“I wouldn’t go thanking me yet. My creativity is pretty pathetic. Although, I’m sure I could get us a private table at Zeus’s Playground. Maybe even free lap dances for the night.” I brace myself, expecting a slap on the chest at my teasing.
“I’ve never been to a strip club before.” Her hand moves from my waist to her mouth, and she chews her fingernail. “That’d be interesting.”
Well, fuck me silly.
“Mouse. No way I’d take you to a strip club on Valentine’s Day. I’m a dick, not an asshole.”
She relaxes back into my side. “Not sure there’s a difference.”
“You want to go to a strip club, I’ll take you another time.” That’ll be good. I’ll give her a stack of dollar bills to play with. I picture her sliding cash into a stripper’s G-string. My stomach pitches with jealousy at just the thought. No fucking way do I want her hands on anyone’s underwear. Guy or girl. And the men in the club would be lusting their asses off. No. Fuck no. “Or not.”
It wasn’t too long ago that the thought of two women together would have me straining in my shorts. Right before I met Layla, I had a hard time getting off with only one girl. And now, I’m happily shackled to one.
One.
It’s amazing how the right woman can change a man. I’ve seen it happen to others, but thought it’d never happen to me. And yet, here I am. Valentine dates, no one in bed with us except us, and all the baggage two people can carry.
Fuck, I’ve never been happier.
The light outside gets brighter, and I know I’ve delayed my escape as long as I can. “I better go. Axelle’ll be up soon.” I kiss her head and start to roll from her hold.
Her legs tighten around me. “Don’t go.”
I turn back to see her grinning. Her hair is scattered across the pillow, framing her face and neck. So damn gorgeous, my breath catches in my throat.
She shrugs one shoulder. “We can tell her you came over early for coffee and to take me to work. She’ll be excited to have the Bronco. She won’t know you spent the night.”
That would work. I have clothes in my workout bag, and I could shower at the training center. I lean in and kiss her soft lips. “Sounds good to me. I’ll get coffee and breakfast going. You shower.”
Her arms slide up her naked body and over her head. Even under the thin sheet, I can see that her nipples are hard from the chill in the room. She moans with an unhurried stretch that arches her back and pushes her breasts out from beneath the sheet. Fuck me.
While her eyes are closed, I take advantage and make my move. My mouth covers one pink tip, sucking deep. She jumps with surprise then groans and wraps her hands around my head, holding me to her. Her body writhes beneath me. I’d do anything to bury myself inside her until tomorrow.
I pull back with a nip to her tender flesh. “Time’s up, sweetheart. It’ll have to wait.”
Her protesting whimper makes me grin against her heated skin. I run my nose between her breasts, dragging her sweet vanilla scent into my lungs. My hand finds her sheet-covered ass. I smack it hard enough to get her attention. “Shower.”
Her eyes narrow. “That sounded like an order.”
My teeth sink into my lip to hide my smile. I shake my head and move from her warm body to the chair across the room where I tossed my clothes last night. Throwing my boxers and jeans on, I think about my training schedule for this week, hoping it’ll kill my raging hard-on.
The sheets shift behind me, and I force my eyes to my button fly to keep from looking. If I see her strolling across the dim room naked, I won’t be able to control myself. The sound of her sock-clad feet against the carpet move behind me. She smacks my ass as she passes with a feminine giggle. Fuck, but my dick roars back to life.
I hang out in her room for the few minutes it takes to get my body in check. It’s never been this hard to force back my sexual impulses. I’m out of control when it comes to her. She’s crack cocaine to my temper and libido.
I’m in the kitchen making coffee when I hear Axelle’s bedroom door open. I don’t look, not wanting to catch her off guard, but she needs to know I’m here. “Mornin’ kiddo,” I call down the short hallway.
“Oh hey.” She shuffles into the kitchen, and from the corner of my eye, I can see she’s in bubblegum pink flannel pajamas.
“Coffee?” I hold a mug in her direction.
“Um… yeah, that’d be great.”
I move out of her away so she can grab her coffee.
