We’re surrounded by people, lost in a crowd that feels strangely private. He sucks at my neck, and his hands roam my bare skin. I moan at his urgent touch, his loss of control mimicking my own. I grasp at his shoulders, urging him on.
“Don’t want anyone touching me but you.” With his large body keeping me blocked from the view of others, he grips my bare breasts. I gasp as he works my nipples. My knees grip his leg and he grinds into me.
“Get me out of here, Blake.” My breathless demand falls short.
“Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” He reaches around my back, securing my top. I grin as he shimmies the front triangles with the utmost concentration for maximum coverage.
Without a word, he hooks his arm around my waist and walks me out, passing people who try to talk to him without even a glance.
“Wait, Blake. My sweater.”
“Fuck it. I’ll buy you a new one.”
I laugh loudly and try to keep up with his long strides as he leads us away from the pool area, through the casino, and to his car.
He swings open the passenger side door. “Up.”
I hop in, half-giddy and a lot anxious for the make-out session ahead. My body’s on fire, perfectly primed and eager for his hands, his mouth. Damn, but I don’t want a repeat of last night.
He climbs in the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. I lean over and place small kisses on his neck and shoulder. The smell of his sun-kissed skin sends my tongue out for a taste. Mmm, so good.
“Mouse.” He grabs my hand and pulls it into his lap, pressing my palm between his legs. “Not gonna last long, sweetheart. Not with your sweet mouth on me. I’m gonna ask you to stop and—fuck—I need you to obey. I dig the rebel thing, I do, but—” I rub my hand between his legs, and his words fade to a groan. “I won’t have sex with you in a car.”
My lips freeze against his neck, and heat rushes to my cheeks. A man like Blake doesn’t put his lust on hold because of the past hurts of a woman. No, men like Blake are out for themselves. No concern for others. But here he is, again and again, putting my best interests above his own. I don’t know what to make of that, but I like it. A lot.
“Okay, Blake.” I kiss his neck one last time and settle back into my seat. “I can wait.”
He grimaces like the very idea of waiting is physically painful and puts the car in drive. As the minutes tick away, my restlessness increases. Unable to keep my hands off him for another second, I reach over to rest my hand on his thigh. His mouth ticks with a small smile, and he covers my hand with his.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I haven’t been excited about sex before. Even when Stewart and I first got married, as much as I tried to get into it, I always wanted to be somewhere else. With someone else. Hell, being alone would’ve been an improvement.
But I want this. And damn if it doesn’t feel incredible to be able to make a choice. Good or bad, mistake or not, it’s my decision.
Even if he breaks my heart.
I’m not sure that’s possible anymore. Whatever’s left of my devotion, I’ve pledged to my daughter. She’s my life. My heart. There’s room for fun, maybe even for feelings, which I’m definitely having for the strong fighter next to me. But love? I wouldn’t even know what that looks like, much less what it feels like.
So I’ll take this for what it’s worth. This dating relationship is good now. And when it goes bad, we’ll be friends and move on. It might hurt, hell, it could rock me for a few days, but nothing could be as bad as what I’ve already been through. Nothing.
Not even a life without Blake.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing thoughts of our relationship’s impending doom as far from my mind as possible. It works, and my mind clears.
“You all right?” he asks, his handsome face etched with concern.
“Fine. Just uh… trying to figure out what your tattoo says.” I study the large tattoo that covers part of his left pec and bleeds down to his ribs. It’s a military emblem, but I don’t know which one. “Is that an army tattoo?”
He laughs in a quick burst. “No, not army. Marines.”
Marines? Blake was a Marine? Damn, just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter. “How long were you a Marine?”
“Not long. Military school for four years, the Corps for two.”
I don’t know much about the military, but two years doesn’t seem like a long time to be in. “What happened?”
He looks at me, and even with his sunglasses on, I can see the shadows of his past twisting his expression into something defensive. “What makes you think something happened?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Shaking his head, he sets his gaze forward. Silence passes between us for a few seconds, and I decide to let it go.
