Havoc

by Laramie Briscoe

  She looks away from me, one of her dark curls concealing her face from my gaze. It pisses me off; I want to see the truth in her eyes, the emotion on her face. She’s expressive as hell, and right now I need to see it all. “Of course it bothers me.” She clears her throat before she turns back to me, her eyes taking in the bruise on my torso again. Her voice is quiet as she speaks the next words, “You’re a very important part of my life. You’re basically all I have. If something happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.”

  The way she speaks lets me know she’s laying the truth out for me. I’m not sure how to react. On one hand, I want to be the person she leans on, on the other I don’t want it to be because she has no other options. It’s a stroke and blow to my ego all in the same sentence. “You’re a strong woman and an incredibly intelligent person, you’d figure it out, Leigh.” Then I realize that since she’s been real with me, I need to be real with her, too. “But I don’t want you to ever have to figure it out on your own. I want to be the person you call if shit ever goes sideways, and I’ll protect you until my last breath. I don’t let anybody fuck with what’s mine and don’t ever doubt you aren’t mine.”

  Her chest is pumping up and down as she takes in my words. “I know, it’s why I trusted you when you asked me to move in with you. It’s why I said yes when you said we should get married. I’ve never trusted anyone as much as you,” she whispers. I notice she puts her arms in front of her chest, hugging herself, in a protective gesture. If I were any kind of man I’d give it up and go over there, take her in my arms, let her know everything’s okay. But I’m raw right now; we’re talking more today than we ever have, all because of a bruise on my chest. Tank and Blaze admitted their feelings because of a wreck – maybe it is true what they say, certain situations put life into perspective. She’s still speaking, so I give her my full attention. “That may make me the stupidest person ever, but I trust you with everything.”

  I shake my head. “Doesn’t make you stupid, sweetheart. I trust you with everything too, and I’m fully aware it puts us both at risk.”

  She nods almost imperceptivity. “Is that risk the reason you’re bruised right now?” I know what she’s asking. She wants to know if her family had anything to do with me getting hurt. It annoys me, that she even has to worry about that shit.

  I clear my throat. “Nope, this was something else entirely, and you know it’s never mattered to me what stock you came from. What matters to me is the type of person you are.”

  I realize then how true those words are, as I grab the hamburger patties and head out to the deck, snagging another beer on my way. Sometimes you need to let loose, and maybe I’m gonna do that by having a couple of beers tonight. Otherwise, I might do something I could totally regret.

  Leighton

  I’m doing my best not to let my emotions show as I watch his incredibly toned back walk out of the kitchen I now call ours, onto the deck. Once he’s there, I watch as he gets the grill started, and it’s only when I turn away from the window do I let myself feel. Tears silently stream down my face as I let the impact of the words he spoke wash over me. I never knew how much it truly mattered to me, his opinion, until he uttered the words it didn’t matter what stock you came from.

  This afternoon, here in our kitchen, after almost a year of living together and six months of marriage has been an absolute game changer. One I never saw coming, but at the same time, one I’m absolutely grateful for. I try to take a breath, but let out a sob instead, not sure how to handle this onslaught of emotion. It’s never much mattered to me what others thought, because I couldn’t change the way they perceived my family. I knew at a very early age I was an extension of what others believed of my family and I was included in those assumptions. Looking back, I never had a chance, and damned if I haven’t gotten one now because of the man standing on the back deck, making me a hamburger. I’ll make him proud, no matter what I have to do. He’s the only person in my almost twenty-four years that’s ever taken any kind of chance on me, and I won’t let him down.

  Cleaning the tear tracks off my face, I go about making some macaroni and cheese, along with the steamed vegetables Holden likes to have at every meal.

  Letting my gaze travel back out to the deck again, I let it roam over his body. Truly, he’s a magnificent piece of work, all lines and dark ink, everywhere the eye can see. He’s cut and lean, muscular and amazingly athletic, yet gentle when he has to be. I’ve been witness to the hard work he puts in to maintain the six percent body fat I’ve heard the other guys give him shit about. Therefore, I want to help him as much as I can. I’ve also been witness to the tender side of him, the one that’ll help a little old lady across the street when we’re having a festival downtown and cars don’t want to stop. It was panty-melting, not even gonna lie, when he took June Sutter’s small hand in his and walked her straight across Main Street, daring the drivers he held up to defy him by going until she’d made it safely to the other side. I imagine the way she gazed up at him with awe in her eyes is the same way I gaze up at him.

  Holden Thompson is an enigma with lots of twists and turns, secrets and hidden doors. I want to navigate them all, know them all, and not stop until there’s absolutely nothing between us. He’s done all he can to help me, and I’ll do anything in my power to help him. Regardless of whether we wanted to be, we’re a team, and right now it’s kinda us against the world.

  * * *

  “You get to pick the movie tonight,” I remind Holden, glancing over as we load the dishwasher with our dinner dishes.

  He laughs, throwing his head back. I love when he does that, his face completely changes and the way his Adam’s apple moves up and down is incredibly sexy. He tilts his head forward, still chuckling as he looks at me. “That side-eye you just gave me says you get to pick, but don’t pick anything you really like because I hate everything you love.”

