Pushing Limits (Fighting Love: Book 1)

by cross, kali

  I stare at him, every nerve tingling. My eyes narrow. “Are you serious? Come back over here.”

  “Tell me the whole story and I’ll consider it,” he says with a snide leer. “Oh, and you owe me a drink. Not a sip. Take a drink of that beer, darlin’.”

  I latch onto the beer, taking a huge swig, looking for some liquid courage. “Ok, she walked in on me with a guy and she was pissed.” I shrug, pointing my beer at him. “And, she had been researching schools for a while, I might add.”

  “When was the election? I’m assuming she won.”

  “Yeah, she won.” I scoff. When did she ever lose at anything? “It was the November before last.”

  “Well it’s January. The election was about a year ago, why didn’t she ship you out after she won? Why wait a year?” He asks his eyes narrow. “Do you want another punishment, or do you want to tell me the whole damn story, Amber?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes turn ominous and dark. “‘Cause, I can give you a good punishment, darlin’.” Resting his arms on the table, his face confirms his words. “It could last for quite some time. Take you up, let you fall back down, take you up, let you fall back again, never letting you come. Would you like to try that, darlin’?” He threatens. Or is it a promise? His face hardens and he says, “Tell me.”

  “I met the girl in the picture on my mom’s campaign.” I snicker to myself. My eyes dart to him, realizing that was out loud. Studying the table, I straighten my back, clearing my throat. “Uh, she worked in the campaign office. After my mom won, we hung out. Actually it was during the campaign when we started spending time together. My mom didn’t like it. After she had enough, she shipped me off.”

  “And, that is the whole story?” he asks.

  “Yeah, in a nutshell,” I falter.

  “What happened to the girl, Amber? One minute you’re with her, and months later you’re with some guy in your room.” His mouth curved in a flippant smile. “You owe me a drink, Amber Turner. Get your ass up and come over here.”

  I stand pensively saying, “I don’t like this game.”

  “Be honest and you’ll learn to love this game. I like giving rewards.” His mischievous grin almost sucks me into believing him. “Now, come over here and I’ll give you your punishment. Better take your drink now. It’s going to be a while before you get another one.” He pats his lap.

  “I am honest. I hate liars. My mom’s a huge ass liar.” My eyes narrow and my voice sounds defensive, even to me. “I do not lie.”

  “No, you just tell half the story.” His eyes are impassive as he says, “You push people away with your dry wit and sarcasm so you never have to let them get any closer. You’ve built some mighty high walls. Shoot, I could almost see you building them when I look into your eyes. Those pretty blue eyes harden and your face turns to stone. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not me,” he says, patting his lap again. Lifting his eyes to me, his low voice tries to entice me. “Tell me.”

  “She died, ok?” I blurt out, grasping the beer. My knuckles shine white against the brown bottle. “She went into a convenience store to get a coke and two guys came in, shot the clerk, shot her, and ran out the back. Ok? I was in the car, I saw the whole thing. By the time I ran in, she was bleeding out. All I could do was hold her.” I instinctively rub my hands down my skirt. “All that blood, Jesus, there was so much fucking blood. I dialed 9-1-1 and they told me an ambulance was on the way. I could hear sirens in the distance.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own as I plead, “I fucking begged her to stay with me, to hold on. Not to leave me.” My voice cracks. “She died in my arms.”

  He’s in front of me before I can move, reaching for me. My hand flies up as I yell, “Don’t touch me. “ I push his hands away. “What are you doing? I don’t want you to touch me.” I lean away in horror. “Are you happy now? Are you? The fucking gory details, the juice, well, you got it. You wanted to know.”

  Rolling my eyes up, I say, “The media coverage was insane. My mom went into full spin mode. The deputy mayor’s daughter in a convenience store in the projects, involved in a shootout, one dead.” The tears come and I angrily try to swipe them away. “The press was everywhere. All the questions, barked in my ears. Surrounding me, so close, pushing at me. Asking who Angela was, what I was doing there, what was the nature of our relationship?”

