Beast: Learning to Breathe (Devil's Blaze MC #5)

I come awake slowly, with the sound of rain hitting against the window pane. I’m warm. So warm. I move to stretch and it’s then I notice that my hand is wrapped around something—or rather someone else’s hand. Michael. It’s then I become more alert. I’m not sure how I missed it before. The reason I am so warm is because Michael’s body is pressed against me, his legs are wrapped in mine, and his arm is lying over my stomach, our hands intertwined; he’s pulled me up far enough that his face is buried into the back of my neck. I know, because I can feel his breath against my skin.

For a minute, I just keep my eyes closed and take this in. This feeling of joy, of contentment, floods through me and with it is a feeling I’ve never experienced at any point in my life. Safety. Even after yesterday, right now in this moment I feel nothing but safe. I drink it in, and without realizing it my thumb has started moving back and forth along the largest scar on Michael’s hand. It’s the strangest thing to try and describe, but somehow brushing against that scar, brings me…peace. It’s a symbol that this man has endured some of his own nightmares and yet here he is, strong, giving, and dependable. He goes against everything I’ve encountered in my life.

“Morning,” he says, his voice gruff enough that it does something to me and little shivers seem to vibrate through my body like sparks. He pulls away, and like a fool, I try to hold his hand as he rolls over onto his back. I let go reluctantly and ignore the heat I can feel spreading across my face.

I move my tongue over my lips as I move to my back too. My mouth suddenly feels dry and nerves begin to attack me. Then a horrible thought comes to mind. Morning breath. I sit up, turning to get off the bed. Michael’s hand lands on my shoulder and I can’t stop myself from jumping slightly.

“Where you going?” he asks, and it’s hard to concentrate on his words when the heat from his hand feels as if it’s going under my skin and maybe even warming parts of me I didn’t know were cold.

“I uh…thought I should clean up…and maybe fix breakfast and…”

“Are you nervous, Hayden?” he asks, and I’m not looking at him, but I think I can hear laughter in his voice. If I turned around to see him, would he be smiling? I sigh loudly.

“Yes.” The strangest thing happens when I admit it to him. Michael laughs. It’s rusty, and I can barely hear it. He kind of coughs and laughs, but still…it is a quiet laugh and it shocks me so much that I turn a little so I can look at him over my shoulder.

He removes his hand from my shoulder, and I instantly miss it. “Why are you nervous?”

“Because you’re…”

“What?” he asks, his forehead crinkling so that deep lines appear. I can see them peeking through his hair.

On instinct, I reach up to brush hair out of the way.

“Well…you,” I answer him, enjoying the feel of his hair between my fingers before I let go and watch the stubborn, wavy tendrils fall back. “You have too much hair. I can’t see your face,” I tell him without thinking, and when I see the look that comes over him, I’m sorry I mentioned it. “I’ll just go clean up,” I tell him, nervously.

In response, he grunts.

I’m acting too strange around him. Ever since that kiss, I have no idea how to act or be around Michael. He asked if I was nervous? He has no freaking clue.

I get the distinct impression that I’ve managed to offend him talking about his hair, and I have this huge urge to beg him to forgive me. The only thing that stops me is I’m pretty sure I’d make a bigger fool of myself. I go into the bathroom and close the door, wondering if I’ll ever be normal.





56





Beast





Fucking hell. It should not be this hard to be around a woman. Before…before I had women falling at my feet. I barely had to talk to one. Now I don’t know what to say to one when she makes a comment about not being able to see my face. I’m pretty sure I hurt her feelings and that’s the last thing I wanted. Shit. Why not just call a spade a spade? The truth is that for the first time in years I want to stick my dick in a woman. I don’t know why it’s happening and more importantly, I resent that it’s happening.

Of all the women in the world my dick had to come back to life for, it had to be Hayden. A pregnant woman with a world of trouble and eyes that beg for forever should not be where I plant my dick. But, I’m drawn to her in ways I can’t explain. I want her as I’ve never wanted another woman, and apparently, she’s going to be the only woman to get a rise out of my dick right now. I thought after Jan, I would have fucking wised up when it came to women. Apparently, I thought wrong. I've been hard all fucking night. Having Hayden's ass pressed against me, even wearing sweatpants has been pleasure and hell. I should have left. Hell, I should leave now. Instead, I'm walking towards the bathroom where Hayden ran to. I'm doing it while knowing it's a mistake, even knowing I shouldn't.

"Hayden, I…" whatever I was going to say flees from my mind. I'm struck dumb by what I see when I open the door. Hayden is standing by the shower, the water running in the background, in nothing but a red bra and this lace covered cloth that I guess is what women call panties. I’ve never been one to pay much attention to what women wear. The goal was always to get them naked quickly and have my fun. Right now, I think I might have missed out, because seeing what is on Hayden is hot. It’s like Christmas wrapping on the biggest gift under the tree. The fabric is shaped like shorts, hugging her hips, stretching over her fucking ass like a second skin, and leaving the cheeks to curve out and taunt me. The hard-on I've had all night, feels like a fucking hammer slamming against concrete now. Physically painful, throbbing, and in need of relief that nothing short of slamming into Hayden over and over, and over will alleviate it. The one hope I have is when she turns around to face me. That should help. That will instantly cool down this raging wildfire she's started raging inside of me. It has to, because it will remind me that she's pregnant, that she's not mine, and that she's more trouble than she's worth.

Only that's not what happens. It's not even close. Hayden turns around, and I can see her rounded stomach that begins in a slight curve under her bra and bows out, over the delicate lace material that hides her from me. Her pregnancy does nothing to freeze my balls and shrink my cock back to normal, so I can manage to walk out of here.

Hayden's frightened gasp doesn’t stop the need that's boiling inside of me either. My eyes are glued to her stomach. I don't see how she's carrying a baby in there. There doesn't seem like there would be enough room for a child to be resting inside of her. I should turn around and leave. I should stop tormenting myself, and yet, I can't. I'm in deep shit here and the time for running and taking cover is gone. My resistance is gone. Hayden is beautiful and seeing her standing in front of me, it doesn't bother me she's pregnant. Fuck, I'm thinking that makes her even more beautiful and that scares the shit out of me.

"Michael!" she cries, and it brings me out of the stupor I seem to have put myself in.