Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) (27 page)

Gorgeously sated and relaxed, my strong, amazing woman who has been dragging sexual baggage along with her for over sixteen years just fell apart in
my
arms. My ribcage feels too small to contain the enormous amount of pride that is surging and billowing behind it. I flip her to her back, the one thing I told myself I shouldn’t do, and put myself on top of her.

“You did it, baby. And fuck me, that shit was insanely hot. You’re not broken, you’re perfect.” I need to make sure that her being pinned beneath me doesn’t bring back old memories. “You okay?”

She gives me a lazy smile, and glides her hands up over my shoulders to my neck. “Yeah.”

I rock into her and grind down. “Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

She moans and arches her back. Unable to take another second away from her lips, I lean on my elbow and devour her mouth.

Our bodies move together, the pace growing more frantic. Her legs wrap and lock around my hips. Hands and lips move, exploring in a frenzied loss of control. She rips her mouth from mine and moans so deep I feel it in my dick.

And I’m gone.

I lock my eyes on hers. My breath rasps as I push and pull through my orgasm. The tension in my muscles dissolves, along with everything else in the world. Worry and concern for what just happened between us becomes non-existent. The only thing that that means anything is lying beneath me, eyes closed, and a soft smile, on her lips. And she’s all fucking mine.

“Mouse, I’m…” I’m what? Falling for you. Crazy about you? In lo—
no
. Right?

“Wow, now I see why you’re so popular with the ladies.”

What the fuck?
How can she even think about me with other women after what we just did?

I roll off her, hoping to hell she didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I give her my back and toss the condom into the small trashcan by my bed.

“I can’t believe I had an orgasm.” She giggles behind me. “You, Mr. Daniels, are quite talented.”

I’m not at all happy with the carefree sound in her voice. That single sexual experience shook the foundation of
every fucking thing
I thought I knew. And here she’s laughing like it meant nothing more than an orgasm.

I grab my board shorts from off the ground and slide them on. “Yeah, that was fun.” That’s all I can say?

“Fun? That was amazing.” I hear the sound of rustling sheets as she moves around the bed. She’s probably looking for her clothes, but I can’t bring myself to look back at her. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. Now I know why women throw themselves at you.”

Fuck. What just happened here?

I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to get my bearings.

“You okay? You have a headache or something?” Her concerned voice is right next to me.

I open my eyes to see her dressed in her pants with her hands covering her naked breasts.

“Headache. Probably from the sun.”
Bullshit.
But whatever.

“What time is it? I should probably get home.”

I cannot
fucking
believe this shit.

Moving up from the bed, I snag a shirt and slip on my shoes. “Sure, let’s get you home.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

No, I’m sure as shit not okay.
“Fine. You ready?”

She nods and moves past me. I don’t follow her right away, but instead stare at my bed. Minutes ago, that place held so much promise, a possible future. Life altering shit. But now, the bed is empty, and the sheets are twisted, just like my insides feel.

She’s downplaying our experience and putting me back into the asshole player category she had me in when we met. Reducing her worth into nothing more than a meaningless one-night-stand, with nothing to show for it but—in her words—a goopy condom in my trashcan.

Nineteen

Layla

I can’t believe it happened.
It finally happened!
With a man—a gorgeous man—for the first time. Ever.

I’m floating on the high of post-orgasm bliss and empowerment. To add celebration to my sex-high, I didn’t hear Stewart’s voice in my head one time. Blake’s verbal affirmations drown out Stewart’s internal assaults. Is it possible that this could be a breakthrough to my healing?

It’s all so new. A sexual relationship on my terms. Not born out of duty or obligation, but choice. Breathing deep, a grin curls my lips. I haven’t been able to wipe it from my face since…
sigh…

My body’s still humming. The memory of what he did with his hands, his mouth, his—
wow
. A wave of arousal rolls through my body. After we finished, I wasn’t thinking clearly. If I had, I’d have asked for a round two.

