And even if he did, the power to say no.
My h*ps thrust in rhythm with his fingers. His hungry gaze locks on mine, and he watches, making no move to kiss me. Overpowered by sensation, by his fingers and the rasp of his jeans against my inner thighs, I steady my hands against his chest and bite my lip to stifle my cries of pleasure.
His free hand glides from my hip, up over my breast, to cup my neck. “No holding back, Mouse.” He pulls at my chin to free the flesh from my teeth.
My lip pops out on a gasp. He rewards me with more pressure, and even though I know he wants to hear me, I bite down. The embarrassment is too much, the shame too heavy. He doesn’t know what he’s asking.
Come on, Laylay. Let me hear you.
My building orgasm ebbs. No. I push back against the voice from my past. I won’t let his memory ruin this.
His fingers slow and threaten to retreat. “You okay or—”
“I’m okay.” I nod and relax my jaw. I don’t have to be that woman anymore. I’m in control of me.
Faking the freedom I felt when we’d started, I skate my hand down his rippled abdomen to his crotch. His hard-on strains against his zipper. I grab him tight, and he lifts his h*ps into my hold. My belly tightens at the affect my touch has on him.
Our hands work us into a sweat, and I lean in to feast on his mouth. He meets me halfway, attacking my lips and forcing me to hold his shoulder to stay upright. Frenzied and racing to release, we push harder. Together.
He tugs at the low-V of my shirt to release my br**sts. “Mouse.” The impatient sound of my nickname incites my ravished delirium.
“Take ’em.” I pull down the satin cups, exposing my bare br**sts.
“Fuck yeah.” He locks his mouth around one nipple while his fingers toy with the other. His hum of approval vibrates against my sensitive skin.
“Blake, I…” Overpowered by sensation, my body jerks hard. Desperate for release and terrified of falling apart in his arms, I hold back the tidal wave that threatens to destroy me.
Come for me, bitch.
“No…” I shake my head and drop it to his shoulder. The tendriled shadows of my past curl up my back and strangle me. “I’m scared.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Let it happen, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses his fingers in tight. “Just let go.”
You don’t want me, but your slutty little body can’t say no.
The voice from my past smothers me, contrasting completely with the way my body feels. My belly tightens, threatening my release, but I slam it back again. He works harder, hitting the spots that make my breath hitch. But a dark veil falls between my body and my mind, cutting me off.
On an instinct so powerful I can’t avoid it, I detach from the driving force that’s hell-bent on release. “I… I can’t.”
Gently positioning me, he kisses a path down my throat. “Yes, you can.” He pulls my nipple into his mouth.
The pinch of suction is too familiar and reminds my body of the past.
I’ll never let anyone have you the way I do. Never.
“Shut up!” I shove Blake’s chest and scurry from his lap.
He throws his hands up but doesn’t stop me. “Shit, what did I do? Did I hurt you?” His gaze works the length of my body as he does a visual check of my well-being, but he makes no move to touch me.
I shake my head and tuck my br**sts back into my shirt. My heart races, and I’m panting.
“Talk to me. Are you okay?”
I nod over and over, waiting for the fear to calm. Blake’s not a monster. He won’t hurt me. He’d never hurt me. Breathe.
“Fuck, Layla, talk to me.” He moves to reach for me, but I recoil from his grasp. “I’m sorry. I—”
“No… I’m good, I’m…” The shame and horror of what I’ve done settles on my shoulders. “I should go.” Searching the floor for my jeans, I wipe at my forehead, hot and humiliated by my outburst. I know better than to let myself hope that things might be different with someone else. Where are my jeans?
“No, you’re not leaving. Not like this.” He snags my pants from the floor. “Talk to me.”
My cheeks flame, and I break out in a sweat. “I’m fine.” Dammit, my voice cracked.
“I won’t touch you. As much as I want to pull you in my arms, I’ll give you your space. But you gotta let me in. If I did something wrong…?”
It’s so hot in here. I pull my hair back and tie it in a knot. I like Blake. He’s been so good about accepting me, invisible scars and all. Chances are that flare-up from my past has destroyed our newfound “more than friends” status. He knows the worst of it, but this—so humiliating. He’s asking, practically begging, for it. But can I trust him?
His green eyes dance over my face, searching. Pleading.
