Back to Life Series Box Set

by Danielle Allen

  “Hey, don’t do that,” he uttered softly, grabbing my ass, bringing me further up his body. “Don’t get in your own head.” Rolling both of us over, he slipped me off of his lap and laid me down gently.

  He was still positioned between my legs and every nerve ending on my body was on fire. My eyes closed and my back arched. Pressing his cock against the apex of my thighs, he made a low, rumbling purr escape my lips.

  Leaning down with his arms on either side of my head, his lips brushed against my ear. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad,” he murmured, evoking a moan from me as I wrapped my arms around him. “So don’t look at me like I’m rejecting you. Because I’m not. I’m just postponing what is bound to be a very… very good time.”

  I nodded as a low, sultry moan came out of me. With my eyes still closed, my senses were heightened and I imagined the very good time he’d described.

  His lips just barely skated across the sensitive spot behind my ear. “You are what I look for in a woman—sexy, funny, talented. Watching you dance is a turn on, for sure. You’re smart and you have a smart mouth…which I also happen to think is a turn on.” He paused, groaning faintly in my ear as I rolled my body up into his.

  He sat up, allowing one of his hands to stroke my neck on its descent down my body. His hand trailed down my chest, between my breasts, over my belly and stopped below my belly button. His fingertips hooked into the waistband of my jeans and stilled. “So believe me when I say that I want you. But I want you fully conscious and not the least bit intoxicated for every single thing I want to do to your body.”

  I opened my eyes to find that lust had darkened his. He licked his lips and swallowed hard.

  In response, I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips. He splayed his hand out, two of his fingers slipping under my shirt. I sucked in a sharp breath the moment I felt his fingertips on the bare skin of my belly.

  “I’m trying really hard to respect that you don’t want to take ‘advantage’ of me, even though I’m not drunk and my pain medication is not affecting my decision making. I’m trying, Cedi. I’m trying,” I murmured, even though I wasn’t trying at all.

  If I was one hundred percent positive that I wouldn’t tip over if I tried to stand on my own, I would’ve stripped down to my sexy shelf bra and sheer thong and sauntered to the bedroom. The rational part of my brain knew he was being honorable and respectful; however, what CJ failed to realize was that I had mentally decided that I wanted to fuck him five minutes into our first conversation. But between my inability to stand on my own, my faulty judgement call in leaving December with Connor, and the entire interaction with that asshole, I knew the circumstances indicated that I was too drunk to make good decisions. I knew CJ was doing what he thought was right because he believed alcohol was dictating my decisions.

  Alcohol has nothing to do with it. Heartbreak on the other hand may be driving my forwardness but… I shook the thought away and focused on the throbbing between my legs. I want CJ because he is sexy as hell and he makes me feel good…and according to him, he’ll make me feel really good. And feeling good will always take the pain away. Hmmm… maybe I should just strip off my top…

  But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that as much as he wanted me, he was a man of conviction and he would still walk away.

  And dammit, that only turns me on even more.

  I sighed as I resigned myself to the fact that the sexy man with the captivating eyes, soul stirring voice, and professional athlete body was not going to take care of my most immediate need.

  It’s just my luck to want to have my first one-night stand with this amazing, considerate guy.

  He chuckled as he placed his hands back on my hips. “You’re not trying. If anything, I think the more I try to tell you it’s not a good idea, the sexier you get.”

  “Well, it’s not really my fault,” I giggled as I unraveled my legs and dropped my ass to the couch cushion. My voice was innocent and I made my eyes wide as I looked up at him. I lifted myself up onto my elbows and cocked my head to the side. “You can’t carry a girl with a dirty mind to her room and massage her leg pain away without her thinking you want to massage other places to take all her pains away.”

  With a sexy chuckle, he shook his head and sat back. Adjusting himself, he exhaled in a rush. “And how is your leg pain?”

  Pushing myself up into a sitting position, my back resting against the arm of the couch, I dropped my gaze to my toes. I wiggled them as they rested against CJ’s side. “I’m fine.” The pain had morphed into a more manageable muscle irritation that I’d completely forgotten about the moment I decided to straddle him. “I’m fine.”

