Breathe

by Kristen Ashley

  But after you’d almost just broken up with your boyfriend who you loved even though his best friend told you not to. After he’d shared with you he’d taken one look at you and knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you then let you into his deepest, darkest secrets that were way deep and scary dark. After that, you didn’t think of anything.

  Not anything.

  But each other and using that emotion and anything else you had to make the bad go away and bring on the good.

  And the good was good.

  It was all hands, mouths, fingers, tongues, rolling, yanking at clothes, tugging at shoes, tossing them away, then clenching, scratching, licking, sucking, biting, positioning, gasping, groaning, whimpering and growling.

  Then Chace took over and did me on my knees and two seconds before I would find it, he pulled out, dropped to his back beside me, yanked me over him and he made me ride him. Which I did, hard, my eyes on him hooded, my hips moving fast, grinding deep, my hands sliding over his chest.

  Then I was on my back, Chace’s hips pumping between my legs, he was up with one hand in the bed, arm straight, one of my knees hooked around it, the other hand between my legs, thumb right where I needed it.

  And, oh God, it felt good.

  So good I was this close again and it wasn’t going to be good. It was going to be fantastic.

  Chace drove in deep, stayed planted and ground his hips into mine.

  “Faye,” he growled, I forced my neck to right and tried to focus on him. “No one gets in here but me,” he declared, making his point grinding deeper into me.

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  “No one, Faye.”

  “Okay, honey.”

  He pulled out, slammed and ground in again. “Ever, Faye.”

  “Ever, Chace.”

  He pulled out, slammed and ground in and ordered, “Say it again.”

  “Ever.”

  Another slam and grind then, “My name, baby.”

  “Chace,” I whimpered, shifting under him, so fraking, fraking close.

  He released my knee and fell to his forearm in the bed beside me. It shoved under and his fingers curled around the back of my neck.

  I instantly wrapped my leg around his hip, tipped my head up and, his lips against mine, he whispered, “Do you love me?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Always?”

  He wasn’t thrusting hard and grinding deep. His rhythm was smoother, gentler, beautiful and I finally focused on him, my arms gliding around him to hold tight.

  “Always,” I whispered.

  Chace slanted his head and kissed me, his tongue sliding into my mouth and I came.

  I took him through it, after it and, when his thrusts grew faster, more powerful, driving deep, I felt it and loved it after he buried his face in my neck and groaned low against my skin.

  He started gliding in and out and I took that too, loving it, before he slid in deep and stopped and one of his curls came to my attention. My hand moving of its own volition slid up his back, my fingers closed on it and I gave it a little tug, giving myself a little happy shiver doing it.

  “Apparently,” he started in a mutter, talking to my neck, “I wasn’t tired.”

  I closed my eyes, let his curl go and circled his hip with my other leg so I could hold him tight with everything I had available to me.

  “But unfortunately,” he went on, “when you’re way pissed, you lay off the geek references so you make way too much fuckin’ sense.”

  That meant I got through.

  Thank you, God, I got through.

  I opened my eyes and dipped my chin so my lips were at the skin under his ear, the skin of my upper lip tickled by his unruly curls and I whispered, “Chace.”

  His head came up and I caught my breath at the look on his face, warmth, regret and something else, something huge, something that made my heart skip.

  “I should have told you earlier. I should have trusted you. I should have read all the things you were sayin’ to me with the way you were with me, for me and with Malachi and knew you could handle it. I was wrong, baby, and I fucked up. But I love you, Faye, and protection going hand in hand with love is all I know,” he admitted quietly.

  My chest depressed as my eyes started stinging.

  What I saw on his face was love.

  He loved me.

  Loved me.

  “You love me?” I whispered, just to confirm.

  “Fell in love with you in a grocery store aisle and you didn’t even know I was there.”

  “I probably did,” I confessed and his lips tipped up but it wasn’t teasing and sweet, it was strangely sad.

