He took a deep, pained breath. “Everything I have left.”
I waited for him to keep going.
“A rival gang wanted revenge on my father. Two men broke into our house at two in the morning. They shot my father in the garage. He hung out there a lot. Kenny was asleep in his bed. He was my brother. He was only nine. They killed him in his sleep. They did the same thing to Mom. I heard them, Cat. My bedroom was in the basement. The only window out was nailed shut. Mom had done it. To keep me from sneaking out at night. The first shot woke me up. I lay in bed, trying to understand what I heard. I heard the second shot. And I ran upstairs in time to see the third one. I ran. They chased me. I fought them. I was huge at thirteen, twice the size of other teenage boys. And I’d just heard and watched them kill the only people I loved. I fought them. Both. With everything I had. I knocked their guns out of their hands. We went fist to fist, but there were two of them and one of me. One grabbed me around the back and brought the blade to my throat and drug it over my jugular vein. I managed to get my elbow into his side, he only managed to cut my left artery before the sirens started. They took off, leaving me alive. I crawled, spewing blood from my neck, to my mother’s room. To my brother’s room. To the garage. Checking for pulses. And not finding one.”
I stared at him in horror. He had to be kidding. I waited for him to take it back. Ha ha, he’d laugh, I’m just kidding. But the pain in his eyes was disgusting and deep. He’d been through hell and he wasn’t kidding. I didn’t even know what to say. I put my hand on his heart, his broken heart.
“After I got out of the hospital, I went to live with my aunt in Denver. The only thing I could think to do was to pretend. To be someone else. My father was a lost soul doing the best he could with the bad he had. He loved art, taught me how to draw. I told the truth by getting the tats and then I wore nice clothes to hide them. I became a cop so nothing like that would ever happen to me. I became a detective to solve crimes because my crime was never solved. And then Madison happened, and the bodies, and I couldn’t go back there. But then you happened, you happened, Cat, and I don’t understand anything at all but you.”
It was my turn to hold him. I brought his head to my chest and kissed the top of it, trying and failing to picture the horrors he’d lived through. Love was probably so hard for him. To love was dangerous. To want was scary. I held him tighter.
“So the reason there was no family at the hospital was because there is no family. What about your aunt?”
“She and I don’t talk. She kicked me out at fourteen. We never talked again.”
I brought his face close and kissed him tenderly. I wanted to love him. He hadn’t been loved in so long, my heart ached to give it to him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“No, Cat. Thank you.” He smothered me with a kiss.
That kiss was different too. Gentle, soft, and safe.
I poured every ounce of love I had in me into my lips. He moaned, threading his fingers through my hair. He settled between my legs and I opened them for him. He made love to me tenderly, rocking into me with the same rhythm of a wave. It was a slow burn of love and pain. I kissed him as hard as I could, and he made love to me as softly as he could. We came together, moaning together and falling together.
I promised myself then that demons could be temporary. A flash of pain that stuck around too long.
That love had to win.
Hard or painful.
It had to win.
Chapter Fifteen
Brando
We didn’t get out of bed until our hunger was stronger than our desire.
Still, I watched her, taking the time in the shower to wash her entire body. I lathered her breasts, endowed and heavy, ripe with sex. I cupped them in the shower and brought them to my mouth, sucking her hard, dark pink nipple into my mouth. Her body trembled, and her heavy-lidded eyes fell across mine. The taste of her body mixed with the hibiscus and coconut body wash she’d used; she tasted like sex and paradise. She leaned against the shower wall and watched with drooped lids.
I loved the gleam in her eyes, the bad girl trapped in her good. I sank to my knees, wanting more of her. Her legs quivered, spent from spending the day wrapped around my waist. I grabbed her ankle and propped it on the edge of the tub, and guided the other over my shoulder, baring her cunt to me. She had the sexiest strip of onyx pubic hair on her pale supple mound. I ran my tongue through it, biting a teeth-full of her shimmering pubic hair until she yelped; her fingers plunged into my hair.
