by Coralee June
I sat up and stared at him, not caring I was half dressed or if whatever between us was still new and fragile. "You never said anything," I said with a stutter. "You all had girlfriends constantly coming in and out of your lives. Aside from the occasional—"
"Flirting? Calling you gorgeous? Following you around? Scaring the shit out of other guys so they wouldn't even breathe in your direction?” Blaise thrust his hand through his hair before continuing. “I dated because Gavriel made a rule that none of us could have you."
Blaise rolled over in a huff while I processed his words. "For fuck's sake, a few hours in your presence and I'm whining about shit that doesn't even matter." I stared into the dark, shocked at everything I had learned. I filtered through my memory of him, trying to remember each encounter. Each little moment. Blaise was always sweet to me, but he never crossed the line.
"I'm going to kill Gavriel," I finally growled. "Blaise, get your ass up right now and kiss me. I swear to fucking God, if you're going to let some stupid high school version of yourself stop us from enjoying tonight—enjoying each other—then I'll kick your ass."
Five years. Five years of running. Of pining. Of suffering. Nothing was certain but what we had now. And now, I wanted Blaise. He rolled over, and I watched as his expression filled with hope. It was like waves of sunlight washing over his cheeks. I leaned over and kissed him deeply, exploring his mouth with my tongue. I needed closer. Shifting so that I was on top of him once more, I removed all space between us.
I spoke between kisses. "You're going to fuck me, Blaise. You're going to fill me up and make me forget how angry I am that you all made a stupid rule about who could have me. I loved you, you asshole. I would have loved you." I felt him arch up, teasing the tip of his hard cock along my entrance, and I swiftly slid aside the fabric of my thong.
"Would you have picked me?" Blaise asked while pushing further. His question made me stall, and for a moment I pulled out of the haze of my lust to think.
"The old me?" I asked. "No. She wouldn't have picked. She would have been too scared to lose all of you," I answered honestly. I knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but after five years of owning nothing but my truth, it was all I had to give.
"But the new me? She’s experienced loss and fear and pain. She has nothing to live for, so she isn’t scared to take what she wants—and she wants it all, Blaise."
I braced both hands on his shoulders as I settled down. Inch by glorious inch, he filled me. I wanted to ride him. I wanted to fuck until we were spent and there was no energy left for doubt or fear. I slowly rose back up, resolving not to continue until I knew he wanted this. Wanted me.
"Can you handle this, Blaise? You wanted me back. This is the me you're getting. Summer Bright is gone. All that’s left is Sunshine."
As I was poised above him, he looked me dead in the eye before biting out four little words that confirmed everything I already knew, "I can handle it."
I lifted off of him and rolled over, submitting to him and to all the changes in my life. I accepted that I might not know what was to come, but the molten passion of his touch made me not care.
Blaise rolled over on top of me and placed a hand on my hips while using the other to prop himself up. Then, he pulled back before plunging deep inside of me. "So tight," he moaned. My walls clenched, clinging to each and every sensation. His fingers dug deeper, steadying my hips as my silky screams filled the room. He gave me the raw, blunt force of his hunger for me, and I danced beneath him.
Our bodies moved to a pounding beat. It was hard and demanding. Heat streaked through me, and I owned each ounce of him. I held tight, daring him to push harder.
The sounds of his skin slapping against mine echoed around the room as my fingertips curled into the mattress. I wanted to touch myself, but I was saving that privilege for him. I knew that my confident lover would want to claim each sensation. When I came, he would want it to be his.
I focused on the building pressure within me, as he began teasing my clit. "You want it all, Sunshine?" Blaise asked as his thrusts grew faster. I couldn't respond—couldn't think straight. He started rubbing circles around my sensitive nub, and I had to force myself to keep still. I didn't dare interrupt his rhythm.
Blaise massaged me, and my hips jerked as a moan spilled from my lips. "Tell me," he demanded while we danced along the dark edges of pleasure. His thrusts were perfect. His movements were rough. It was as if all the anger and loss was being slammed into each. Pounding. Hit.