  My jaw clenches. “My mother could have told them the truth, but no-o-o-o. She had to cover her own fucking, political ass. Her PR firm worked round the clock to spin it.” I snort. “They said I didn’t see their faces. The police accepted what my mother’s people told them. I was never asked to make a statement. The police never found them – insufficient evidence.” The guilt stabs me in the gut. Churning, the bile reaches my throat. I hold my hands over my stomach, wishing it to stop spinning and turning.

  My teeth grind as I sneer. “When I needed my mother, to help me, to love me, she only thought of her fucking self. I was just another problem to solve.”

  I look at the table. It’s out. My voice is hollow and soft. “That’s what happened to the girl. Her name was Angela and she was my first love. That’s who she was. She was everything to me…and she died. Happy now?” My tears stream down my face and the pain stabs my heart. Sniffing, I mumble, “Please go.”

  “No.” Pulling his chair around the table, he sits.

  I look into his eyes and plead. “Please go. I want to be alone.”

  “No,” he says emphatically. “If you don’t want me to hold you, to touch you…that’s fine. But, I’m not going anywhere, darlin’. I’ll wait here until you’re ready.”

  My eyes graze the objects around me but I don’t see anything. My body feels like one massive wound, cut open, and bleeding. Pain seeps from every pore. The tears come faster, working their way into sobs. The raw emotion burns through my skin. My throat closes as I can barely swallow all the sorrow, all the pain. I sob uncontrollably, holding myself in a tiny ball, rocking. My face on my knees, the tears flowing as they always do when I let go and allow myself to feel…again.

  Chapter 12

  I stay at the kitchen table crying like I did that first night. The night she died. He sits in the chair, waiting. Letting me get it all out. The anger, the guilt, the pain. My body feels numb. I’m exhausted. The sun is peeping through the curtains. I hate him for making me relive it, all for some stupid fucking game. I’m tired of holding the pain in my heart. The guilt is crushing my soul. I’m so tired. As if he can hear me, he stands, scooping me into his arms and carries me to bed. I barely feel him. I barely feel anything. Setting me down in the bed, he covers us with the comforter and cradles me in his arms.

  Chapter 13

  Gentle kisses alight upon my skin. Sunshine warms my limbs, chasing away my dreams. I smell coffee. I pry my eyes open, and he’s still here. His soft beard nuzzles my neck as he waves a café mocha in front of my nose. This must be heaven.

  Reality crashes back in. “Why are you still here, Tommy?” My eyes narrow as my gaze settles on his indulgent face.

  He sighs, as if he must patiently explain something to a small child. “I told you I’m not leaving. Drink your coffee.”

  I take the coffee mug, sipping at it as I murmur, “Sweet nectar of the Gods” as I start to come to life, rolling my eyes to the heavens. The bite of the brew explodes in my mouth, making me forever grateful for my dark roast. He’s opposite me, sitting in one of our chairs from the kitchenette, sipping from a mug. Glancing at him over my mug, I’m still angry, but not as much as I was last night. I consider talking to him, but my inner brat has taken over so I merely sit and sip my coffee in cold silence.

  He, on the other hand, is Mr. Chatty Kathy. “I thought we could ride out to Mt. Bonnell and head over to The County Line for some barbeque. I think you’ll like Mt. Bonnell. It’s got a great view of Lake Austin. You like barbeque, don’t you? You’ve probably never had real barbeque. This is Texas barbeque. Nothing like it.”

  I stare at this i
nfuriating man, babbling on as if everything is fine, planning our day. His eyes sparkle and he strikes me as incredibly kind. But, my inner brat is still in control so I merely sneer at him and sip again. He notices my staring.

  “I believe I owe you a reward, darlin’.” Setting his mug down, he reaches for mine and I yank it away.

  “Don’t ever touch my coffee,” I say. My eyes narrow as I think about last night. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk some more?” I look him up and down narrowing my eyes. “I bet I can put you in the hot seat. Everybody has parts of them they keep hidden. Let’s see how you like it,” I snarl.

  “Ok, but same rules,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Ask away.”

  I consider the most uncomfortable subjects I can think of and settle on one. “Have you ever been cheated on by someone?”

  “Yes.” He answers me with a look of full disclosure as if he is giving me an answer as to whether it’s raining.

