Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) (30 page)

“Yeah it is.” I spread my legs farther apart and welcome him closer. The heat of his morning hard-on presses against my panties. There’s no evidence of the shorts I wore last night. I wiggle my toes. Socks gone, too. “Did you carry me from the couch last night and undress me?”

“Guilty.” He drops to one elbow and rests his head in his hand. His eyes are really green in the morning. “Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything inappropriate.” A crooked smile pulls at his lips. “Unless you consider a little fondling inappropriate.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. I would.” His teasing smile confirms what I already know. Even in my sleep, I’m safe with Blake.

He slides my hair over my shoulder and heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I had big plans for you and this bed last night. You squashed that shit by falling asleep, but…”—he kisses the tip of my nose— “turns out, holding you in my arms all night was just as good.”

My cheeks burn at his compliment. “I slept better than I’ve slept in years, but I would have liked to…” I shrug, suddenly embarrassed at how blunt I’m being. “You know.”

He bites his lip, erasing his cocky smile, and grinds his pelvis into my hip. “No, Mouse. I don’t know. Tell me.”

Butterflies race from my stomach to my throat. The husky sound of his voice, the clear evidence digging into my belly—he wants me. Badly. Just as much as I want him.

“Sun’s barely up. It’s not too late.” I run my hand up his chest to rest at his nape. “We have a few hours before—”

He slides his hand down the front of my panties, turning my words into a gasp. I drop back onto the bed while his hand works between my legs in lazy strokes. Heat blooms below my belly button, and I arch my back.

He nips at my lips. “Let me know this is okay, Mouse.”

“Yes, you’re… this is way better than okay.” My breath catches in my throat as he thrusts two fingers in deep.

“Layla…” The sound of my name from his lips, said with such reverence, stokes my need.

I reach between us and wrap my hand around him, stroking the heated steel of his erection. His fingers mimic the pace of my strokes and fuel the flame of my arousal. He locks his eyes on mine, and we watch each other as the pleasure builds, bringing us both to the brink. Lips parted, eyes heated. Our hips roll and thrust, and we crawl toward the peak at an aching pace.

He leans in and nips at my lip again, his impatience mirroring my own. He’s looking for my permission.

“Yes, I want it. Make…” Not making love, not fucking… what is this? “I need you.”

His hand moves from between my legs to his side table. I slide off my panties as he rolls on a condom. He lifts me to straddle his hips, and grabbing the hem of my shirt, he tugs it over my head. Completely naked and exposed above him, he sits back and runs his eyes over my body in a visual caress. With gentle strokes to my thighs, he coaxes them wider. His gaze falls between my legs. My face heats, but I force my eyes to stay on him.

“Fucking gorgeous. Every inch.” He grips my hips and lifts me up. “Hold on, baby.” He guides my hips down, burying his body inside of mine.

I cry out against the delicious intrusion. Feeling confident, I move above him, slow and steady. He holds my hips, trying to control each stroke, but I keep the dragging pace.

Playing with the different ways I can move, I use him as a human experiment, and make notes of the subtle responses he gives. Arching my back, I roll against him in waves.

He pinches his eyes closed. “Shit, Mouse. You’re driving me crazy.”

My orgasm coils low, and the memory of what it felt like has me driving down harder.

“Fuck yeah, more.” His fingers dig into my hips, and he slams his hips into me.

My heart pounds behind my ribs. The muscles in my stomach tense, and my knees lock onto his sides. I match his pace, thrust for thrust, until I can no longer keep up.

He’s guiding my body on his, and I’m powerless to stop it. My stomach churns, and a feeling of foreboding pricks at my nerves.

Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply and tell myself that I like this side of Blake. His loss of control should be sexy, not scary. And it is. I’m not scared.
I’m not scared.

He slams into me again. While keeping one hand on my hip to steady his thrusts, his other hand glides up to my breast. He kneads the tender flesh, and I relax a little. My shoulder muscles release their tension, and my orgasm builds.

Another slam of his hips. The dark shadows from my past linger in the distance, ready to pounce.
I’m
in control. I repeat the words over and over hoping it will pierce the thick skin of my fear.

My body lists, and he flips me to my back. His huge arms confine me to the bed, the weight of his body holding me down as he hammers into me.