After filling her cup with an insane amount of cream and sugar, she faces me. Taking a sip, she looks at me from head to toe. “Did you spend the night?”
Layla wanted me to tell her I showed up early, and going against her wishes is probably a shitty idea. But Axelle’s a smart girl. And lying to her will only make her not trust me. The last thing this girl needs in her life is another man she can’t trust.
“Yeah, I did.” I put down my coffee mug and lean against the counter, ankles crossed. “Not gonna lie to you, Axelle. I’m crazy about your mom. Spending the night without her sucks. But if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” I will. It’ll be painful, but I’d do it if it means gaining Axelle’s trust.
She takes a long sip of her coffee, then another. Her sky blue eyes lock on mine, and I can tell that she’s thinking hard about something. “Do you love her?”
Twenty-six
Blake
My throat swells. I cough, clearing my airway to speak. How the hell do I answer that? Do I love her? Do I? I pound my chest a couple times and look everywhere but at Axelle.
“Are you all right?” Layla—thank God—emerges from the hallway in a robe, with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Fine.” I cough again. “Yeah, fine.” Shit, talk about a sucker-punch. Where the fuck did that question come from?
Layla gives Axelle shit for having coffee, but her tone is teasing and lighthearted. They talk about something—what, I have no idea. I’m stuck on Axelle’s question. If I were forced at gunpoint to answer that question, I’m pretty sure I’d get shot. How would a guy like me even know what love is?
Jonah and Owen claim to be in love. They’re protective, possessive, and would sell their own balls if it made their women happy. I suppose I feel the same about Layla. But how do I know for sure? And in order to love someone, don’t they have to love back? My head pounds as my thoughts travel down a road of confusion and unanswered questions.
If I think back hard enough, I can remember a time when my mom loved my dad. He always treated her like a second-class citizen, but she took good care of him. Met him each morning with coffee and breakfast, and welcomed him home to a warm meal every night. She took care of him when he was sick and made sure he never needed for anything. Just like I try to do for Layla.
But love? That’s something that would have to be returned to be genuine. I scrub my face. I wouldn’t know love if it cold-cocked me. What I do know is emotional manipulation and control. After sixteen years of practice, Layla’s an expert at putting on the show of affection, but she’s just as lost as I am. Between my dad and her ex, we’re both brainwashed and bruised.
And if we did feel it, really feel it, could we trust it?
“…Blake told me.”
I focus on the girls at the sound of Axelle saying my name. “Huh?”
Layla cocks her sexy hip, her hand planted firmly on it. “You told her.”
“Huh?” Dammit, I sound like an idiot.
My woman smiles and shakes her head slowly. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Axelle giggles into her coffee mug. “It’s cool, Blake. You’re not in trouble. Mom and I decided no more secrets. I’m fine if you spend the night. It’s nice having a guy around, you know, to kill bugs and take out the trash.”
Fuck, if that’s the only reason they’d want me around, I’d kill every bug in this place and run trash to the dumpster walking on my hands. Is that love?
“I’ve got to get ready for school.”
Axelle smiles and disappears behind her bedroom door.
Layla stares down the empty space Axelle left behind. Seconds tick, and she doesn’t move.
“Mouse?” I cross to her and tip her chin to get her eyes. “You okay?”
She blinks, her eyes shining. “I’m great, I was just dreaming.”
“Dreaming?” I drop a kiss to the tip of her nose and then her lips. “You’re not asleep.”
A shaky smile pulls at her lips. “Yeah, that’s the best part.”
Layla
“Are you sure I don’t look like a slutty college girl?” I ask Axelle, holding my arms out and spinning in a slow circle.
She laughs and swipes on a final coat of lip gloss. “Okay, fine. Yes, you look like a slutty college girl. The Snake will love it.”
I jerk my arms down and glare at my daughter. We went shopping for two straight days to find the perfect dresses for tonight. I liked a simple, yet very short black dress with spaghetti straps, but Axelle insisted that because it’s Valentine’s Day, I have to wear red. Thankfully, I look great in red.