  “Whole story, please,” I grunt out, taking another sip of my coffee. How do you like it? Sharing your stories, wallowing in the hurt and fear, feeling it fresh like it happened yesterday.

  His eyes drop and his voice quiets. So quiet, I have to strain to hear him. “I was engaged to a girl in college. We - ”

  “-You were engaged?” My eyes pop open.

  “Yup. We were planning the wedding. The whole nine yards, had the church, the flowers ordered, the tuxes.” He rubs his hands down his jeans, shifting his weight as he continues. “About two months before the big day, I walked in on her with another guy, my brother. Nearly tore our family apart. Short story is they were married and divorced while I went to Nashville.”

  “Do you still love her?”

  “In some ways, I’ll always love her. She was my first love. But am I still in love with her? For a time I thought I was, but no, not now.” He shakes his head and his eyes look weary. “We’re still friends, but I’m not in love with her.”

  “Ok, I guess I owe you a reward.” I lean in with a skeptical look and peck him on the cheek.

  “Ok, my turn.” His eyes searching my face. “Do you miss being with women?”

  “Do you think I missed men when I was with Angela?” I ask, incredulous, rolling my eyes. “You don’t miss anything when you are with someone that you love, that you want. Why would I miss having something if I was with what I thought was the coolest, sweetest, hottest person I could ever imagine?“ I look at him with a brow lifted. “Was that some kind of gimme after last night?”

  “No, actually.” He smiles.

  I snarl, “Ok, what’s my reward?”

  He leans in giving me a soft, tender kiss. “Your turn.”

  “You’ve mentioned your dad but never your mom.” Leaning back against my pillow, I take a sip of coffee. “What’s she like?”

  “She’s alive and well and living out at the ranch. She’s a real sweetie. Everyone loves her. She’s a short shit like you. Brown hair and blue sparkling eyes. She’s a spitfire and crazy about my dad. Two hopeless romantics, forever in love, my mom says.”

  “Ok, here’s your reward.” I lean forward and begrudgingly give him a quick kiss on the lips. “Your turn.”

  He stares into my eyes, thinking, and says, “You’ve never mentioned your dad. Why not?”

  “Honestly, I barely know him,” I say flatly. “He’s never home when I’m there, and when he is, he fades to the background. My mother engulfs him. Hell, she can suck all the air out of the room in a hot minute. The extent of his parenting skills is to say, ‘listen to your mother.’ Where’s my reward?”

  He leans in, his hands on my face, pulling me closer and kisses me with a proper kiss. I force myself to refrain from swooning since I am still perturbed.

  “Your turn,” I try for apathetic but it comes out mildly engaged.

  “What did you love about Angela?” He asks. He actually looks sincere like he wants to know, but I smell an opportunity to stick it to him, and I have to take it.

  “I loved her smile. She had a bright smile that could light up a room. Her hair was chocolate brown, long, with these long ringlets. Her skin was the prettiest creamy mocha and so soft. Her eyes were chocolate brown and when she looked at you, it felt like she could see right through you.” I smile looking at the floor. “She had quite the bullshit meter and she never took shit off anyone. If you tried to get in her face, she would get right back in yours.” I shake my head with a smile. “She was kind, sweet, honest, and the most wonderful person I have ever known. She loved her family and they completely accepted her. She cared about her world, wanted to make it a better place. She was amazing. Oh, and she was almost six foot. Well, you can see that in the picture, too.” My mouth twists as I continue. “Oh, and she had a great rack. Her body was fucking smoking. She loved to run. She actually ran every chance she got. Not an ounce of fat on her. Oh, and she was great in bed, too.” My eyes challenge him, willing to push out that male insecurity if I need to. If he’s going to leave, he needs to leave now.

  “She sounds like someone you would love.” His smile is sweet and instead of the puffed-up response I expected, he’s not threatened at all. “I wish I had the chance to meet her.”

  Damn it, why did he have to be so fucking sweet?

  He leans in to give me my reward, which is a kiss. A molten-hot, moan-in-your-mouth, wanna-fuck kiss. He pulls away and I try miserably to act like I don’t care.

  His voice is husky this time, “Your turn.”

