Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) (46 page)

“Fuck, Mouse. I’ve missed you.”

The crowd whistles and cheers.

A sob rips from my throat, and he holds me tighter. “No, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

“I thought… I lost… you.”

“Never.” He sets me down, but I refuse to let him go. He rubs my back softly, encouraging me to loosen my grip. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

I lean back enough to look at his face. His eyes glisten, and he clears his throat. “Mouse… I love you. I’ve never loved anyone in my entire life. And then you come along, and… my music, my fighting? None of it means anything without you. My life means nothing without you.”

I jump up, and he wraps me in his arms again. “Don’t let me go, Blake. Please… never let me go.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, Blake.”

His entire body relaxes under my whispered words. “It’s hard to believe you’re really here, like this… I thought I’d never hold you again.”

Ataxia begins their set, and the small space Blake and I had on the floor closes in with the bodies of excited fans. They erupt as the first few bars of a song blare through the speakers. We get shoved, and Blake sets me down. He takes my hand and leads the way, protecting me with the width of his body, weaving us through the crowd toward the side of the stage.

I look over my shoulder just in time to see the huge smiles of my friends Eve and Raven, who’ve been joined by Jonah, Mason, and Caleb. Eve gives me a quick thumbs up and a knowing smile.

They set me up. And I love them to pieces for it.

Thirty-four

Blake

I can’t believe it worked. Part of me expected her to bolt as soon as she saw me. I’d hoped for at least a polite smile and a chance to talk. But she gave me so much more.

She gave me her.

A smile curls my lips, and I hold her tiny hand in mine. We move through the crowded bar to a door at the side of the stage. A bouncer stands guard at the entrance to the backstage dressing rooms. Before things go any farther, we need to talk, and this is the quietest and closest place I can think of.

“Yo, Brick.” I shake hands with the guy who earned his name from looking like a solid piece of concrete.

“Blake, man. What’s up?”

“I need a room. Just for a few minutes.”

“This isn’t a motherfucking hotel.” He looks between Layla and me. “Ah, so this is the girl.” His eyes sweep from her bright golden hair down to her bare feet. “All right, I’ll give you a room, but this little hottie deserves more than a few minutes.”

Layla tucks into my side, her cheeks pink from Brick’s in-your-face perusal. I tug her behind me to keep her safe from the bouncer’s greedy glare. “Eyes to yourself, Brick.”

He laughs and steps aside, allowing us to pass. “You need help back there, Snake, just holler.”

“Fuck you.” I throw my middle finger up over my shoulder.

“You take your few minutes with him, baby. Then you come back here. I’ll give you hours.” We’re halfway down the hallway, and he’s still talking shit.

“Enough, dickhead,” I call out.

Layla’s still laughing when I pull her into a room. The smell of stale cigarettes and liquor fill my nose. I flick on the lights to reveal a faded brown couch, a full-length mirror, and painted black walls. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.

“Wow, I’ve never been backstage before.” She crosses the room to the couch.

“Uh, I wouldn’t sit there. Probably all sorts of DNA samples could be taken from that thing.”

She recoils and tucks her hands close to her stomach. “That’s gross.” Her lips tick with a hint of a smile. “Thanks for the warning.”

What seemed so natural minutes ago in the crowded club, feels awkward now that we’re alone and faced with all that needs to be said. We stand across the room from each other, electricity charging the air between us.

She looks amazing. Her tiny body is wrapped in a tight black dress, cut low enough to expose the valley between her perfect breasts. The midnight fabric runs the length of her waist, flaring out at her hips, and ending well above her knees. She shifts on her feet, and I’m reminded that she’s barefoot. Her painted pink toes curl against the filthy concrete.

“Your feet. They cold?”

Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles. “They’re okay.”

“You want my socks?”

“No, I’m fine. Really.”

“You look beautiful.”

She tugs at the hem of her skirt. “Thanks, although, I can’t take credit. It’s Eve’s. I got ambushed by her and Raven at home, but…” Her head tilts, and she studies the empty wall across from her. “Something tells me you already knew that.”

Shit, is she pissed?
I shrug one shoulder and study the ground. “Yeah. I asked them to get you here.”