  CJ wrapped his hand around my ankle and squeezed. The pressure was perfect and truly, any opportunity for him to touch my bare skin was highly encouraged. “What happened?”

  “I danced too hard and for too long,” I answered, still avoiding eye contact.

  Seconds ticked by and he said nothing. The silence settled around the room and covered me like a blanket. The uptick in my heartrate and the hair standing on my neck alerted me to CJ’s scrutinizing gaze. I couldn’t resist the urge so I peeked up at him through my lashes.

  As soon as our eyes met, I felt a flood of emotion consuming me. It wasn’t just about the way his gaze comforted me and made me feel safe. It was the weight of everything that I had going on. It was the emotional toll of the current state of my love life. And it was the sting of not being able to trust the pull I felt to a man I didn’t know and who didn’t know me.

  I swallowed hard.

  As his eyes burned into me, I felt the pressure of holding it together dissolving. “Talk to me,” he requested.

  My eyes pricked with tears.

  Fighting with everything in me, I kept the tears from forming in the corners of my eyes. I did everything I could to keep it together. I didn’t want to break down and cry in front of a man that I just met hours ago, a man that I just aggressively threw myself at moments ago. I didn’t want to come across as overly emotional at best and completely unstable at worst. But the longer I stared into the storminess of his dark brown eyes, the less of a choice I had in my freefall.

  “Talk to me,” he repeated as I wiped a tear away. He squeezed my ankle for reassurance.

  I cleared my throat. “What do you want to know?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Everything.”

  My heart thumped.

  Twisting my lips, I blinked rapidly, preventing any other tears from falling. “I was in a car accident during my freshman year of college.” I closed my eyes for a second. “It was bad. Really bad.”

  He squeezed my ankle and when I opened my eyes, I began telling him everything. Although I didn’t go into the details of the accident, I talked more about the impact the accident had on my life—how it changed my family, how it broke my legs, how it robbed me of my dream career of dance, how it consumed my best friend, and lastly, how I still suffered from excruciating pain that flairs up randomly and sometimes lasting for days. I’d stopped crying, but the words wouldn’t stop flowing from my mouth. For more than an hour, I confided in him things I hadn’t verbalized in a long time.

  CJ’s face was contemplative as he took in my words. He didn’t say a word, but every time I looked into his eyes, I knew he heard everything I was saying. He never stopped squeezing my ankles and lower calves as he listened. Having his undivided attention just compelled me to give him more, more of the story, more of me. I didn’t even realize how long I’d been talking until my mouth felt dry.

  I picked up the bottle of water and took two huge gulps. “Sorry.” I took another sip. “I didn’t mean to talk for so long.”

  CJ’s eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t apologize.” He paused. “Is that what happened tonight? The pain that flairs up?”

  I shook my head. “No, tonight was a series of bad decisions.” I lifted my shoulders and tried to laugh but my throat was raw. I took another sip of water. “I didn’t tak
e my medicine. I didn’t eat and I drank on an empty stomach. I danced too hard. I continued to walk in heels after my legs started bothering me. I left my coat in the car. This is negligence on my part.” I hesitated before I started again. “The pain that I’m in when it flairs up is… It gets to a point where I can’t walk because I can’t put pressure on them.”

  I didn’t add the fact that I had to use a walker to get to the bathroom on those days.

  He nodded slowly, squeezing and kneading my calves. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Dropping my eyes to my empty bottle of water that I gripped so tightly the plastic crackled in the air, I quietly rejected his pity. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. You asked and I answered.”

  He stopped his massage. “I don’t pity you.”

  I met his stern gaze and crossed my arms. “You were giving me a look.”

  “I don’t pity you at all.” He finished off his bottle of water. “I was listening. Being in an accident is rough and being in chronic pain that the doctors can’t figure out how to stop is even worse. But despite that, you worked hard and made shit happen. I don’t pity you. I respect you. You didn’t have life handed to you. You earned that shit. You did that. They said you couldn’t dance professionally so you found a way to still be connected to your dream. I’m impressed by you, Emily Diaz. I’m inspired by you.”

