The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1)

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The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1) Page 12

by Harper Bentley


  “You’re the best I’ve had in bed…” she says and her face flushes.

  “Good to know. I’d hate to have to hunt down the fucker you thought was better,” I remark.

  She laughs then shakes her head. “You’ve ruined all other men for me.”

  I’ve started making my way to her again.

  “Stop!” she instructs holding her palm out to me. “But this is where it gets bad.”

  Ah. There’s the “but.”

  “And that’s what scares me,” she declares.

  I wait for her to explain but when she doesn’t, I prod, “And by that you mean…”

  She looks down as she starts twisting her fingers nervously and licks her lips. Then she gazes back up at me. “You could really hurt me, Heath.”

  I frown. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “We’re going really fast.”

  Well, fuck.

  I gaze back at her resigning myself to the fact that I’ll not be getting any sex tonight but that’s okay. If she needs more time, I’ll give her more time.

  “We’ll slow down,” I concede.

  “Really?” she asks as if she thought I’d put up a fight. Christ. She must’ve dated some real winners.

  I nod.

  “Thank you,” she whispers as she moves toward me. Once there, she wraps her arms around my waist resting her head against my chest.

  I enfold her in my arms and kiss the top of her head holding her for as long as she needs me to.

  She pulls away and looks up at me. “Want another beer?”

  I smile down at her. “Yep.”

  She picks up our empties then goes to the kitchen coming back and handing me a new one. “Have any good movies?”

  “Depends on what you mean by good. If you mean chick shit, then no.” I chuckle. I next pick up the remote and turn on the TV. “I have Netflix if you want to watch something.”

  “Oh, good!” she says and sits down on the couch. I pick up my jacket and shirt hanging them on the coat rack then sit next to her and she immediately pulls up a movie and turns to me all giddy. “This is one of my favorites!”

  For the next hour and a half I watch a movie about a British woman who writes in a diary about how fat she is. Then she breaks up with her boyfriend, ends up being imprisoned in Thailand, of course being treated pretty nicely which makes me roll my eyes, and by the end, two men have fought over her and she ends up with the dude she started out with.

  The best part is that I sit close to Laney, my arm around her as we watch, well, she watches. I choose to think about how I need to get into Edward Kyle’s office somehow.

  The worst part is that I’m sitting close to her and can’t touch her too much. Her perfume’s an assault on my senses and the fucking dress she’s wearing is hot, the V down the front just showing enough cleavage to make me want to keep looking at it. Which I do constantly. And then there’s her shoes. Heels so skinny they could pierce a man’s heart and laces that wind around her ankles and tie in the back. Damn.

  When the movie’s over, she looks up at me.

  “That was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Pretty good,” I lie.

  She fidgets for a moment before saying, “Well, I probably should go to my apartment.”

  It’s not even midnight but whatever.

  I stand as she does and we walk to the door.

  “I had a really good time tonight,” she states, looking up at me, running her fingers down my face.

  “I did too.” I’m not sure what to do anymore because she’s in control and I don’t want to scare her off by breaking the rules somehow. I stand there waiting to see what she’ll do which is totally alien to me because I’m usually the one in charge.

  She then slides her hand to the back of my neck pulling me down to kiss her, and my hands go to her waist as I brush my lips across hers before pulling back.

  “I’ll walk you down the hall,” I tell her unlocking the door.

  “Wait,” she whispers suddenly putting her hand on mine making me turn the deadbolt back to lock it.

  I look down at her wondering what the hell’s going on.

  “Don’t be mad,” she says, still whispering and looking up at me.

  Fuck. Is she going to tell me that she doesn’t want to see me anymore? I grit my teeth trying to keep from saying something mean like, she could’ve told me this before I watched some ridiculous chick movie for an hour and a half.

  “Promise you won’t be mad,” she presses.

  I sigh. “Laney, I can promise I’ll keep my temper but I can’t promise I won’t be mad.”

