Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)

by Layla Hagen

  “Every inch of you is beautiful. These scars right here, they just show you’re brave, that you stand up for what you believe in.”

  She sighs softly, and I can’t hold back anymore, so I grab a condom from the nightstand and pull it over myself, then flip her on her back again.

  I’m so hard, I can barely think straight. Her flesh is glistening, and just the thought of those soft inner walls closing in on me is enough to drive me crazy.

  “Blake,” she whispers, almost begging.

  I position myself at her entrance and slide inside in one swift move, entering her all the way to the base. She cries out beautifully as she clenches around me, fisting the sheets. She is so tight and snug and fucking perfect.

  I lift her ankles, placing them on my shoulders and move fast, watching myself slide in and out, her chest rising up and down in quick succession. She’s not just fisting the sheets, she’s pulling at them.

  “This feels so good, so deep,” she rasps, writhing and moaning as I drive inside her faster.

  “You’re amazing, Clara. Fucking amazing, you know that?”

  Her nipples are puckered, calling to me as her breasts move with every one of my thrusts. In a matter of seconds, I change positions. I lower her feet back on the bed and lounge over her. As much as I like watching her, tasting her is even better. I kiss her chest, take a nipple in my mouth, then skim my lips up her chest and neck, her jawline. I pepper her cheeks with kisses before feathering my mouth over hers. She parts her lips, allowing me to kiss her deep and hard.

  Every time we’re together, she gives more of herself to me, and I do the same. Not because she demands it, but because opening up to her feels natural and right. I want to make her feel all the things I feel and don’t know how to voice.

  Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I breathe in through my nose to stave off the orgasm for just a while longer. I’m close. I can feel it in the tightness at the base of my spine. But when she starts clenching around me, I know I’m a goner. I move my hips so I grind against her clit, and she explodes underneath me.

  We climax as one, a tangle of messy and sweaty limbs, our cries mingling together, her fingers tugging hard at my hair, my nails digging in her thigh. After regaining my composure, I sit up. Clara pushes herself on her elbows, and we both look at the state of the bed. The sheets are completely torn out of their corners. I can’t remember who ended up pulling them out altogether. It might have been her. It might have been me. We might have done this together.

  She laughs. “We’re such a mess.”

  I kiss her forehead. “We’re fierce.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Clara

  Quentin: In my office. Now.

  I leap from my chair, staring at the words on my phone. Not a good omen, and not what I expected. I just received the confirmation that the stars of our show will be on a famous late-night talk show, and I’m damn proud of that. It took a lot of hard work to obtain that, but it will give us a big boost. Since I just forwarded the e-mail to Quentin, I was expecting praise, and this smells fishy.

  When I enter Quentin’s office, his face is set in grim lines. The man usually looks like he has a stick up his butt, but today that stick must be extra-long and thick.

  “What’s the matter, boss? Did you read my e-mail about the talk show?”

  He nods, gesturing me to sit in the chair opposite him, which I do, the back of my neck prickling with unease.

  “I remember you telling me you don’t know the Bennett family well.” He turns his computer monitor toward me, and my entire body goes cold. It’s a celebrity gossip website featuring photos from last Saturday’s Bennett show. I appear on a number of those, laughing with Blake, talking to Logan or Ava. One in which Blake is clearly kissing me. My mind begins to spin. How could I have been so careless? I knew there was press there.

  Then I mentally slap myself. Why should I be hiding? I didn’t do anything wrong.

  “You lied.”

  Deep breath, shoulders straight. “It’s my private life. I don’t have to lay it out for you.”

  “Damn right you do if I ask you to.” Quentin is a short, thick man, and behind his desk, he looks even shorter and thicker.

  “As long as my private life doesn’t interfere with my work—”

  “Spare me the bullshit. I asked you for dirt on the family, and you lied to my face, telling me you’re not close to them.”

  “I also told you I don’t sell people out for ratings. You asked me to betray the trust of people I care for. That’s not part of my job description. Or yours.”

  “I’ve been at this job longer than you, girl. Everyone does what they can to get forward, including stepping on bodies.”

  “Not how I operate. And Nate got at the very top without trashing anyone.”

  “Saint Nate.” He scoffs. “Please. If I hear anyone else in this goddamn network singing his praises, I will throw up.”

  “What is the point of this? I’m doing my job very well, and you know that.” Another deep breath. I can’t lose my shit, no matter how much I want to.

  “Guess what? Very well isn’t enough.”

  “I got us on the late-night show. That is a million times more important.”

  “I decide what’s important, not you. And when I ask you to cooperate, you cooperate.”

  “You consider backstabbing cooperation?”

  “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough. If you’re not willing to cooperate, I will let you go.”

  “You will let me go,” I repeat blankly.

  “Yes, and I’ll make sure you don’t get another job in this network, no matter how many phone calls Saint Nate makes for you.”

  “I see.” Well, that makes my path very clear.

  “You do?” He clasps his hands, his nasty smile making an appearance for the first time today.

  “Yes. I quit.” I am not going to come to work every day with this slimy man breathing down my neck, asking me to do things after which I could never look at myself in the mirror, just because he isn’t capable of hard and honest work. No more. I am worth more than this. There have to be more options than this.

