Seventeen
Blake
Blue-balls are a bitch. Last night with Layla, my body was a live wire of carnal energy waiting to be unleashed. And although I relieved most of the tension in the room, pounding away until I was too exhausted to stand, my nuts still ache.
But the pain in my pants is nothing compared to the cramp I felt in my chest when she crumpled on my couch and exposed another piece of her past. It almost killed me to sit there and watch her duck her chin, her cheeks flaming, as she told me how he broke her. Like she’s some piece of equipment that’s been rendered useless because it doesn’t perform. It’s sickening. And impossible.
Not with the evidence I saw last night. She wasn’t at all like I thought she’d be. Not timid or reserved, but initiating and confident, asking for what she wanted. She writhed on my lap, moaning and begging for more when my fingers were already drenched inside her. Making out with her was hot, and even with her inability to let go, it was still one of the sexiest experiences of my life. If I hadn’t been so worried about pushing her too far, I probably would have detonated and embarrassed myself.
But when she tensed in my arms like she did, whimpering into my neck like she was struggling between intense pleasure and horrific pain… Fuck. How something can be so beautiful and so damn heartbreaking is a mystery. I vowed in that moment that if I—when I—come face to face with Stew Moorehead, he’s a fucking dead man.
I’m already hopped up on hatred for the prick, and now I get to spend the day at Flesh. No doubt dudes will be checking her out. And my patience is running thin.
Pulling into the parking lot at Layla’s apartment, I push back my vengeful thoughts. I’ve been preparing myself all morning, telling myself that she’s only doing her job. But all my pep talks are pointless as I park my car and groan at what I see. “Oh, shit. Today’s gonna suck ass.”
Shaking my head, I hop down and walk toward the gorgeous blonde leaning against the wall. Layla’s wearing a net-like sweater that hangs off one shoulder. The loose, open stitches make it so I can see through it to the white triangle-top bikini underneath. Her straight-leg pants hang low on her hips, accentuating her tiny frame. The style is a mix of pure class and straight-up sex.
“What’re you doing out here?” I move close and push her hair behind her bare shoulder, making sure my fingertips linger against her warm skin. “I’d have come up to get you.”
Her dark eyes meet mine, and a bright smile is aimed at me. “Hey.” She reaches up to hook her hands behind my neck and pulls me to her lips.
Our mouths meet in a soft kiss, once, twice, and then I run my tongue along her lower lip. She opens for me, and my senses are flooded with peppermint and vanilla. Reaching down, I cup her ass and pull her in close. Hot and sweet and all fucking mine.
I break the kiss and nip at her mouth. “Good morning, Mouse.” Tracing her hairline, I run her silky long hair through my fingers. “You look hot. Guess you couldn’t find any baggy sweatpants and a pea-green turtleneck to wear, huh?”
She scrunches up her gorgeous face. “I don’t think they let girls into Flesh dressed like that.” She laughs and moves her hands to my chest. Her smile falls. “I’m a little nervous.”
Unable to resist the temptation of her skin inches from my lips, I kiss her shoulder. She tilts her head for me to drop kisses up her neck. “Nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart. Not with me there.”
She nods through a shiver. “This is my first opportunity to prove to Taylor that I can handle more responsibility. I really don’t want to screw it up.”
“You won’t. These things run themselves.” I pull her hands from my chest and kiss each one. “Come on, you’ll see.”
I’m so ready to get this day over with. My blood’s already burning to get Layla home and in my arms. My balls were aching before, but they’re throbbing now. And my woman looking like she jumped from a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition isn’t making my situation any easier.
If Layla wasn’t so set on proving herself to Taylor, I’d seduce her into calling in sick and staying with me all day. There’s no reason why Jonah couldn’t handle the party. But fuck, I’ve got to promote my fight. Fine, we’ll go to the stupid party, and then it’s back to my house for dinner… topless.
~*~
One hour and seventeen minutes until this shit is over, and then I’m throwing Layla over my shoulder and getting her the fuck out of here. I knew being at Flesh would be torture, but this is outright agony.
The narrow pool, lined with waterfalls, is packed with topless girls and guys. A female DJ dressed in a bikini and stiletto heels spins records, and the pounding music energizes the atmosphere. The outdoor heaters make it a perfect eighty degrees as women of every shape, and only the small size, strut around mostly naked. The smell of booze, chlorine, and suntan lotion hangs heavy in the air. Guys with their chests puffed out drop their life savings on thirty-dollar drinks to entice women out of their tops.
Even with the abundance of bare-breasted women to gawk at, my eyes are fixed firmly on Layla, where they’ve been for the past two hours and forty-three minutes. She’s all class, and professional as hell, flittering about to make contact with each semi-celebrity, shmoozing the pool manager, and even staging photo ops. I’ve had to threaten bodily harm to a handful of guys before word got around that she’s off limits. And yet, they’re still staring. Fuckers.
“Hey, Snake.” A bouncy little brunette comes to lean against the bar next to me.
Ah, shit. Not again. I’ve been brushing women off since I got here. It’s becoming a struggle to remain polite.