Checking my cleavage for the third time, I bend over into the mirror to make sure the stretchy fabric stays put. I fiddle with the red satin bow that runs around my ribs and ties in the back. I look a little like a present that needs opening. Axelle’s right. Blake’s going to love it.
“Which shoes did you decide on?” I motion to the row of shoes that we’ve been trying on for the last hour.
Axelle scoops up a pair of black peep-toed pumps. She then tosses me a pair of red suede platform pumps with a thin ankle strap. “You wear these. They’ll be perfect.”
I slide them on and walk down the hallway a couple times to ensure their comfort. Oh, who am I kidding? Looking hot hurts like a bitch. But it’s totally worth it.
“Do you know where Killian is taking you tonight?” I watch my gorgeous and very mature-looking daughter step into her shoes.
“No, he said it was a surprise. I don’t care, I’m just happy he didn’t make me plan it all. These girls-ask-the-guys dances are stressful. It’s not fun being the guy.” She stands and smoothes her dress. “But he did say Blake was looking to take you somewhere super romantic.”
Nervous butterflies take flight in my belly, and I wonder if a glass of wine before he gets here to pick me up wouldn’t be a bad idea. I wobble on my heels. Eh, probably not.
“Oh, I have to get my camera.” I bolt from her bedroom to mine.
“Mom, please don’t embarrass me,” she calls from her room.
“What? Just one picture to commemorate the night. It’s our first Valentine’s Day after all.” Yeah, right. One picture. I giggle imagining the irritated look I’m going to get from Axelle and Blake at picture time.
I find the small digital camera and shove it into my red clutch. This night is going to be perfect. Axelle and Killian are meeting up with Cara and her boyfriend for dinner. Then she’s spending the night with Cara. Suzanne, Cara’s mom, guaranteed they’d be home by midnight and not a second later. She even promised to call me once they got there. So I have all night alone with Blake at a sleepover at his place.
My eyes slide to the small bag I packed for tonight, which includes some very skimpy lingerie. Excited energy bubbles up in my chest. This is going to be a night to remember.
The doorbell rings, and my stomach leaps into my throat. They’re here. Or at least one of them. Axelle calls out that she’ll get it, and I race to the mirror to check my makeup one last time. I shake my fingers through my hair. I’m wearing it loose and wild, just the way Blake likes it. The red lipstick is in the lines, and there’s none on my teeth. I take a deep breath and move from my room when I hear the rumble of a deep voice. Halfway down the hallway, I freeze. I know that voice. It’s familiar and terrifying.
Icy fear torpedoes through my veins. My stomach flips and threatens to unload. Tremors rattle my legs, and I brace myself against the wall to keep upright. No. It can’t be.
I walk my hands down the length of the hall to the kitchen. My legs are numb, and my heart’s racing. Peeking around the corner, I’m met with the dark eyes of my worst nightmares.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Laylay.”
Blake
This is it. My first official formal date. Ever. Or, at least the first one I’m excited about. I’ve accompanied girls to formal parties, even dragged a few to some of the shit we have to do for the UFL, but I was always rushing through the date to the hook up afterwards.
Tonight is different.
Yeah, I’m still stoked as hell to use my woman’s gorgeous body as my own playground of sexual pleasure until the sun comes up or she passes out from exhaustion. But I’m also proud as hell to take her out on my arm. Sit across from her at dinner and talk about nothing but laugh about everything. Give her a Valentine’s Day experience that makes up for her never having one.
The box in my pants pocket warms my thigh. It took me three days total to plan for a few hours out. After finding the fanciest restaurant in Vegas, and shit there’s a lot of them, I decided I should get her a gift. I want her to have something to remember this night. I called Jonah, and when he was finished laughing his ass off and saying I told you so in a variety of different ways, he told me I should get jewelry. Good thing I asked, or she’d have ended up with a pair of crotchless panties.
Raven met me at the mall, and she dragged me to Tiffany’s and helped me pick out a simple silver chain bracelet with a small heart charm hanging from it. It’s tiny and delicate, just like Layla.