  “Fair enough,” she mutters. “Okay, when Dani and I were in college, we’d both gotten screwed around by guys. We were tired of it, so we made up a test.”

  I’m staring at her wondering what the hell kind of test she’s talking about.

  “It kinda sounds dumb now but, um, you passed,” she adds sheepishly.

  “What test?” I ask, finding myself getting annoyed.

  She shrugs. “We decided that if a guy was sweet enough to sit through a chick flick with us then he was worth our time.”

  “You made me sit through that movie to see if I was ‘sweet?’” I let out a humorless laugh. “I can tell you this much, darlin’, I’m anything but sweet.”

  “I knew you’d get mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m annoyed. What you did was basically a form of emotional blackmail and I don’t appreciate it.”

  I turn to pull her wrap off the coat rack when she presses her body to mine.

  “I’m sorry. I know it seems weird, but it proved to me that you care about me. A lot of guys would’ve gotten mad and had me leave once they realized we weren’t going to have sex.” She bites her lip. “Does that make sense to you?”

  In a way it does but I’m still pissed. What she did was fucked up.

  “So when you said you were scared, that was just bullshit?” I question.

  She shakes her head. “No, I am scared. Terrified, actually, because I really like you a lot and you could hurt me badly.”

  She tiptoes up and presses her lips to my chin whispering, “I’m sorry.” She does the same to my jaw then my neck still whispering, sliding her hands down to untuck my undershirt, tugging it up so I take it off. Her hands glide over my chest as she presses soft kisses behind them. The next thing I know, she’s dropped to her knees and has my belt unbuckled and my pants unbuttoned and unzipped. Damn. She looks up at me as she reaches in and pulls out my cock smiling coyly as she pumps her hand on my shaft getting me hard. Then I watch as those lipstick-covered lips of hers slide their way down my length as she takes me inside her mouth.

  “Jesus fuck,” I groan, wrapping my fingers in her hair, watching her move her mouth on me.

  After several amazing minutes, she takes me out of her mouth and still holding my dick in her hand, she licks the underside all the way up, moaning like it’s a goddamned lollipop. Her head dips again, and I watch as her red lips follow the same path her tongue just made, sucking me in as she goes making me groan. Then bringing her other hand up she cups my balls before moving down to suck each inside her hot little mouth while her other hand strokes my length.

  Fuck. Me.

  She brings her head back looking up at me seductively before taking me into her mouth again this time all the way to the back of her throat, trying to but not succeeding in getting all of me inside and gagging slightly which lets me know I’m too big for her which is really a huge turn on, and I’m ready to be in charge now. I reach down putting my hands under her arms pulling her up to stand.

  “Take off your dress,” I order watching as she reaches a hand behind to unzip it, her eyes on mine the whole time as she slips it off her shoulders and down, stepping out of it and laying it across the chair by the door.

  She stands in front of me now, braless, wearing a nude lace thong and those shoes. Jesus.

  “Touch yourself,” I command watching her bring a hand up t
o caress her breast, her fingers rolling her nipple between them as her other hand drops to her pussy, moving her thong to the side as she begins sliding her fingers over her folds.

  I remove my shoes and socks before completely disrobing then watching her, take my cock in my hand stroking it seeing her eyes close and her head fall back as she lets out a soft moan at what she’s doing to herself. Oh fuck yeah.

  “Are you wet?” I growl.

  “Yes,” she breathes, looking at me through half-lidded eyes as her fingers work her clit.

  “Did it make you wet to suck my dick?”

  “God, yes,” she says on an exhale.

  “Do you want my cock inside you?”

  “Oh, yes,” she pants. “Please.”

  “You’re gonna have to work harder for it than that,” I say, still pissed at her for what she did.

  It’s not that I had to watch a fucking movie. It’s that it feels like what she did was deceitful somehow, like I had to prove my worth to her because she didn’t trust me, that’s got me angry. I know, I know. Turnabout’s fair play and all that shit but I still can’t help being mad.

  “Make yourself come, Laney,” I tell her.

