Some much better ones.
I shift from sitting crossed-legged on my bed to lying down. Spending time with him, being invited into his home, and the picture . . . My heart flutters. To think this whole time he’s held me close, just as I have him. Our dedication to one another and our love for each other transcend memory. He doesn’t remember Mac, but he loves Gia. Reconciling the two will mean keeping him forever: the child he loves and the woman he wanted to touch.
My skin tingles where his hands roamed. Goose bumps race down my arms as I remember his growling voice at my ear. His tall frame had pinned me to the door, supporting my weight with a tender strength more intimate than any sexual experience I’ve ever had, not that I’ve had many. But the one thing I needed after being locked up was to experience all that I’d missed: movies, junk food, and sex. I never understood what the big deal was, why people talked about it as if they couldn’t live without it. Now I understand. The things Rex did to my body with a simple touch or a few perfectly timed words were amazing. A shiver races up my spine. I want more.
Rex is my addiction.
On some level he always has been.
But not like this.
I’d beg, get on my knees and plead for him to take me, control me, and have me for no other reason than his pleasure. I scrub my hands over my face. That sounds insane.
But it’s true.
I love Rex in a way that can’t be defined in words or songs or poems. Unconditional, completely, and irrationally obsessed. A kind of love born from suffering, solely created to bind and heal the broken.
I pick up the teddy-bear and trace the letters on its shirt. “How did you know we’d end up here?”
The stuffed toy doesn’t answer. I hug it to my body and close my eyes. Will there ever be a day when I can hold Rex like this? Or better yet, wrapped up in my arms, legs tangled together with nothing to distract us but the rhythm of our breathing.
The pinging sound of our doorbell steals me from my moment. Trix is at work and there’s only one person I’d be interested in seeing, but he’s busy prepping for his fight.
The bell rings again. What are the chances that they’ll go away if I ignore it?
It rings again, this time in obnoxious repeat. What the fuck?
Tossing the bear on my pillows, I jump up prepared to give the damn bell ringer a lesson in etiquette.
My feet slap against the tiled foyer. I grab the door handle. “What the fu—” I gasp and stare. “Rex.”
Wearing a pair of black track pants that hang low on his hips and a TapOut tee, I’m assuming he came directly from the training center. Ravenous, I devour every inch of his inked arms.
He shuffles his feet and runs a hand through his hair. “I was on my way home.” Exhaling a long breath, he meets my eyes. “I had to see you.”
A slow grin pulls at my lips. “I’m happy you did.” He had to see me. See me—shit! My contacts. I drop my eyes to the ground and turn back into the house. “Um . . . yeah, come on in.” Crap! I have to get my contacts in before he notices my eyes.
The door closes, and I’m guessing he walked in behind me. “Just have a seat and let me go, um, grab . . . I’ll be right back.” I take one step toward the hallway before the heat of his grip wraps around my upper arm.
“Wait.” He spins me toward him and crashes his mouth against mine.
The spice of his clean skin hits me instantly, and my knees buckle under his exuberant assault. His tongue invades my mouth, and towering over me, he bends me back. My hands dart out to grasp his biceps.
He nips and sucks at my lips, drinking from my mouth with greedy grumbles of satisfaction. I pull at him to get closer. I feel the overwhelming urge to have him on me, in me, around me, to be consumed completely—mind, body, soul—by Rex.
I use my teeth and tug on his lip ring. He growls so deeply I feel it in my chest, between my legs, in my blood. “Please, don’t stop.” I keep my eyes closed but find his jaw and trail kisses down his neck. “Never stop.”
He cups my ass with both hands and squeezes. “I want this.”
I moan and press back, giving him what he wants. Always, anything for him. “It’s yours.” I’m yours.
“No one else.” He drops his head to the side, and I suck at his neck, knowing that with his tattoos even the darkest hickey won’t show. “Harder.” Gliding his hand up my spine, he cups the back of my neck, holding me to him. “Mark me.”
Pleasure torpedoes through my body. I hum low in my throat, my teeth and tongue taking his sweet skin into my mouth.