  His smile freezes on his face. “What?”

  “I quit.”

  ***

  You never know how dispensable you are until faced with the fact. One hour later, as I walk out of the studio building, all my belongings in a box, HR termination contract on top, the enormity of my decision hits me, and my knees nearly buckle from the weight. I barely make it to my car, and once I climb in, I’m in a stupor. What have I done? I blink back tears, trying not to panic, but panic I do. My chest feels so tight and my eyes sting so badly, I can almost feel a panic attack coming. Or a stroke. I’m about to research stroke symptoms before I realize I’m in the garage of the building. No reception or Internet here.

  This deep breath technique doesn’t work jack shit when you’re panicking. Could I have handled this better? Maybe.

  Jesus, what have I done?

  The right thing. I did the right thing. It’s just that doing the right thing sometimes has the habit of biting me back with a vengeance. Almost unconsciously, I touch the marks on my back.

  Okay, this is obviously not how I pictured my career change happening. Ideally I would have already had a job lined up before quitting this one because I have a mortgage to pay. My best skill is that I get shit done, and I don’t feel I’m too good for any job. Hopefully, that will be enough for my unemployment to be short.

  ***

  “You have the biggest balls ever,” Penny exclaims. When I arrived at the apartment, I realized I’d work myself into a frenzy if I spent too much time alone with my thoughts. On a whim, I asked Penny if she could have lunch with me. So now she’s wolfing down a shawarma, sitting on the swing on the balcony, while I rid my flowers of dry bits. I can’t eat. I feel a little faint just at the smell of shawarma.

  “Or I’m stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re loyal to a
fault. That’s very rare. You have no idea how many back stabbings I see on a daily basis, and it usually happens over petty things, not a job.”

  “It was just all too much, and I acted impulsively.”

  “If you ask me, this was a long time coming. You weren’t happy there.”

  Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I snap a dry bit with a little too much gusto. “Well, the point of a job isn’t to be happy, but to receive a pay-check. Have some stability. I wanted to transition out of TV, but I wanted to have a plan for it.”

  “You can’t plan everything.”

  “That coming from the person who wakes up at five o’clock every morning to run? You’re the master planner.”

  “Yeah, and it’s zero fun. Look at this as an opportunity to figure out your next steps without a slimeball breathing down your neck. Use it. Also, you have a fine man to fill all those spare hours with.”

  I swallow hard at the thought of Blake, unsure how he’ll take the news of my unemployment status, especially because it will be accompanied by a huge request. I’m going to ask him if I could live here a while longer than I intended.

  My building developer informed me that they’re handing over the keys soon...and I can’t afford my mortgage anymore. Renting it out so I can finance the mortgage until I get a job is my only option. Staying here free would be a big help. Ugh...I already feel like a leper about it, and I haven’t even asked Blake yet.

  “Have to go. Sorry I can’t stay longer,” Penny says.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Hey, you’re here early!” Blake exclaims, appearing out on the balcony, scaring us both half to death. He and Penny met a few Saturdays back when she dropped by for breakfast. “Hi, Penny.”

  “Take care of my girl. I have to go.”

  “Short day?” he asks after she’s gone.

  I decide to rip it like a Band-Aid. “Nope. I quit.”

  “What happened?”

  Sitting on the swing, I tell him everything quickly, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Blake grows angrier by the second.

  “I can’t believe this,” he explodes, pacing around the balcony. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Didn’t see the point. I didn’t want to worry you, and I was dealing with it.”

  “Clara...” He stops pacing, training his eyes on me. “Being part of my family doesn’t mean just attending birthday parties and weddings. A whole lot of shit comes with the territory too, and people like this Quentin are at the top of the shit list. I’ve dealt with this kind of people for a long time. I’m not going to let you fight my family’s fights. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Oh, sorry I didn’t tell you. I promise I will if it happens again. Honestly, I thought he’d eventually drop the whole thing.”

  “I want you to tell me everything—not only if it affects my family. Anything that bothers you. Anyone who makes you uncomfortable. I want to know. Okay?”

  I nod, too overwhelmed by the intensity of this moment to find my voice.

  “There’s something else on your mind,” he states.

  “Yes, I received an e-mail from my building’s developer. They’re handing the keys over this week.”

  Blake’s expression turns blank. “You’re moving out?”

  Hugging my knees to my chest, I shake my head. “Actually, I meant to ask if I could stay here until I find a new job? I thought about renting the condo so I can make the mortgage payments. I know there’s a lot of interest in that building, and I was hoping to swing it by not paying rent here.”

  Blake sits next to me on the swing. “That’s not even a question. You’re staying, and I’m taking care of you. Anything you need. Anything you ask for. Actually, it’ll be more than what you ask for because you have the lousy habit of not asking for nearly as much as you deserve.”

  “Thank you, Blake. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “You quit your job without a second thought rather than blab about my family. Do you have any idea how much that means to me?”

  The vulnerability in his eyes startles me.

  “It was the right thing to do.”

  “People usually do what’s right for them. You’re different. Loyal and sweet, and—”

  Without warning, Blake takes my hand, leading me inside his apartment. He kisses me softly. My lips, my cheek, descending to my jaw and my neck.