  My stomach fluttered at the way his deep voice rolled over each word and the way his eyes searched mine with the fierce intensity of honesty. The warmth that encapsulated my heart crept up my neck and heated my cheeks. I swallowed hard and focused on maintaining eye contact.

  “Oh,” I replied softly, unsure of what else to say. I cleared my throat. “Tell me something traumatic that happened to you so that we can be even.”

  CJ looked at his watch. “Look at the time—almost four o’clock in the morning. Guess I’ll be—”

  “No way!” I cracked up laughing as I tossed my empty bottle at him. “You’re not getting out of this!”

  He stopped pretending to get up and relaxed against the couch. “Damn… you didn’t ask what my favorite song is or food or anything. You went straight for the heavy stuff.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re beyond discussing your favorite song being something by Jay-Z and your favorite food being kale smoothies.”

  His body-shaking laughter was deep and hearty and triggered my own. “What the hell? Why would you think my favorite food is a damn kale smoothie?”

  I bit my lip. “That body.” I waved my hands in the air. “Not to objectify you or anything, but damn. You know what you’re working with.”

  His sexy laugh transformed into a wolfish chuckle as his body quaked. When his amusement trickled off, we were left staring at each other with easy smiles.

  “So... something traumatic,” I prompted, resting my head against the back of the couch.

  “Aw man, you’re not letting this go, huh?” He flashed me those perfect teeth and that killer smile. “Okay, okay.” His vision was focused on the decorative ottoman in the corner as he seemed to rack his brain.

  My smile matched his, but as his smile waned, so did mine. As he seemed to recall the traumatic moment in his life, his face changed. I watched as the rigidly chiseled angles of his face softened with contemplation and reflection. His eyes pinged around the room before landing on me.

  My breath hitched.

  The look CJ gave me made me want to cry. I didn’t know what hurt and pain lurked behind those dark eyes, but I knew I wanted to heal it. I didn’t know what unrest lived within him, but I knew I wanted to give him peace.

  Without thinking about it, I crawled across the couch so that I was right next to him. I tucked myself under the arm he raised as soon as he saw me coming and I melted against him. Letting my head rock back so I could clearly see his face, I silently implored him.

  “Eight years ago, my uh…” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat.

  I sucked on my bottom lip as I waited with baited breath for him to continue.”

  “My sister committed suicide,” he finished somberly.

  “Oh God!” I gasped, caught off guard. My hand flew to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

  Giving me a tight smile, CJ ran his hand up and down my arm.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Aja. Short for Ashanti James Addo.”

  “That’s pretty. You both have the same middle name.” I wrapped my arms around him as best I could. “I’m sorry, Cedi,” I whispered.

  He stroked my hair as he looked into my eyes. When his gaze shifted to my lips, I could tell he wanted to kiss me. The stillness between us was rife with opportunity, but I knew if his lips brushed mine, it would only be for comfort. And more than anything in that instant, I wanted to kiss the sadness away from his dark eyes. But it wasn’t the right time and I just wanted to be there for him.

  I squeezed him in my arms, pressing our bodies closer together. I rested my head on his shoulder and waited for him to continue.

  “Aja was twenty-two. It was her senior year in college and she was with her study group at a house on campus. After they studied, they started drinking. Most of the group left and it was just her and the guy that lived there. She’d had classes with him for three semesters. She knew him. She considered him a good friend. She…” His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed.

  Every second that passed with him not saying anything, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I was stifled with the emotion I felt coming from him. The sinking feeling in my stomach made me nervous—nervous for the continuation of the story, nervous for the outcome I already knew was coming.