I hold my breath. My throat closes up. I can’t swallow.

He runs a thumb across my nipple, pinching—
Ow!
A hiss of pain shoots from my lips. His eyes are closed as he continues pinching and pulling at my sore breast. My jaw locks down against a cry, but a whimper escapes my throat.

His eyes find mine. He blinks a few times, clearing the arousal from his expression. His eyebrows draw together. “Mouse?
Fuck.
” He rips his body from mine and scampers to the opposite end of the bed. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” Both his hands plow through his hair, over and over. “I’m sorry. I lost control for a second, but…” An agonized groan rumbles his chest. “I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?” He tips his chin to look at me. “Mouse? Talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”

I nod and take a shaky breath. “I’m okay.”

“Really? Because you look terrified.” He drops his head, as if the shame of what happened weighs too much.

“Oh, uh… yeah, but that’s not you, it’s me. I need to—”

“No, don’t do that shit. This is not your fault. It’s mine. I just… something snapped, and it was like I couldn’t get enough of you.” He scrubs his face. “I’m losing my damn mind,” he mumbles into his hands.

My stomach drops at the genuine remorse I see in his face and hear in his words. He’s probably been with girls who love the aggressive sex. I didn’t hate his loss of control, or the power he threw behind his hips. I want him to let go when he’s with me. To experience the same freedom that I do when we’re together. But in order to do that, there needs to be trust. So the real question is, do I trust Blake? Trust him to be himself and let go, but not hurt me?

“I don’t want you to have to be someone else around me, Blake. You’re a fighter. You’re aggressive in the octagon and outside of it. And that includes what happens in your bed. It may take some time, but I’ll come around. Just, please…” How do I say this without sounding desperate? “Don’t give up on me.”

His eyes are big, as if he’s seeing a different side to me and it’s taking a moment to sink in. “Or you me.”

I hold out my arms and he falls into them. Things got intense, but he didn’t shut me out. I’m beginning to associate this selfless behavior with Blake. He’s always concerned for what’s best for me. But what about what he wants? I have to try harder to be the girl he deserves. Not the crybaby who can’t get over her past mistakes.

Starting with soft kisses of forgiveness, I work my mouth from his neck to his jaw. Breathing in his woodsy scent helps me to relax and re-awakens my need.

He runs his hands from my bottom to my shoulders, his hands worshiping with their touch. He treats my lips like they’re breakable, molding his to mine with the pressure of a butterfly wing. Tentative, allowing me to set the pace, he doesn’t push. Fire flames deep within, and the urge to lose control threatens to overtake me.

I dip my tongue into his mouth and moan into the slick, welcoming warmth. His hands flex against my hips as I move in a sensual rhythm. Pleasure zaps through my nerves with every unhurried slide.

Realization floods my senses. What Blake said last night is true. I can feel it now. This isn’t just sex; this is something bigger.

Rolling me to my side, he hitches my leg to his hip. “I promise I’ll go slow.”

My answer is in my kiss. I trust him.

He slides into me, slow and sensual. Long pulls followed by deliberate thrusts, as if each movement proclaims his promise. He’s not giving up on me.

Intense and unrelenting, my orgasm builds. I dig my fingernails into the firm muscles of his backside, pressing him closer, desperate for more. He breaks the kiss, panting, his face screwed tight. I pull his lip between my teeth.
Please.
He groans, a light sheen of sweat on his chest. He’s holding back, and it’s killing him.

“It’s okay.” My hips move on their own, attempting to draw in what he’s holding back.

He shakes his head, his breath coming faster, his grip tightening against my thigh.

“Please. I
want
it.”

With a slight recoil, he grimaces and shakes his head.

What can I say to get him to understand?

“Blake.” Cupping his jaw, I lock my gaze on his, and I’m met with his tortured emerald stare. “I
trust
you.”

His movements still, and he scrutinizes my face. With a shove off the mattress, he rolls me to my back. Hips pinning me down, his huge shoulders loom over me, and his arms lock me in. My heart hiccups with memories that melt away before they materialize.

Blake would never hurt me.

He flexes his hips and groans. “You okay?” His voice cracks, heavy with emotion.

