Just One Moment (Just One Song #4)

by Stacey Lynn

  His forehead falls to mine and our harsh, erratic breathing encompasses the breadth of the space between us.

  He holds my hands against him, unwilling or unable to let me go, until he slides out of me and rolls to the side.

  His hand moves to my cheek, brushing hair out of my face. I close my eyes under his gentle touch and breathe in the scent of him.

  “You’re incredible.”

  I grin, turning to press my lips to his palm. “You’re no slouch yourself.”

  His deep chuckle makes my grin go wider.

  I don’t know how long we lie in bed, but neither of us is in any hurry to leave. Lynx’s arm moves to drape over my waist and he pulls me to him, pressing his lips against my forehead, my nose, and my cheek.

  "I should go get some sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

  My heart stutters inside my chest. I don’t want him to go. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to sleep alone.

  More guilt swamps me as he groans when he rolls to the edge of the bed. He has a busy day and yet he's giving me a bed large enough for four adults. We wouldn't even touch.

  "Lynx?" I call his name when he's at the doorway, still tugging his jeans up and over his hips, and he turns to me.

  But somehow after everything we just shared, the sweetness of our time together, the way things are shifting, the words lodge in my throat.

  "Yeah?"

  I roll my lips together. "Good night."

  He pauses for a moment and dips his chin before he turns away and walks out the door.

  And I fall asleep, filled with shame and embarrassment at my own weakness and inability to open up to other people the way a normal person can.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LYNX

  "IT'S PROBABLY JUST a concussion," I mutter, trying to say anything to take the fear out of Kennedy's eyes.

  Fucking damn it all to hell.

  I still can't understand what went so horribly fucking wrong when Legend was in the ring just hours ago. I've been replaying the fight in my mind all afternoon, and there was no reason for this fight to turn so horribly wrong.

  Grayson had this fight in his hands. Literally.

  Everything went ass up in a matter of moments.

  He can't afford to be injured.

  Sarah and I are now sitting next to Kennedy, who hasn't taken her eyes off the clock since we've been here. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around Sarah, needing her comfort, but I know that right now she needs to be there for her friend more than me.

  But the hospital. I hate them.

  The smell.

  The bright, blinding lights.

  It all makes me think of the VA hospital where I spent a week after I was injured.

  I shudder at the thought of the screams I heard at night from wounded soldiers.

  The cries they cried in the dark were even clearer in the light of day.

  I feel it...the tendrils of darkness that always seem to hover around me, seeping their way into my skin.

  Closing my eyes, I try to focus on what Dr. Martin recommended for when I feel the memories begin to tighten my chest. I think of bright sun and long grass. I imagine wide-open spaces even as I feel like a pussy for needing to do this now.

  My hands turn clammy and I rub them down the tops of my thighs, concentrating, breathing slowly.

  I need Landon, but he's gone to get us food.

  It's just me and Rodney, who's pissed as all get-out and standing in the corner, ignoring the rest of us.

  My throat tightens and I clear it.

  I squeeze my eyes tighter.

  Bright sun.

  Open spaces.

  Light.

  Air.

  I inhale slowly and count to ten before releasing the breath.

  Brightness.

  Air.

  Inhale through my nose. Exhale through parted lips.

  "Grayson Legend?"

  My eyes snap open, and I jump to my feet right after Kennedy.

  She sways a bit and I wrap my arm around her shoulder on instinct.

  Fuck. I hold her tight to my side as the doctor removes his teal scrub mask and tells us what I suspected.

  Grayson Legend has a concussion. Another one.

  Fuck.

  This could be the end of his career.

  I let Kennedy go when the doctor says Grayson's been asking for her and spear Rodney with a glare.

  He shows no remorse, no care for the fact that his prized fighter is injured. He's just pissed about what this will mean for him and his gym.

  "You okay?" Sarah asks, snapping my gaze back to her.

  She looks up at me with wide, concerned green eyes, and rests her hand on my chest.

  It's pounding beneath her soft touch.

  I cover her hand with mine, needing that connection, and feel my pulse begin to slow.

  "I'll be fine."

  My voice is gruff and tight—scratchy, like I've spent the last three hours chewing on sandpaper.

  I clear my throat again and pull her toward me.

  She comes to me easily and wraps her arms around my waist. I pull her closer, holding her with one hand on her lower back and one at the back of her head, pressing her cheek to my chest.

  My cheeks puff out as I exhale forcefully, and I let the sweetness of her perfume invade my senses until the beginning of my panic attack has fully receded.

  "I could use some warm milk," I whisper, leaning down and brushing my lips against her hair.

  She tenses in my arms. "That doesn't sound like you're doing okay."

  "Just the fucking hospital. I hate this damn place."

  She pulls back and smiles up at me, a smile filled with mirth and silliness, and I feel my pulse finally settle. Damn. Just her green eyes sparkling at me loosen the tightness inside me.

  "Not sure anyone likes being here." She licks her lips and ducks her head back to my chest. "But I know what you mean. You want to get out of here?"

  "Not yet. Landon's not back yet and I want to see how Kennedy's doing."