“Dad was a colonel. Wanted his boys to follow in his footsteps. We did. Worked out for my little brother. Not so much for me.” He shrugs and drops it.
“I didn’t know you had a little brother.” I hope the subject change will relieve some of the tension in the car.
“Yeah.” He grins. Thank goodness. “Braeden. He just turned twenty-one. I’m trying to get him out here for my fight. You might meet him.”
“Is he as handsome as you are?” I smile at the very faint blush that colors his cheeks. I made Blake blush!
“Nah. I’m way better looking.”
We laugh together and hold hands in silence for the rest of the ride. I vow to approach his hidden military past later if an opportunity presents itself. For now, I keep my mouth shut. With the possibility of what might happen once we get to his house, I have more important things to think about. And number one is to avoid a repeat of last night’s episode.
I spend the last few minutes of the drive casting Stew Moorehead from my thoughts. Gagging his memory and replacing it with the beautiful things I’ve experienced with Blake.
It’s time I shut Stew up for good. And nothing will do that better than a first time with a new guy.
Eighteen
Layla
We arrive at Blake’s condo, and he parks the Rubicon in his assigned spot. Neighbors mill about walking their dogs, bringing in groceries, and sitting on their patios, like most folks would on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. Laughing, we run up to his door hand in hand. Carefree and a little bit dangerous, like we’re a couple of teenagers ditching school to go make out.
He makes quick work of the door lock and I’m pressed against the wall, pinned there by his hips, before the door shuts behind us.
He doesn’t kiss me like I thought he would. Instead, he plants his hands on the wall on either side of me, caging me in. “Mouse.”
“Snake.” I know what he wants. Permission. It’s sweet, but he’s going to have to stop treating me like I’m breakable. I smile and tilt my head.
A low groan vibrates up from his chest. “Don’t want my rebellious girl. Not now when I’m aching for you. I want my Mouse.”
His Mouse. I like the way that sounds.
He leans in close, his lips only inches from mine. “Been waiting too long for these lips, sweetheart. That drive was ridiculous.”
“Yeah, it was.” I laugh and curl my hands behind his neck. “Okay, Snake. I’ll bite.”
“Yeah? I like it when you bite.”
I suck a ragged breath into my lungs. How is it that he can seduce me with nothing more than his words? “Kiss me, Blake. Touch me.”
An agonized moan that sounds more like relief than pain slides from his lips as he brushes them against mine. “Fuck, is this really happening?”
Tilting my head and parting my lips, I give him my mouth as an answer, letting him dive in deep. His hands tangle into my hair, and he holds me close. Our tongues slide against each other’s in a slow dance timed to perfection. No awkward slips or messy coordination, but like we were made to fit together. My belly tightens, twisting with delicious expectancy.
He grips my hair tight, and the pleasure-pain shoots straight to m
y nipples and womb. I arch my back, pressing my chest into his in search of the needed friction. He slides his hand down from my hair to my back. One tug at the tie of my bikini top and his hand skates up to work the tie at my neck. The top falls between us, and our bodies press together skin to skin. Warmth from his chest penetrates mine. His muscles flex against my nipples, and a wave of pleasure washes over me.
He curls his big arm around me and grabs my bottom. Pulling me up, my legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me down the hallway. Not once breaking our kiss, I squeak in surprise when I go airborne and land flat on my back on his bed.
Standing at the edge, his eyes devour my topless body as he unlaces his board shorts. He moves his gaze downward, from my bare chest to my belly, before focusing on the waistline of my linen pants. “Need those off. Shoes too.”
I’m lying on my back, and there’s a trained fighter who’s double my size looming at my feet, but I’m the one with all the power. Blake has proven that my feelings are his main priority. And the hunger in his eyes, combined with the response his body is proudly showing, makes me feel sexual and dominant.
I hold my foot up toward him. “Nu-uh. You do it.”
