Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2)

by Jennifer Ann

  When she suddenly draws back, eyes glossed and full lips raw from the kiss, I’m barely able to hold back the urge to draw her in again.

  “It’s brass monkeys out here,” she tells me in a breathy voice. She bats her thick eyelashes and grins. “Take me to the hotel and warm me up.”

  I’m so caught up in the idea of getting her naked that I can’t form any words in response. Shooting up from the bench, I grab her hand and we run back to the truck like a couple of eager teenagers who know damn well time is of the essence. Only instead of facing a curfew, we’re facing the fact that we don’t know if or when we’ll see each other again after she leaves.

  Once we're sitting together in the truck, I push the console up and wrap my arm around her back, holding her close at my side. Part of me is worried she’ll disappear and I’ll discover this really was some kind of fucked-up, grief-induced dream. When I turn the key and the engine roars to life, she rests her head against my chest and runs circles with her fingers across my breastbone and down my stomach. The innocent gesture is hell on my fading control.

  A raging need consumes every inch of my body as I continually run my hand up and down her arm, bending several times to kiss the top of her head. Neither of us says a word, but there’s a crackling energy between us that speaks volumes. A cynical part of me knows messing around with my sister’s best friend is all kinds of wrong, breaking some unwritten code. If it somehow changed things between the two of them, I’d never forgive myself. But Sharlo’s only in town for a few days, and right now I need to feel a real connection to another human. I need something real to remind me life isn’t all shit and there are still things worth fighting for.

  The more thought I put into the situation, however, the more I come to realize it’s selfish. This probably won’t be the last time we see each other considering she’s like a sister to Evelyn. What if she forever thinks of me as some heartless bastard who used her for one night of fun? What if being together this one time somehow ruins this beautiful woman?

  It’s late by the time Sharlo retrieves her key from the hotel’s front desk and leads me through the quiet building into her room, locking the door behind us. My eyes are sweeping over the outdated decor when she grabs me by the collar of my coat. Standing on her tiptoes, she pulls me down to finish where we left off, gripping my short hair and ravaging me with her velvety mouth.

  I should be the voice of reason and stop this before everything changes. But the inherent need to be buried deep inside her takes over, and I feel like I’m going to lose my fucking mind. There’s no stopping now.

  We’re still kissing as she kicks her shoes off, and I fumble with the buttons on her coat. After a minute she pushes my hand away to do it herself until it falls to the floor with a quiet thud. We work together on removing my coat next. It makes a much louder noise when it hits the thin hotel carpet.

  My chilled fingers nudge the hem of her soft sweater up to stroke the warm skin on the small of her back. She’s so silky and smooth to the touch that I worry I’ll blow a load inside my sweats. Does all of her feel this wonderful?

  “This okay?” I ask against her lips.

  Humming with consent, she seals her mouth over mine and arches into my hard body. Possessed with the need to explore every inch of her soft skin, I break the kiss and lower to my knees on the floor, lifting her sweater higher to drag my lips over her belly and upward. She bends to cradle my head and hums again in the most delicious sound as I give every last exposed, delicate inch of her the attention it deserves.

  Soon she’s grabbing the bottom of her sweater and slipping it over her head, giving me an unobscured view of her stomach and generous breasts spilling out from a sexy red bra. Her feminine body is even more amazing than I could’ve hoped for. She’s nothing short of perfect.

  A low sound vibrates in my chest when I make my way up to the angel-soft swells of her cleavage. Once again she cradles my head in her hands when her body arches up to meet mine, silently begging for more. I pop a breast free from the satiny material, rolling her pink nipple with my finger and thumb until it’s puckered and rock hard. She’s already moaning before I bring my lips in for a turn, sucking on it while massaging her other hardened tit with my hand.

  “You can’t imagine how divine that feels,” she whispers in a strangled voice, seeming to have lost all control the way her hands desperately tug at my hair. A second later she unhooks her bra in back before pulling the straps down her arms and dropping it at her side.