  Her eyes go from mine down to me stroking myself and back up as she fingers herself, her breaths coming harder as she lets out little mewls of pleasure. My God she’s gorgeous. A fine mist covers her chest shimmering in the light as she pants out each breath. She appears wild, out of control and that’s fucking hot.

  “Are you close?” I ask.

  “Yes!”

  “Do you want me?”

  “Yes!” she cries.

  I pick her up and carry her to the bar setting her on it. “Put your hands back to hold yourself,” I instruct, grabbing her shins, holding onto them just above where the straps of her stilettos are tied before sliding inside her, going so deep we both cry out. She’s so fucking tight like this and when she comes I’m right there with her because her pussy is clamping down so tightly on my cock and feels so damned good it’s perfect. She’s perfect.

  I slam inside her several more times before coming so powerfully my legs threaten to buckle. She lies back on the bar and I come down on top of her, my head at the side of her neck, both of us breathing hard. Good God.

  When I catch my breath, I pull back looking down at her. She lifts a hand, cupping my face and I turn so I can kiss her palm.

  “That was…” she breathes out. “That was… so… so… good…”

  I nod in agreement leaning down to suck her nipple into my mouth tugging on it lightly with my teeth.

  “Heath,” she groans and I feel her pulsing around me some more which makes me thrust a few times, my body involuntarily reacting to hers.

  Damn.

  Sliding out of her I say, “Wrap your legs around me,” putting my hands under her back to help her up then I carry her to my bedroom where I pull back the covers and putting a knee to the bed, I lay her down giving her a quick kiss before going to my bathroom to grab a washrag.

  After cleaning her up I toss the cloth into the hamper, and turning back to her, pull her legs up one at a time to undo the laces around her ankles taking off her sexy shoes. I cover her before going into the living room to turn off everything, grabbing my shirt and jacket from the coat rack. Back in my room, I toss them onto a chair near my bed then slide under the covers beside her.

  When she lays her head on my chest throwing her arm across my stomach, I curl my arm around her and kiss the side of her head.

  “Don’t ever pull that shit on me again,” I say quietly.

  “It led to great sex,” she mumbles.

  “Laney,” I chide at which she giggles sleepily.

  Lying awake staring at the ceiling long after her breathing evens out and I know she’s asleep, I find myself thinking maybe I should be the one scared of getting hurt.

  Fuck.

  Fifteen

  The next morning, I miss running again because I’m not sure Dani will want to go and it’s not like I’m dying to get down there. Heath’s sleeping, so I assume he’s not going to the weight room either. I look at the clock to see it’s just after six rolling my eyes because of course I wake up this early when I don’t need to.

  I get up and use the bathroom, finding an unopened toothbrush and helping myself to it. Heath’s still asleep when I come out and I can’t help but look at him for a moment taking in all his handsomeness. He’s lying on his side facing me, his chest and tattooed arm that’s outside the cover all on display for my pervy ogling appreciation, his beautiful face relaxed in repose and I see a cowlick at the front of his hair that I haven’t noticed before which makes me smile. The shirt he wore last night is on the back of a chair and I pull it on before going into his kitchen to make up for last night because I know it was shitty of me to test him that way.

  As I walk through his living room, I see a pen on a desk, and twisting my hair into a messy bun, I stick the pen through it effectively holding it in place. Now on to business. In the kitchen, I take eggs, cheese and bacon from his fridge, setting them on the counter then seeing an onion and a couple bell peppers in a basket, I decide to make omelets.

  Cracking an egg into a bowl too late I realize he probably only eats the whites seeing how picky he was at the restaurant last night, but as I try getting the yolk out of the bowl, I only end up cursing the damned thing when it breaks. I shrug thinking he’ll just have to deal this once. My phone’s on the counter, my playlist streaming at a low volume as I cook making it more fun because, well, music, when just after I slide the second omelet onto a plate and turn off the burner, an arm goes around my middle pulling me back into a hard chest while a stubbly cheek brushes against my neck and soft lips deliver sweet kisses making me shiver.