  “Then you did but I didn’t know. You wanted me, I wanted you, I sat on what I wanted and fucked up my life.”

  “You didn’t fuck up your life, Chace.”

  “If I moved on you when I wanted to, you’d have been in my bed the last seven years and Misty wouldn’t have seen it. Ty wouldn’t have –”

  I squeezed him with all my limbs and whispered harshly, “Stop.”

  He shut his mouth.

  I went on, “Nothing can change what happened but one thing can change and that’s you feeling that the world is on your shoulders. Another thing that’s all you know since your Mom is ill and has been your whole life is thinking you’re responsible for everything around you, that you can fix it, make it better or at least cushion everyone’s fall. Your Dad, when you were growing up, should have protected you from that too. Proving he’s not only the worst father in the world but also the worst in history, he clearly didn’t.”

  “I won’t give him much, honey, but you live with that in your house, it’s impossible to shield a child from it.”

  “That’s debatable and you’re right, I didn’t live it but am I right that he didn’t try?”

  Chace slid out of me, rolled us to our sides, pulled my hair away from my face but kept his fingers in it before he answered quietly, “You’re right. He didn’t try.”

  Both his arms closed around me tight, gathering me closer even as his hand didn’t leave my hair but his legs tangled with mine and he carried on.

  “Not to get you riled up again but I get him. It’s different, girls and boys. A man will want his son to step up.”

  “Maybe so but I know I’m not wrong when I tell you it’s different also between children and adults. Children aren’t expected to step up until it’s time to teach them to be adults. But before you do that, you have to let them be children. It’s a guess, but you never got that.”

  He closed his eyes and tipped his head so our foreheads were touching but not before I saw that raw look wash over his face and I finally got it.

  And I hated it.

  He opened his eyes, pulled his head back half an inch and confirmed what I just figured out.

  “I never got that,” he whispered.

  I stared in his beautiful face, feeling his awesome chest hair teasing my breasts, his powerful arms around me, his heavy legs tangled in mine, his heat seeping into me. I took this all in and instead of it along with the end of our fight, the knowledge of his love, the lingering orgasm soothing me, I got pissed.

  And when I say that, I mean, I… got… pissed.

  So this was why I informed him, “You know, even Darth Vader had the good grace to ask Luke to join him on the dark side.”

  Chace blinked then his arms got tight.

  But it was too late.

  Way too late.

  I was gone.

  “I mean, they were fighting to the death and he cut off Luke’s hand but still, he gave him the fraking choice.”

  “Faye –” he started, my name trembling with humor but this was lost on me.

  Totally.

  “But Trane Keaton?” I asked then immediately answered, “Noooooooo. He doesn’t ask. Just drags you right in. No hand extended. No, ‘Chace, I’m your father. Join me on the dark side,’ giving you the opportunity to say, ‘Never!’ Not for him. No. He
just shoves you right in!”

  “Honey –”

  I tore from his arms but only to sit up, smack him in the chest and rant on.

  “I mean, seriously? You saw a kinky sex tape he starred in! How can he even look at you much less kiss your girlfriend’s hand? Gross! Darth Vader didn’t have a girlfriend. He gave all his attention to quashing the rebellion! As he should!” I started yelling. “Until this moment, I never would have thought I’d say up with the Empire but, here I am, saying it! Darth had a mission and one had to ask oneself, considering the Emperor was wrinkly and seriously ick, what the frak? But you could see deep inside Darth was struggling. Because deep inside he was Anakin. There’s no Anakin in Trane Keaton!” I shouted then I found myself on my back in the bed with Chace on top of me.

  “Baby, calm down,” he whispered, grinning.

  His grin was lost on me since I was focused on scowling and declaring, “I do not like your father.”

  “All right, darlin’.”

  “Darth Vader’s a better father which states exactly how bad your father is,” I declared.

  “Okay, baby.”

  “And let’s just say it’s good I’m not a trained Jedi because I’d get my light saber, jump in my T-65 X-wing Starfighter and hightail my ass to Aspen and call him out if I was.”