  “Are you into BDSM?” I ask.

  His eyes crinkle at the corners as he strokes his beard. “Yes and no. I’ve played and I enjoy the scene. But, am I looking for or have I ever had a slave/master relationship? No.” He shakes his head. “I like being in charge. Not all the time, but most. I enjoy learning what your body wants to tell me. Learning to please you and pushing your limits.” His eyes darken to a deep blue as his teeth graze his lower lip. “I love seeing you come, but sometimes I have to get you out of your head first. That’s easier when I take away all your control. Do I want you to obey me? In some things, yes. In others, no. It’s something two people discuss and discover together.” As he studies my face, he asks, “Does that scare you?”

  “No. I mean I’ve never done anything like what we did the other night. The whole being tied up was exciting. And the red marks I had the next day, well, they were kinda hot. I liked looking at them.” I look down at my hands, my stomach is in knots. “But…” I look at him as my curiosity forces my question from lips. “Are you going to want to eventually beat the shit out of me or something?” My eyes widening, afraid of what his answer will be.

  “No, Darlin’. I’m not a sadist.” His dimples come out to play as he flashes me a smile. “That was two questions, but I’ll let that pass. Where’s my reward?”

  Leaning in, I kiss him thoroughly this time. I concentrate on the softness of his lips, the tickle of his beard. I give him a sweet, thorough kiss, pure and simple. No bells and whistles.

  “Ok, my turn. What’s your dream?” His grin is almost boyish as he waits for my answer.

  “My dream? I want to work in music as a producer. Earn enough to be financially independent so I could tell my mother to take her money and shove it up her ass. I want a nice house that I decorate myself exactly how I want it. It doesn’t have to be big, just mine. Killer bike, that’s a must. Friends I love, roots, a home I can count on. Someone to love, who accepts me for who I am, every part of me, and still loves me. I don’t need a lot of money, simply enough to live and do what I love. Honest and loyal people who I can count on if I need them. Gotta have that.” I stare unashamed at him. “It’s all I want.” I shrug. “What’s your dream?”

  He smiles another boyish grin saying, “Pretty much the same. Now come over here and get your reward, darlin’.”

  I smile as I lean in, and he captures me in his arms. My reward came by way of two orgasms, a boyishly sweet smile, and a “thank you for sharing all that with me.”

  ***


  Watching him get ready was kinda fun. After I gave him his reward, that is. It was cool: Towel drying his curly hair, not giving a fuck about product or styling it, sliding his jeans over his long muscular legs, pulling a t-shirt over his chiseled chest, his easy smile when he sees me staring.

  After I’m done ogling him, I scoot off the bed to throw on a t-shirt and jeans. I finger dry my hair, slap on some mascara and I’m good to go. Walking out to my bed, he sits back against the wall, studying his phone, his legs hanging over the side. I ask, “Ready?”

  “Yeah, Dad sent me a text. The first calf is coming later tonight or tomorrow.”

  “And that means…” I ask, wedging my body under his arm and snuggling in.

  Chuckling, he says, “I forgot you’re not from here. Calving season is about to start. We breed the cows within the same timeframe so they will mature around the same time, and we can reduce labor costs and go to market once instead of year round. It’ll get pretty busy for a while.”

  “Sounds like I won’t be seeing you as much.” My eyes study his chest.

  “Not a lot, darlin’.” He kisses my forehead. Pulling me completely into his arms, he moves a wisp of hair out of my eyes. “I was hoping we would have more time together before the first calf was born. We’ll have to make the most of today.”

  “When will I see you?”

  “Hard to say. Dad breeds for a sixty-five to a seventy day cycle. I might be able to get away here and there once the birthing starts, but it will off and on. I won’t be able to give you any notice. A quick call to say I’m coming into town will be about it.”

  My head rests on his chest. “We’re only getting started. This sucks.”

  “Yeah, it sure does,” he says as he holds me. We stay for a while, holding each other. “Let’s go. I’m tempted to spend the day seeing how fast I can get you to come using only my mouth on your nipples, but sadly, a man needs food. I can’t wait to see your face when you try it. You do like barbeque, don’t you?” The boyish grin appears, complete with dimples.