He smiles a crooked smile and bites his lip. I stare, envious that it’s not my teeth sinking into the plump flesh. I lick at my lips, savoring the taste of his tongue that lingers there.
His shorts hang dangerously low on his hips. A light sprinkling of sandy brown hair trails from his belly button and disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts. His muscles flex as he pulls off one of my wedge sandals, then the other. My eyes eat up his body with gluttonous satisfaction, and I study his tattoo.
The illustration of the world with an anchor through it looks almost three-dimensional. Its detailed shading contains so many variations of gray that it almost seems to be made up of colors. Amazing. The eagle stands on top of the earth with its wings spread proudly. Above it, printed in striking bold letters, is Semper Fidelis. That, I know, means “always loyal.” But below the art, on his ribs, is something else in flowing, scripted letters: Si vis pacem, para bellum.
What does that mean? There’s a story there, but I’ll be damned if—Ooooh…
Blake’s big strong hands rub circles into the soles of my feet. I drop my head back onto the bed. “Mmm, that feels good.”
He chuckles, his laughter laced with arrogant pride. “This ain’t shit, Mouse. You’re in for a lot of feelin’ good.”
My tummy somersaults. I know he feels like he’s on a mission to reform my no-climax status, but I hope he’s not disappointed when it doesn’t happen. “Um… don’t expect too much. You’re dealing with sixteen years of bad programing.”
“Remember, Mouse. Nothing more than you’re willing to give. You can trust me.”
And that’s it. That’s what it is about Blake. I can trust him. It’s not logical to put my faith in someone like him, and yet here I am. When he tells me I’m safe, and that I can trust him… I believe it. To the core of my soul, I believe him.
He puts a knee between my legs on the bed and braces himself over me. His big body hovers and sends me shrinking back into the mattress. Trapped. My mouth goes dry, and I struggle to take a full breath.
As if reading the panic in my body language, he frowns. “Fuck.” Shifting to the side, he drops to his back and pulls me on top of him. “I’m not him.”
I pull in a shaky breath. “I know.” Boy, do I know.
My heartbeat calms against his ribs, and my arms tuck in tight to his sides. The warmth of our skin ignites a desire to taste him. I run my lips along his tan skin. It’s unnatural for a man this strong and intimidating to be so soft. Moving lower, I concentrate on his tattoo, dropping kisses against his ribs. He groans and shifts his hips beneath me.
I smile against him at his restlessness. “This is really beautiful.” Peeking up from beneath my eyelashes, I find him staring at me.
His vibrant green eyes burn with hunger. “Nothing close to as beautiful as what I’m looking at.”
His simple compliment flips around in my belly. I dip my lips to his torso. “This script? What does it mean?” I hold my breath while I continue to rain kisses on his tattoo, hoping he’s relaxed enough to open up about his past. Then I tilt my chin up and see that he’s looking down at me.
“If you want peace, prepare for war.” His expression is serious, and I wonder what his story is.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you fight. Anything worth having in this life, you fight to get. And you don’t stop fighting until you get it.”
Yes. Exactly. Where was he seventeen years ago when everyone was telling me to do the right thing? I had plans and dreams. I’d never have given up Elle, but I had options. I could have fought harder for what I wanted, rather than giving in to what everyone wanted for me. His words remind me that it’s not too late. That it’s never too late to fight for our future. To fight for our peace.
A wave of contentment washes over me. I skate my open mouth from his ribs to his belly button, dragging my tongue along to savor the mild salty flavor. His hands fist in my hair, and I can feel the evidence of what my attention does to him digging between my breasts.
A ravenous hunger hits me hard. The overwhelming desire to devour him, to gorge until I get my fill.
I move lower, making sure to keep my eyes locked on his. “Blake, I want to taste you.”
“Your show, sweetheart.” His tense smile confirms the worry I see in his eyes.
Confused by the mixture of signals he’s sending, I slide back up his body, making sure to drag my bare chest along his until I’m at his mouth. “Stop worrying about me. I’m a big girl. I know what I want.” I place my lips to his in a tender kiss, hoping to reassure him. “I want you.”