I’d tasted her twice already, but I’d never get enough of her. Never get tired of tasting her soul. I prodded her pussy with my tongue until I found her swollen sensitive clit. I sucked it between my teeth and bit down, sending her careening to the shower floor. I wasn’t done. Never be done. I lifted her onto the shower’s edge and bared her legs, keeping them wide open for me. I lapped at her dripping pussy, savoring the musky taste of her and me mixed together; the scent of hibiscus and coconut floated around us. I slid my tongue from her tender opening to her pulsing clit, up and down, ignoring her screams begging for me to stop. I wanted one more orgasm out of her. I let her leg go and fought her searing tightness, inserting two fingers into her sweet cunt. And then I used my beard, rubbing my coarse hair over her hypersensitive clit.
She cried, a sound of torture and pleasure. I pumped my fingers into her deeper, kissing her taut abdomen as she shattered beneath me. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I was transfixed. Let loose. I kissed up her stomach, to her breast, and found her throat. I loved the feel of her pulse pounding, that I could make her feel alive.
She braved the darkness of my past and hadn’t run.
“I can’t anymore, Brando,” she whined, so cute with her matted hair and pink cheeks. “Get off.”
“One more time,” I pled, finding her lips.
“How do you have any strength left?” She fought to get away, giggling when I grabbed her around the waist. “You have some serious problems. Let me up.”
As much as it hurt, I let her go, swallowing the thick haze of want clouding my vision. It was a good thing we waited to have sex. I’d never get enough of her. I’d give her everything I had, and I wouldn’t even miss the empty shell she left me.
“Come on,” she said gently, reaching down with her hands, the water cascading down her tattooed arms. When I gave her my hands, our arms didn’t look so different. I followed the ink up her arm, the genie hanging upside down, the swirl of magic from his lamp wrapping around his throat. It went well with my flames. Everything about her went well. That was the problem. Things that went well in my life tended to … not.
She washed me, carefully cleaning my chest and back. She lathered my half-massed cock and dug her nails into my ass. We dressed silently. I was lightheaded and my stomach was so empty, I couldn’t see straight. It was almost nine that night. We’d spent all day and part of the night lost in each other.
Losing myself in her felt a lot like finding myself.
I searched through my bag for the tube of gel I packed. I squirted some on my hand as she sprayed perfume on her neck. I swiped my hand through my hair and stepped into my boots.
There was a whining sound from somewhere, and Cat and I both gasped at the same time. She bolted for the door in the back of our room and let Trixie in. She was soaking wet, but wiggly, twirling happily in a circle at Cat’s feet.
“She must’ve followed me out when I left this morning.” I made a call to Ethan Cook, my old partner. He promised to keep me updated on the apprehension of Alec Lowelle, the sonofabitch who lured Cat to his apartment. Accused of sexual assault in 2004, served two years in Indiana at eighteen. A string of petty crimes along the way. He didn’t seem to be a killer, just a man who liked his women to fight back. “Fucking prick,” I hissed under my breath.
What bothered me the most was that it was my fault. She’d been upset over me leaving, over a woman at Guns & Ink that meant nothing to me. I put her in that place. Because th
at’s what I did. I should run now, leave her be, safe, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted her. I needed her. I was selfish, and I would take her down to have her now.
Hanging my head, I mumbled something about waiting for her in the living room. The hostel needed tending to, but for the price and atmosphere, it had a certain charm. The common living room was full of guests tonight. Probably due to the rain. I examined them all. Blond couple on the couch, hipsters at the bar, and an olive-skinned woman near the bookshelf. She looked over at me as I examined her. Late twenties, no wedding ring, and she held my gaze. Which meant she either had nothing to hide—which I didn’t buy—or she liked playing with fire.
She gave me a demure smile before pulling a joint from behind her ear and settling on the bamboo sofa. She lit it as I watched, and the cop in me quirked a brow at her audacity. I wanted to slap a pair of cuffs on her ass, but she’d probably like it.
She held the joint out to me in a silent offering.
I gave her a slight shake. “No thanks.”
She smiled again, holding my gaze as she pulled in a drag. I knew I was fucked then. Totally fucked. She was gorgeous, tan, and honey brown hair. Huge tits and a long body. And she did absolutely nothing to me. I wanted nothing to do with her but to grind her joint into the ground with my boot.