Like the majority of the women here, she’s topless. I give her a quick nod in acknowledgement and slide my gaze back to Layla. She’s removed her net-sweater and is walking around in her linen pants and string bikini top. Dammit. I should have marked those gorgeous breasts up with my mouth when I had the chance. That would’ve kept her covered.
“I like your tattoo.”
I cringe at the squeaky voice of the girl next to me. She traces my tattoo with her fingertip.
Glaring at her through my sunglasses, I push her hand away from my chest. “Don’t.”
She shrugs and sticks her overly enhanced breasts out. “You look hot.” She licks her lips.
There was a time when I would’ve appreciated her advances. She’s cute and more than willing. The way she talks, the look in her eyes— it all says she’s open for play. A few weeks ago, I would have been all over it, but that was then. Now her attention is annoying as shit.
“Let’s go for a swim.” The heat of her body presses against my arm.
I glare at where her bare chest is pressed against me and then take a step to put some distance between us. “No, thanks.” I move my eyes back to Layla—fuck. Where is she? I search the crowd for her blonde head. Dammit.
The brunette is talking to me about something, but I’m not paying a damn bit of attention. I see Jonah and the guys moving toward me. Maybe they’ll know where she went.
Don’t freak out. She’s probably in the bathroom.
“Hey, B. You got company?” Rex grins wide at the girl and I resist the urge to toss his ass in the pool.
Jonah shoves Rex and shakes his head, smiling.
“You guys see Layla over there? I lost her.”
They turn back to look at the direction they came then swing their eyes back to me. “Yeah, I think she’s over there rubbing suntan oil on some dude,” Jonah says.
“Nah, that wasn’t her.” Rex spins and motions to the opposite side of the pool. “She’s over there, playing Twister with those frat guys.”
They all burst into laughter.
“Assholes.” I shove past my fuck-face friends and head out to look for her, ignoring the guys’ chuckling and the girl’s huff of irritation behind me.
Zigzagging through the crowd, I move toward the pool. My eyes scan each person, every face that isn’t hers sending my heart rate higher. Why didn’t I keep my eyes on her? Shit.
She’s not in the hot tub, not at the bar, and nowhere around the DJ stand. There are too many people. Over by the pool steps, I see the familiar glint of sunshine-blonde hair. With purposeful steps, I walk toward her. Her gaze swings to me, and she smiles. Just then, the warmth of a small hand slides into mine and grabs hold. What the fuck?
Layla’s gaze dips to my hand, and I know, even through her dark glasses, that she’s seeing exactly what I’m feeling. The topless brunette at my side, and I’m holding her damn hand. Ah, hell.
I rip free from the little leach. “Layla—”
She’s smiling, but nothing about her smirk is warm and friendly. It’s challenging. She raises one eyebrow above the frame of her sunglasses and tilts her head. My stomach drops. In super slow motion, I watch her hands slide behind her back to the tie of her bikini top.
Oh, fuck no.
Layla
That brunette has been hanging off Blake for the past thirty minutes. With my sunglasses on, it was easy to spy on her without being obvious. She stuck her boobs out and rubbed them against my… guy, er… boyfriend. Whatever. My Blake.
And that’s not even what pissed me off the most. I wasn’t born yesterday. I get why she’d be intrigued. Heck, I’ve barely been able to keep myself from panting like a dog at his impressive physique. His broad shoulders are cut so perfectly it’s like he was sculpted by an expert hand. His brawny chest melts into his rippled abdomen, which I know from experience is as hard as it is soft. The perfect V that tapers beneath his black and white board shorts. All of that is enough to draw a woman’s touch.
But what makes me seethe is that she was touching his tattoo. I’ve seen Blake at training, but he never takes off his tee or sleeveless shirts. Even his promo picture is taken from an angle where his tattoo is hidden behind his bicep. So I didn’t even know he had a tattoo until today, and here this young, gorgeous bimbo gets to touch it? Before me?
When she scurried up beside him and grabbed his hand, he pushed her away like I expected. But I didn’t like it.
Even now, she’s pressing her body against his.
It’s time to make a statement.
I wiggle loose the tie of my bikini top. Blake rips his sunglasses from his eyes, green fire igniting his glare. Little Miss Big Boobs leans against his side. He doesn’t push her away or even seem to notice. His scowl pierces through me. I pull the strings away and out to my sides, marveling at his chest as it rises and falls faster and faster.
He’s pissed. Butterflies explode in my stomach. He tilts his head, a clear warning that I’m crossing the limit of his patience. Tempting a guy like him is dangerous. It’s immature, but so damn exciting that I can’t stop.
Moving my fingers to the white triangles of fabric that stand between my nakedness and 200 strangers’ eyes, I give Blake a daring smile.
“No,” he commands in a voice so deep I feel it between my legs.
When will he learn? I don’t take orders.
I flip up my top. Before the air registers against my skin, the heat of his chest is pressed against me. His arms wrap tightly around my waist, and he presses me back against a nearby wall.
He buries his face in my neck. “Fuck, Mouse. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“She touched you,” I growl with a ferocity that shocks even me.