I peek up to gauge her reaction. She’s raking her teeth along her pink-painted lip. Not sure if that’s pissed or not.

“I had so much to say, but I’m terrible with talking shit out, and with everything that happened” —I run my hand over my head—“I wasn’t sure if you’d listen to me.”

Her lips curl into a smile, and I swallow back a thick ball of hope.

“I liked what you had to say. And I really like the way you said it. Not a girl alive would say no to Bon Jovi.” She closes a fraction of the distance between us. “No more music in a closet. Your secret’s out. How did it feel, you know, performing?”

I nod, my mind reeling in the moment. I’d almost forgotten I’d played in front of a few hundred strangers and a handful of friends. “I did it for you. I knew if I got up there and played, you’d know I wasn’t fucking around. I had to make a statement.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

My chest swells under the sincerity of her words. But even with her praise, I don’t know the answer to the question that has kept me from sleep and unsettled my stomach. “Do you think that with time, you could find it in your heart to forgive me?” It’s asking the impossible, I know that, but I have to fight for the chance to be with her.

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “Forgive you for what?”

“For what… I’ll say it if that’s what you need.” I don’t want to form the words
I strangled you
. I swallow the bile that surges in my throat. “Is that what you want, Layla, to hear me say it?”

She takes a few steps toward me. “Blake, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one that owes you an apology. If we’d never met, then Stewart wouldn’t have… it’s because of me that you ended up in jail.”

“No, that’s bullshit. I fucking…” Shit, why can’t I just say it?

“You were on steroids, Blake. He baited you.”

“I could’ve killed you.”

Her sharp intake of breath blares in the silence. “I don’t believe that,” she whispers. “I know you would’ve stopped.”

She’s doesn’t know that. I was fucking out of it, completely blacked out and raging.

“Layla, what I did is unforgivable. And Axelle saw the entire thing. Fuck.” I rub my eyes. Reliving this with her is as bad as going through it all over again.

“You protected us. Came back to rescue us. That’s what Axelle saw. The rest was fallout, and she understands that.”

“Mouse…” My voice cracks under the weight of my feelings. “I hurt you.”

She closes the space between us. I grip her waist and pull her close, afraid of losing her when she realizes I don’t deserve her touch. Her fingers slide up my biceps, over my shoulders, and lock behind my neck. I drop my forehead to hers and pinch my eyes closed, absorbing the comfort of her contact.

“No. You’re the one who got hurt. What they did to you, the things you must’ve been feeling? I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing it sooner.”

I blink open my eyes to see hers staring back. “You did. You warned me about the supplements, and I was too arrogant to listen. If only I’d paid closer attention.”

“Blake, we could do this all night. But the guilt? It’s so thick we’d never get through it. Is it possible just to forgive each other and move on?”

“I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness.”

“Bullshit. We were made for this moment, Blake. Everything that led us to this here, right now, is what makes us who we are. I forgive you. But will you ever forgive yourself?”

“I want to. I’m so sick of looking back.” I run my nose along hers. “Where do we go from here, Mouse?” I whisper against her skin.

Her eyes flutter shut. “Forward. One day at a time.”

“Together?”

“Always.” Her lips part.

Fuck, I’ve missed those lips. “Mouse, can I kiss you now?”

“I wish you would.”

Our mouths come together, unhurried. As much as I’d kill to use my tongue and teeth, to drain every ounce of taste from her mouth, I keep it light. My lips work against hers in deliberate, wet strokes. The weight of her head drops to the side, and she opens up to me. I moan against the sweet cinnamon that teases my senses as I reacquaint myself with her kiss.

I slide my hand up her spine, pressing her to me until the full swells of her breasts are flush with my chest. My pulse is racing. I flex my hips, the friction from my jeans a bold contrast to the softness of her body.

She grips my biceps and pushes up on her toes, dragging her soft, petite frame against the length of mine.
Fuck yeah
.

Nothing in life has ever felt this right.

This isn’t what I’d planned, but my body, hell my soul, can’t wait another second. I walk her back a few steps until she’s pressed against the wall. She moans deep into my mouth and hooks one leg around my thigh.

