Fighting to Forgive

Twenty-three

Layla

“Hey, Mom?” Axelle’s words come from behind me as she heads from her room toward the kitchen. “Would it be okay if—whoa! Are you cooking?” She peers over my shoulder to the cutting board, where I’m cutting a bok choy.

“Yeah, don’t sound so surprised.” I throw a teasing smile her way. “I got paid and thought I’d make dinner for dinner.” I shrug, waiting to gauge her reaction before I tell her about the evening’s guest.

“Cool.” She drags a chair out from the table and sits. “Um… in two weeks there’s a dance thing. It’s one of those girls-ask-the-boys deals. I think I know who I want to ask but I don’t know if I should.”

Two things hit me at once. One, my daughter is asking for my advice. And two, she’s opening up to me about a boy. The combination of these realizations makes me smile into my shoulder.

I school my expression and give her my attention with a casual turn of my body. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” She pulls at her bottom lip. “I guess I’m afraid it might change things between me and him.”

“Does this boy like you?”

“As a friend, yeah.” A slight blush colors her cheeks. “But more than a friend? I don’t know.”

“But, you like him.” My lips pull up at the edges. “More than a friend?”

“It’s hard to say, I mean, how can I tell? I like hanging out with him, but I don’t know. It’s confusing.” She drops her head to the table. “Ugh.”

I sit across from her at the table. “Tell him that. Explain what you just explained to me, that you want to go with him, but that you value the friendship and don’t want to ruin it. Then, see what he says. My guess? Killian would be honored—”

“Mom!” Her eyes are wide and her cheeks flame.

“What? You didn’t think I’d figure that out?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “So you think I should ask him?”

“Absolutely. Just tell him you want to go as friends.”

After exhaling a long breath, she nods. “You’re right.”

“I’ve invited Blake over for dinner.” My attempt at casual comes out in a rushed mumble. I clear my throat. “He should be here soon.”

“Ah, so that’s what all this cooking is about. You’re trying to impress your boyfriend.”

Her teasing is payback, and my face heats. I go back to my food prep, hiding my immature reaction. “Yes and no.”

“What’re you making?”

“Stir fry.”

She hangs out with me while I chop, and we talk about school, laughing together as she shares her life with me. My chest is tight with emotion, evidence that things are looking up.

When the slicing is done, I place the wok over the burner and mix the sauce. A knock sounds at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Axelle chirps and skips off to let Blake in.

“Hey, kiddo.” His deep voice blasts a shiver along my skin. He tousles Axelle’s hair as he passes her and steps into the kitchen. His heated stare warms me in an instant. “Mouse.”

“Hey.” I close the space between us to give him a hug.

He wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulling me to my toes. “What’s going on in here? It looks amazing.”

Smiling, I pull back, but keep my hands locked behind his neck. “I’m making dinner.”

His expression goes soft in a way that I feel in the most sensitive places. “That right?”

“Yeah.” As close as he is, I notice shadows beneath his eyes that weren’t there earlier. I run my thumb across his cheek. “You okay?”

He drops his gaze. “I’m great.”

Why don’t I believe him?

“Did something happen with Taylor after I left?”

“No. I’m fine, really.” He lifts his chin and smiles. “Yo, Axelle?”

She turns toward us, a sly grin on her lips. “Yeah?”

“You cool with me dating your mom?” His eyes are still locked on mine.

She giggles. “Yeah, I’m cool.”

“Fantastic.” He leans in and drops a feather-light kiss on my lips. “Stoked that you cooked for me, sweetheart.” One more kiss to my forehead and he backs away. “I’m starved.”

My legs are wobbly, like they always are after Blake gets close and whispers sweetly. He keeps his hands at my waist until I’m able to stay upright, and then heads deeper into the small kitchen.

The three of us hang out together while I sauté the chicken and put the finishing touches on the food. It isn’t long before we’re huddled around the table, eating and laughing.

“Your boy Killian’s a quick learner. Taught him a complicated leg lock today. He picked it up, no problem,” Blake says to Axelle before forking a bite into his mouth.

“He’s not my boy.” She ducks her head and pushes her food around the plate.