  His mouth twitch was also lost on me as he murmured through it, “Yeah, honey, that’s good.”

  “He might still have it, even being advanced in years, but he’d be no match for a light saber,” I added authoritatively.

  “Probably not,” Chace muttered.

  I kept scowling.

  Chace kept grinning but he did it with his body shaking on top of mine so I knew inside he was laughing.

  “This isn’t funny, Chace,” I told him something he had to know way more than me.

  “It wasn’t, not for thirty-five years, it definitely wasn’t. Then, two minutes ago, it became fuckin’ hilarious.”

  I sucked in an annoyed breath.

  Chace kept grinning.

  I sucked in another annoyed breath.

  Chace asked, “T-65 X-wing Starfighter?”

  “The combat spaceship of the Rebel Alliance,” I snapped.

  “T-65 X-wing Starfighter?” Chace repeated.

  “Have you seen Star Wars?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “More than once?” I pushed.

  “Yeah,” he said, still grinning.

  “Then, if you have, you know about the X-wing Fighter. Everyone knows about the X-wing Fighter seeing as it, Luke and The Force destroyed the Death Star.”

  “Yeah, baby, I know about the X-wing Fighter. I just had no fuckin’ clue it was called the T-65 X-wing Starfighter.”

  “It’s not classified information, Chace. You can read all about it on Wookieepedia.”

  His body started shaking again, as did his voice when he asked, “Wookieepedia?”

  “Stop making fun at me when I’m pissed,” I snapped.

  “Wookieepedia?” Chace repeated, his body now rocking, taking mine and the bed with it.

  “Stop making fun of me!” I yelled, slapping his arm.

  Suddenly his hands framed my face, his body, my body and the bed ceased rocking and he had my full attention mostly because he was all I could see.

  “I just laughed about my Dad for the first time since I was sixteen and Deck and I talked trash about him in Deck’s basement, gettin’ drunk and Deck givin’ me space to let off steam. Now, and probably forever, if the occasion arises, I’ll look at my Dad and see Darth Vader and wanna laugh my ass off rather than wantin’ to rip his head off, somethin’ I thought would be impossible. Until now. Now, after six fuckin’ years of feelin’ buried under shit, I see it through your eyes and finally feel clean. For the first time in six years, I feel free. I feel relief. I’m relieved to let that shit go. I’m relieved to know you got the strength to take it. I’m relieved to know you can be with my Mom and make her at ease. I’m fuckin’ beside myself you’re in love with me. I’m pleased you know you get that back from me. What I’m not, baby, is makin’ fun of you.”

  Oh yeah, I broke through.

  “Okay,” I whispered, my arms sliding around him

  “And I never would,” he went on.

  “Okay,” I whispered, my arms locking tight.

  “You’re cute and you make me laugh and honest to Christ, lookin’ back, except with Deck, I don’t remember doin’ it and feelin’ it comin’ from me free and clean all my fuckin’ life.”

  Oh man. Seriously. I broke through.

  “Okay,” I whispered, tears again stinging my eyes.

  “So let me enjoy laughter without slappin’ my arm and gettin’ all pissy when that laughter finally feels real.”

  “Okay,” I whispered yet again then started deep breathing.

  Chace stared in my eyes.

  I stopped deep breathing and bit the side of my lower lip.

  Chace’s eyes dropped to my mouth as he murmured, “Wookieepedia.”

  I let my lip go and informed him, “Later when things are, um… less intense, I’ll need your opinion on whether Greedo or Han shot first.”

  Chace’s lips tipped up as his brows drew up and his eyes came back to mine, “Is my opinion a deal breaker?”

  Nothing with Chace was a deal breaker.

  Not anymore.

  Still.

  “Um…” I mumbled.

