Chapter 16: “Every journey begins with the first step.”

Kenny

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Slayde would be at my apartment in less than an hour, and I was totally not ready. After realizing he’d spent most of his small paycheck on our date last night, there was no way I was letting him off without a meal on me. Maybe two or three. Hell, I was ready to suggest he have dinner with me every night. For that matter, he could spend the night with me every night... Laughing, I shook my head as I leaned forward to check the meatloaf in the oven. Talk about going way too fast!

I didn’t know how to cook much, but my mom had taught me to make savory meatloaf and a macaroni and cheese casserole that even I drooled over. Parmesan was crumbled across the top to form a crispy, cheesy crust, and I couldn’t wait for him to taste it.

Chopping the small, English cucumbers I’d bought into slices, I dumped them into a bowl with sliced celery, onion, carrots, and walnuts and threw the entire concoction into the fridge before dashing to the bathroom.

I already had on the beige slip-dress I planned to wear tonight. It was thigh-length with thin straps over my shoulders, so I didn’t wear a bra. My eyes were somewhat done, but I had to powder my nose and finish my hair.

I was bouncing off the walls, and it was only Monday. Mariska had teased me all day, fishing for details, but it was all so new. I wanted to keep us close for now, like my precious secret.

This morning, I woke with a start in his bed at nine a.m. His apartment was empty, but a note was on his pillow. I picked it up, tracing his neat, block handwriting with my fingertip.

Had to go in to work, but not before I watched you sleep for several minutes. God, you’re so beautiful. Thanks for spending the night. See you soon. –S.

The idea of him watching me sleep filled my stomach with the happiest flutter. It probably helped that he kept saying I was beautiful. It was such a lie compared to him. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The best part was I truly wanted him. Oh, god, I wanted him too fucking much.

All day at work, I’d been slammed with clients, and he’d been busy with his tasks—cleaning up everybody’s crap, helping Rook with deliveries, unloading and loading. Carrying heavy boxes to the juice bar for Mariska, although I was pretty sure she scouted out heavy objects for him to carry just so she could watch his muscles flex.

She’d fan her face and pretend to faint when his back was turned, and I’d burst out laughing in the middle of helping a client. The last time, I was working with a very proper older woman, and her stern response said she wasn’t amused. I almost laughed more.

As soon as my last client had left, Mariska practically pushed me out the door.

“Go! Make sexy food with lots of cayenne and capsaicin. Peppers are good for the heart and the libido—it’s a win-win!”

“You just love spicy food.” I shoved my key in the cubby before charging out to start the dinner I’d been planning since the night before, when I realized he was feeding me at the cost of what might be his meals for a week.

Emotion burned in my chest. I couldn’t believe how strong my feelings were for him. That moment last night when he’d held my face, when I’d wanted him to claim me, it was when I knew. However this ended, he was leaving a permanent mark on my heart. Nothing could stop me charging full-speed into this.

* * *

He stood on my doorstep, in a dark green tee and the same jeans he’d worn last night. In one hand was a tiny bouquet of five flowers—again daisies and lilies—the other was shoved in his pocket. Shit, he looked good enough to eat.

He peeked past me at my comparatively large apartment. “Smells really good.”

“I made meatloaf.” Then I started to laugh.

How much more old school could I get? I didn’t care, I wanted to stuff him full of cheesy starches and meat and cover his mouth with kisses.

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious.”

I loved the twinkle in his eye. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into my apartment. “Give me those,” I said, taking the flowers out of his hand. “Where do you keep finding them?”

“At the market. They have this disc... this bin.”

My cheeks rose with my smile. I didn’t care if they were day-old flowers, they were beautiful. “Come over here and talk to me.”

I went to the bar, where I pulled out a small glass vase and a pair of heavy scissors. First, I dumped in the white flower mixture then I filled it with water. Next, I stood by the bar and snipped off the tips of each stem before sliding them into a neat arrangement. It was pretty and perfect.

“I’m not such a great cook,” I confessed. “My mom taught me to cook a mac and cheese casserole in case I ever had to do one for a funeral or whatever...”

“You’re making me funeral food? Shit, that sucks.”

I burst out laughing, holding my palm against my forehead. “No—it’s just the only fancy thing I know how to make.”

“I’m not fancy.”

In that moment, I wanted to feel that smile against my skin again, the scuff of that light beard. Last night he’d been all around me, inside me, everywhere. It was amazing, and I wanted to go there again. But first, we’d eat.

“You’re my guest! Now come with me.” Reaching for his arm, he paused to unlace his heavy boots.

“Your place is really ridiculous,” he said, looking around. “You have a whole extra room. Wasteful.”