After the jewelry, she pulled me into a men’s clothing store. I told her I had plenty of suits, but she said since it’s a first it calls for something new. That sounds like a bunch of chick bullshit to me. I groaned at the mention of wearing a pink tie, but I’m glad I indulged her. It looks sick as shit with my black shirt and suit.
After a last round of cortisone shots this afternoon, I’m feeling great. My back feels like it’s packed with cotton. No cramping or even a hint of pain. I make a quick shake and down it, along with my pills. Won’t want to be worrying about those when I get back here tonight all ready to get naked with my woman. I check the clock and internally high-five myself for my timing.
Minutes later, I’m in the Rubicon, listening to music and on my way to Layla’s. I pull into the lot, but don’t see Killian’s car yet. I know Layla will want to wait to leave until he picks up Axelle. I take the light-blue box from my pants and put it into my glove box. My feisty woman has been known to cop a feel when no one’s looking, and I don’t want her to find it too early.
I grab my suit jacket and take my time putting it on and straightening my tie. Taking two steps at a time, I head up to her door. It’s right before I reach it that something in the parking lot catches my eye.
The silver sedan.
But this time it’s not running, and there’s no one in it. My blood pounds in my ears. I scan the parking lot for paparazzi. Nothing looks suspicious, but those sneaky fuckers are great at hiding in places you’d never find them.
I take a deep breath. It was dark the first time I saw the sedan. Maybe this is a different car. I flex my fists to release the burning tension that’s gathered there. No need to show up at Layla’s door looking like a heaving bull.
I’ll make sure to keep my eye out tonight. As long as Layla keeps her top on this time, a few shots of us together won’t hurt.
Stepping to the door, I ring the bell and wait.
Huh, maybe they didn’t hear it? I ring it again and follow it up with a knock.
The lock clicks on the door, and I swallow back my nerves. The door cracks open to reveal Axelle.
I suck in a breath. “Wow, kiddo. You look like a princess.”
She resembles a high school cupid in a red dress that skims her ribs and then flares out to her knees. Her long chestnut hair is curled and falling over her shoulders. A tiny clip with shiny shit on it pulls some of her hair to the side and off her face. Her big blue eyes are… is she
crying?
“Axelle, what’s going on? Are you…” My blood turns to sludge as my temper flares. “Did Killian cancel on you? I swear to God, if that fu—”
“No, no, he didn’t. He’s probably on his way.” Her eyes shift slightly over her shoulder before she catches herself and moves them back. “Um… I’m sorry, Blake, but uh… Mom’s not feeling well, and uh…”
Hold the fuck on. What? “Your mom’s sick?” I peek over Axelle’s head into the apartment. “Is she okay? She seemed fine when I talked to her.”
Her body squeezes in tighter so that the door and frame sandwich her in. “Yeah it hit, like, suddenly, and she’s… well, she can’t go out tonight. She said she’d call you when she felt better.” Her eyes are shifting and not meeting mine.
She’s fucking lying.
“Axelle.”
Now her eyes dart to mine. A moment of fear flashes behind them. She knows I’m on to her.
“I thought we were being honest. No lies, remember?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows and bites her lip. My pulse is pounding. Every muscle is coiled tight.
Her eyes stare beyond my shoulder. “She’s sick.”
Dammit, why is she lying?
Ripping this fucking door down and storming in certainly won’t help, and if she is sick, I’ll look like a controlling asshole. I switch up tactics. “Let me pop in, make sure she doesn’t need anything, and then I’ll take off.” I’m impressed with how convincing I sound.
She shakes her head a little too quickly. “No, I can’t. I promised. She made me promise not to let you in because she’s, like, throwing up and uh… she’s embarrassed.”
Fuck, this kid’s a shitty liar. “Axelle, let me—”
“Just go, Blake. She’ll call you. I promise. But, you have to leave. Now.” She pushes back to close the door, and I hold my hand out to stop it.
I lean in and whisper. “Kiddo, what the fuck is going on? You think I don’t know that you’re lying through your teeth? I want to see her. Just to make sure she’s okay. If she tells me to leave, I’ll go.”
Her eyes brim with tears. My heart cramps and dissolves a fraction of the anger that boils just below the surface.
Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) Page 29