Blake’s gaze travels from me to Axelle and back. He knows. I can see it in his eyes. I shove a bite full of chicken and broccoli in my mouth to avoid giving her away.

“Not your boy…” His words trail off as he waits for Axelle’s reaction.

Her food is now the most interesting thing in the room, and she looks at it intently.

“Huh.” He drops his fork and leans back in his chair. “What’s up with you and Killer?”

This gets her attention. Her head flies back, and her eyes are wide. “What? Nothing… er… what?”

A slow and very sexy smile crawls across his face. “Damn.”

“Axelle and Killian are friends, Blake.” I shove another full bite of food into my mouth. At least the incessant chewing will keep me from smiling.

“Friends.” He narrows his eyes on Axelle. “That’s too bad. The kid’s crazy about you.”

Elbows on the table, she props her body forward. “Really?”

“I asked him how you two were getting along while we were working out the other day. He stuttered and dropped a dumbbell. Damn near broke his foot.”

I sit back and watch Axelle and Blake go back and forth. She’s so comfortable. In our old life, she’d never open up like this. Especially not with Stewart.

“I was thinking about asking him to the Valentine’s Day dance.”

Blake’s smile drops. “Valentine’s Day? When’s that?”

She laughs, her eyes darting between Blake and me. “February fourteenth.”

I busy myself by clearing the dishes from the table. I don’t want Blake to feel pressured by a stupid holiday that was invented by greeting card and chocolate manufacturers. We’re adults, after all. Valentine’s Day is for romantics and young lovers. A twinge of disappointment pinches my chest. Stewart’s idea of celebrating any holiday was to get what he wanted from me. I wonder what it would be like to celebrate feelings with someone I really like. To dress up, go out to a romantic dinner, feed each other bites of something expensive and chocolaty.

I’m jarred from my thoughts when firm hands grip my hips from behind and hot breath at my ear. “That was delicious, Mouse. She’s in her room.” His lips kiss a trail from my ear down my neck in an unhurried tease. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

Tilting my head, he continues to suck and lick at my shoulder.

“What time does she go to bed?” Another pass of his warm tongue. “I’m ready for dessert.”

“I uh…” The combination of his mouth and his growled words against my heated flesh have me writhing and unable to speak.

“Yeah, you’re ready, too.” He bites down, pulling at my skin with a deep suck and then releasing it. “My Mouse is hungry.”

A whimper drips from my parted lips. “Yes.”

At the sound of Axelle’s door opening, Blake’s gone. The cool air of his absence hits my back. I grip the counter’s edge to catch my breath. The water’s still running in the sink. I shake off the fog of arousal as Axelle makes it to the kitchen.

“I’ll be back in an hour or two.” She grabs the keys and her purse from the counter. “I’m meeting Killian for coffee. I’m going to ask him.”

Blake’s leaning casually against the fridge, his eyes fixed on her. How can he look so unaffected when I’m a walking poster child for sexual frustration? His gaze swings to mine, the fiery green giving him away. Well, that’s a relief.

“Sure thing and uh… good luck.” I wink at her and resume my dish duty.

“Later, Blake.”

“Later, kiddo.”

The second the door shuts, I flip around and Blake stalks toward me. We crash together. His lips move against mine, and he grips my backside. I hop up to wrap myself around him. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, I grind down into the firm bulge of his pants. He growls deep and moves us down the hallway to my bedroom. Our tongues lash at each other, hungry, searching, and needy. He doesn’t toss me to the bed, but drops a knee and climbs on, our bodies never breaking contact. I gasp for breath.

“This okay?” he asks, his chest heaving against mine.

“Off.” I tug his shirt over his head.

I pop the button of his pants, shoving them, along with his boxers, down his legs. I’m crazy with the urgency to feel the heat of his skin as he covers me with his weight.

“Arms up.” His command pierces my lust-laden brain, and I comply.

He tosses my shirt to the floor, followed by my bra. My leggings and thong are all that’s left, and those quickly find their place in the pile. Our legs tangle together. His hands grip my hair, and he kisses me deep and hard. Yes. I dig my fingers into his biceps, pulling him to me, needing more of him, all of him.

