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

I drag my eyes from her stomach and the swell of her breasts—and how they lean heavily out of the confines of her bra, demanding to be set free. She pulls a towel down from a shelf and covers her body as best she can. I tighten my hands into fists to keep from yanking it away.

"We need to talk," I tell her, which is stupid. Talking is the last thing I want to do. What the fuck happened to my balls? When did I turn into this man who didn't just take what he wanted?

Maybe it's because of Hayden's past. I don't know what it is, but I know it has to be traumatic. I thought it was because she is pregnant, but considering looking at her stomach has pre-cum sliding down the shaft of my cock, I'm pretty sure that's not it. Pushing my hand through my hair, pulling it away from my face, I’m frustrated, angry, confused, and horny. I'm so fucking horny I can't think; it's not possible because all the blood is surging into my dick.

"Then go back into the bedroom. I'll meet you in there," she orders, her cheeks blushed a bright red, her gray-blue eyes shining with embarrassment.

I suddenly crave to see them shine with something different. How would they look deep tinted in desire…for me?

“I want to kiss you.” Shit. That’s not what I meant to say. It’s not even all that I want to do, but at least I had enough brain cells left not to blurt out that I wanted to fuck her like a wild animal.

“I need to…What?” she gasps and call me crazy, but it fucks with your mind when a woman looks at you like you’re insane when you tell her you want to kiss her. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Michael. I don’t think it would be good at all,” she says, standing up and looking around like she needs a place to run. I’m not sure why that should make my dick jerk against the confines of my pants, but it does.

"We've kissed before," I remind her, and I can actually see the panic flare in her eyes as they widen in surprise.

"And that was a mistake. It's made our friendship weird."

"Funny, I was thinking the fact we both have more baggage than the JFK Airport has done that."

"When you decide to talk, you just go all out don't you?" she sighs. She puffs air through her lips and it causes her bangs to blow away from her face, before slowly fluttering back down. "I'm the one with the baggage and my baggage is dangerous. Too dangerous for you to be around me, Michael. You've already put a target on your back after yesterday."

"It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last. None of that has anything to do with the fact that I want to kiss you right now, Hayden."

"It's not a good idea."

"You've said that. I just don't happen to agree," I tell her, walking towards her. I watch as her body tenses up and she stares at me, then at the door, already bringing her eyes back to me, as if sizing up if she could make it to the door before I stop her. She can't, and remarkably I find myself smiling at the thought.

"Michael—"

"It's just a kiss, Hayden. What's the harm in a kiss?" I tell her, my voice dropping down to just above a whisper when I'm standing in front of her. My hand curves against her neck, my thumb brushes against her jawline, and my fingers tangle into her hair as I press them against the back of her neck. I can feel her body shudder against me, see her lips slowly part, and her eyelids begin to close. She may be protesting, but Hayden wants this kiss too. She craves my kiss.

That's my last thought before our lips touch. When she lets out a small whimper right before her tongue pushes into my mouth and seeks out mine, a feeling of victory erupts inside of me.

Fuck everything else. This right here is the first thing that has felt good to me in so long that I don't give a shit about anything else right now. I'm just taking this while it's here.





57





Hayden





Where is the panic and fear I feel around people—around men? Why don't I feel that with Michael? Why don't I feel it right now when he's standing in front of me with his face bending down to kiss me? Why, when I'm standing in front of him half-naked, am I not screaming for the door? Why am I not only looking forward to his kiss, but craving it?

I do nothing but sigh with relief when Michael's lips finally touch mine. If I want to be completely honest with myself, I'm ridiculously eager for his kiss. I think it's my tongue who seeks his out first. If I want to get even more brutally honest, since the first kiss we shared I've wanted more. The moment our lips touch, our tongues tangle, a spark of electricity goes off, and heat spreads through my body. In its wake, there is nothing but need. A desperate need to be closer to him. My hands go up to tangle into his long hair, pulling his mouth tighter against mine, afraid he will pull away. I think of nothing else other than losing myself in the nearness and warmth of Michael while drowning in the taste of him. I don't even notice when the towel I was hiding my body behind, falls to the ground.

I feel Michael's arms wrap around me. I don't have a lot of experience with men. The two that I've trusted, their touch has been extremely different from Michael's. Their skin was soft, and felt good against mine…I guess. I never really thought about it. It never failed though, their touch always turned rough, demanding even, and I never liked it once that happened. Michael is completely different. His touch is rough, and almost scratchy, like a loofah against my skin. Yet his hold is gentle, almost what I'd imagine caring felt like. Even when his kiss gets demanding, never—not once, does that translate into him hurting me. He makes me feel…precious. That's somehow just as addictive as his kiss.

We break apart, both of us breathing roughly. I worry about what I will see in his eyes. Disappointment? Anger? Regret? Any of those are possible. Slowly, I open my eyes, hating that I am trying to be a coward. Michael's dark, almost obsidian eyes are staring down at me, but the only thing I can see in them is the same thing that is raging through my body. Hunger. He wants me. The knowledge lands inside of me and it should repulse me. What it shouldn't do is make me so wet that I can feel my desire painted against the inside of my thighs. I need to be the voice of reason here. I have to be.

"I love your lips, Hayden," he says in his voice that I've come to liken to a mixture of whiskey and cigarettes. It's nothing sweet; it’s wicked, dirty, and completely masculine.

I don't know if anyone has ever told me that they love anything about me, especially my lips. I like that Michael does. I like it a lot. I take a half-step away from him, that's as much room as he's given me. My fingers come up to touch my lips as I look up at this giant of a man who wreaks havoc on my body and my emotions.

"I like yours too, even though I shouldn't," I tell him, not recognizing my own voice.

"Why shouldn't you," he asks, and I try to concentrate on his words, but his hands have moved down to my hips and his thumb is brushing back and forth on my hipbone. I can feel my eyelids get heavy as I enjoy the sensation. I have to shake myself to pay attention to him.