  "You're a good guy, Lynx," she mutters.

  I rest my forehead on the top of her head. "Not sure most people would agree with you, but I'm glad you think so."

  I let her go and guide her back to the chair, where I pull out my phone and send a text to Landon, telling him to hurry his ass up. We don't need food now, but he'll want to be here to see Grayson if we can get in later.

  I keep an arm wrapped around Sarah's shoulder, holding her as tight to me as I possibly can, and we continue our waiting game.

  ***

  The last twenty-four hours have completely drained me.

  I'm fucking exhausted as Sarah and I sit in the back of a cab headed back to my place.

  After Grayson was discharged from the hospital this morning, we boarded a private plane we'd chartered to bring everyone back to Chicago. It cost a shit-ton of money in order to get something chartered so quickly, but there was no way we were letting Grayson fly commercial and deal with all the bullshit of long security lines while he was still recovering.

  Last night I tossed and turned on the couch, knowing Sarah was sleeping alone in the bedroom. The night before, I could tell she'd wanted to ask me to spend the night with her.

  When she’d hesitated, my gut had tightened and I had left the room feeling relief.

  I wanted it more than anything, but I'm still scared to death of hurting her.

  It's the last thing I ever want to do.

  But after tossing and turning all night long, knowing her trim and tiny body was only feet away, I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms.

  Grayson's injury, watching him lose consciousness in front of us when none of us could do shit to stop it from happening, has shaken everyone.

  I see it in everyone's dull eyes and hear it in the quietness of our words.

  "I should probably just go home," Sarah says when the cab pulls up to my apartment.

  I should let her.
r />   Neither of us is in the mood for sex today.

  I also don't give a shit what's best anymore.

  I want her next to me. Perhaps if her magical pussy can't help my nightmares tonight, her legs entwined with mine will.

  "Come upstairs with me."

  She blinks at my abruptness and I try to soften my voice.

  "Please, Sarah. Come upstairs?"

  Her eyes widen for a moment before she nods. "Okay, Lynx. Whatever you need."

  Whatever I need.

  I need to fucking sleep. No one's slept since the night before the fight. Landon looked more exhausted than I did this morning, but I didn’t ask him if his night was as hellish as mine.

  Sarah looked worse than both of us, so I know that we were both awake and alone.

  I help her get out of the cab and pay for the ride.

  Sarah's already emptying luggage from the trunk. It's not much, but I help her with all of it and then hand her the keys to the building.

  "I'll get your stuff," I tell her when she stares at the keys like she's never seen a set before.

  I nudge her toward the door and follow her until we're in the elevator, and tell her which key works for the door to my place.

  I drop the luggage by the front door as soon as we enter and let it slam shut behind me.

  It's early afternoon and the sunlight is pouring in through the windows, making the whole place feel bright and open.

  And fucking annoying.

  "I need to sleep," I grumble and immediately reach for Sarah's hand. "Come with me."

  She pulls back on my hand and I turn to look at her. I try to wipe away the scowl from my face when I see her chewing on her bottom lip, staring at the stairs that will take us to my sleeping area.

  "Sarah. It's just a fucking nap."

  "I know." She nods and flicks her gaze toward me. I recognize the fear in her eyes because I'm certain it shines in mine as well.

  This could end very badly.

  I don't care.

  I want her next to me. I want her to make me feel better.

  "Okay," she says. Her fingers squeeze around my hand and we trudge to my bed. I can't take my eyes off her as I rip off my shirt and drop my jeans onto the floor.

  She slowly undresses, keeping her eyes from looking directly at me.

  We're so awkward; a grin stretches my lips while I watch her climb into my bed and immediately pull the covers over her body and up to her shoulders.

  A soft laugh escapes my throat as I do the same thing she just did, but once I'm settled underneath the covers, I roll to my side and pull her next to me, wrapping her up in my arms.

  Her body tenses and I press my forehead to her temple. "It's just a nap, Sarah. Relax."

  "I'm trying."

  I kiss her cheek and pull her closer, keeping my eyes closed until I feel her relax into me.

  Then I say a quick, silent prayer that I don't wake up with my hands wrapped around her throat.

  ***

  Wet warmth covers my cock. I arch my hips toward the feeling and open my eyes.

  "Holy shit," I gasp when I see Sarah on her knees in front of my spread legs. She has one hand on my thigh and one wrapped around the base of my dick while she sucks me in as far as she can.

  Her eyes meet mine.

  "What a fucking great surprise," I mutter. My fingertips curl into the sheets so I don't grab her head and fuck her face.

  This. This is what I've been missing.

  A blowjob by a woman who enjoys giving them being the first thing I see when I wake up.

  Heaven.

  Perfection.

  I force myself to my elbows so I can watch every fucking moment.

  This isn't the first time she's enjoyed taking my dick, but it's the first time I've woken up with a woman on top of me and I haven't wanted to strangle her.

  Perhaps blowjobs are the key.

  My hips pump as she continues taking my cock deep into her throat and then she pulls off, licking down my erection until she trails her tongue down the sensitive line separating my balls.