“Mm, so good.” I grip his backside, urging him on.

He rears back and pushes forward with a little more force. Tingles of pleasure race up my spine. I moan and tilt my hips, taking him deeper. Again, he rocks into me, studying my response. I wrap my legs around him, locking my ankles behind his massive thighs. His movements become stronger, his powerful body unleashing all he’s been holding back in too-slow increments.

Leaning down, he nips at my mouth. I push up and suck his upper lip, then his lower. He collapses on top of me and takes my mouth hard. I meet every thrash of his tongue with a flick of my own. A growl bubbles up from his throat, and I swallow it down.

“Fuck, this is heaven.” His movements are more determined.

“Blake…”

“I know.” He kisses me again, hard and possessive.

Perfect.

Overwhelmed by the sensations of his powerful body commanding mine, and the patience he takes in caring for my feelings, I shed my inhibitions and toss caution aside. Lifting my hips, I meet his movements with a grind of my own.

“God, yes. Like that.” His heavy breath heats my overworked lips. He doesn’t look away from my eyes, and he picks up his pace.

I bite my lip. “I’m… it’s… Oh, my—”

A burst so big, beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, bows my body off the bed. A fervent cry explodes from my lips, the sound so powerful it bounces off the walls. Shards of euphoria explode from my core and race down my limbs.

His muscles tense, and he buries himself deep, groaning into my neck. I run my fingers through his cropped hair, holding him to me. The soft suction of his lips tug at the sensitive skin below my ear. Goose bumps race down my arms. Boneless, my legs fall open, and he drops his weight to cover me.

It’s hard to take a full breath, but I don’t care. Pressed into the bed with him on top of me, cradled between my legs, and our bodies still connected—I’ve never felt more protected. I’m floating, the burden of my shadows lifting as hope settles in.

All too soon, he rolls to the side, allowing me my first full inhale.

“Holy shit,” he says, out of breath.

Unable to move my soggy limbs, I turn my head toward him. “Yeah.”

He faces me. “Fuck, look at you,” he whispers. “Even better than I thought.”

“What did you think?”

“That you’re fucking gorgeous. That right when I think you can’t get any sexier, you do.” His fingers trace my cheek. “So damn pretty.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “You too.” I feel so much more, oh how I
feel
, but words fail me.

He kisses my cheek, lingering for a second before turning away. I sit in silence while he disposes of the condom. Crawling back into bed, he pulls me to his side, my naked body flush with his. “Talk to me. What are you overthinking?”

I giggle at his assumption. “I’m not, actually.” For the first time in a while. “But, I was thinking about work. It’s going to be impossible to not touch you when I see you there tomorrow. How are we going to play this so we don’t get caught?” I trace figure eights through his six-pack and smile at the goose bumps that follow my fingertip.

“Get caught?” He chuckles. “What’re we, twelve?”

“I read in my contract something about inter-office relationships. I didn’t pay too much attention, but I remember it was discouraged.”

“Shit, if Gibbs enforced that, he’d have to fire himself ten times over.”

I push up to rest my chin on his chest. “No way. With who?”

“Most of the Cage Girls, a few female fighters, and his last assistant.”

My eyes are wide, unblinking. “That’s unethical.”

“Not our business. But don’t worry about anyone raising hell about us. Besides, no way I’m not touching you at work. Shit. Impossible to keep my hands off you.”

I shiver and rest my cheek where my chin was.

This is happening. He’s confessed to feelings, I’ve done the same. We’ve had sex twice without any major breakdowns… on my part. Work’s covered. I need to talk it over with Elle, but she’s crazy about Blake. As long as she’s on board, there’re no more obstacles. I’ll have a boyfriend. A healthy, adult relationship.

And for the first time, the idea isn’t terrifying.

Blake

Nothing has ever felt this easy. Her head on my chest, her naked body pressed in tight, her finger tracing patterns on my skin—all of it is so new, but at the same time, completely familiar and as easy as blinking. I’m comfortable with her in a way I’ve never felt with anyone before.

We lie in silence, pressed together with the blood still thumping in our chests.
Damn, I don’t want to move.
Not an inch from this position, and I’d be content. Her stomach grumbles against my side. Clearly, biology won’t allow that.