"Yes!" I finally choked out.
"Yes what?" he asked before pulling out then slamming back into me.
"I want it all."
With that admission, my orgasm crashed through me, shattering my senses. Blaise continued to rock into me, his movements drew out each remaining ounce of my bliss. And when he came, we both fizzled with the devastating finality of it. It was primal. It was perfect.
We collapsed, too tired to talk about what this meant. I lay there, listening to my beating heart as it pushed blood through my system. My chest felt tight from the influx of emotions, but my muscles felt loose from my release. I felt a warm laziness down to my bones.
He pulled out, and we both took a second to collect ourselves. I continued to lay still, willing my breathing to slow. He went to the bathroom and grabbed a wet cloth, and I watched as he walked back to bed and cleaned me. It was such an intimate act, and at that moment, I wished I’d never left.
“I’m clean,” I said in a shaky voice. I’d never had unprotected sex, but I was glad I’d saved that experience for Blaise. “And I’m protected. Got an IUD last year.”
“I’m clean, too. That felt incredible.”
When we both settled, I once again laid on his chest. I listened to his fast heartbeat slow down until it was nothing more than a lazy assurance that he was really there.
We didn't speak, didn't dare make a sound. We both knew that, despite our words, this was all still tentative. The moment I saw Blaise at Hot Birds, my soul knew it would come to this. I knew that there would be an inevitable collision of our bodies. I knew that we’d force ourselves to feel all that we’d missed out on. And man, we’d missed out on a lot.
If I’d known the depths of his feelings before, I wouldn't have gone. I would have risked death and never left. ’Cause this feeling? It was better than heaven and worth a trip to hell.
Chapter Eight
Present Day
* * *
I woke up to the smell of burnt coffee. I wrinkled my nose while sitting up in bed, then stared at Blaise's perfect ass as he poured me a cup. When he caught me eyeing him appreciatively, he grinned like the cocky bastard he was. There was no fear or resentment like the night before. He was his easy-going self, and I warmed at seeing his confidence.
I think on some level I was supposed to feel bad. Within ten hours of the Bullets crashing into my life, I’d dry humped Callum in a dirty motel room and fucked Blaise in it a half hour later. I wondered if this was the girl I would have been had my parents not had me on such a tight leash. Would the Bullets miss the naive, innocent girl who lived on Woodbury Lane? Or were they content to take the new, brazen me, the girl on the run?
"It's shitty motel coffee. Probably has dick sweat on the cup," he warned with a low laugh before handing it to me. I took a sip and winced as the bitter drink went down.
"Yep, that’s awful," I choked out before taking another sip. Blaise's phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID before blocking the call and tossing it on the bed.
“Still the little Princess, I see. Guess you never got rid of those expensive tastes,” he joked.
When we were younger, the Bullets always chastised me for my addiction to the finer things in life. But that wasn’t me anymore. I’d eaten out of garbage cans. I’d been homeless and half-dead with nothing but a tampon and a toothbrush in my purse.
“Sunshine? You okay?” Blaise asked while waving a palm in front of my face. I closed my eyes, forcing away the memori
es.
“Yeah,” I replied, unwilling to explain. Remembering that dark couple of years made it even harder to digest that I’d left Nix behind.
"Gavriel's getting restless," he explained while scratching his neck, thankfully changing the subject.
"So he went into the family business, huh?" I asked before choking down another sip of coffee. Gavriel came from a long line of crime. His father's arrest was what led him to foster care.
"Let's just say he runs the family business now," Blaise said with a frown. I wanted to ask more about Gavriel. I wasn't surprised that he'd taken over his family's crime syndicate. What confused me was the strained undertones of his and Blaise's relationship.
We took our time getting ready, neither one of us willing to let go. The motel was dark, dirty, and smelled of mold and cat piss, but something borderline magical had happened here. Something I’d never imagined was even remotely possible. Blaise Bennett had worshipped my body.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Gavriel has a vacation home in Los Angeles. He’s sending his private plane to pick us up in an hour," Blaise explained with a frown.