  “I should be heading down to the weight room right now, but seeing your beautiful ass cooking breakfast trumps it,” Heath shares in a sleepy, gravelly voice.

  I curl an arm up putting my hand at the back of his neck. “Good morning, handsome.”

  He twists his head to give me a kiss which instantly becomes hot, deep and wet when he turns me to face him. He pulls the pen out of my hair letting it fall around my shoulders and picking me up, sets me on the opposite counter where I wrap my legs around his waist just above the jeans he’s wearing. The kiss gets even more heated when his hands slide up my legs then around to cup my butt and he jerks me to the edge of the counter against him when he realizes I’m not wearing anything under his shirt.

  “Fuck me,” he mutters against my lips while his fingers work on the buttons of the shirt then splay it open as his hands slide inside to grip my waist.

  My hands slide over his smooth back then around to unbutton his jeans because seeing how I can’t get enough of him why should now be any different. His huge cock springs out and I grip it sliding my hand down, twisting it as I move it back up. His hand at my back makes me arch while he grabs my breast roughly with his other hand, his mouth coming down to suck hard on my nipple making me moan loudly.

  “Need to be inside you,” he growls taking his cock in his hand, rubbing the head against me, coating it with my slickness, and guiding himself inside seats himself deep with a powerful thrust.

  “Oh, my God,” I whisper digging my fingers into his shoulders when his hand grips my thigh so his thumb can work my clit.

  He begins pounding inside me, his thrusts almost punishing, fucking me hard, the look on his face one of fierce concentration as he watches himself driving in.

  His eyes come to mine and I realize this is angry sex; he’s still pissed about last night.

  “Heath,” I breathe out.

  “Don’t you ever,” THRUST! “fucking,” THRUST! “do that shit,” THRUST! “again,” deep THRUST and GRIND as his dark eyes bore into mine.

  My head goes back smacking the cabinet as I come, my back arching so much I almost come off the counter, my legs shaking uncontrollably as euphoric waves blast every part of me wide open. Good lord.

 
“My girl likes it rough,” he says huskily, continuing his onslaught of chastening drives until he buries himself to the hilt, reaching his peak with a groan at my neck.

  We stay that way for a while catching our breath then he whispers in my ear, “God I love fucking you.”

  And all I can do is nod.

  “Shower,” he mutters, picking me up and carrying me to his bathroom.

  I finally become coherent enough to say, “Omelets.”

  “We’ll nuke ‘em,” he answers, kissing me softly and turning on the water.

  “I just love the walk of shame,” I kid, picking up my shoes from the bedroom floor then going into the living room to get my dress. “I can’t find my thong,” I call, looking around the room having no idea where it landed.

  We showered then ate our omelets in our towels and now I’m dressed in a pair of Heath’s shorts that are sagging even though I’ve got them cinched as tightly as they’ll go. The t-shirt I wear says, “World’s Okayest Brother” that his brother (duh) got him last Christmas as a joke. I’m barefooted and looking magnificent, I’m sure.

  He comes into the living room and snorts making me raise an eyebrow and cock a hip out to the side giving him attitude while I hold on to the waistband of the shorts to keep them up.

  “You look hot,” he comments walking over to me, bending down to give me a kiss.

  “Zip it,” I answer when he pulls away, doing a clamping motion with my hand quickly having to grab my shorts before they fall down.

  He laughs. “Always bein’ cute, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.” I look around. “I still can’t find my thong. So I guess the next woman you have over, you might have to do some ‘splainin’.” It gets really quiet and I look up to see him semi-glaring at me. “What?”

  “I don’t plan on having a ‘next woman’ over. Do you plan on having any other men over?”

  Ha! My sneaky little comment worked! I got him to inadvertently admit we’re going to be exclusive.

  “I don’t think so,” I say.

  “Good,” he answers. Then he adds, “And don’t think I don’t know what you just did right there.”

 

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