“Blake…”

“Fuck yeah.” He buries himself inside me with a long, powerful thrust.

My back arches off the bed with a moan that bursts from my throat. Nothing has ever felt this good.

He pulls almost all the way out, only to drive in deep. “Mouse, are we okay?”

“I’m okay. Just… more…” My words dissolve into a groan as he drives into me again.

He tucks his knees beneath him. Hooking my waist, he pulls me up. Our faces just inches apart, he dips his chin and stares at me with predatory desire. My stomach clenches with need. He takes one nipple into his mouth. With silken thrashes of his tongue, my orgasm builds and pushes for release.

Gripping his biceps for leverage, I lean back and roll my hips, dragging him in and out while he works my breasts. My stomach tightens. Exquisite tension spirals as he pushes me to my peak. He cups my ass, tilting my hips with a final thrust.

I cry out, tossing my head back as he holds me in place. My body convulses around him, muscles quivering to stay close against the blinding orgasm that ignites within. His strong arms keep me still while I fall apart in his embrace. Shockwaves pulse through my body before my arms go limp.

He lays me back. “Damn, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I can’t move,” I say through a sated smile.

“Don’t you worry.” He drops a soft kiss to my lips. “I’ll do the movin’.” Hooking me behind my knees, he brings my legs up over his shoulders. “Oh, fuck…”

His pace quickens. I focus on the ripples of his abdomen as they flex and release. Strong fingers pinch at my hips. His pecs contract, straining with the effort of his movement. My gaze slides up his body until I meet his eyes. They’re locked on mine. Never wavering, I’m mesmerized by the appreciation I see, the emotion and tenderness reflecting from his raw stare.

A mighty roar echoes through the room as he seats himself deep. His grip digs into my thighs, and his body goes solid. Tendons pop on his forearms and neck. Towering above me, his body relaxes, and he catches his breath. He drops my legs from his shoulders and rubs his hands up and down their sore muscles.

“Mouse, baby.” He groans and drops his weight on top of me. “That was unreal.”

I grin as much as I can with every part of me feeling like Jell-O. “Yeah, it was.”

He moves inside me, pulling out slowly and pushing back in, then freezes. “Oh, shit. Fucking shit!”

Faster than my sluggish brain can register, he’s off of me and standing beside the bed. I push to my elbows, and I’m practically knocked out by the sight of him. Gloriously naked, still hard, and without a condom. Without a condom.

And that would explain his freak out.

“Fuck, Mouse.” He runs his hands over his head to rest them at his nape. “How could I be so stupid?”

“Blake—”

“I should have known. It felt too good.” He paces the short length of my room. “So fucking stupid.”

I know from working with the UFL that the guys get tested for blood diseases all the time. He could be worried about catching something from me, but I’ve only ever been with Stewart. And I got tested at every physical, just in case I wasn’t the only woman he tormented with his sexual charm. Yuck. “If you’re worried about me, I’m clean. And you guys get tested every six months.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m clean too.” He continues his pacing.

He’s clean, I’m clean, so the only other thing to worry about is pregnancy. But that’s impossible. I have every intention of explaining this to him, but first I take a moment to enjoy the incredible show he’s giving me by passing his perfectly sculpted and very naked body by me time and time again.

“Fuck, Mouse.” He stops at the end of the bed and turns toward me, tall, tan, and mouthwatering. “What if I got you pregnant?”

“Huh?” I blink and try to meet his eyes, but damn, the competition is fierce.

“Huh? Mouse, did you hear what I said? I just came inside you.”

Pushing up to my hands and knees, I crawl toward him, making sure to toss a seductive swing in my hips. His eyes go wide, and his dick jumps. I use my hands to crawl up his body and lock them behind his neck. His face shows concern, but his hands grip my hips and pull me to him.

“Can’t get pregnant. I’m infertile.”

His eyebrows pinch together in concern as he studies my face. “Fuck, sweetheart…”

“It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it. Besides, I have Axelle, and you’ve seen what a bang-up job I’ve done with her.” I avoid his eyes and laugh, trying to defuse the tension that’s settled in the air.

