Fighting to Forget (Fighting, #3)

I set my bag on the chair. “Your room isn’t what I expected.”


“Expected? You thought about what my room looked like?” She tilts her head, waiting for my answer.

I move toward her, hooking her hair between my fingers. Soft as silk. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what a lot of things look like.” I run my hands down the length of her hair, allowing my knuckles to drag along her nipple.

A shiver wracks her body, and standing so close, I’d swear the damn thing’s contagious. “What did you expect?

“Black lights, posters of metal bands and motorcycles.” I hold her tightly by the waist, letting her know I’m in control and want her to stay where she is. “You like bright colors. Who knew?”

A soft pink kisses her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, where I lived, um, before here, it had no color. Everything was white or some variation of white.”

I slide my hand from her hip to her ass and up her back. “It suits you.”

Our eyes lock for seconds, minutes; we stare at each other as silent intentions pass between us. Heat flares in my gut and my heart pounds. She’s breathing harder and her hands fist into my shirt.

She steps back, and I allow her to put distance between us. Never breaking eye contact, with no alluring smile, not a hint of a tease, she hooks the hem of her shirt. With little effort, she pulls it over her head and drops it to the carpet at her feet.

I blink and stare at her made-in-heaven perfect breasts. My stomach clenches, but it’s manageable. Her arms lie at her sides, and she makes no move to touch me, giving me time to take in her nakedness. I swallow hard and breathe heavily through the wave of contradicting feelings that threaten to wash me away.

I’m capable of more than I think.

I was last night; tonight is no different.

My fingertips burn to run over her creamy skin, to feel the velvety flesh against my hand as I take the time to memorize every inch, touching, exploring, and learning every curve and valley.

“Come here, Rex.” She holds out her hand, and I take it, swearing that I’d follow her wherever she leads if it means just a few more minutes breathing her air.

She leads me to the bed and sirens fire between my ears. Danger. Loss of control. The urge to punish her, make her weak and helpless, desperate and begging for a relief that only I can give overwhelms me. I cringe at hideous visions of domination that flash before my eyes and the resulting arousal they bring. Shame curls around my ribs, squeezing, suffocating.

I tug back from her hold, but not hard enough to break free.

She jerks her head toward me, worry playing across her gorgeous face. “Trust me.”

My eyes find hers, and I see nothing but tenderness there, but it’s me I don’t trust. I’ve laid it all out, bared my secrets, and exposed insecurities. And yet she’s looking at me as if I’m valuable. Valued.

It doesn’t make sense.

How could anyone care about, much less want to be with, a guy like me? Unwilling to dwell on the whys, especially with my girlfriend—girlfriend?—a slow trickle of warmth expands behind my ribs, making me stand taller just to accommodate it.

Girlfriend.

Yeah.

I bring my eyes to hers and cup her jaw. “I trust you.”

With a slow nod, she presses her cheek into my hold. Her eyes slide closed. I stare in awe of her beauty, the dark silken strands of her hair that play against her skin, framing the face of an angel.

She trails her fingers from my hand that’s at her cheek to my wrist and continues to my forearm in a slow drag. My heart speeds, and the whisper of panic pricks at the back of my neck. Before I can pull away from her touch, she drops her hand and opens her eyes, almost as if she sensed the threatening anxiety. As much as I need her to submit to my control, I miss her hand.

I force myself to hold her eyes even. She flashes a quick, reassuring smile, then steps back, putting distance between us. I bolt my feet to the floor to keep from chasing her down.

She turns, puts a knee on the bed, and crawls toward the middle. Once there, she drops to her back and takes a shaky breath. She doesn’t speak, but lies quietly, peaceful and beyond any beauty I’ve ever seen. I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, lulling me into hypnosis. I drag my gaze along the downy skin of her feminine belly. The gentle thump of her pulse calls for me to savor, touch, and feast on the delicate skin.

Watching her there, eyes closed, breath steady, completely submitting to me, I have to put my hands on her for no other reason than to convince myself she’s real.

I sit at the edge of the bed, my gaze tethered to her. My weight shifts the mattress enough to alert her to my presence, but she doesn’t move. Fucking beautiful. I never knew how badly I needed this, needed her, until right now.

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