  “She said the last thing she remembered was him asking if she wanted a refill of her drink. When she woke up, she was in a guest bedroom only wearing her underwear. She uh—she found her clothes in the living room with her book bag and all of her books. She got dressed and looked for him, the guy whose house it was, her friend.” He spat out the word ‘friend’ with enough venom that I shivered. After a few beats of silence, he continued. “But the house was empty. She said she was confused and couldn’t remember anything from the night before, but she felt sore and she knew. She didn’t want to believe that he’d raped her or that he’d allow any of his roommates to do that to her. She said she walked the mile to her dorm crying the whole way. She called Addy—”

  As if he could hear my question before I had a chance to say it, he explained.

  “Addison and Aja were best friends. They were also roommates and had been all four years of college. Addy was in Florida with her boyfriend—not the one she has now, some kid who played basketball. But it was kind of early and Addy was still sleeping. Aja would’ve called Mom, but Mom and Dad were in Ghana getting our grandparents so they could attend Aja’s graduation which was about two weeks from then.”

  I felt his body fidgeting under me and I lifted my hand and placed it over his heart.

  It was racing.

  “Aja called me.” He hesitated. “Aja called me and I didn’t answer.”

  Throwing my legs over his, I scooted closer, holding him tighter.

  “I was twenty-seven, living in Philadelphia and so caught up in making money and moving up in the ladder that I wasn’t there for my sister when she needed me.”

  “You didn’t know,” I argued softly as I lifted my head. I looked him in his eyes. “You didn’t know.”

  He shook his head. “She called and I let it go to voicemail.” He took a deep breath. “I called her back at lunch and didn’t get her. I didn’t think anything of it until she called me late that night. I asked her what was wrong and she said nothing. I was—I was busy and I knew something wasn’t right, but she kept saying nothing was wrong. So I told her I had to prepare for a meeting with corporate and I’d talk to her later. Because that was my fucking priority—work. Doing reports for a company I didn’t care about, to impress people I didn’t care about, was more important than my baby sister.”

  “You didn�
�t know,” I repeated faintly.

  “I knew something wasn’t right, though. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten off of the phone with her. I knew that.” His head rested atop mine as I cuddled him. “The next day, Addy called me. I was giving a presentation and I didn’t get back to her until after work. She called to tell me that when she got back to campus that day, she’d found out my sister was raped and being blackmailed.”

  I lifted my head gently. “What?” My eyes were wide as shock left my mouth agape.

  He couldn’t make eye contact with me as he concluded. “They’d taken pictures of her and when she called that asshole to confront him about what he did, he said it didn’t happen, but if it did happen, the other pictures would confirm that she enjoyed it. Because it wasn’t bad enough that naked pictures of her were circulating between frat houses and the athletes, he threatened to expose more…vulgar ones all over campus.”

  I removed my hand from his firm chest and covered my open mouth. “No.”

  He nodded. “I had the final day of meetings with the executives the next day so I dropped off my work that night, packed a bag and booked the first flight home. The first flight to Atlanta was in the morning. I did everything I could to get back here as soon as possible.” He exhaled. “I got here around noon. I went straight to her. And I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You were there for her. That’s what she needed. That’s what she wanted.”

  His deep voice was low, haunted as he admitted, “The entire plane ride, I was furious—at him, at her, at her fucking study group, at our parents, at Addison, at everyone and everything. I told myself I was mad because if he wouldn’t have been a rapist, if she wouldn’t have had that last drink, if the study group would’ve either stayed or left together—anything but deciding to leave her behind, she would be fine. If our parents would’ve been around, if Addison would’ve been home to know she never came back to their apartment, if one of those things would’ve happened, she would’ve been okay. I had a lot of what ifs. Because...” He swallowed hard. “He broke her. My strong, smart, beautiful sister. He broke her. By the time I’d gotten there, it was day three for her. She’d been victimized over and over and over again. Apparently her phone had been blowing up with calls and texts—people who had seen or heard about it. I went straight from the airport to her and when I pulled up at her dorm, I knew that I was really only mad at two people—that asshole and myself. He was the only one to blame, but I should’ve been there. I stayed with Aja and Addy that night and once Aja went to sleep, I went to that asshole’s house. I was banging on the door, but they wouldn’t let me in. They called the cops.”