“What’s your name?” she asked, the pungent smoke wafting over her head.
I smiled. I was in love with a woman ten times scarier than this one. No way was I rocking that boat. I looked over my shoulder, watching Cat close and locking our room door. She smiled softly at me, and my cock twitched. Mine, she had to be mine.
I offered her my hand and she took it. I thought she hadn’t noticed my joint smoking friend, but she looked over her shoulder before we left.
“I’ve never fought over a guy,” she stated when we made it outside. It was lightly drizzling, nothing that would rain on our mood. “Always thought it was stupid. Men should be fighting over me. But I’d fight over you, Brando, like a thirteen-year-old virgin any day.”
I put my hand to my chest. “Stop the romance. You’re turning me on.”
“But I’d also kill for you, so remember that the next time you let some bitch eye fuck what’s mine, okay?” She gave me an eerie smile that went straight to my dick.
“Yes, Catherine.”
“Good boy, Brando.” She patted my ass.
We ended up at a bar on the coast. We ordered coconut mojitos and appetizers.
“Trixie okay?” I asked, taking a pull. I’d rather have a beer, but Cat seemed excited sipping her tropical cocktail.
“Dried her off and made her a bed. She still has food and water.”
She wore a thin black shirt with short sleeves. Her dark locks hung down her shoulders, and she had two huge hickeys on her throat. I loved feeling her pulse pound against my lips, and I wondered if I did because mine had almost been cut out. Her cheeks were bright from the heat of the muggy night and the alcohol, and when her dark brown eyes shot to mine, they were filled with a myriad of emotions. Sex and love were the most prominent, and there were others, like shyness and doubt, but I figured I looked the same, and didn’t push it.
“Good. The little mutt grew on me. Kind of like you.” I nudged her side with my elbow, chuckling when she scowled.
“You’re kind of a jerk. Like Klay. Only I never wanted to sit on Klay’s face.”
I choked on my drink, coughing raucously at the bar as she patted my back. “That’s good to hear, I guess. Couldn’t picture you two together.”
She shrugged, toying with her straw. “He’ll always be my first love. Not romantic, but the first man I ever loved that never hurt me. But that’s all he’ll be. It’s a little embarrassing to think about wanting him all those years ago.” She blushed, scratching at her eyebrow uncomfortably. “Got over that a long time ago. Have you really never been in love?” she asked next, peeking at me.
I hadn’t taken my eyes off her since we sat down. And looking at her, it was difficult to fathom lying. “I was thirteen when I lost my family. That was the last time I loved anyone. And then I woke up in my hospital bed and you were there. It scared me, the idea of loving someone again.”
“Does it scare you still?”
“It terrifies me. But it’s hard to feel that fear in the middle of it, if that makes sense? I’m only afraid when you’re not there.”
Catherine was a sexy woman. She didn’t need me to relay that. She was sexy when she was strong, when she was vulnerable. But there was something entirely new about her shyness. I didn’t think even she understood it. I leaned over and kissed her, unable to help myself. I wanted to taste her coy, swallow her weakness. She tasted of mint and coconut. I wanted to prop her up on the bar, rip her jeans off, and bury myself inside of her.
That’s how it was for days. I was inside of her whenever she allowed it. We ate, slept, and dreamt sex. Making love in our room, our bodies sticky with sweat, only getting up long enough to let Trixie in and out. Maybe we ate, maybe we didn’t. The backyard was fenced in, and the mutt loved chasing the birds and rolling around in the eucalyptus leaves out back. I devoured Catherine Abbott. The only time I felt alive was when she was beneath me, on top of me, beside me, near me—she had to be close by, or things felt like they’d implode.
It started to feel like a real vacation. Today, I’d spent the morning savoring the space between her thighs, dragging my tongue up and down her sweet wet cunt. The woman was always wet for me, tasting of sugar. She sagged to her back, sweat smeared enticingly on her breasts, black hair matted to the pillow. I kissed up her inner thigh, the pain in my ribs far less noticeable. I wondered if the sex had eased the pain, or the constant exercise.