We’re surrounded by people, lost in a crowd that feels strangely private. He sucks at my neck, and his hands roam my bare skin. I moan at his urgent touch, his loss of control mimicking my own. I grasp at his shoulders, urging him on.
“Don’t want anyone touching me but you.” With his large body keeping me blocked from the view of others, he grips my bare breasts. I gasp as he works my nipples. My knees grip his leg and he grinds into me.
“Get me out of here, Blake.” My breathless demand falls short.
“Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” He reaches around my back, securing my top. I grin as he shimmies the front triangles with the utmost concentration for maximum coverage.
Without a word, he hooks his arm around my waist and walks me out, passing people who try to talk to him without even a glance.
“Wait, Blake. My sweater.”
“Fuck it. I’ll buy you a new one.”
I laugh loudly and try to keep up with his long strides as he leads us away from the pool area, through the casino, and to his car.
He swings open the passenger side door. “Up.”
I hop in, half-giddy and a lot anxious for the make-out session ahead. My body’s on fire, perfectly primed and eager for his hands, his mouth. Damn, but I don’t want a repeat of last night.
He climbs in the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. I lean over and place small kisses on his neck and shoulder. The smell of his sun-kissed skin sends my tongue out for a taste. Mmm, so good.
“Mouse.” He grabs my hand and pulls it into his lap, pressing my palm between his legs. “Not gonna last long, sweetheart. Not with your sweet mouth on me. I’m gonna ask you to stop and—fuck—I need you to obey. I dig the rebel thing, I do, but—” I rub my hand between his legs, and his words fade to a groan. “I won’t have sex with you in a car.”
My lips freeze against his neck, and heat rushes to my cheeks. A man like Blake doesn’t put his lust on hold because of the past hurts of a woman. No, men like Blake are out for themselves. No concern for others. But here he is, again and again, putting my best interests above his own. I don’t know what to make of that, but I like it. A lot.
“Okay, Blake.” I kiss his neck one last time and settle back into my seat. “I can wait.”
He grimaces like the very idea of waiting is physically painful and puts the car in drive. As the minutes tick away, my restlessness increases. Unable to keep my hands off him for another second, I reach over to rest my hand on his thigh. His mouth ticks with a small smile, and he covers my hand with his.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I haven’t been excited about sex before. Even when Stewart and I first got married, as much as I tried to get into it, I always wanted to be somewhere else. With someone else. Hell, being alone would’ve been an improvement.
But I want this. And damn if it doesn’t feel incredible to be able to make a choice. Good or bad, mistake or not, it’s my decision.
Even if he breaks my heart.
I’m not sure that’s possible anymore. Whatever’s left of my devotion, I’ve pledged to my daughter. She’s my life. My heart. There’s room for fun, maybe even for feelings, which I’m definitely having for the strong fighter next to me. But love? I wouldn’t even know what that looks like, much less what it feels like.
So I’ll take this for what it’s worth. This dating relationship is good now. And when it goes bad, we’ll be friends and move on. It might hurt, hell, it could rock me for a few days, but nothing could be as bad as what I’ve already been through. Nothing.
Not even a life without Blake.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing thoughts of our relationship’s impending doom as far from my mind as possible. It works, and my mind clears.
“You all right?” he asks, his handsome face etched with concern.
“Fine. Just uh… trying to figure out what your tattoo says.” I study the large tattoo that covers part of his left pec and bleeds down to his ribs. It’s a military emblem, but I don’t know which one. “Is that an army tattoo?”
He laughs in a quick burst. “No, not army. Marines.”
Marines? Blake was a Marine? Damn, just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter. “How long were you a Marine?”
“Not long. Military school for four years, the Corps for two.”
I don’t know much about the military, but two years doesn’t seem like a long time to be in. “What happened?”
He looks at me, and even with his sunglasses on, I can see the shadows of his past twisting his expression into something defensive. “What makes you think something happened?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Shaking his head, he sets his gaze forward. Silence passes between us for a few seconds, and I decide to let it go.
“Dad was a colonel. Wanted his boys to follow in his footsteps. We did. Worked out for my little brother. Not so much for me.” He shrugs and drops it.
“I didn’t know you had a little brother.” I hope the subject change will relieve some of the tension in the car.
“Yeah.” He grins. Thank goodness. “Braeden. He just turned twenty-one. I’m trying to get him out here for my fight. You might meet him.”
“Is he as handsome as you are?” I smile at the very faint blush that colors his cheeks. I made Blake blush!
“Nah. I’m way better looking.”
We laugh together and hold hands in silence for the rest of the ride. I vow to approach his hidden military past later if an opportunity presents itself. For now, I keep my mouth shut. With the possibility of what might happen once we get to his house, I have more important things to think about. And number one is to avoid a repeat of last night’s episode.
I spend the last few minutes of the drive casting Stew Moorehead from my thoughts. Gagging his memory and replacing it with the beautiful things I’ve experienced with Blake.
It’s time I shut Stew up for good. And nothing will do that better than a first time with a new guy.