doesn’t know about the horrific history of the man she loves.

  I close my eyes and nuzzle my nose into his neck. With renewed strength, and my eyes focused forward instead of back, I say good bye to Gia, the little girl who’s seen more evil than most people see in a lifetime.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I allow the scent of Rex’s skin to wash away the old me and bury her for good with peace in her heart. Her job is done.

  I open my eyes to a new life, the one I’m choosing.

  My life with Rex.

  My life as Mac.

  Sixteen

  Battles rage in the war for my soul

  What if I stop fighting?

  If I finally let go?

  --Ataxia

  Rex

  Nothing in my life, at least the parts I can remember, has ever felt as good as holding Mac. She took every piece of shit I slung at her and didn’t seem affected at all. I started to wonder if she’d even heard me, but when she broke down, I knew she did.

  She cried.

  For me.

  Not because she was disgusted by a man who’d vomit after sex. Not because she couldn’t figure out a way to kick me out fast enough. She curled up in my lap, sobbing as if it was the best and only place she’d ever want to be.

  I’ve never been needed like that. Never been someone’s comfort.

  I like it. Shit, I like being that for her.

  Blake’s flip out at the gym today, Jonah’s willingness to walk away from everything he’s worked for . . .

  Fuck me, but I totally get it now.

  The urgent need to protect her, keep her safe from any and every thing is there, but there’s something else too: an egotistical drive to possess and claim her, willing to fuck-up anyone who tries to take her away.

  Her balled-up body shivers against mine.

  “You cold?”

  “No.” She sniffs, and traces the pattern of tattoos on my forearm. “I don’t think I’ve cried that hard since I was ten-years-old.”

  “What was that like?”

  “About the same.”

  “No, I meant what was being ten like?”

  She tilts her head back and glares. “That’s not funny.”

  She’s right. It’s a shitty joke, but I’m trying to lighten the mood.

  I kiss her head, smiling. “Yeah it was.”

  “Wasn’t.” She shakes her head and curls deeper into me. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, but should we move to the couch or something?”

  “Eww.” She cringes. “Not the couch.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with the couch?”

  Finally her body shakes with laughter; the sound relieves the tension in my muscles. “You don’t want to know.”

  “So it’s straight to your room.” A ghost of nausea rolls through my gut, the familiar feeling of wanting something that makes me sick.

  A long sigh falls from her lips and her body relaxes. “Yeah.”

  I should be home trying to get some shut-eye, but I know I’ll only lie there and think about her. Holding her in my arms will probably buy me more sleep than I’ve had in weeks.

  “Have you eaten?” I say against the top of her head.

  “Soup.”

  “You ready for bed?”

  She tilts her head back to look at me, her eyebrows pinched together. “Are you spending the night? I mean, can you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before, but like all my other firsts, I’d like to try it with you.” I’m trying like hell to be honest, but fuck I feel like a pussy. She deserves the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is to give it to her.

  “I’d like that too.” She moves off my lap, and it’s nearly impossible to let her go. I grab her hand, and she leads me into her house and through the living room.

  “Let me grab some shit from my truck.” I curl down and place a soft kiss against her lips, stepping away before things get out of control like they did when I showed up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Releasing her hand, I’m stuck staring at the gentle sway of her hips as she walks into the kitchen. In baggy sweats and a tank top, she’s more attractive than any woman I’ve ever seen.

  My body responds, and I’m thankful for the extra give that my track pants provide. I head out to the truck and take deep breaths of the cool night air. But as hard as I try to calm my nerves, I can’t clear my head of her. Warmth flares at my forearm where she touched me, and my chest is still wet from her tears.

  Tonight I’ll be in a bed with her, kissing and touching, and shockingly nothing about that makes me sick.

  If anything, I may be on the road to a cure.

  After getting my gym bag from the truck, I head back toward Mac’s house and find her waiting for me at the door. Her arms are crossed over her chest, accentuating her full breasts and giving me a perfect view of milky white cleavage above the V-neck of her top. Her shoulders are hunched. Not good. I stop in front of her and watch as she tugs her lower lip. Yeah, she definitely seems uncomfortable.

  “Too fast?” I’m pushing her too hard. From years of getting nowhere in my therapy to days of going somewhere, I don’t want to put on the brakes. But I won’t force anything she’s not okay with. It’ll suck if she wants me to leave, but I’ll respect it.

  Her eyes go wide and find mine. “No. Not too fast.” She blinks and narrows her eyes. “If anything . . . too slow.”

  Okay, read that wrong.

  Pulling her into my arms, I hug her tight, easing up a bit to avoid crushing her with the strength of all I’m feeling. How does she do it? She always manages to say the right thing when I’m starting to doubt myself. Doubt us.

  I have no idea how relationships work outside of the ones I’ve made in the octagon, and we beat the shit out of each other on a regular basis.

  Her arms go around my waist, and I feel her relax into the embrace. She exhales heavily and squeezes me tighter. “Feels as if I’ve waited forever for you.”