Cupping her ass, my palm meets bare skin. I run my finger along the strip of thong that disappears between her cheeks. “I need you.” I coax her higher. The heat from between her legs sears me through my jeans.

She wiggles impatiently and grinds down her hips in request.
So damn hot.

“I can’t wait.” She hops up, and I support her weight as she wraps her legs around me, pushing the tight fabric of her dress up around her waist.

My face buried in her neck, I alternate running my nose and my lips along her neck, tasting and breathing in the delicate skin I thought I’d lost. My blood pounds with the urgency to get inside her. She flexes and releases her hips, once, twice…

Separated by only my jeans and a tiny strip of lace, it’d be so easy to take her like this. “Mouse, I want you. But here?”

She digs her heels into my lower back with a whimper. “Yes, here. Now.”

I pull back and meet her eyes. They’re intense and steady. The deep brown burns into mine, pleading with me not to let her go. “I’d do anything for you.”

She drops her head, inviting me back to the tender contours of her throat. So slender, and fragile.

A tremor of shame racks my body. I lean in with a gentle brush of my mouth, hoping to find redemption while I soothe the spot where I’d inflicted pain. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper against her neck and kiss a path to her lips.

“No more apologies.” Her hands grip my head, holding me close. “Kiss me.”

Our mouths crash together. Her nails bite into my shoulders as she pulls me closer. I fist my hands in her hair, unable to hold back my fierce show of possession. She arches her back against the wall, rubbing her hot little body against the straining bulge in my pants. I’ve never had a problem holding back my release, but she’s making it impossible.

I tug down a strap of her dress. The heat of a bare breast hits my hand.
No bra.
“Damn, sweetheart.” I lean down and feed myself one pink nipple, pulling it deep until she’s writhing in my arms.

She works herself against me, finding her own pleasure. So different from the woman who only a month ago was afraid to let go. Pride swells in my chest.

I slide my hand between us to pop the buttons of my jeans. I free my dick and press it against the heat of her wet panties.

“Blake, oh…” Her breath hitches as I move myself against her.

“What is it, Mouse?” I drop her other strap and suck her neglected breast into my mouth, pulling the pebbled flesh behind my teeth.

“More.” She groans and runs her nails along my skin.

Goosebumps race from my scalp to the floor, igniting my need to feel her. I slip my fingers beneath her panties.
Fucking hell.
I bite my lip, but it does nothing to muffle the growl that rumbles in my throat. She’s ready.

I want to sink myself so deep inside her that nothing can ever come between us again. Lose myself within her so all our mistakes disappear and all that remains is us. “Are you sure?”

She pulls back. Her face is flushed, lips parted, and she looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes. “For the first time in my life, I’m sure. I love you, Blake.”

Her words rocket through me with a burst of adrenaline. “I love you, Mouse.” I bury myself inside her in one thrust.

“Yes.” She cries out against my lips and her nails bite into my shoulders.

Holding her by her ass, I wait for her to adjust. She squirms in my hands.

“Easy, baby. I’ve been waiting too long for this. I want to take my time.”

She whimpers and rolls her hips. “It’s only been five days.”

“Feels like a lifetime.” I pull out slowly and push back with the same pace. My lips trace her collarbone.

“Please, Blake.”

“Shh.” I dig my fingers into the supple flesh of her ass. “Hold on tight.”

Her arms constrict around my shoulders. It’s then that I realize that being wrapped up in my woman is the only place I want to be. Music, fighting… nothing comes close.

Leveraging her back against the wall, she meets my every thrust. Unafraid and confident. And absolutely fucking perfect.

My hand skates up the gentle curve of her hip to her breasts. I roll her nipple between my finger and thumb.

“Blake, yes…”

I had no idea this is what making love would be like. It doesn’t have to be slow and sensual, on a bed or surrounded by candlelight. Making love isn’t about the where or how, it’s about feelings. Even in a dirty room backstage at a club, up against a wall, this is making love.

The pressure of my release coils low and at the ready. What started as soft moans drifting from her lips has now turned to staccato breath. I shift my position to a better angle. Her hand releases me and flies to the wall above her head.