"Crime must pay well."
“You have no idea.” Blaise went quiet and stared at the beige-colored wall of the motel room, absorbed in his thoughts. His phone began ringing again, and we both stared at the caller ID, unwilling to answer the angry man on the other end of the line.
“I had to ditch your duffle bag, by the way,” Blaise said while sending Gavriel to voicemail and once again switching off his phone. “Your buddy Nix doesn’t play. Did you know he had a GPS tracker sewn into the fabric? Found it this morning.”
My eyebrows shot up. I wanted to laugh at how thorough Phoenix was, but the pain of leaving him behind was still too strong. It was one thing to be a couple hours away, but now I was flying across the country. Blaise must have sensed my hesitation, because he then said, “Do you want to make Gavriel wait a bit more? I still have to bring you to him, but maybe we can take a little detour?”
I sighed in relief and smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Then let’s go get you some clothes? There's a mall down the street.”
I twirled my hair around my finger, debating. “I don’t want to stay long,” I explained. I knew that I had to tell them all the truth, but I wanted to cling to this illusion of freedom just a bit longer.
“Sunshine, you won’t hear me complain about a short shopping trip,” Blaise said. Throwing me that daring, cocky smile I loved, he winked and gathered his stuff.
The mall was small and old, like the rest of the town. Stay-at-home moms wearing yoga leggings pushed strollers while gossiping with one another.
“Let’s make it quick, okay?” I asked.
“Only if you let me pick the clothes,” Blaise teased. I rolled my eyes and thought back to his reaction to me when I attended the Bullet fight. His eyes were like flames licking at my exposed skin.
He waltzed into a shop like he owned the place and immediately started picking up cutoffs that were impossibly short. I laughed as he held up a tight little leather skirt to me, and I playfully shoved his hand away with a grin.
“It’s too cold for that,” I explained before taking it from his hands. I didn’t put it back though. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a few soft cotton tees before following him toward the back of the store where the lingerie was.
“You going to pick these out for me, too?” I teased while holding up a pair of oversized cotton underwear. It felt nice to shop and joke with him.
“I was thinking more along the lines of this?” Blaise offered. He held up a small black number that wouldn’t cover a thing; it was all for show.
I swallowed before responding, "Looks like something I wore back at the strip club."
Blaise snapped his eyes to mine as a multitude of expressions crossed his face. Shock, surprise, anger, lust.
Without responding to my little revelation, he held onto them and proceeded to pick out more. We were efficient, but he made sure to select things the old me wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing. I couldn't help but grin as I thought of all the times he joked about my conservative clothes. It was five years late, but he was finally getting his wish of dressing me up.
“I should get you a swimsuit,” he murmured while thumbing a chunky, low-cut sweater on the rack and picking it up.
“Won’t it be too cold?” I asked. I’d never been to Los Angeles, but November anywhere was bound to be too chilly for swimming.
“The weather in LA is amazing this time of year, and Gavriel has a jacuzzi.” Blaise waggled his eyebrows while throwing yet another bra over his arm.
“Ah, once again, some things never change. You were always trying to get me into a swimsuit,” I chided.
“Could you blame me? I was damn curious what was hiding under those shitty clothes your parents made you wear.” I cringed when I remembered the thick, modest dresses my parents had forced me into for campaign events.
“I’ll never forget that black dress you wore to the fight. I thought only women swooned, but I’m pretty sure I did,” he joked. I circled around the clothes racks, fighting the blush spilling over my cheeks. It felt like I was back in that night again, and I wished I still owned that dress. It was a symbol of freedom for me.
I was rummaging through more clothes when I felt Blaise’s hand on my lower back. His lips hovered over my ear as he whispered, “Go to the dressing room. Someone’s following us.”
Fear shivered down my spine, traveling through each bone until I was nothing but a collection of nerves. I eyed the dressing rooms and briskly walked in that direction while looking for my escape. Going with Blaise was a bad idea. I'd been found.