  “They’re all yours,” she purrs with a sexy little grin.

  God, she doesn’t even need beauty. Her confidence alone is a fucking turn-on that I’ve never known before.

  Though her breasts are considerably round and full for someone so long-limbed and skinny, there’s no doubt in my mind they’re real as I continue to explore each of her knobbed, pink nipples with my tongue and massage the flesh with my fingers. The pleased noises she makes while squeezing her arms around my skull tighten my balls and call to my darkest desires waiting to be unleashed.

  “Give me a hand, luv,” she coos, wiggling her hips.

  I help pull her torn jeans down her legs, revealing a silky red thong between her smooth hips. A noise that sounds like a feral wolf gurgles through my throat. The need to conquer her body strikes my core with the power of lightening.

  Pressing my shoulder into her stomach, I hoist her body into the air. The squeal she releases gets cut short when I toss her down on the hotel bed and stare into her eyes, desire overtaking every fiber of my being. After tugging the small piece of material down her legs, I brush my fingers over her mound a few times before sinking them inside the damp spot between her legs while returning to ravage her lips. She makes this sexy little purr inside my mouth that propels my mind to an entirely new level of desire. Jesus, I can’t imagine ever getting enough of her.

  I’m so lost in the feel of her slick warmth against my fingers that I don’t notice right away she’s yanking the end of my sweatshirt. “You’re wearing far too many clothes,” she whispers against my lips.

  Caught in the depths of her ocean-blue gaze, filled with expectation and hope, I turn to stone. Can I live with the fact that she might see me as an asshole when it’s all said and done? This feels too much like a cheap one-night stand. There’s no promise of a future relationship. How can there be when she’s heading back in a few days?

  “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I say, licking my lips.

  Her eyes dart upward to meet the hotel ceiling. “Don’t be daft. Unless you’re actually seeing that psychotic tart, there’s no reason why we can’t. We’re two consenting adults with needs. This doesn’t actually have to mean anything unless, of course, you’re unprepared without a condom in your wallet in which case I must warn you I’m in no position to be a mum at this stage in my life. It’s a small miracle I’ve been able to properly tend to myself this long.”

  When I only smirk in response, she sits up and nudges me back until she’s able to get a better hold on my sweatshirt. “Arms up, then. I promise to make this worth your time.”

  Once my sweatshirt has been discarded on the floor, her eyes lock on my chest and darken with lust. “I don’t know about you, but this has already been worth the price of admission.” Then her fingers move for the waistband of my pants and my heart flops up into my throat. “Alright then. I do believe it’s your turn.”

  Chapter 4

  SHARLO

  James Kendall is an anomaly in every sense of the word. As he moves toward me without a stitch of clothing and a condom rolled into place on his impossibly large cock, I’m stunned beyond intelligible conversation. From his broad shoulders down to his thick calves, he’s massive in every way imaginable. So much that my body becomes an inferno with the mere idea of him filling me. Forget Thor and that gorgeous Aussie who portrayed him. I’ve discovered a bloody deity.

  As always, James is a man of few words, but his gaze tells its own story when it feasts on what I have
to bring to the table. I may not have the ideal body type with what my grandmum calls “child-bearing hips” and one breast slightly larger than the other, but James doesn’t seem to mind. Despite feeling far from the desirable type, he makes me feel truly wanted like no man has before. I can’t recall a time when I was this unbelievably turned on. How is it possible to feel the start of an orgasmic bliss when he’s hardly begun to touch me?

  An animalistic growl vibrates though his throat when he crawls over me and slips a sausage-sized finger between my legs. He’s made me so wet that I’m surprised it doesn’t slip right back out. I gasp when his rough thumb brushes over my clit with a gentle stroke and then back once more.

  “Come for me, little butterfly,” he whispers against my ear.

  Hold on. Did he really just call me that? By god, he’s dominate and sweet as shit. “That can be easily arranged,” I gasp out with the first bright wave clenching my pussy.