  A small smile spreads across my face as I nod slowly, willing to admit to his criticism. “I do hate everything you love when it comes to movies. Why can’t you like a good comedy or an action movie? Why do we always have to watch the ones that scare me a little bit?”

  “First of all, there’s no such thing as a good comedy, not really. And please, a little bit?” He raises an eyebrow in disbelief, a pure bad boy smile making its way across his face. It’s that smile I love the most, when he lets go and shows me every bit of his personality. “The way you jump into my arms sometimes says you’re more than a little scared.”

  My face burns with embarrassment and I roll my eyes in annoyance. I’m convinced he does this to see my face turn red. I’ve never been good at movies where people jump out at others, never, not even when I was a kid and I didn’t know all the dangers lurking in the dark. “Total girly reaction, what can I say?”

  He leans back against the granite counter, arms folded across his bare chest, the dimples I hardly ever see popping against the darkness of his five o’clock shadow, and the smart ass smile still on his face. “It’s okay if you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” his voice deep, his tone teasing as he continues. “We’ll even leave the lamp on if you need to, Leigh.”

  I throw the nearest dishtowel at his head, scowling when he catches it with a quick flick of his wrist. “A scary flick it is.”

  Twenty minutes later we’re sitting on the couch, in what’s become our usual nighttime routine when he’s home. After dinner we watch a movie. Twice we’ve ended up in each other’s arms, without necessarily meaning to. Tonight though, I want to be there. I want to feel his heart beat, want to feel the warmth of his skin next to mine. I’m finding more often than not during the day I miss him. Whether it’s just to have him next to me, or to share a quick word. He’s become my friend, and he’s becoming the type of family I’ve never had.

  If I’m being honest, this movie isn’t one of the scariest we’ve ever watched, and I’m laying my fear on a little thick. Holden laughs softly as he reaches out with his thick arm when I hide
my eyes behind my hand, pulling the pillow tighter to my chest.

  “C’mon in here.” He pulls me against his side, his arm resting against my shoulders, curling around my neck. The weight of his muscles is enough to make me melt into the curve of his body. If I explained our situation to other people, they’d think we were crazy, but I’ve always been comfortable with him. From the first night I stayed here, we’ve been snugglers and touchers. So far, it’s never gone further than that, but tonight I’m feeling a comfort from him. It’s a comfort I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe even never.

  Just like that, I’m right where I want to be, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath me and the strong beat of his heart. It could quickly become my favorite place to be, and it scares me more than the movies we normally watch and my family combined.

  Havoc

  I purposely picked this movie because I knew it would make her want to curl up next to me. Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment, but I need this. After my day, I need to hold her in my arms, smell the strawberry scent of the shower gel and lotion she uses, and feel her soft skin against mine. Maybe I need it more than she does, because today, regardless of what that bullet hit, I’m feeling my own mortality and I need her next to me probably as much as she needs me next to her. I’m not stupid, and I know she cares for me in her own way. There’s no way she would have married me otherwise, and I’m not stupid enough to question it. Tonight, I’m willing to give into my wants, give into the way I know she can make me feel if I allow her to. Maybe tonight I wanna play with fire, and I’m willing to get a little singed by the flame.

  She gasps at the current scene as someone jumps out and scares the main female character. It causes her to hold onto the forearm I’ve looped around her neck with the tips of her fingers, slightly digging her nails into my flesh. It’s a turn on, because around her I feel like I’m a teenage boy.

  “Don’t be scared,” I whisper into her ear, soothing her, trying to get her to relax against me.

  “Never, at least not with your arms around me,” she answers as she turns her head into me. The seductive tone of her voice is one I’ve only heard once before. The night she kissed me in that bar. I swallow roughly against the memory of that night.

  “What did you think about me? The night when I kissed you at the bar?”

  It’s like we share the same brain sometimes. I clear my throat and try to put my thoughts into words. “It side-swiped me like a car not stopping at an intersection. I’d seen you around, I know you noticed it.”

  “I did,” she shrugs in response. “Every once in a while when you would come to the house, your eyes would linger on me, and I’d wonder what you were thinking.”

  “For the longest time I felt so goddamn sorry for you, that you were brought up in that bullshit, knowing you had nowhere to go. Then that summer, I heard you’d convinced them to let you go to Birmingham. I thought this is her chance, her one shot to get out from under the thumb of her family and do something for her.” I rub my hands up and down her arms. “I never expected you to be in that bar when I walked through the door.”

  I close my eyes against the memory, living in it again. I know what I want to say, and I’m chalking it up to that mortality shit. “You were beautiful that night.” Quickly I amend my words, “Not that you aren’t beautiful all the time.” She laughs softly. “But that night you had a confidence about you, like you were ready to take on the world and strangle it with your bare hands.”

  For a minute I stop, open my eyes, and wonder how far I want to take this, do I tell her everything? The flinch of a muscle spasm in my chest wall tells me I should. What if we don’t have tomorrow? “You blew my mind when you kissed me.” I bring my hand up to my lips, remembering the moments. “Your taste was something I couldn’t get out of my mouth for weeks. Rubbed a couple out thinking about you, not gonna lie.”