I continued, kissing along her thigh to her knee. I trailed my tongue up her calf and nipped my way up to her foot. Such cute feet. Small and feminine, her chipped black polish somehow her. I sucked her baby toe into my mouth and bit down, loving the way she jerked. Her eyes were barely open and her stomach moved up and down with her heavy breathing.
“I never want to go home,” she murmured sleepily. I could hear Trixie in the backyard, barking at the birds.
I moved past her statement without acknowledging it. We had to go home. If only to make sure my past stayed buried. I moved on to her big toe, watching her writhe. I moved along her instep and paused at her heel. She looked fake, lying across the sheets covered in me. Her ink twisted up with her pale skin, and her inky hair. Like an illusion that would only bring me peace. My love for her exploded in my chest. I had to keep her.
Or nothing mattered.
I fell onto the bed beside her and buried myself into her and around her. I burrowed my face in her hair and flung my arms and legs around her.
I had to let her go.
“Want to go for a swim?” I inhaled her hair, the smell of sweat and sex clinging to her. She smelled like magic to me.
Our kind of magic.
“Food?” she begged, but it was barely a whisper. She rolled into me and a second later, I heard her delicate snoring.
I kissed her temple and got up. I draped the sheet over her beautiful naked body and then threw on some jeans and a shirt. I didn’t know love. After losing my family, I condemned myself to live without it. I felt nothing anyway, love wasn’t going to be waiting for a man like me around the corner. But Cat and I knew, we knew what we were the moment we met, like our souls were begging for us long before we’d been able to open our mouths.
I put Trixie on her leash and pocketed my wallet, making sure both doors were locked before we took off. The sun was setting over the water, and it looked incredible. Lavender and magenta painted the world, and the water was this deep dark blue, coupled with the sand. I wanted to draw it. I wanted to put it on Cat’s body. So she’d always remember the magic we had here.
So she’d always remember to look at it when she needed some.
I ran Trixie ragged, until she was begging to be picked up. I carried her with me
to the corner market and picked up a cooler and ice, and then I stocked it with food and drinks. When Trixie and I got back to the room, Cat was still asleep where I left her. I set up the cooler and opened a can of soda and ripped open a bag of trail mix. Then I sat on the floor near the bed and watched Catherine sleep.
The moonlight bled into the room, shining directly onto her naked body. Love was twisted up inside of me. I had it once, had a lot of it, and then it was ripped from me. Catherine never had it. We didn’t know what love was for a long time, and maybe we still didn’t know for sure, but who did?
Who knew the exact moment they fell in love? Who knew the exact chemical makeup? The perfect alignment of the stars and moon? Who knew anything for sure?
Love wasn’t knowing anything. Love was feeling. Love was falling over and never wanting to stop. It was jumping over the edge of fear and wonder and freefalling into the madness. So Catherine didn’t know love, and I didn’t know how to keep it, but we would both learn. We would fall again and again into the storm.
Because we didn’t have a choice.
She shifted. I watched her hand move around in search of something. Her eyes twitched and her fingers clutched at the empty sheets. “Brando,” she whispered softly, her lips parting. “Mmm, Brando.” She rolled onto her back, her pale tits nude in the moonlight. “No,” she exhaled, her face pinching in pain. “Don’t let go.” She fisted the sheets and reached into the air, and a moment later, her body relaxed, and she rolled back onto her side. “Never let go,” she mumbled lethargically.
As if she knew that’s what I had to do.
My eyes drug over her smooth, oiled skin.
My cock was in high heaven. She’d bought a bikini at one of the local shops. It was the only one left in her size, much to her chagrin. It wasn’t her style, I’d admit, but it was my style. Dark yellow and orange palm trees. It barely covered her body. Tied around the neck and back, two triangle scraps of fabric over her tits; I could spy her dark pink areolas as she lay on her back. Her smooth, taut stomach dipped so low, I could see the top of her mound. The bottoms were a thong, and they cupped her tight pussy like a glove. When she was standing, her plump round ass was supple, creamy skin. I wanted to sink my teeth into every single inch of her.
Hard Love Page 17