I guess it’s best that I didn’t. He was quiet on the drive home and didn’t walk me to my door like he usually does. He said he had a headache, but something tells me it’s more than that. So caught up in my sexual achievement, I didn’t slow down long enough to think about how sleeping with his boss’s assistant might affect him. Or maybe it was the C-section scar that freaked him out?
Oh no!
What if he thinks I’m horrible in bed
?
Insecurity washes over me. What if he regrets having sex with me?

“I’m heading out.” Elle strolls into the kitchen, where I’m eating peanut butter out of the jar.

I shake away the direction of my thoughts and focus on my daughter. “No, you’re not.” Licking my spoon, I dig in for another bite.

She slides into the seat across from me. I notice she doesn’t have all that dark makeup on, and she’s wearing a shirt that covers most of her skin. “Mom, I know I totally messed up, and you probably don’t trust me to make good choices.”

I nod.
She’s got that right.

“I’ve been hanging out with a new girl at school. She’s friends with Killian. Her number’s on the fridge.” She points to the pink Post-it note stuck to the freezer door. “Her name is Cara, and her mom’s name is Suzanne. I put her mom’s cell number up there too.”

I swing my gaze from the Post-it to Elle. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

She leans back in her chair. “Call her. Call her mom. They’ll tell you.”

Narrowing my eyes at her, I lean in and point my peanut butter spoon in her face. “If you’re not lying, then tell me what your plans are. I’ll call Suzanne and cross-reference your story with hers. If it checks out, you’re free to go.”

“We’re going to the school play and then to have pizza with some friends in the drama department. Killian will be there. And if it’s cool with you, Cara said I could stay the night.”

I hop up and dial Suzanne’s number into my cell phone. After a very pleasant conversation with Cara’s mom, I decide that Elle is telling the truth.

“Okay, your story checks out. You can go, but you have to promise to call me before you go to bed.”

Elle claps her hands and jumps up from her seat. “I will, I promise.” She moves over to me and wraps me in a bear hug.

I hug her back as hard as I can and hope it communicates how much I love her and how proud I am that she was honest with me. “I love you, Axelle.”

She pulls back and studies me, her eyebrows pinched together. “You never call me that. I mean, unless you’re pissed.”

I shrug and twirl a piece of her silky hair between my fingers. “I know, but it’s your name. I should call you that.”

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she gives me one last hug. Cara shows up a few minutes later to pick her up. She seems like a nice girl, clean cut without a hint of rebellion. After waving the girls off, I go to my room and pull on tube socks that go up to my knees, a cozy pair of shorty-shorts, and a long-sleeved tee. I move into the living room and flop on the couch with the remote.

Seven at night on a Saturday and I’m channel surfing. Alone.
Fabulous.

A couple of really bad reality television shows later, I’m wide awake and staring at the clock. What’s a girl to do on a Saturday night all alone? My eyes drift to the clock again. I’d go see if Mac was at The Blackout but don’t feel like getting ready.

Orrrr…
One side of my mouth lifts into a grin. I could drive over to Blake’s and surprise him. I’d just check on him and see how he’s feeling. Maybe make him something to eat. My belly cartwheels at the thought of cuddling up with Blake. Holding his head in my lap while we channel surf.

In a hurry, before I talk myself out of it, I slip on some shoes and race out the door. Giddy, I jump into the Bronco and drive toward Blake’s house.

This is so impulsive, and on my terms. I blast the classic rock station that’s playing “Hotel California” by The Eagles. Before long, I’m parked and racing up the stairs to Blake’s condo.

I pound on the door and ring the bell, smiling and bouncing on my toes. There’s music, faint, but loud enough to be heard through the solid wood door. He won’t be able to hear my knock over the blaring beat.

Sticking my ear to the door, I wait for a break in the track. The drum solo throbs against my ears, and I try to identify the song. When the vibration of the bass dies, I ring the doorbell, this time louder and longer. I press my ear to the door again. The music shuts off. Butterflies swirl in my stomach. I lick my lips, so excited to see him and jump into his arms.