  While one of my hands explores every muscle on his colossal chest and the other clings to his thick shoulder, I bend in to gingerly take his wounded lip between my teeth. The faint taste of blood lingers on his dried skin, tainting the moment with a hint of danger. He takes my lips in another eager kiss, sucking my tongue before releasing it and starting all over once more.

  The man kisses just as one would imagine from someone of his size, powerfully and potently. Confident. As his lips work over mine, I’m filled with his musk as well as an entirely foreign feeling. I’m not sure what to think of it. I’ve clearly fancied a go with him since the night we met in my flat and even more so after Evelyn’s wedding. This, however, this is a connection unlike anything. It locks my breath inside my lungs and makes my heart skip a beat. His thumb coaxes the delightful swell between my legs to rise higher until I swear I’ll never be able to catch my breath again.

  “Let yourself feel it,” he demands, pinching and rolling my clit with his fingers. “Give it to me, baby. I want everyone in this building to hear you come.”

  I have no qualms in complying, letting the divine feeling wash over me until I’m seeing stars and planets and a whole galaxy. Digging my nails into his back, the release comes while belting his name and wailing in a sound that would make anyone in the hotel aware of what this beautiful man is doing to me.

  As I’m coming down and attempting to collect myself, my lady bits still doing a mambo, the smooth head of his rigid cock rubs against my slick opening. “You want this?”

  “Yes please,” I breathe with a desperate gasp.

  “How bad do you want it?”

  “Just give it to me, sweetheart, and I beg you, don’t be gentle.”

  His somewhat amused gaze connects with mine, sending my insides on an upward spiral of giddy pleasure. No longer hesitating, he pushes his way inside of me until I’m filled to the hilt, stretching to fit every last inch of his delightful girth. Bloody hell, he really is as immense as I had envisioned.

  “Goddamn, you feel so good,” he tells me between clenched teeth. “So tight.”

  From the moment he’s drawing back to pound inside me again, darkness seizing his handsome face, I silently curse the heavens for not sending him my way earlier. Nothing has ever felt this good or so right. He fucks the way he fights, hard and unrelenting. My fingernails dig into the flexing muscles in his back as his phenomenal body works above me.

  “Jesus, Sharlo,” he growls out, saying my name in a prayer. Then he bends and reclaims my mouth, stroking my tongue with his and every so often dragging his teeth across my bottom lip.

  Beseeched with a craving to possess this beautiful man, I wrestle him down to his back and settle on my knees, having a go at taking control. James meets my lunges and grips onto my hips so tightly it’d be downright painful were it not for the divine way he slams into every delightful inch of my tingling center. Paired with the intensity of his beautiful eyes, it isn’t long before I’m reaching the point of no return for a second time and spewing his name among a string of curses. A sweet vibration rocks my womb, making my mind dumb with pleasure.

  James flips us around so my back is on the mattress once more. He gently holds me in place with a large hand on my sternum and rams his cock into my tingling core. Eyes drawn blank and body moving like a machine, a beast takes residence inside his beautiful body, ravenous and wild. It’s a bit terrifying while somehow being exciting, adding to my already satiated high. With nothing more than the spine-tingling look he’s giving me, a raw desire begins to build up once again, desperate for liberation.

  His hand moves up with a gentle but firm hold on my throat. All at once he’s roaring with another sexy growl, twitching above me as he finds his own release. His eyes close before he rests his head in the crook of my neck, suddenly becoming still.

  “That was bloody amazing,” I say, lazily running my fingertips across the taut skin of his hip. With my words he dislodges himself and rolls onto his back at my side, releasing a deep breath while staring up at the ceiling. It would seem the beast has been caged and surly James has returned. I turn on my side to face him, offering a charming smile. “I’m kicking myself for having self-control all those months ago when you came to New York.”