  “You still do that now?” she asks softly.

  She turns in my arms, facing me, her eyes sweeping across my face. I can tell what she wants by the increased level of breathing and the way her eyes dilate. It’s important to me she initiate this though; I don’t want her thinking later on that I took advantage of her. Anything that happens between us, I want to be because she wants it and is feeling it – not because I pressure her.

  “Take it, Leigh,” I whisper, challenging her. “You weren’t scared to take it in that bar.”

  She licks her lips, leaning in farther. Our faces are centimeters apart, and it wouldn’t take much for either one of us to make our lips connect. “Now it’s so much different, it seems like everything is magnified. Our actions are so much more important.”

  “It is; they are,” I agree with her, entwining my fingers in her hair. I hold her loosely against the palm of my hand, not wanting to influence the final move she makes. I want it to be entirely her decision. “It means more because we’ve made a commitment.”

  “But are we supposed to keep this commitment forever?” she asks, her breath hot on my lips.

  The fucking question of the century as far as I’m concerned. Perhaps neither one of us wants to be the person who says yes, but I want her to know it’s an option.

  “We’ll keep it as long as we need to, and then as long as we want to.”

  I don’t know if that’s the right or wrong answer, I’m unsure of what the future holds for us, but I do know this woman makes me want to be a better person. She pushes me to want more in the future, like what everyone else wants. And her? I want her to know what she wants, what she says, matters, I want her to know she can be somebody’s forever and it doesn’t matter how she started out. I want her to feel cherished, treasured, and appreciated.

  “Take what you want, Leigh,” I prompt her again, encouraging her to make the decision for herself. I’m against the arm of the couch, half-sitting, trying to look as if this woman doesn’t blow my mind.

  And she does. She launches herself at me, straddling my hips. I hold on tightly as she fuses our lips together, shoving her tongue in my mouth. We lap and eat at each other like dogs in heat as we try to get closer to one another. The clothes we both wear make it difficult, but I know I don’t want to go that far with her, at least not yet. I don’t want to make it more awkward than it’s already going to be. Hell, I know I could have her, but it doesn’t seem like it would be fair to either one of us, not when we’ve both had a day like we have. And not when our feelings and actions on those emotions are so new.

  She pulls back, and I chase her slightly, catching her bottom lip between my teeth, nipping hard enough that it makes her nipples pebble against the cloth of her tank top.

  “I know how you feel,” I moan as I settle her between my thighs, against my cock. “I can tell every time you’re turned on, because these nipples pucker. They fucking poke against whatever piece of material you’re wearing, and every time I want to take them into my mouth.” I reach up, cupping them with my palms, worrying the tight skin with my fingers. “I wanna take them into my mouth,” I keep talking, letting my voice stay low and seductive – I don’t want this web of eroticism to leave us yet, “and tug hard against the tightness, I want to feel you pull away, make the bite of pain a little more intense. I want to tongue the ache and feel you thrust against me, the way you’re doing now,” I moan against her throat as I pull her closer to my body.

  We’re moaning, thrusting, and dry humping on the couch with some horror movie playing in the background. I want to slow us down, but there’s no slowing down when you’re this close to the edge.

  Pushing my hand up to her face, I put my index and middle finger into her mouth. The way she swirls around the tips of them gets my cock harder than ever. Inside my boxers I’m wet, needy, hard, and fucking frustrated.

  When I’ve had as much as I can take of her tongue, I withdraw and move that hand down her body, beneath the elastic bands of the shorts and panties she wears. “You want it?” My mouth still rests against her throat, but I can feel her nod of permission. />
  As I begin the press into her body with my fingers, she moans, pushing against them, opening wider to me. Her hand is grasping in the dark, and when she makes contact with my hard length, I nip at the tendons of her neck. I want to fuck her, show her everything I can make her feel, but I know right now isn’t the time. Instead, I go to work hard on her clit with my thumb, pushing and pulling my fingers into and out of her warmth.

  “Holden,” she moans as she sneaks the questing hand between my clothing and skin, taking me into her palm. Cupping her hand, she uses her thumb to glide over the head of my thickness, coating it with the moisture of my desire. We’re straining against each other in a way I haven’t done since I was making out on a friend’s couch in high school. That doesn’t seem to matter though, I can feel it coming, can feel completion beating down on me for the second time tonight. This one, though, is going to be so much sweeter.

  “Fuck, Leigh,” I groan, crushing her flesh in between my teeth, marking her so that anyone else who sees her knows she’s mine. I’ve never been this type of guy, one who’s so into making others know my woman is taken. But this one, I want her with everything I have, and when I feel her tighten around my fingers and I hear her sharp intake of breath? I’m the baddest motherfucker on the planet because I did that to her. Even as I lose my battle and my release covers the both of us in the end.

  Leighton Thompson is a danger because she makes me feel, but she’s a danger I’ll sign up for every time, if given the chance.

  CHAPTER FIVE