Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3) (18 page)

Fear.

Now to tell Kara what had happened, and pray she didn't lose her shit on him.

18

I
t had been a struggle to make the choice to get a babysitter for Zach at the last minute. Especially when she'd spent way more time than she'd anticipated talking to Tasha, and had to brace herself for the inevitable battle that would come along with taking a stand—finally—against Henry and his reign of parental terror. But for tonight, and tonight only, she was going to be frivolous and do it.

Zach had, of course, begged to come along. Knowing she got to see Graham one last time before he left, and Zach didn't, burned her son's biscuits. But when she had explained they still had adult things to work out, he'd seen reason and worked on his homework so he could watch an extra movie with the sitter.

Some battles weren't worth fighting in a ten-year-old's mind.

She pulled into Graham's driveway and soothed her nerves along with her skirt front. The dress had a full skirt that wrapped around her legs when she walked, and a tight
bodice that she'd worn a sweater over when leaving the apartment . . . because it was almost indecent without one.

Perfect for what she wanted to accomplish now. She'd ditched the sweater the minute she'd pulled out of her apartment's parking lot.

She knocked on the door, then rang the bell when nothing happened. Not a sound. She rang again, just in case, and waited for two minutes before she heard a muffled thump and a curse. The pause told her Graham was looking out the peephole seconds before the front door flew open.

“Kara!”

He stood there in a towel, dripping wet and covered in nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, held up by one hand fisted in the fabric at his side.

“Well.” She chewed on her lip a moment, giving herself the chance to really take in the whole picture. “And what if I'd been the Avon lady?”

“I wouldn't have opened the door for the Avon lady. I wouldn't have opened the door for anyone but you. Get in here.” He reached out with his other hand and pulled her in, shutting the door behind her and kissing her senseless. “God, I missed you.”

“It's been less than twenty-four hours,” she reminded him, ridiculously pleased. Her fingertip traced down one pec, following the line of a drop of water as it rolled over his smooth skin.

“Sorry, I'm getting you wet.”

“Yes, you are.” Her voice was husky, unintentionally, but he caught the note of lust.

His hand came down to pull at the skirt a little, baring her thigh. “You look gorgeous. Edible, almost.”

“Graham?”

“Hmm?” He busied himself with nuzzling at her neck. The scent of warm, damp male mixed with his body wash and filled her with longing. As his teeth scraped over her
tendons, she shivered, and her nipples puckered painfully beneath the bodice.

“This is a new dress.”

“And I'm getting it wet,” he said again, though he didn't move away from her. Just slid his lips along the underside of her jaw and chin to reach the other side of her neck.

“No. I mean, yes, but that's not what I was going . . . oh, don't stop.” He bit gently on her earlobe.

“What?” he whispered. “What were you going to say?”

“Only that . . .” She took a shaky breath. She was the same woman who'd had insane, wild animal sex on his kitchen counter not long ago. She could say this. “Only that, I bought it without trying it on. And as it turns out, it was too tight to wear anything underneath.”

Her skin burned with embarrassment when he froze, taken aback.

“You're . . .” He cleared his throat, then held her at arm's length with one hand. “You're not wearing a bra.”

“Or panties.” She swished the skirt around a little and did her best to look irritated. “The darn thing was too tight to get them on.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said dryly. “Shame.”

“I'm assuming you're also naked under your, uh, outfit.” She dipped a fingertip between the towel and his skin, loving the power she seemed to hold over him. “We're a matching set.”

“Not yet,” he muttered, pulling and tugging at the zipper behind her. “But we will be.” And with that, he abandoned any pretense of holding the towel in place and used both hands to unzip her dress. The towel fell to their feet, along with the dress as he roughly shoved it down her breasts, over her hips and off to pool around her ankles.

“Matching set,” he said with satisfaction, then gripped her butt and lifted.

“Shoes,” she gasped as he kissed her and walked her over to the couch. “My shoes . . .”