  Stone-faced, James rolls off the bed and disposes of the condom in the bathroom before returning to dress like the room is encased in flames. Not only does something feel off by the way he avoids looking my way, but it also makes me feel like some kind of slag.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I ask, wondering if he can hear the bite to my words.

  “I have to go,” he replies, slipping into his coat.

  Without another word, he’s gone from the room, leaving me to stare at the worn ceiling. Restless and aching in the most delicious way, I’m left to wonder if sleeping with someone going through such a distressing experience was, in fact, a mistake. It seems inevitable it was a one-night thing. This couldn't possibly be anything more. James lives in an entirely different world from the hustle and bustle of the city that I adore. This was nothing more than two lonely souls looking for a thrill.

  Besides, anyone I’ve ever developed deep feelings for has left. Dad was always absent, working impossible hours, Mum returned to England with her drugs, and even Evelyn left to be with her husband, though I can’t say I blame her. And Richard, the only man I ever gave my heart to, felt a need to get his rocks off elsewhere. Why should I expect James to be any different?

  As I drift off to sleep, I’m unable to stop dwelling on the intensity of James’s gaze or the delightfully feminine way he made me feel. The man has essentially ruined me for any future suitors, and I kind of fancy the idea.

  The next couple of days James is so caught up in the planning of their dad’s service, checking in with the authorities, meeting with the family attorney, and dealing with incoming siblings, that we aren’t afforded any time alone. Or so I tell myself. I can't pretend he isn’t going out of his way to avoid my company when that seems to be exactly the case. At least Evelyn doesn’t seem to notice anything is off when I do my best to play the loyal mate, consoling her at every turn and being the rock she needs whenever Charlie is busy.

  After the service and burial, Evelyn’s family gathers in the small basement of a church for sandwiches and the strangest array of warm “hot-dishes” as they call them. James was understandably stoic when I passed through the queue with Lorenzo and Dante to convey my sympathies, though I swear he held onto me a little longer when we embraced. His eyes didn’t so much as linger on me for an added second; however, before he was greeting the old woman behind me.

  While a part of me still likes to think we shared a special connection that night in my hotel room, I’m also struggling with the notion that I took advantage of him in a time of weakness.

  Weary of the idle conversation between Charlie’s bodyguard and some of Evelyn’s older relatives, I take the time to study the closest members of Evelyn’s family from afar. At her wedding, it was painfully clear the siblings had drifted apart in their separate c
orners of life. Now, as they’re made orphans, it would do them good to sort things out, make the best of what they have. While I, myself, am the product of a money-hungry workaholic and a brainless, pill-popping drifter who never assimilated my need for a traditional family, my heart aches when I consider their dad may have been the last thread holding this family together.

  Braden, the youngest of the three boys but quite easily the largest, flew in on the first available flight home from his military assignment in Japan, barely making it in time for the service. Standing near the kitchen, he flirts with two young women, flashing a sly grin at every opportunity. In dress blues and a neatly cropped hairdo, he’s clean cut as well as the most approachable of the bunch despite his intimidatingly immense size. I was easily charmed by his soft brown gaze when he took me out for a dance at Evelyn and Charlie’s wedding. Though a bit too cocky for his own good, I favor his personality the most of James and Evelyn’s siblings.

  Angelina, the oldest child, fills up half the room with nothing more than her striking presence. With a natural, fair grace comparable to Princess Kate and the man-eating gaze of Beyoncé, she’s bloody intimidating. The way everyone flocks to console her, one would think she was the celebrity and not her brother-in-law. Evelyn mentioned her oldest sister is rather dramatic and has been struggling through an identity crisis of sorts while living down in Miami. Beyond that, she’s a bit of a mystery.

  As for their middle sister, Sofia, that one’s as hard as an ice sculpture despite being beautiful and able to make a yawn-worthy pants suit look couture. The way the funeral director fidgets as she speaks with a stern look, it would seem she’s putting her law school tricks to practical use. I’ve done my best to avoid any interaction with either of Evelyn’s sisters, worried they’d eat me alive.