  Fuck. Yes.

  "Suck them," I growl and watch her eyes flicker to mine.

  She grins and tightens her hand around my dick. "Patience, Lynx. This is my time to play."

  Words like, play later, suck my dick, and lick my balls get trapped in my throat when she does exactly what I want, taking one of my balls into her mouth and then the other.

  There is no feeling more glorious than a woman who loves having her mouth wrapped around the most sensitive piece of my flesh.

  Incredible.

  "Shit." I fall back to my bed and begin thrusting into her hand. Between her soft hair tickling my thighs, her mouth on my sac, and her hand pumping and twisting, I feel myself harden and tighten everywhere.

  Muscles contract.

  A groan falls from my lips.

  My hands press against her head and my fingertips dig into her scalp so I don't force her anywhere she doesn't want to be.

  It takes every ounce of control I have not to push her further.

  But then she takes her mouth off my balls, opens her mouth, and takes my dick to the back of her throat, humming while she does it.

  The vibrations rocket through my dick to my spine and I lose all sensibility.

  "I'm coming," I gasp, warning her with barely enough time as my orgasm coils and releases.

  She swallows me down while continuing to suck on me, her hand jacking me off at the base until all the nerves in my body begin to tickle and scream for relief.

  "I don't know what I did for that surprise, but remind me to do it again," I say when I can finally form words.

  Sarah grins, licks her lips, and crawls up my body until her ass is pressed against my softening cock.

  It doesn't soften further.

  She looks down at me, hands on my cheeks and whispers, "I had a really great nap. Woke up in your arms and couldn't help but want to wake you up."

  She had a great nap.

  Because she slept with me, or because we're just so damn tired?

  I lift my hand and brush hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  She turns her head and presses her lips against the inside of my wrist.

  "How about I return the favor?" I ask, breaking the softness of this moment.

  I know what I want. Moments like this, when Sarah is so tender toward me, tells me she wants it, too. It tells me she wants me, too.

  But I'm still afraid I could scare her off like a skittish mouse.

  She rolls her hips against me.

  My cock hardens to life as I feel her warmth and wetness soak into my skin.

  "I think I'll take you up on that."

  My hands go to her waist and I lift and flip her, rolling her to her back, and then I slide down her body, trailing my tongue along her skin, tickling her and making her giggle until I get to her pussy.

  And then I don't stop until her hands are digging into my short hair and she's shouting my name, her body pulsing and quivering beneath me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SARAH

  I HAD NO idea, when I was sitting in a hospital waiting room forty-eight hours ago, that I would end up sharing a bed with Lynx.

  Not only sharing a bed, but enjoying it. As soon as he wrapped me in his arms, it took only a few minutes to relax into his hold.

  He's held me frequently.

  When we're together, he touches me often.

  His entire body has covered mine and vice versa.

  I told myself that falling asleep in his arms was simply what he needed at that moment, when everything with their career and with Grayson was so uncertain.

  I did what any good friend would do: I comforted someone who was hurting.

  But when I woke from my nap and found my leg thrown over his, my head resting on his chest and my arm draped over his waist, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I was so comfortable...the last time I felt so at peace.

  Perh
aps it was the much-needed nap, since I hadn't had any sleep except for a few quick moments on the plane.

  I could lie and say it was that.

  In truth, I felt the shift between Lynx and me the night before the fight, when we had come together in bed.

  I felt his loss as he walked away from me that night, when I was too scared to ask for what I wanted.

  And when I woke up from our nap, feeling so warm and safe and protected and cared for—even if he didn't realize he gave that to me—I made a quick decision that I hope I can stick with.

  I'm done being afraid.

  For seven years, I've been terrified and carried with me the guilt of ruining someone's life and taking others. I've carried the weight of that burden alone, on my shoulders, despite trying to move on.

  Yet with Lynx, that burden feels lighter.

  Not because he takes it from me, but I can tell he's battling his own demons and I've seen him trying to get past them.

  I saw him fight down a panic attack at the hospital just as it started. I can tell the signs anywhere, and when he whispered that he wanted some warm milk, I knew exactly what he was saying, what he was implying.

  If he can be strong, and take on my darkness, I want to help him with his.

  Perhaps a blowjob was a cliché way to begin doing it, but Lynx didn't seem to mind.

  When he went down on me afterward, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

  And when we were done, we showered, ordered pizza, and spent the night on his couch, watching television, laughing, and having a few drinks while I cuddled up close to him and enjoyed him.

  As I wake up this morning, his arm heavy around me as he holds me to him, I have the sudden urge to tell him everything I've realized in the last few days.

  I decide to let him sleep and make him breakfast instead.

  He's had a rough few days, and I know that soon he's going to wake up hungry.

  It's with that thought that I slowly slide out from beneath the weight of his arm. I snag my underwear, which was tossed to the floor when we climbed into bed last night, and pull them on before grabbing a gray shirt with Bartlett’s Gym stamped on the front of it.

  It falls down my body, hitting me at mid-thigh, covering me enough to wander around his loft without digging through my suitcase and risk waking him.