“Should stay on. Because I'm sexist enough to admit I've got this amazing fantasy about you, with these legs of yours, and some sexy heels, and nothing else. Gorgeous,” he muttered as he rested her on the couch lengthwise. “You're just too damn gorgeous.”

She felt more than gorgeous as he worshipped her with his mouth. She felt powerful. She'd taken her future into her own hands, no longer a victim of circumstance. No longer powerless. Formidable.

He covered her, his erection pressing into her thigh. Because it pleased her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and let the heels dig, just a little, into his backside.

Graham growled and covered her breast with his mouth, sucking hard on the tip while his hand massaged the other breast. His cock prodded and ran down her slit, seeking entrance without guidance. She reached down to help, but he shook his head.

“No, wait.”

A small part of her wanted to argue back. Assert the dominance she'd so newly discovered. Be the force. But the other, wiser part of her whispered,
It's okay . . . because he's going to make it good. So good. So very, very good . . .

Not weak to give in to pleasure. Just smart.

So she let the torment continue. The thick, fat head of his penis glided through her folds, almost without purpose as he licked and sucked and nipped at her breasts. The occasional, infrequent contact with her clit left her guessing, then experiencing zingers when she least expected it.

When she didn't think she could last any longer—couldn't take the madness another second—he arched his hips up and drove into her.

Her eyelids burst with a cacophony of color. Arching into him, pushing hard with the heels of her feet, she urged him into a fast pace to keep up with her growing climax. It was
a snowball rolling down the mountain, too long ignored, and was immediately upon her.

A few more thrusts and she burst, screaming his name and loving the harsh way her own name fell from his lips before he collapsed with her. As spent, as exhausted, as completely used as she.

Power. It was a beautiful thing to take back one's own power.

*   *   *

“WHAT
made you decide to come over?” Graham combed through Kara's hair with his fingers, watching as the silky red and gold strands flowed between them like water.

She'd jumped back in the shower with him after their romp on the couch. He'd been sticky with sweat, and after he'd just gotten clean, he'd needed to start over. She'd volunteered to join him. He wasn't about to argue.

Now she lay with him, naked but for the sheet that covered her in the cool bedroom. Her makeup was long gone, but her hair was dry, thanks to piling it on top of her head in the steamy shower. It fanned across her pillow—and he thought of it as hers, officially, now—to create a beautiful auburn backdrop to the woman he loved.

“I just . . . I felt good, and I wanted to share it with someone.” Her smile was soft, as were her eyes. “You know that feeling? When you've got so much hope, so much positivity in you, and you can't sit still another second, because it's wrong not to let others in on that sort of thing?”

He kissed her forehead. “Sort of. Hearing you explain it is fun though. What's the good news?”

“Not yet.” Mouth firm, she shook her head. “Let's get you through the All Military games first, and then when you get back, we can lay it all out on the table.”

“I wish you were coming,” he said, and regretted it
instantly. Her face fell, and her eyes started to shine with unshed tears. “I understand though,” he added quickly. “I do. I'm not mad. Just . . . you know. You're important to me. Zach, too, but of course I get why he can't come.”

“We're a set.” The words were quiet. “That's just how it is, for now.”

The fact that she'd mentioned sharing positive news with him after the All Military games gave him hope she would be open to the next bit he was going to share with her. “I want to tell you something. And the reason I'm telling you is because I don't believe in keeping things from you. I was going to tell you when I came back, but you're here now, so . . .”

She sat up a little, pulling the sheet higher around her breasts. “You're scaring me, Graham.”

“Nothing to be scared about. I saw Henry today.”

“You . . . what?” He could tell he'd shocked her. Not just a surprise, but a total shock. “How did you even . . . what did you . . . ho-how?”

“I got his contact info from Tasha. Good lawyer, by the way. On top of it. I can tell she wants to rip the guy in two, legally speaking . . . she's just waiting for your say-so.”