By the time I hear the lock click, I’m practically squealing with excitement. The door opens and… my smile dissolves along with my enthusiasm.

Blake stands in the doorway, a scowl etched into his face. His shirtless torso shimmers with sweat down to his jeans, and the top button of his fly hangs open.

And he’s barefoot. What in the hell did I just interrupt?

His narrow glare moves from my tube-socked feet, up my legs, over my belly, and to my eyes. I shake my head, as if my body is speaking the word my lips won’t voice.
No.

I take a step back, and for the first time I see something flare in his eyes, but I can’t read it.

“Mouse? What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’re, um… busy.” I can’t take my eyes off the open buttons of his jeans. “I’m gonna go.” But I can’t move.

How could he do this? He had sex with me this afternoon, and now he’s with someone else. The little voice inside my head says I saw this coming all along. It shouts that I should’ve known after he didn’t walk me to my door. This is what bad boys do, and to expect anything else is naive. The voice reminds me I can’t get my heart broken. It’s impossible. But damn, why does it feel like it’s breaking now?

Act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut.

Shut up!

Best thing you have to offer is what’s between your legs.

“Stop it,” I say, and grip my ears, praying it’ll help force back his taunts.

I turn to make my escape, but I’m pushed up against the wall outside Blake’s doorway.

“What’s going on in your head?” he growls against my neck.

His huge, sweaty body pressing in close makes me dizzy.

“Nothing. I get it. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuck.” His hands move over my hips and waist to cup my bottom. “Who said I wanted you to leave me alone?”

My treacherous body responds to his touch, and I lean into his hold. “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.” I can’t believe he thinks he can grab me like this when he has another woman in his bed.
Asshole.

He pins me with his hips and moves his hands to my face. “You are
not
dumb or stupid. You hear me?”

“Blake, you have a girl in your room and you’re out here arguing with me about—”

Abruptly, he steps away, leaving me swaying on my feet. I’m grateful to have the wall at my back to keep me from falling.

His eyes form tight slits. “What the fuck did you say?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” I point to the open door of his condo. “You have a woman in there.”

He looks around then aims his daggered glare back at me. “You think I’ve got a chick in my bed?” Propping his hands low on his hips, he drops his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”

I push off from the wall. “What am I supposed to think, Blake? I show up and you’re…” My arms motion from his fly to his face. “All sweaty and shirtless, looking like warm sex and orgasms.”

His gaze shoots to mine, this time wide. “Sex and orgasms?”

I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. “You heard me.”

His lips twitch and a look simmers in his eyes, so dark and arousing that I have to lean back against the wall. “Come here, Mouse.”

“Ha. No way.” But hell if my feet aren’t burning to run to him.

Holding one hand out, he tilts his head with that same look. “Come.”

Damn him
. I shake my head, not trusting my voice.

“Rebel,” he mumbles, and drops his hand. “You show up at my place looking sexy as hell in your high socks, short ass shorts, and no bra—”

Shit. I forgot to put on a bra.
I cross my arms over my chest.

“—I’ll come after you, sweetheart. But considering the way you acted after we had sex, I need you to come to me.”

“How
I
acted?” I think back to this afternoon. “You’re the one who freaked out, probably nervous your number two would show up and catch me in your bed.”

“Here you go again.” He shakes his head, takes a deep breath in, and exhales hard. “Every time I start to prove you wrong about me, you defense-up and throw that shit in my face.”

He’s right. That’s exactly what I do. But why?

“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it.” He moves one step toward me. “Something bigger than us fucking happened in my bed this afternoon, Mouse.” He closes in. “Had a few single-serving sex sessions in my life, and those don’t bring you back around. Yet, here you are.”

Here I am.

“Why’d you come back?” There’s hopefulness in his voice.

“I don’t know, I—”

“Answer the fucking question, Mouse. Why are you here?”

“I just… wanted to see if you’d watch TV with me.”

His lips pull into a spectacular smile that makes my heart drop into my stomach. I swallow hard at the gleam in his eye.