  There she goes again. Shit, this woman is perfect.

  “Think how I feel. You’ve been right under my nose, and I’m only getting around to knowing you.” I run my hand up her back to the warm spot at her nape and hold her to me. “All that time wasted.”

  “I say we stop talking about what we missed.” She puts her chin on my chest to look up at me. Her eyes—damn, those eyes—light caramel like nothing I’ve ever seen. “Move on to what we have.”

  I drop a light kiss on her forehead, and when I pull back, her eyes are closed as if she’s savoring the touch.

  My touch.

  Her sweet island scent swirls up from her head in the light breeze. I breathe it in, sucking it up like a greedy kid who doesn’t like to share. The pounding of my heart reacts to her body being pressed to mine.

  “Got a big day tomorrow, baby.” I grip a handful of her ass and pull her up to touch my lips to hers. She startles. I drag my lip ring along the seam of her mouth, and she turns to dead weight with a moan. “Yeah. Bed time.”

/>   Her forehead pressed against mine, she nods. I grab her hand and lead her into the house. I stop at the mouth of the hallway, and she takes over, leading me down the darkened passage. We pass a couple closed doors—my guess is one belongs to Trix and the other a bathroom—until we stop at the last door.

  I’m already feeling confined. The oppressive narrow hallway and lack of windows does nothing for my fear of closed-off spaces. I breathe and pray like hell when Mac opens the door it won’t be to some airless tiny-ass room. I wipe a light sheen of sweat from my forehead, and she opens the door a couple inches before slamming it shut.

  What the hell?

  “Oh shit.” She whirls around, faces me, eyes wide. “Can you just, uh . . . give me a second?”

  I play with my lip ring to keep from smiling. “Dirty room?”

  “Ha.” She dips her chin. “Yeah. I’d feel better about this if I had a second to tidy up.”

  “Sure.” I step back and she moves fast, disappearing behind the door.

  Makes sense. She probably thinks after seeing my place that I can’t handle a little mess. I want tonight to run as smoothly as possible, and if tidying her room helps make that happen, I’ll wait in this rat cage of a hallway.

  I lean against the wall across from her door; only a few seconds later she’s done.

  “Okay, we’re good.” She steps aside and swings the door wide.

  Not at all what I expected, Mac’s room is immaculate and plain. No decorations except for a set of sea foam green table lamps and an old chair that looks as if it’s made from a quilt. There are no pictures on the walls or bookshelves, only a dresser. Her bed is big, perfectly made and covered in a multi-colored comforter with lots of bright pillows. My gaze moves around the room and there’s no clutter.

  Something else we have in common.

  I set my bag on the chair. “Your room isn’t what I expected.”

  “Expected? You thought about what my room looked like?” She tilts her head, waiting for my answer.

  I move toward her, hooking her hair between my fingers. Soft as silk. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what a lot of things look like.” I run my hands down the length of her hair, allowing my knuckles to drag along her nipple.

  A shiver wracks her body, and standing so close, I’d swear the damn thing’s contagious. “What did you expect?

  “Black lights, posters of metal bands and motorcycles.” I hold her tightly by the waist, letting her know I’m in control and want her to stay where she is. “You like bright colors. Who knew?”

  A soft pink kisses her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, where I lived, um, before here, it had no color. Everything was white or some variation of white.”

  I slide my hand from her hip to her ass and up her back. “It suits you.”

  Our eyes lock for seconds, minutes; we stare at each other as silent intentions pass between us. Heat flares in my gut and my heart pounds. She’s breathing harder and her hands fist into my shirt.

  She steps back, and I allow her to put distance between us. Never breaking eye contact, with no alluring smile, not a hint of a tease, she hooks the hem of her shirt. With little effort, she pulls it over her head and drops it to the carpet at her feet.

  I blink and stare at her made-in-heaven perfect breasts. My stomach clenches, but it’s manageable. Her arms lie at her sides, and she makes no move to touch me, giving me time to take in her nakedness. I swallow hard and breathe heavily through the wave of contradicting feelings that threaten to wash me away.

  I’m capable of more than I think.

  I was last night; tonight is no different.

  My fingertips burn to run over her creamy skin, to feel the velvety flesh against my hand as I take the time to memorize every inch, touching, exploring, and learning every curve and valley.

  “Come here, Rex.” She holds out her hand, and I take it, swearing that I’d follow her wherever she leads if it means just a few more minutes breathing her air.

  She leads me to the bed and sirens fire between my ears. Danger. Loss of control. The urge to punish her, make her weak and helpless, desperate and begging for a relief that only I can give overwhelms me. I cringe at hideous visions of domination that flash before my eyes and the resulting arousal they bring. Shame curls around my ribs, squeezing, suffocating.

  I tug back from her hold, but not hard enough to break free.

  She jerks her head toward me, worry playing across her gorgeous face. “Trust me.”