“I haven't had the ability to do it before,” she mumbled, scrubbing her hands over her face. “You went to his house? To, what, confront him? Yell at him? Oh my God.” Her eyes grew wide, a little frightened. “Graham, tell me you didn't beat him up.”

“No.” Offended, he sat back. “Why the hell would I beat him up?”

“I don't know . . . you spend half your day lately throwing punches and practicing how to dodge a punch . . . muscle memory?” She rubbed her eyes. “I don't . . . I don't understand. Why did you do that?”

“It was a strategy. I wanted to cut him out at the knees before he could cause any more trouble. Because I think you should file to terminate his parental rights, completely.”

“I . . .” She shook her head, and he wasn't sure if that was in exasperation, or confusion, or what. “I don't . . . I can't believe you did that.”

She hadn't yelled at him yet, so he went on. “I just gave him the logistics of the process”—
sort of
—“and told him it was really in his best interest to go along without fighting.”

She sat in silence, staring at her hands, trembling on top of the sheet in her lap. Was it the mention of him seeing her ex that bothered her? That he'd stepped in the situation without permission?

“I wish you hadn't done that,” she finally whispered.

It was an uppercut to the ego, but he did his best to mask any reaction. “Why?”

“So, so many reasons. The first being you didn't even ask, you just did. I gave you permission to see the files and discuss strategy with Tasha. Advice, guidance, moral support . . . that's all I hoped for. I didn't intend for you to make this something you got involved in personally.”

“I just had sex with you on my couch. My ass still has dents from your heels, and you want to tell me this isn't something I should be personally involved in? Kara, I love you. I love Zach. How the hell am I not personally involved?”

He hated that the word “love” made her flinch.

She stood, as regal as a queen, and walked out of the room. He stood and sighed, grabbing a pair of boxers from the dresser. After hopping in, he followed her out, finding her struggling with the zipper to her dress.

“I wish you'd stay a little longer.”

“Zip me up, please.” She moved her hair to one side to give him access to the back. “I need to get home. I used my backup babysitter and she charges three dollars an hour more than the regular.”

The implied,
And now I'm regretting it,
was left unspoken.

As he finished zipping her up, he ran his fingertips over her neck, down her shoulders and arms to pull her elbows
until her back landed against his front. “Don't leave like this.”

“You don't know what you could have done. My life right now is so precarious.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, sadness in her eyes. “If he decides to slap out at me because he's insulted you got involved? What then? It's a delicate balance, and I'm terrified you upset it.”

“I did it because I love you. Because I hate that you feel dependent on that asshole for money to live. And because I want you to depend on me instead.”

That made her turn around fully. Her face was flushed. With anger? With shock? “What?”

“You heard me.” He took her hands, ignoring that they trembled. “I love you. I know this is fast. I know you haven't said it yourself yet. I tell myself you love me, too, and you're just cautious because you've got so much on your plate to worry about. But I know, without a doubt, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit it before looking away. He caught her chin in one hand and forced her eyes back to his.

“I want to marry you. I want you and Zach to live here. I want you to keep teaching yoga if you want, or quit and run the blog and help other allergy moms advocate for their kids. I want you to know you never have to worry about that scumbag again for money. Because I have you, and you're precious to me. You both are. And what's precious to me, I protect.”

“God,” she croaked out, taking a step back. “Now? Right now? You're getting on a plane in, like, eight hours.”

“I won't, if you ask me not to.” He meant it. If she asked him to stay, he would. Boxing was his hobby, and competing at this level was a dream. But Kara was his future. Her needs, her wants, her everything came first.

That made her gasp a little. “I would never do that. Stop,” she said with more bite to her tone when he took a step
toward her. “I can't do this right now. You . . . you need to get on that plane and go to Texas and have your space and figure . . .” She waved at the space between them. “Figure this out more concretely with space between us. It's too hard when we're still high from the pheromones and I have your body wash on my skin and . . .”