  His hands at my head pressed in, his thumbs sliding over my cheekbones, one coming to land on my lips as his face got super close and the lip tip faded clean away before he whispered a thick, rough, “Fuck, Faye, but I fuckin’ love you.”

  Okay, I didn’t like curse words all that much.

  But that sounded really, really good.

  “I’m glad,” I whispered back.

  His thumbs moved back over my cheekbones then his chin lifted and he kissed my nose before he muttered, “Go clean up, honey, so we can get some shuteye.”

  I nodded.

  Chace rolled off.

  I walked to the bathroom, cleaned up, walked out, went to my dresser and pulled on a new nightie. This one super tight, stretchy and purple that had lace at the cups, was sheer everywhere else and I added the lacy, string-bikini panties that matched.

  When I turned to walk back to the bed, Chace’s eyes were on me but aimed low and they didn’t move from my body even as I moved.

  I lifted a knee to plant it in the bed and his eyes came to mine.

  “Seriously?” he asked a question I didn’t know the answer to.

  So I answered, “Um…”

  Chace lunged.

  We didn’t get shuteye for some time and when we settled, I had the nightie on but the panties were on the floor.

  My apartment was dark, we were on our sides, face to face (or my face in his throat, his in the top of my hair), bodies tangled and I was two steps from dream world when he murmured, “Han shot first. Greedo didn’t have a prayer.”

  This was the right answer.

  Han Solo was badass and Chace knew it.

  Therefore, because of that and other more important reasons, I fell asleep smiling.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My Sister

  Chace blinked away sleep, feeling Faye cuddled close to him, smelling her hair, her lingering perfume and seeing the late April sun streaming into her apartment.

  His first response was to curl her, already close, closer.

  His first thought was that weekend they were going to the mall so they could buy sheets like hers for his bed.

  He liked her apartment, he liked the look of it, its vibe, its proximity to La-La Land and work, both his and hers, but he was done with it. Done with two places, two closets, two fridges to fill and morning conversations about which of their two beds they’d end the day in.

  She could bring her look and vibe to his place.

  He’d decided she was moving in.

  This would likely be frowned upon by her mot
her and father and thus make Faye hesitate.

  So he reckoned he best put his ring on her finger.

  They hadn’t been together very long so she could have a long engagement just as long as she spent that engagement with his diamond on her finger and her heart-shaped ass in his bed.

  Thoughts of her ass sent his hand down to it.

  She’d altogether stopped pulling her panties on before going to sleep. She slept in her nighties, something he liked. They were sexy. They felt good. They looked great. But he loved it that she’d shunned the panties.

  Which meant, in bed, he always had an all access pass.

  He smoothed his palm over her ass as his other arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer. She stirred, tilting her head slightly back, her eyes fluttering, taking their time opening before he had her crystal.

  “Hi,” she whispered and his hard cock twitched.

  “Mornin’, baby,” he whispered back.

  His eyes moved over her face.

  He liked her hair like that. It did what she always did, the thick, long bang highlighted her eyes, the layers down the sides did the same to the line of her neck. It was subtle but effective. It made her look more mature but still her age. It was stylish and it was unconsciously sexy.

  She snuggled even closer, he ran his hand back over her ass, her hips pressed into his and she tipped her head back further, her eyelids going half-mast.

  It was an invitation he took, bending his neck to give her a soft, short, deep kiss.

  When he broke it, he murmured against her lips, “You wanna sleep in and I’ll run? Or you wanna make love? Or do you wanna fuck?”

  That got him a languid blink before she tipped her chin, moved in and he felt her lips against his throat.

  It took her a while to pull it together and he was beyond fucking thrilled when she whispered a word she rarely used but one that never failed to affect him when her soft, quiet, musical voice wrapped around it.

  “Fuck.”

  Oh yeah.

  His fingers dug into her ass, his arm around her waist slid up, his hand diving into her hair. He fisted it, gently pulled her head back and bent his to take her mouth.

  This kiss was not soft or short. But it was deep.

  Then Chace rolled into her.