I snorted a laugh. I’d only been able to get in here with Patrick’s help. Once Rook promoted me to trainer, I could finally cover all my own bills. “Yes. I’m the Queen, so you’d better act right or I’ll summon my goons and have them throw you out.”

Boots off, he straightened right in front of me. His mouth was a breath from mine, and it was almost unbearable. “You call those goons. I might like a good fight before I climb your walls and claim you for my own.”

I clasped my hands on his cheeks and kissed him then. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he scooped an arm around my waist and lifted me, kissing me deeper.

My fingers slid down, grazing the line of his jaw, before holding his neck as he released me.

Looking straight in my eyes, he grinned. “Where’s this meatloaf?”

* * *

We sat at my table laughing over plates of meatloaf, mac and cheese, and glasses of white wine. I took another sip from mine and noticed his hadn’t moved since I’d poured it.

“You don’t drink,” I finally said. It had been the same the night before. His red wine glass was full when he carried everything back to his small kitchen.

“Busted,” he laughed, pushing the glass to the side. “I quit a few years back.”

Chewing my lip, I was dying to know more. “Are you in AA?”

“No.” His eyes seemed to glow when they met mine again. “I respect their program, but I’ve never been an addict.”

Unsure what that meant, I smiled and forked a big bite of mac and cheese casserole. “You can sleep here tonight if you want.”

“Oh, queenie, I plan to do so much more than sleep.”

No denying, my stomach did a full 360-degree flip then.

* * *

Dinner finished, dishes washed, we walked outside on my side porch. It was uncovered, and we leaned against the low brick wall that formed my balcony, watching the stars blanketing the sky. Occasionally, we’d see a white streak low in the west.

“Can you believe some people have never seen a shooting star?” I asked, turning to meet his gaze.

He’d been so controlled and quiet the whole night, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. At the club today, we’d been friendly, flirty even. Tonight it was different, more formal, as if he was holding back.

“Some people live all their lives in the bright lights of the city.” His voice was quiet. “They have no idea what they’re missing, and yet they think they’re the center of the universe.”

“It sounds like you have experience with that.”

He exhaled and wrapped an arm over my shoulder. “I have some experience, but none of it compares with getting to know you.”

Allowing my eyes to travel over his face, I took in his expression—tense forehead, chin not quite tucked, but ready.

“So let’s get to know each other. What’s the earliest thing you remember?”

He relaxed but shook his head. “My childhood was pretty shitty. What’s the earliest thing you remember?”

“My parents were really normal. I thought they were so square. They took me to the state park every fall for cranberries, church every Sunday. For no real reason, all I ever wanted to do was be different from them.”

His eyes flickered around my face. “I bet you succeeded in that.”

Blinking down, I nodded. “More than you know.”

“What was your favorite hobby? Swimming? Riding bikes?”

I laughed and blinked down. “Finger painting.”

“What?” he laughed.

“My dad and I always butted heads, but my mom found that she and I could relate through art. She wasn’t an artist, but she had a great eye.”

“So you went to galleries?”

“We lived right here in Bayville, so no. We finger painted together.” Smiling, I studied my hands in my lap. “She’d check out books from the library on the works of famous painters, and we’d recreate them with finger paint.”

I could see him considering what I’d said. “Sounds—”

“Silly? It was silly, but we enjoyed spending the time together. Then I decided to go to art school, and the rest is history.”

Turning to face me, he reached out and slid his palm over my cheek. “I was going to say neat. I think it sounds really neat,” he said. “I’m a little jealous.”

Sitting straighter, I examined his face. “Would you let me sketch you?”

“I—”

“Don’t overthink it, just say yes!” I laughed, trying not to gush. “It’s really not hard.”

“Do I have to be naked?”

“Of course!” I cried. Then I laughed more. “But not your first time.”

That gorgeous smile broke across his face, and I was so happy he was giving in. “What do I do?”

“Sit here. I’ll be right back.” I hopped up and ran inside, snatching my large sketchpad off the couch and a charcoal art pencil. I returned in a flash, pausing to study him looking out at the horizon. “That’s just how I want you to stay.”

He glanced back and I walked over to him, positioning his arm so his elbow was bent and his fist at his forehead.

“You’re the modified Thinker.”

“How long do I have to hold this?” Blue eyes slid to mine, nudging that little butterfly in my stomach.

“Just til I get the basic sketch. Hold still, and I’ll be quick.”

Starting at the top of his head, I quickly drew an oval, shading a bit along his jawline before going back and placing guide dots where his eye and nose would go.

“Drop your chin,” I said, glancing up quickly and then back to the paper. My hands were flying—I wanted to get a good outline of him. His bicep peaked, and I knew he was getting tired.

“Just a little bit more,” I whispered, quickly adding the angle of his elbow, the circle of his fist against his head. The rest I could fill in from memory. “Okay, you can relax now.”

His arm went down, and he quickly scooted over to look at the pad. “Hmm...”

I couldn’t help laughing. All I had done was the outline of him. “I’ll fill in the rest later from memory.”

His eyes traveled up to my face, studying me intently. “You can remember me that well?”

“You’re pretty unforgettable.”

He reached forward and placed his palm against my cheek in that way again. His fingers threaded into my hair at the base of my skull, and his thumb slid lightly over my mouth.

“I’d only seen you once, and I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” His thumb tugged at my bottom lip, and I was pretty sure I’d implode if he didn’t kiss me soon. “Only, it was so dark, I thought your hair was black. But I knew your eyes were blue.”

I couldn’t tell if I moved or if he pulled me, and it didn’t matter. Warm lips covered mine, and my mouth quickly opened to allow his tongue to curl inside. Dropping my sketchpad, I shifted forward so I was on his lap in a straddle. My knees were bent, and his hands spanned my back, holding me tight against his firm chest. Our kiss was ravenous and intense, and I loved the feel of his large hands traveling up my skin. One rose to the top of my dress and into my hair. The other traveled down, under my skirt, cupping my ass through my panties.

The memory of last night was so sharp in my mind, I couldn’t help a little moan when he touched me. It was all he needed before his fingers were threading into my underwear, slipping into my wet opening.

“Kenny,” he groaned, breaking our kiss and dropping his head against my collarbone. “I want you so much.”

“I want you.” My fingers threaded into the sides of his hair, and his hand that was at my neck, moved around to unfasten the tiny buttons at my chest.

One by one, they popped open, revealing my bare skin underneath. A little hum, and he reached around to grab the center of my back, lifting me slightly before he pulled a tight nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” I gasped, leaning back so he could have better access to my body. My change in position rocked my hips over his erection, and I couldn’t resist doing it again.

That caused his chin to rise, releasing my breast with a light sucking sound before he kissed the bottom of my chin, lifting me entirely from his waist so we could stand. He led me inside and paused only a moment.

“Down the hall to the right,” I said in a voice almost desperate.

In a moment, we were in my bedroom, and he laid me back against the mattress. My dress was open to my waist, revealing my breasts, and he grasped my waist in his large hands, running his tongue up the centerline of my torso before closing his lips over my skin.

“You taste so sweet,” he said.

“It’s this... organic lotion,” I sighed over the need aching in my core. “Edible.” Another sharp breath as his tongue touched my skin.

“It’s good.” He stood briefly to discard his jeans. His shirt was still on, but I wasn’t in the mood to fuss over details.

We were both ready, and I licked my lips as he rolled on the condom. Eyes darkened at my gesture, and in one swift motion, he was on the bed, sliding between my thighs.

“Oh, yes,” I hissed, lifting my hips as he filled me, stretching every part of me like before.

His mouth moved from my shoulder, up my collarbone, to my neck as his hips rocked slowly into me. I wanted him to fuck me hard like he had the night before, but he seemed to be pacing himself, going slower this time.

“I want to taste all of you,” he groaned, moving a little faster. “Your skin is like sugar.”

“Oh, god,” I moaned. The rocking of his hips was hitting my clit, causing sparks to radiate down my legs with every thrust. “Just don’t stop.”

That seemed to make him move faster, and the building sensation was making me crazy with desire. It was tingling and sparkling, and if he dared stop, I was sure I’d die. He didn’t, in fact his forcefulness was back. His head lifted, our eyes locked, and the burning lust I saw there pushed me over the edge.

My back arched as the orgasm shook through my thighs. I cried out his name. His mouth covered mine, and I felt his groan rumble against my chest as he continued hitting me hard and fast. It was amazing and unbearable, and I didn’t want him to stop.

“Shit, Kenny.” His mouth broke away, and he slammed into me two more times before holding inside me, jerking with his orgasm. “Fuck,” he whispered through a ragged breath. A few smaller thrusts, and I felt his heart pounding in his chest against mine.

He relaxed in my arms, and I only wanted to hold him. He was buried deep inside me with my legs wrapped around his waist. His forehead was pressed against my neck, and in the afterglow it felt like our bodies melted together.

Lips moved against my skin. He kissed my neck softly before lifting his head to look into my eyes. “You made yourself for dessert?”

I laughed, breathing through my nose, as my fingers trailed a line from his forehead to his neck and shoulders.

“I actually bought angel food cake with fresh berries and whipped cream.”

“Mmm,” he leaned down to kiss the side of my jaw, slipping his tongue out and tasting me again. A ripple of shimmering aftershocks flowed through my shoulders. “That sounds good, but you’re more delicious.”

He rolled to the side, sliding out of me, and I sat up. “Give me two minutes.”

I scooped up the thin white tank he’d loaned me the night before, and in as short a time as possible, I was back, cleaned up and carrying a large slice of cake covered in mixed blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries. A generous dollop of whipped cream was on top.

Slayde had straightened the bed and sat with his back against the pillows. His green tee was still on, but with the sheet across his lap, I could tell he was nude from the waist down. His eyes traveled from what I carried down my body as I entered, and a spark simmered low in my stomach.

“Why so modest?” I teased, climbing on the bed beside him. Crossing to him on my knees, I forked a bite of cake and held it to his mouth.

He opened and took it. “I don’t understand.”

“The shirt.” I took a bite of cake. “I saw all of you last night, you know.”

“Mmm,” he looked down. “It was darker then. We were in the moonlight.”

“So I only get to see you in the moonlight? That doesn’t seem fair. Are you a shifter or something?”

He laughed. “Wrong nickname.”

My mind swirled around his words until finally it became clear Slayer. “You don’t have to hide your ink from me. I think it’s cool.”

His lips tightened and he looked down. “It’s not who I am anymore. Or who I want to be.”

Setting the cake on the nightstand, I turned back to him. His eyes rose to mine, and I tried to fill my gaze with warmth. “If you want to tell me, I’d like to listen. If not, I understand.”

He reached past me to the nightstand, dipping his finger in the whipped cream. “It can wait.”

Tracing his finger over my lips, he left a trail of cream on my mouth. His eyes darkened as he watched before leaning forward to lick the sweetness away. It was intensely erotic, and my lips parted allowing my tongue to meet his.

Finding the edge of my tank, he lifted it over my head, returning his hands to cup my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers. I moaned into his mouth as I reached for his shirt. I needed to feel his skin against mine again.

He allowed me to lift his shirt, but as soon as it was off, he turned me so my back was against his chest. One hand moved from my breast downward between my legs, and I moaned, dropping my head back against his shoulder. Sensations flooded my brain. His fingers circled my clit, and as he kissed a line from my neck to the center of my shoulders, the light scruff of his beard sent chills flying through my torso.

“Oh, god,” I felt like I was vibrating in his hands. They left me briefly to apply the condom, and then he was back, leaning me forward, his body never losing contact with mine.

My ass was lifted as he slid into me like a knife through butter. One of my arms was bent behind my back, and he grasped it as he thrust, bracing my hips with his forearm, his fingers still circling between my thighs.

He hit me deeper than he’d ever gone, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I saw stars. They were already shooting through my body making me tremble with desire.

“So beautiful,” I heard him murmur, and in that moment, the tightness burst through my limbs.

“Oh, Slayde... Slayde...” I moaned, fisting the sheets in one hand. My other was still pinned behind me as he used it to drive himself deeper into my clenching insides.

I came so hard, my eyes squeezed shut, and in two more swift moves, he fell over me, a ragged moan rippling from his chest. Gasping, he released my arm, circling my waist, holding me tight against his chest.

His heart beat at my back, and I heard his breathless whisper. “So fucking good.”

We lay that way, still connected, pulsing for several moments longer. I was snug against his body, eyes still closed, and his mouth was pressed to the back of my shoulder. I wanted to kiss him, so I moved forward before turning in the bed to face him.

Blue eyes smiled down on me as I touched his cheek. “I love the sound you make when you come,” I whispered, stretching my chin up to kiss his lips.

They parted and he licked inside, smooth and hungry. “You make me crazy. You’re so small, and yet so...”

“Responsive?” My nose wrinkled with my laugh, and he smiled back.

“I was going to say open.”

“Same thing.”

Resting my head on my hand, I traced a finger along the letters inked at the top of his chest. From the corner of my eye, I noticed his lips tighten, but I asked anyway. “What does it mean?”

He rose onto his forearm and reached for the white tank he’d taken off me. It was over his head and covering his torso faster than I could see anything lower.

“It was my fighter name,” he said, turning his back to dispose of the condom before lifting the bottle of water I’d left on my nightstand. I watched him almost drain it before leaning back against the headboard again. I pulled myself up beside him.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You had a career as a fighter. Lots of guys do that.”

His eyes dropped, and he looked at his hand, opened then clenched into a fist. “That name reminds me of what I was. It keeps me from going back there again.”

My voice was quiet. “What happened? Did you have an accident?”

He expression was so pained in that moment I almost couldn’t bear it.

“Nevermind,” I said fast. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry for asking.”

He met my eyes, brow clutched. “I used to be pretty messed up. It took a lot of work, but I learned to be a different person, to control it. Now I’m trying to start over and live a better life. A saner life.”

Smiling, I lay my palm flat against his cheek. “I hope you’ll let me help you.”

“You already have. More than you know.”