He pinches his eyes closed for a moment before looking deep into my eyes. “Promise me this won’t fuck things up between us. If you’re not ready or if—”
“I promise.” Cupping his strong jaw, I run my thumb along his stubbled cheek. So handsome. “Now, may I?”
“Never say no to you, Mouse,” he whispers. “Never.” He grips my head, and brings his lips to mine in a passionate kiss.
Our tongues thrash together, desire pushing our bodies impossibly closer. Hips grinding, hands roaming, breathless moans and whimpers filling the room. He sits up and pulls me close so that I’m straddling his lap. He moves to my breast and sucks one nipple deep into his mouth. I roll my hips in approval. My body heats, feeling like it’s on the verge of catching fire from the attention of his skilled mouth. “Blake—”
“Need these off.” He tugs at the waistband of my pants.
Grateful that they’re drawstring, I make quick work of the tie and open them enough for him to slide his hand in. The intrusion of his fingers beneath my swim bottoms drops my head back on a purr.
“Fucking beautiful.” He slides two fingers in, and my breath hitches. “Everything about you is so damn perfect.”
With his hand engaged between my legs, he drops back to the bed. I look down to see his forearm running the length of his impressive abdomen. It flexes as he rolls his fingers, and the tightening in my belly coils deeper, bringing me to the edge of delirium.
Reaching up, he hooks me behind my neck and pulls me down to him. I’m swirling, light-headed. Greedy for more, I straighten my legs, and with the help of his free hand, I kick off my pants and bikini bottoms.
I’m completely naked. Totally exposed. But I don’t feel powerless or ashamed.
I feel desired. Worshiped. Cared for.
His fingers move in sensual and tender strokes. “Damn, look at you.” He runs his gaze over my face. I’m surprised, with all of his available options, he’s choosing to keep his eyes on my face. “Those eyes. So fucking sexy.”
Bared to him completely, and yet he praises me for something so everyday. A smile twitches my lips, but fails to develop. My nerves are on high, skin vibrating as my need pushes me higher and higher.
Reaching between us, I grip him beneath his shorts, and curb my reaction to jump back at his size. Heated steel warms my palm, and I tighten my hold. A hiss of pleasure shoots from his lips. I stroke him and then latch on to his mouth to swallow the deep groan that bubbles up from his throat.
His abdominal muscles flex and release in time with my caress. I pull back to watch, but he chases my lips, insisting I stay with him. The kiss becomes urgent, like no matter how much I give him, it’ll never be enough.
“Can’t take it anymore.” He pulls at my hips to roll me on top of him.
He scoots down the bed beneath me while encouraging me to crawl toward the headboard. He trails his lips between my breasts, down my ribs, and over my belly button, making sure to hit every erogenous zone on his way down. Oh, wow.
The new position releases a million butterflies that start in my middle and race all over my body. I grab the headboard and pull myself up while he continues his journey down.
I’m lost in sensations, responding to the contact and begging for more.
The tender touch of his lips whispers along the skin just above my pubic bone. Deliberate swipes of his mouth and gentle nuzzles of his nose. I’m lost, gone in a flurry of euphoric bliss.
He grips my bottom tight. “What the fuck?”
My muscles tense when I realize what he’s found. Oh shit.
Blake
She tries to wiggle away, but I clasp her hips, keeping her in place. The jagged scar, well below her belly button, is the focus. I know scars. They’re common in the life of a professional fighter. But a scar down here, so close to—that motherfucker. Fury, hot and catching, floods my veins.
“What happened?” My barked question says accusation, not curiosity.
She tries to scamper away again, and I flip her to her back, my shoulders between her legs. I keep my grip on her hips.
“Blake.” The warning in her tone gets my attention.
“Mouse, don’t worry. I’ll let you go.” I place a delicate kiss on her scar. “I’m just curious.”
She bucks once and throws her forearm over her eyes. “I got caught up in everything and I forgot. Dammit.”
Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) Page 20