This is a first.
I’ve never slept in the same bed with a woman, for starters. I’ve also never had a woman in my bed where no fucking took place.
“Good morning,” she greets me with a smile.
“Morning. You’re up before me. How’d you sleep?”
“Very well, thanks.”
“Good,” I say, and stretch one arm into the air and the other up toward the headboard, getting the kinks out.
“You came back to bed with me. How come you didn’t wake me up?”
I trace the back of my hand along the line of her jaw, then run my fingers into her hair. “Didn’t want to wake you. You didn’t kick me out of your bed either.”
“That’s because it’s your bed,” she says with a shy laugh. “But maybe I kind of like the feel of a warm body next to me. You know, keeping the covers nice and cozy.”
“Oh. So just any old warm body will do? Or mine specifically?” I ask, to see her reaction.
Color stains her cheeks, and she looks away briefly, seeming to struggle for an answer. “That’s a pretty loaded question.”
“Not really. It’s a pretty simple one.” I place one hand at her back and pull her to my chest, rolling us until I’m on top of her. Straddling her hips, I sit back and hold her in place at her shoulders. “Tell me,” I demand.
She stares up into my face, trying hard to look serious, but she soon erupts in a fit of girlish laughter and giggles. “Is that an order? What do you want me to say?”
“Just the truth.”
“Uh, what’s the question again?”
“You know what it is. Answer me.”
“Okay…but you have to answer a question I have for you too.”
“Sure. I’m an open book with you. Ask away.”
Her hands move up to my chest again, fingers sliding along my skin. I look down and see her doing the same thing again, tracing a couple of fingers along the dots of scarlet, red, and pink lines scarring my otherwise smooth, tanned skin tone.
“You’re still fighting? At those cage clubs or whatever they’re calling it now?”
I nod. “Underground fight clubs. And yes. That’s what I do. It’s a hobby. It’s who I am.”
“You didn’t have all these scars before.”
“Think of them as badges. I wear my medals proud.”
She stops her hand at a long, raised line where some cheating dickhead fighter cut me. He had a razor blade slipped in between his index and middle fingers, embedded into his protective boxing hand wraps. The wound he gave me wasn’t serious, but I bled like a pig that night. I got fifteen stitches to close that shit up. But I still won that fucking fight.
“I think I saw a few before. But so many of these are new. Do they hurt?”
I clasp my hand over hers, where she’s still touching that scar. “Nope.”
“What about right after you got them?”
“Not really. The adrenaline kicks in before a fight. Nothing really hurts.”
“Hmmm. When’s your next fight?”
“Right after the long weekend.”
“Oh…”
“In case you were going to ask whether or not I plan to stop fighting, the answer is no. Not anytime soon. Got a problem with that?”
The smile falls from her face. “It doesn’t matter what I think, if you’ve already made up your mind.”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“I’m not sure if it matters what my answer is.” Her voice is clipped, and she tries to sit up but I hold her down.
“Yes. It does.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
She struggles against my weight, trying to move out from under me. “Let me up, Knox.”
I shake my head. “Not until you give me an answer.”
“Jeez, why do you have to be so insistent? I don’t know, okay?”
“You don’t know whether or not you want me sleeping beside you, or if any guy will do?”
I hear the roughness in my voice. Even I find that it sounds deep and menacing. I shouldn’t be angry or jealous. I have no reason to be. She’s not supposed to be mine, but I sure as hell feel the heated possessiveness building up in my chest when I picture Isabelle with some random guy sleeping beside her.
She’s not mine.
But I don’t want her with anyone else.
“Let me up,” she pleads.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because…” I run my hands down her forearm, grazing the rough callouses of my palm against her soft, tender skin. She tries to move but I’m so much stronger than she is, and to be honest, she’s not putting up much of a fight. I have to believe she’s curious about what I’ll do next. At her wrists, I slide them together across her belly and lift them above her head, pinning them to a spot between the pillows and the headboard. Her t-shirt lifts with the movement, revealing the creamy skin at her stomach.
“Because what, Knox?” she asks in a soft, sexy moan.
“Because… I want to know…” I lower my head to her stomach. Pressing my lips to the exposed skin causes her stomach to flutter at my touch.
I smile against her skin. “I want to find out if you prefer my lips warming you, tasting you, and…” With my free hand, I slide down to her shorts and slip my fingers under the stretchy waistband. She takes a shaky breath as I move them lower. Lower. Lower. And as they pass over her well-trimmed bush and stop less than an inch from her clit, she whimpers.
“God… Knox,” she moans.
“I want to know if you want my fingers sweeping over you, entering you, making you scream and beg for more…” I leave my fingers where they are, and feel her hips lift up off the mattress to meet them. She tilts her hips some more, making contact between my fingertips