His hands sift into my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He studies my face. “Still, I should have taken better care of you and made sure to get a condom on. Infertile or not, that was a dick move on my part.”

I run my thumb between his eyebrows, smoothing the lines formed from his scowl. “Stop. Passion took over. What’s done is done. I don’t regret a second of it.”

He nods and pulls my face to his neck. Cupping the back of my head, he holds me there. “You’re right. So uh… if we’re, ya know, exclusive, does that mean no more condoms?”

I grin at the hopeful sound in his voice. “It’s okay with me as long as you’re comfortable with it. Although…” I pull back and meet his eyes. “If I get to watch you pace the room naked every time we forget a condom, I’m all for that plan.”

He flashes his signature crooked smile and then takes me to the bed with a growl. “You want a naked show, baby, you just ask.”

We hold each other in bed, nothing between us. No clothes, no secrets, only the airy feeling that comes with unburdening.

Blake

I’m lying with my girl in my arms. Her head on my pec and her sunshine-colored locks sprawl across my shoulder. I count our breaths as they align in rhythm. Three beats in, three beats out. In her bed, staring at the ceiling, my head fights to sort what I’m feeling.

Infertile.

I didn’t ask for more. I don’t want to know how or why she can’t have more children. The fact that God would rob a woman like her of the ability to bear life cramps my chest. I swallow back the lump that threatens to close my throat. And why the fuck do I feel like I lost something I never had?

“We better get dressed. I’d hate for Axelle to find us like this on our first sleepover.” She kisses my chest, then runs her nose along my skin and breathes in deep.

My heart beats a little faster, the blood in my body reawakening to her touch. I wrestle my thoughts into submission. Gliding my hand up her spine and into her hair, I bring her mouth to mine. I pull at her lips until she opens to let me in. Our tongues glide together in a sensual promise. We’re not through with each other, but now’s not the time.

With a nip to her lower lip, I end the kiss. We get dressed, her in a pair of sweatpants that she rolls twice at her waist, and a ribbed tank top. I throw on my pants and thermal. She moves to her dresser, tugging open the top drawer and pulling out a fluffy pink ball of cotton.

I bite my lip against a smile. The socks.

“My woman and her cold feet.” The memory of what those socks did to me the first time I saw them makes my mouth water. She drops her ass to the bed and slides them on one by one. And just like before, my shorts get tight. What is it about those socks?

I hold out my hand and pull her into my arms, kissing her head. “Channel surfing?”

“Perfect.”

It isn’t long after we sit on the couch in front of the television that the lock on the door clicks. Axelle walks in and drops her stuff on the kitchen table.

“How’d it go?” Layla calls from the couch, her body in a ball at my side.

Axelle stops just shy of the hallway, her gaze still fixed on the floor.

Layla pushes up and pivots her body to face her daughter. “Axelle? Everything okay?” A tremor of worry laces her words.

I stand and move toward Axelle, but stop a good distance away. My shoulders get tight. Something’s off. And then I hear the telltale sniffle. She’s crying.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Not the smoothest thing to say, but I have zero experience in this area. All I know is that my woman’s kid is upset. This will upset my woman. I need to fix it.

Layla rushes to Axelle, throwing her arms around her. “Oh, sweetie. Did he say no?”

Say no? Killer? No fucking way. That kid’s a breath away from genius, and only a stupid fuck would say no to a girl like Axelle.

“He said yes,” she whispers into her mom’s shoulder.

Layla pulls back and gives her daughter a shaky smile. “Well, babe, that’s good.” She brushes Axelle’s hair back from her face. “Why are you crying?”

“There were—ugh, they’re so stupid!” She wipes at her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Kids from school were at the coffee shop. They had… pictures… printed out from some stupid website.”

“Fuck,” I growl over Layla’s audible gasp.

Her wide, panicked eyes find mine.

Axelle sniffs. “They were passing them around. Telling me they were going to show the teachers and principal tomorrow. Started making jokes about…” She shakes her head.

Fucking asshole kids. What I wouldn’t do to go down there and scare the piss out of them. “What did Killer do?” That little shit better have done something, or he’s going to have to answer to me, and he won’t like what I have to say.