Once behind the black curtain, I paced the cramped space. My heart pounded in my chest as I listened for approaching footsteps. The upbeat music playing over the shop speakers was like an echo. I froze as my mind jumbled. I couldn’t think. I was nothing but breaths and anxiety.
What if he'd finally found me? For five years, I followed two simple rules: keep hidden, and don't speak to anyone from the past. I was so wrapped up in reuniting with the Bullets that I forgot the consequences.
Finally, Blaise’s voice, loud and annoyed, boomed over the noise, “For fuck's sake, Callum!”
I squinted in confusion for a brief moment. Callum? Throwing aside the curtain, I left the safety of the dressing room and saw the two bickering men. “What is going on?” I asked.
Callum wore a ball cap pulled over his face and dark sunglasses. If it weren’t for his smile, I wouldn’t have recognized him.
“I checked in with my boss this morning and found out I got an assignment in LA. I thought it was strange, but then Gavriel called. My so-called 'assignment' is to get your pretty little ass on his plane before he flies here himself,” he explained. “Didn’t realize he had connections with my superiors. Not sure I want to know how he got me a bogus assignment for the next month.”
Blaise, who was crossing his arms over his chest, uncoiled them, reached out, and slapped Callum on the side of his head. “First, how did you know we were here? Second, you could have called. You looked like a fucking creeper following us around.”
Maybe it was the adrenaline or the relief, but I burst into laughter. Between Blaise’s no-nonsense expression and Callum’s sheepish grin, I couldn’t help but feel like a teen again. “I might have a tracker on your phone,” Callum explained while throwing me a worried glance. “And...she looked...happy? I just wanted to see...uh…” his voice trailed off as the last bits of my giggles died down.
I took in Callum’s embarrassed expression and changed the subject. “I told you watching all those cheesy cop shows would hurt your game. Way too obvious, Officer Mercer,” I teased. Instead of pressing him further, like I’m sure Blaise wanted to, I simply wrapped him in a large hug.
“That’s Special Agent Mercer, actually,” he replied. I looked up at his face just in time to see his proud grin. Having h
im here was exactly what I needed. This little moment of normalcy was perfect.
“Should we go eat?” I asked with a cough.
“Yes,” they both answered at the same time.
I should have felt awkward. Callum's kiss was still fresh in my mind, and an ache between my legs reminded me of Blaise’s punishing thrusts. But instead of shame, I felt elated. Time with both of them was precious. I wouldn’t let awkwardness get in the way of that.
Blaise went to the register to check out, and I noticed a much larger ratio of lingerie to regular clothes but didn’t comment. Callum noticed too. His breathing became labored as he glanced between me and the saleswoman folding the delicate lace.
At the food court, we each got lunch, and once at the table, I began scarfing down my cheeseburger and fries. I shoveled the food into my mouth, oblivious to their concerned expressions. The guys watched me finish my meal in record time and slurp my soda with a satisfied sigh.
“If you were that hungry, you could have told me,” Blaise said. He looked genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.
“Ah,” I began, a hint of embarrassment flushing my cheeks. “I, uh…” I wasn’t sure how to explain to the guys that I had a weird relationship with food. Being on the brink of starvation changed my outlook on nourishment. It made me approach meals like a wild animal. Phoenix understood my eating habits. It wasn’t until someone commented on them that I remembered it wasn't normal to eat so frantically.
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” I explained. “I...when I lived on the streets, I went hungry a lot. I trained myself to eat quickly and not leave leftovers. I never knew where my next meal was coming from. I’m working on pacing myself, but sometimes I forget.” I averted my gaze so I couldn’t see their scrutiny or pity.
Blaise coughed while Callum squirmed and placed his hand on my thigh. “It’s okay,” he whispered. After an awkward silence, they both began eating, and I cursed myself for ruining the fun moment. This was supposed to be a distraction from reality, and instead, I was throwing the grenades of my past into their unsuspecting laps.