  My eyes find hers, and I see nothing but tenderness there, but it’s me I don’t trust. I’ve laid it all out, bared my secrets, and exposed insecurities. And yet she’s looking at me as if I’m valuable. Valued.

  It doesn’t make sense.

  How could anyone care about, much less want to be with, a guy like me? Unwilling to dwell on the whys, especially with my girlfriend—girlfriend?—a slow trickle of warmth expands behind my ribs, making me stand taller just to accommodate it.

  Girlfriend.

  Yeah.

  I bring my eyes to hers and cup her jaw. “I trust you.”

  With a slow nod, she presses her cheek into my hold. Her eyes slide closed. I stare in awe of her beauty, the dark silken strands of her hair that play against her skin, framing the face of an angel.

  She trails her fingers from my hand that’s at her cheek to my wrist and continues to my forearm in a slow drag. My heart speeds, and the whisper of panic pricks at the back of my neck. Before I can pull away from her touch, she drops her hand and opens her eyes, almost as if she sensed the threatening anxiety. As much as I need her to submit to my control, I miss her hand.

  I force myself to hold her eyes even. She flashes a quick, reassuring smile, then steps back, putting distance between us. I bolt my feet to the floor to keep from chasing her down.

  She turns, puts a knee on the bed, and crawls toward the middle. Once there, she drops to her back and takes a shaky breath. She doesn’t speak, but lies quietly, peaceful and beyond any beauty I’ve ever seen. I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, lulling me into hypnosis. I drag my gaze along the downy skin of her feminine belly. The gentle thump of her pulse calls for me to savor, touch, and feast on the delicate skin.

  Watching her there, eyes closed, breath steady, completely submitting to me, I have to put my hands on her for no other reason than to convince myself she’s real.

  I sit at the edge of the bed, my gaze tethered to her. My weight shifts the mattress enough to alert her to my presence, but she doesn’t move. Fucking beautiful. I never knew how badly I needed this, needed her, until right now.

  I flex my fists, wanting so badly to ravage her, force myself on her, tie her up, and make her scream. My urge to protect her wars against the images, pushing them back and locking them away.

  She deserves a better man, one who can stare at her lying topless without fighting off a million different visions of debasement. What would I do to be that man? Tackle my issues, work on freeing myself of them? I can do that. I think.

  With a deep breath, I refocus on her. A gothic halo of black hair is splayed around her face, and cherry-red lips part with the strength of her breathing. A pale pink flush colors her neck. Her legs shift, rubbing together like she’s putting out a fire between them.

  Fuck, I haven’t even touched her, and she’s turned on. Submitting to me, lying in offering like this, she likes it.

  Infused with a new kind of power, I brave a touch and reach out to trace the circle of her belly button. A whispered gasp of pleasure falls from her lips. I run my fingertip around and around in teasing circles; her skin so soft it feels as if I’m caressing air.

  Her hips lift from the bed, searching for more contact.

  I pull back my hand. “No.”

  A defeated sigh pours from her lips, and she relaxes back to the bed.

  “That’s good.” I return my fingers to her skin, this time at the underside of her breasts to reward her obedience. “You like me touching you.”<
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  “Yes.” Her one word shakes with impatience and tension, cranking up my arousal.

  Taking a deep breath and trying to stay in the moment, I move my finger, eating up her sweet flesh inch by inch until I’m between her breasts. Entranced, I trace around them in circles, one before the other. She responds to even the most innocent touch, and her chest rises and falls faster. I bite back a smug grin. The power is intoxicating.

  Freeing.

  Addicting.

  Moving from the side of her breast, I drag my finger to her nipple and circle there, just as I did with her belly button. Her back arches off the bed, and she groans with such need and so wantonly that my dick presses painfully against my zipper.

  A few more passes and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and groans. I inch closer, leaning over her so that my mouth is just a breath away from hers.

  “Give it to me.” I drag my piercing along the seam of her mouth and a tiny gasp releases her lip. So fucking hot. “It’s mine.” I nip at her lip that’s now a deeper shade of red from her biting it. “Let me explore you.”

  Her body convulses in a shiver that throws off more sexual energy than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Please.”

  I drop my lips to hers and groan into her welcoming mouth. Fuck, I love when she begs. The voice in my head says I’m sick for enjoying her weakness, but I ignore it. With the heavy weight of her breast in my hand, I slide my tongue into her mouth. The honeyed taste of her pushes me deeper, searching for more. I suck her tongue, nip at her lips, and take everything I can. Her head tilts to accommodate my pillage, and I take everything she offers with gluttonous satisfaction.

  The thunderous crack of my heart behind my ribs rockets adrenaline through my veins. Everything about this is new, and my mind races to keep up. I pull my torso over hers at an angle, resting my weight on my elbow while my free hand memorizes the feel of her curves. I push my hand lower, from the dip of her belly to the flare of her hips.

  A whimper rolls from her throat. I pull back and notice she’s white-knuckling the comforter.