Her face crumples as she sobs. “He told the guys to shut the fuck up. They started pushing him and…” She covers her face and cries.

“Is he okay?” Damn, first these douche-bag dicks are messing with Axelle, and now my boy Killer?

“They hit him once, but he did some crazy move with his arms and got the guy in a headlock. He choked him until the guy passed out, and the rest of the jerks took off.”

Sleeper hold. Nice to know my work with the kid is paying off.

Layla frames her daughter’s face, forcing eye contact. “I’m sorry that happened to you guys. I meant to talk to you about the photos, but I didn’t realize how quickly they’d spread. It’s only gossip.”

“Mom, the picture is real. The picture isn’t gossip. Did you really take off your top? In front of all those people?” Her voice is strong with frustration, possibly shame.

Layla’s eyes slide to mine then back. “No. I didn’t. It was an… inside joke between Blake and me. They took that picture at the worst possible time, and I… I…”

“Your mom’s a good woman, kiddo. You know that. I know that. Who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks? Those kids from school are mean, insecure, and jealous as hell. You’re a sweet girl, you’re smart, you’re drop dead pretty. People will do anything to take a girl like you down.”

Her blue eyes, shining with tears, stare into mine. She doesn’t talk, but looks at me as if she’s hearing a foreign language that she’s desperate to understand.

“I realize that you’re being forced to face things, mature things that a sixteen-year-old girl shouldn’t have to deal with. But this is life, and life can get ugly. Your mom loves you. Together, you girls can get through anything. Including some piece of shi—crap, gossip. You feel me?”

She blinks, looking stunned, then gives a slow nod. Layla’s cheeks are streaked with tears that she makes no effort to hide. On instinct, I take the few steps and pull them both in for a hug. They melt into my body, each wrapping one arm around my back.

I kiss Layla’s head. “With my fight coming up, things are going to get worse before they get better. If you girls are up for the challenge, we’ll get through it. Together.”

They hold on tight, neither of them saying a word.

“What do you say?” I release them and wait for their answer.

Layla looks to her daughter. They do some of that non-verbal conversation crap that chicks are so good at, and smile.

Axelle stands tall, tucks her hair behind her ears, and dries the moisture from her eyes. “Yeah, we can handle that.”

A smile curls my lips. “Sweet. Now, who’s up for some crappy TV?”

“Oh, me. River Monsters is on at nine.” Axelle takes off down the hallway to her room. “Let me throw on my jammies.”

My eyes move to Layla. Her lips are parted, and one hand is placed over her heart.

I shrug. “What?”

She turns to me slowly, her face soft… “That was perfect. I mean… thank you.”

“Not a big deal, Mouse. Just speaking the truth. She’s a smart girl. No use in candy-coating.” I lean against the wall. “Gotta say though, I’m barely restraining myself from going to the coffee shop and teaching those little shits a lesson. You fuck with my girls, you fuck with me. And that—oomph!”

She barrels into my chest, and I have to catch my breath.

Her arms wrap me up. “I…”

“You what, sweetheart?” There’s no way to know, but something about her trailing off sounded like she was about to say I love you.

“I… am in the mood for ice cream.”

I sag against the wall, my body heavy under her words. Is it possible that I want her to love me? Even if I can’t say the same? I do like her, a lot, to the point that being away from her for even the smallest fraction of time is physically painful.

But love? No. No way.

Love is something that grows over time. Not a fleeting feeling to be thrown around casually and tossed aside when it no longer suits.

A quick burst of adrenaline spikes in my blood. What have I done? I’ve been flying on the high of hot sex and mushy feelings. I haven’t stopped long enough to think this through. Now I’ve got a sixteen-year-old girl depending on me to shield her because I’m having more than simple feelings for her mom. The room gets small and closes in. What if things don’t work out? I mean, it’s bound to end sooner or later, unless we get married.

Me? Married?

That was never part of the plan. All my daddy issues combined with the fact that I’m a dick does not a husband make. Or a stepfather.

Yeah, it’s decided. She can’t love me. Love equals expectations. Expectations lead to disappointment. And disappointment is the death of marriage.

It’s good that she doesn’t love me.

Fucking splendid.

Why in the hell do I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach?