Run With Me (Fight For You Book 1)

by J. C. Evans

  I pause with my belt halfway undone. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I know it’s been a long time, but is another couple of hours really going to make that much of a difference?”

  I study her for a long moment, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.

  She just wraps her arms around her knees, hugs her legs to her chest, and gazes uncomfortably out the window into the darkening woods, looking more like I suggested we get his and hers genital piercings than have sex for the first time in almost half a year.

  A second ago, I was so hard my boxer briefs felt like they were cutting off my circulation, but as I stand at the end of the bed, half-dressed, with my girlfriend so disinterested she doesn’t even sneak a peek at my chest, let alone invite me to join her on the bed, my erection dies a miserable death and our perfect day takes a turn as I realize what must have happened.

  The only time Sam has ever acted this way before was three years ago, when I came back to the island after her graduation from high school to find out she’d cheated with her best friend’s brother at the graduation party. They were both drinking beers in the hot tub when he leaned over and kissed her. She said she only kissed him back for a few minutes and regretted it immediately, but it had obviously fucked with her head. She was twitchy and weird for an entire week before I finally called her on it and she confessed to what happened one day while we were surfing.

  Not trusting myself not to completely lose my shit, I paddled in without saying a word to Sam, hitchhiked over to Sherry’s, and drank beer with Bjorn until four in the morning before I threw up and passed out. My hangover lasted for two days—two miserable days that convinced me it was time to get on the wagon with the rest of the Cooney men who were halfway functional and stay there. During those days I spent praying to the porcelain god and begging the world to stop spinning, Sam had called at least fifty times to apologize, but I’d refused to take her calls and let her messages pile up until my mailbox was full.

  By the time I finally felt good enough to ask her to come over to talk on day three, she was a wreck. She arrived at Sherry’s house looking like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, with dark shadows under her eyes and her curls frizzing into a white girl afro. She’d started crying the second our eyes met, devastated sobs so heart-wrenching I couldn’t hold on to my anger or hurt for another second.

  I’d just pulled her in for a hug on Bjorn’s front porch, told her I loved her, and that was that. We never did get around to talking about the stupid kiss, but we didn’t need to. We both knew she wouldn’t do anything like that again.

  That was the kind of mistake you make one time.

  Or at least that’s what I’d assumed…

  But looking at Sam now, seeing the tension in her jaw and shoulders, and remembering the way she pulled away from me every time I tried to touch her today, I keep adding up two and two to get four. Cheating would explain why she’s been so strange and distant for the past few months. It would explain why she didn’t want to talk dirty on the phone anymore, and had practically run to the bathroom after I got her off on the airplane.

  Cheating might even explain why she’s decided to leave school. Maybe the affair ran its course and things are weird between her and the mystery guy. Maybe she dumped him, and he’s trying to win her back. Or maybe he dumped her and she finds it too painful to be around him. Maybe that’s why she came running to me. Not because she loves me or wants to be with me anymore, but because she needed someone to make her feel better after she got dumped by whoever she was fucking behind my back.

  A rational voice inside my head tells me I’m letting my imagination run blindfolded into a condemned building, but my gut is twisting with the certainty that I’ve found the answer to the mystery.

  It would explain everything and I’ve been a fool not to suspect something like this before.

  A part of me wants to confront Sam right now, but instead I reach for my fleece and shrug it on. “Whatever you want, babe,” I say in a neutral tone. “Why don’t you take the first shower? I’m going to go for a run and do some push-ups and sit-ups on the porch, get some exercise after being cooped up in planes and cars for two days.”

  “Okay,” Sam says, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she’s spared the unpleasant task of fucking me until later in the evening. “I’ll start a fire, too.”

  “Sounds good,” I lie as I head for the door.

  Nothing sounds good right now, but I’m not going to rush into a confrontation like I would have when I was younger.

  I’ll let it lie for now, try to enjoy my last meal before everything goes to shit, and then tonight, after the sun has set and we’re tucked into our cabin alone, Sam and I are going to have a long talk about what’s really going on and where we go from here.

  Chapter Eleven

  Samantha

  “Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;

  The best of life is but intoxication.”

  -Lord Byron

  “Do you really think you should have another glass?” Danny watches me take a long swig of a local pinot noir, studying me intently over his last bite of steak, making my skin tingle with a crazy-making combination of nerves and excitement.

  There is excitement mixed in with the anxiety now, and I know the wine is the reason I’ve been able to relax.

  So do I need another glass? Yes, I do. I may need two more.

  That’s why I ordered an entire bottle even though Danny doesn’t drink. I don’t care if I feel awful in the morning, as long as I can enjoy being with him tonight.

  It’s time to jump the last hurdle, to make love the way we used to and prove I’ve truly left the past in the past.

  “Why not?” I ask with a flirty smile. “Aren’t you going to drive me home?”

  “We walked from the cabin,” he says in a humorless voice.

  “I know, Danny,” I say, with a laugh. “I was joking. I’m not drunk. Just…tipsy.”

  “I just can’t remember the last time I saw you drink.” He takes a sip of his soda, the tension in his features making me wonder if he’s as okay with me drinking in front of him as he always says he is.

  “Are you having a tough night?” I ask softly, not wanting to be overheard by the couple seated at the next table, an older man and woman who are celebrating their anniversary and looking spectacularly bored about it.

  They’re the kind of people Danny and I have always sworn we never want to be, but so far our own dinner conversation has been strained to say the least. I assumed it was my fault—I know I hurt Danny’s feelings when I didn’t jump at the chance to get naked with him the way I usually would—but now I wonder if it’s the alcohol that’s to blame. Danny makes staying sober look easy, but I know it isn’t always. I know there are days when he craves a drink as much as any addict craves his drug of choice.

  “I can have the waiter take the bottle away if you want,” I add when Danny doesn’t respond. “Another drink isn’t worth you feeling tempted.”

  “I don’t feel tempted,” Danny says, folding his napkin and placing it beside his empty plate. “I’m ready to get out of here.” He looks up, meeting my eyes with a hungry look that sends another shiver of excitement across my skin. “I need to be alone with you.”

  “Then let’s get the check.” I drain the last of my wine in several long pulls while Danny flags down our waitress and signs the bill to the room.

  By the time we step outside, my head is spinning and my skin is so flushed the crisp night air rushing in off the lake feels wonderful on my cheeks and bare shoulders. I’m definitely tipsy, but I’m also so much calmer than I was on the way to dinner, and able to think about the things Danny and I are going to do together without anxiety drifting through my wine-fuzzy thoughts.

  “You want my fleece?” Danny asks as we start up the gravel path into the woods, following the trail of tiny lanterns illuminating the way into the forest.

  I lift my arm
s out to the sides and suck in a deep breath of cold air. “No, thank you. The cold feels great. And doesn’t the air smell brilliant? I’ve never smelled such perfect air, not even on Maui.”

  “It does,” Danny agrees, looping his arm around my waist as we walk. “And you look amazing. This dress has been driving me crazy.”

  “I thought it might.” I’d worn a sleeveless black lace dress with heavy red stockings and knee-high motorcycle boots, knowing the combination of hard and soft was exactly the kind of thing that drives Danny wild.

  “You know me pretty well,” he says, his fingers curling possessively around my hip, making my belly flutter and my nipples tighten inside my strapless bra. “But I know you pretty well, too.”

  “I know. I love you in these jeans.” I lean into him, relishing the way my nerve endings are sizzling to life.

  This is different than what happened on the plane. This isn’t desire sneaking up on me before I can start stressing. This is wisps of wanting drifting through my limbs and into my core, smoke rising slowly from wood about to catch fire.

  This is the way it used to be with Danny and me, when just holding his hand as we walked along the beach could make my skin tingle and my body ache. When meeting his eyes over ice cream was enough to make me drag him back behind the dessert shop to make out by the Dumpsters when we were too young to have a place to go.

  “And because I know you, I’m pretty sure you’re keeping something from me,” he says as we climb the steps to our cabin’s front door. He turns to me as we reach the porch, where matching wooden rockers creak in the wind, and pins me with one of his piercing looks. “And I think I have an idea what.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, the wine making me bold enough to meet his gaze and pretend I have nothing to hide. “You’re right, I do have a secret, and I’ve been wanting to show it to you all night long.”

  I reach for the bottom of my full, knee-length skirt and draw it up my thighs, revealing the tops of my red stockings and the black garter belt holding them in place. I know the second they’re visible in the dim light of the porch lamp by the way Danny’s eyes darken and his breath catches.

  “I bought that garter belt you said you liked last Christmas,” I say. “That’s why I wanted to wait earlier. I wanted to surprise you.”

  Danny curses softly as he sinks to his knees in front of me and reaches out to grip my thighs in his big hands. “Spread your legs.”

  “Shouldn’t we go inside?” I ask, even as I obey him, my pulse beginning to beat low in my body as I widen my stance.

  “Not yet.” He presses a kiss to my right thigh, and then my left, setting a heavy, achy feeling to spreading through my pelvis. “This first.”

  His mouth hovers inches from the apex of my thighs, his breath warming my skin through my satin panties and making my clit swell. I hold absolutely still, breath coming faster as I imagine what he’s going to do next. I expect him to kiss me, or maybe pull aside the crotch of my panties and slide a finger inside where I’m getting wetter by the second. I don’t expect him to lean in and trap my clit between his teeth, biting down hard enough to send a shockwave of desire rocketing across my skin.

  I gasp in surprise, but my body arches instinctively into his mouth, craving more of this razor sharp pleasure.

  Danny responds by cupping my bottom in his hands and pulling me closer, French kissing me through the thin satin. His tongue swirls in wild circles around my swollen clit, tightening my nipples into hard points that ache for his attention, ramping up the pressure building between my hips until my knees are trembling.

  “God, Danny, I can barely stand.” I swallow hard and thread my fingers through his loose hair, hanging on for dear life as he kisses and licks, struggling to stay quiet when he curls his fingers in the top of my panties and jerks them down around my knees baring me to him.

  Our cabin is set off the main trail and I know no one walking by can see us, but if I start moaning someone is definitely going to hear. “Let’s go inside,” I whisper, tugging at his hair.

  “Not yet,” he says, fingers digging into my thighs. “Not until you come on my mouth.”

  I have a moment to notice how cold the night air is against my burning skin and then Danny’s tongue is back between my legs, curling around my clit as he slides two fingers inside where I’m so hot and wet. Soon, I lose track of everything but how good he makes me feel. His fingers glide in fast and deep, his fingertips hitting that sensitive spot deep inside while his tongue continues to work against my clit with a skill he perfected when we were in high school and has gone on to develop into an art form.

  Soon stars are dancing behind my closed eyes and I can’t keep quiet for another second.

  My breath rasps in and out and a soft moan escapes my lips as Danny’s thrusts grow faster, deeper, until he’s fucking me hard with his fingers and teasing me with his tongue and my entire body is shaking as I careen closer to the edge. And then, suddenly, I’m coming in a long, wrenching wave, my body clenching tight around Danny’s fingers as my knees give out.

  Before I can fall, Danny comes to his feet and grabs me around the waist, bracing me against him as he opens the cabin door.

  My skin is still tingling all over and my body shuddering with bliss when he sweeps me into his arms and carries me inside.

  But the moment he sets me on my feet and spins me around, bending me over the edge of the bed to take me from behind, the way I used to love after coming on his mouth, panic flushes through me with a suddenness that makes me flinch and cry out. My skin goes cold and my heart threatens to burst from my chest as I spin around and scramble backward on the bed, crab-walking away from Danny so fast I almost fall off the other side.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, breath coming fast. “You okay?”

  “F-fine,” I say, but I’m shaking and I know I must look like I’ve seen a ghost.

  Thank God Danny didn’t bother to turn on the lights. I can still play this off. It’s not too late to recapture our perfect night.

  It’s not too late to prove that I’m stronger than any of the memories that want to bring me low, to steal my happiness and all the pleasure and safety I’ve always found in Danny’s arms.

  “I thought I felt something run across my boot,” I lie as I reach for him, ignoring the nervous racing of my heart. “A mouse or something. Let’s stay on the bed.”

  He climbs up beside me and I lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips before I whisper, “I want to kiss you while you’re inside me.”

  “God, Sam,” he murmurs against my lips. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

  “Don’t wait.” I reach for his belt, tugging it free as he kisses me hard and deep. I taste myself on his lips as our tongues spar, reminding me that this is what Danny does to me. He turns me on and drives me crazy. There is no reason to be afraid, no room for panic in the room when we’re skin to skin.

  Gradually, the moment of terror fades away, replaced by hunger for the man I love. For his touch, his lips, his taste filling up my mouth, banishing the bitterness lingering on my tongue.

  By the time Danny finds the zipper at the back of my dress and drags it down, my heart is racing for the right reasons again, and when he rolls on top of me, his erection hot and heavy against my thigh, I arch into him, grinding against his cock as he pulls my nipple into his mouth.

  “Please,” I beg, lifting into him with long, sensuous thrusts, mimicking the way I want him to take me. “I’m ready, babe.”

  Danny pulls away from my breast as he brings his finger back between my legs, driving into me hard and deep, making me cry out. “God…you’re so wet, Sam. It’s killing me not to fuck you right now. I want you so much.”

  “Then take me,” I say, voice strained. “Please.”

  “I have a question first,” he says, flicking his tongue across my erect nipple, making me moan as another wave of desire flows from my nipple to fist around my womb. “Do you wish we’d taken a break to see other people,
the way your mom kept saying we should back in high school?”

  “No,” I say, squirming as he captures my other nipple between his finger and thumb and begins to roll it in mind-muddying circles. “Oh God, Danny, please, I need you.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks, continuing his erotic torture. “You don’t wish you’d been with someone else? Just to know what it was like?”

  I suck in a breath as I capture his face in my hands urging him to look at me until he finally abandons my nipple and meets my gaze. “Why?” I ask, pulse racing as I imagine what might have spurred this question. “Were you…with someone else?”

  “Hell, no,” he says with a passion that crushes my fear. “You’re the only one I want.”

  “And you’re the only one I want,” I say, breath rushing out with relief. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to be with like this. I can’t imagine anything better than the way you make me feel.”

  My tongue slips out to dampen my lips as tears fill my eyes. “You’re the only person I want to make love to for the rest of my life. Don’t you know that?”

  “I do,” he says, gaze softening, until he’s looking at me the same way he looked at me the first time we were together, like something so beautiful he can barely believe I’m real. “I just don’t understand what’s been going on. I feel like you’ve been pushing me away for months.”

  “I’m not pushing you away now,” I say, wrapping my legs around his waist, making him groan as his cock comes in contact with where I’m so hot and wet. “Let’s forget the past five months. Let’s be you and me again, okay? Please, Danny,” I beg, fighting tears. “Let’s just be you and me.”

  “Always.” He threads his fingers into my hair, lifting my head off the pillow as he kisses me with enough passion to make that one word a promise as sacred as any wedding vow.

  Moments later, he’s pushing inside me with one long, slow, soulful stroke, his thickness spearing through my aroused flesh, stretching me wide, filling every inch, sending a wave of relief coursing through me as he comes to a stop and holds still deep inside.