It almost felt too normal. Waking up with Wes’s arm around me. His naked body pressed tight against me. I put his hand to my breast and squeezed. I felt his dick react. We fucked for the next hour until we were sweaty and tired.
Then we slept again for another few hours.
I couldn’t remember the last time I was able to get out of bed after noon. Like the entire world didn’t mean a damn thing. Because I had Wes. He had me. We had each other.
We dressed, and while Wes built a fire, I made coffee and eggs.
We ate, talked, laughed, flirted, kissed, and fooled around again.
I couldn’t get enough of him. My tongue wanted to explore every inch of his fighter’s body. And I wanted his tongue to explore all of my body. No matter where he touched me, it turned me on. No matter how hard he fucked me, I wanted more. It was the craziest yet greatest feeling in the world.
I loved him.
I loved Wes.
It was beyond stumbling and falling and all that bullshit.
It was late afternoon and we were thinking about food again. We were on the couch, me wrapped up in his arms. I loved kissing his biceps. Knowing the power they contained. Fighting. Protecting. The way he held me with such strength.
He was shirtless, which was torture.
I ran a finger down his chest and stomach, then stopped.
“I was there when it all happened,” I whispered. “With your brother and Luke. Whether it matters or not, we were against it. We didn’t want anything to happen. But we knew it was going to be bad.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Wes asked.
“Because I feel guilty.”
“Why the hell do you feel guilty?”
“I don’t know. Because it happened. And when it was done, it was chaos. My father protected Luke from what should have happened. Then it all came undone. My father ended up dead and I ended up…”
“You’re right where you belong,” Wes said.
I looked up at him. There was pain in his eyes. He really loved his brother. He really missed his brother. He had gone from having his brother to rely on to being on his own with no chance to accept the transition.
“When did you fight after Shane’s death?” I asked.
“Aton wanted me a week later.”
“Oh, Wes…”
“He wanted me to be a mourning kind of fighter. You know? All black. Hair in my face. Stand there and take a couple hits. Then go wild. That was my thing. I always kept silent and just… destroyed whoever was in front of me. People started telling me I was invincible. That I couldn’t be beat. So I started to gain a little fame in the underground world. And when that happens, heavy hitters went to Aton to make private bets. They put their best guys against me. Over and over. The more I fought, the better I felt. Then the first year came. That date. I went crazy. I started a fight with an entire bar. I took guy after guy out. I got jumped and taken down. Aton sent some guys to get me. That’s when I vowed to never fight on the anniversary of Shane’s death. Until this year.”
“Is there anything else besides fighting?” I asked. “I mean anything you’d want to do?”
“No. It’s all I know.”
“You can’t fight when you’re eighty, Wes.”
Wes grinned. “I have to get to eighty before I can worry about it.”
God, can he be anymore fucking sexy?
I kissed his chest and then nibbled up to his neck.
“Damn, you can’t turn it off, can you?” he asked.
“Not when you’re sitting here without a shirt.”
“Then I better put a shirt on.”
“No, you better fucking not,” I said.
Wes touched my cheek. “Ah, sweetie. I… I really…”
Wes’s head quickly turned.
No. What were you going to say? Were you going to tell me you loved me? Because I love you. Wes…
Wes pushed me away from him and he jumped up. “Shit.”
“What?” I asked.
He looked back at me. All romance stripped from his face. He was now Wes, the fighter. He then said three words… but they weren’t I love you.
“Someone is here.”
34.
(Wes)
I saw the car and tried to come up with a plan. I grabbed my shirt and put it on. I hurried to the bedroom and got my gun. Fuck me for even having the gun in the damn bedroom. That meant I had been getting comfortable. There was no level of comfort right now. There was only waiting for the next piece of hell to come to life.
Which seemed to be waiting outside.
“Go in the bedroom,” I said to Rose. “Hide.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not hiding anymore, Wes. I’m going to fight. Like you do. I want to fight.”
There was a knock at the cabin door.
A knock?
My head tried to focus on too much at once.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “Okay.”
I ran to the door and held my gun tight. I stood to the side and peeled the door open. I waited for the bullets to rip through the cabin, but it was complete silence. When I looked around the door, I saw…
“Tommy,” I whispered. “Tommy?”
“Wes,” Tommy said. “Christ, man, what the hell are you doing?”