  “You’re so precious to me, Clara, you have no idea.”

  This closeness between us right now is unlike anything I’ve experienced with him. With a startled gasp, I realize his chest is shaking slightly. He kisses me anew, deeply and slowly.

  I am so lost in him, soaking in all his warmth and deliciousness that I don’t even realize he’s ridding me of my clothes until I’m buck naked in front of him.

  He lowers himself on his haunches, gaze focused on me. The glint in his eyes is a mix of wicked and yet even more vulnerability. Maybe he feels this change between us too. All I can do is hold my breath and watch him. He lifts one of my legs, and I wobble for a split second before he places my thigh on his shoulder. He kisses my inner thigh, inching closer and closer to my pubis. When he runs his thumb along the rim of my opening, following the movement with his tongue, I bite back a moan. Oh damn, he’s sexy. So unbelievably sexy. He’s so good with his tongue, and his hand.

  He’s teasing me again in that delicious way of his, dragging his tongue up one fold, then down the other, so close to my clit, but without touching it. Oh God, I can’t take this anticipation. I—

  Fuck.

  He nips at my clit, and I buck forward, out of breath. Out of everything. For a split second, my vision turns black. Every muscle in my body tightens, absorbing the shock of pleasure.

  Maybe it’s that I have a direct view of him nuzzling my clit with his nose while his tongue probes me on the inside, or maybe the vulnerable moment we shared before he opened me up intimately, but I feel my orgasm building inside me faster than ever before.

  “I can’t...I’ll fall...I’m...Oh God, Blake.” I know I’m not making much sense, but I have to warn him. “I’ll fall.”

  “Hold on to me.”

  I grasp his shoulders, but the leg I’m standing on wobbles. “I am, but”—I breathe in sharply—“don’t let me go,” I rasp, and I’m not talking just about this very moment.

  “I won’t. Trust me. I won’t let you go, Clara. Promise.”

  I come apart in his arms, and Blake keeps his promise, holding me until I’m steady on my feet.

  Rising to his feet, he cradles my face, his thumbs pressing at the corners of my mouth, the rest of his fingers splayed on my cheeks and neck. I feel adored, safe, and treasured. I have no idea how he can do that with a simple touch, but he does.

  I want to reciprocate—he might not need the kind of reassurance I do, but he does need it in other ways, like knowing with absolute certainty that I will not betray him or his family.

  “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” he says, catching me off guard. “Sharing every day and night with someone. Wanting to share my life.”

  “I didn’t know either,” I whisper, too stunned to come up with a better reply. Slowly I gather my wits around me, fueled by his admission. “It feels right.”

  “It feels perfect.” He kisses my cheek, my temple. “Fucking perfect. This is more real than anything I’ve had.”

  “Blake,” I reply softly, pressing my hands over his, then bringing one of his palms to my lips, kissing it. The air charges between us, and a strange energy strums through me. I can tell Blake feels it too, because his eyes widen. This, right here, is more raw and intimate than anything we’ve experienced before. I’m falling for this man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Clara

  Free time does not agree with me. After working straight out of school for more than a decade, you’d think I could use a breather. But two weeks into my unemployment, I feel restless and guilty. I must have sent about eighty applic
ations for various organizational and operational jobs, and I’m still waiting to hear from most. In the evenings, I help Blake at the bar, and I fill my mornings by working on my illustrations. The one I’m working on right now is giving me headaches, but I have nothing but time to figure it out. Too much time.

  I startle when my phone rings and leap to my feet, glancing around. It’s ringing somewhere around me, but I can’t find it for the life of me, and this is not a good time for me not to be reachable. It could be a call for an interview. Finally, I find the darned thing under the couch—ask me how it got there.

  Glancing at the screen, I see it’s Blake, who is currently down at the bar, going through the inventory before opening in a few hours.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, phone pegged to my ear as I rise to my feet.

  “Can you come down for a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  On that cryptic note, he clicks off. Huh, what’s all that about? I’d better go check on him.

  I step inside the bar, expecting to find Blake alone, but instead he’s at one of the high tables with a man in a suit. He’s dark-haired and looks like he’s in his early fifties.

  “Clara, you’re here,” Blake exclaims upon seeing me. “Great. I want to introduce you to someone.”

  I join the two of them and shake hands with the man, exchanging names.

  “Charlie here publishes children’s books,” Blake says, and I feel like I just downed a glass of cold water.

  “Our largest imprint specializes in illustration books. Blake tells me you have a large portfolio,” Charlie continues. The back of my neck prickles. “I could look at it, if you want some feedback.”

  I don’t dare look at Blake. He set me up.

  “Great idea,” Blake exclaims. I’m still not looking at him. Instead I try my best to keep a polite smile.

  I clear my throat. “I don’t think my portfolio is quite ready to be seen.”

  Charlie waves my words away. “Nonsense. It’s never too early to get feedback.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod, because I don’t see how I can get out of this without offending Charlie, or Blake. On second thought, Blake can shove all his hurt feelings up his ass. He deserves it for putting me on the spot like this.