Exhaling a heavy breath, I drop to the couch next to him, my eyes to my lap. I’ve sacrificed my pride, what more do I have to lose? After all, it’s better to scare him off early before the real feelings start to develop. “I thought this time would be different.”
“Explain different?” There’s the hint of a snarl that shadows his words.
I concentrate on my breath and try not to hyperventilate. “He would…” Humiliation drowns my confession.
Blake sits patiently. His body language is tense, but his expression soft.
“I can’t have an orgasm.” Dipping my chin, I hide behind the protective barrier of my hair. “I know it sounds stupid, and I’m sure it says a million different things about how f**ked up I am.”
“Impossible. Everyone can have an orgasm.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not me. He’d try, and when I wouldn’t he’d take it personally. I’d get punished.” I huff out a laugh. “Ridiculous, right? I mean, even with the threat of his punishment, I still couldn’t do it. And trust me, I tried.” I peek through my hair to gage his reaction.
“What punishment?” His eyes blaze, and his expression morphs from soft to terrifying.
“You don’t—”
“I do. Now f**king tell me.” Because of the way he says it, as if his life depends on my next words, I decide to give him all of me.
“He’d take me. However he wanted.” I take a long sobering breath. “Hard.” My ribs squeeze the air from my lungs, and my vision blurs. “I thought it’d be different now. I mean, everything’s so different with you. It’s just…” My eyes swing to the window-wall, the view of the twinkling lights in the distance a break from his the smoldering fury I see in his eyes. “He ruined me.”
Blake storms from his seat with such force that I feel the wind from his departure. He stalks to the kitchen, where he slams drawers. I take the opportunity to put on my pants and shoes. No doubt he’s ready to take me home. Can’t imagine a guy like him has the time or the patience to deal with a nutcase. Not when he’s got so many loyal admirers waiting in the wings.
Ugh. I need to get out of here. “Look, um, you can call me a cab if you want.” I’m searching the dimly lit room for my purse. “I’m sure you’ve got to—”
“Here.”
I squeak and jump at his one fierce word spoken from right behind me. “Jeez, Blake. What do you have, like, kitten feet?” I hold my hand over my heart, feeling it pound away beneath my palm.
He shoves a pad of paper and a pen toward me. “Here. Take it.”
“Okay?” I take the items from his hands.
“Write it down. Address, phone number, social security number, whatever you’ve got.” He taps the pad of paper. “I want it all.”
I glare at the paper and pen then swing my eyes to him. “I don’t understand.”
“Write it f**king down, Layla. I’m not kidding. I want his address, phone number, blood type, fuckin’ coffee preference. Write it.”
“Blake—”
In one stride, he’s in my face. He hooks his fingers beneath my chin, holding my stare. “Don’t want to scare you, sweetheart, but this shit’s ending now. Some guys need to be taught a lesson. Your ex is one of those guys. And I’m the man to teach it. Write it down.”
He’s a fighter, born and bred to defend, to settle wrongs with punches. To submit the enemy until they give up. This is him, strong and caring, poetic in a way that cramps my chest. I place my hand against his hard jaw. “Snake, you—”
“No.” He flinches, his face screwed into a grimace. “You don’t get to call me that when I’m pissed. Makes my dick hard, and when that happens I forget to be pissed.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Almost.”
“Wait, so… you’re not giving up on me?”
“Giving up?” His expression sours. “Mouse, you’re insane if you think something like that would chase me away.” He shoves the paper and pen at me again. “Here, take it.”
“You’d be with a girl who can’t, I mean, who’s never…”
His mouth goes soft. He cups my neck and drags his thumb beneath my ear. “I like the challenge, sweetheart. You’re capable, you just haven’t had the right partner. What I saw tonight? Fuck, you light up like that, baby, I know you can. In time, if you’d let me, it’d be a damn privilege to show you.”
My mouth battles a smile. A warm and comforting feeling fills my chest as relief washes over me. I bob my head. “Sure. Er… yes, please.” I sound like an idiot, but the mental images his words have painted have scrambled my thoughts.
“Good. Now, write down the douchebag’s info.”
“I don’t want you getting into it with Stewart. He’s a jerk. He fights dirty.”
An evil smile cuts through his handsome face. “The dirtier the better.”
“I’m not writing it down.”
“I’ll find out anyway.”
“How?”
“Got sources.” His fingers trace my collarbone, sending a shiver down my spine. “If I told you, I’d have to kiss you.”
Sources? This is Las Vegas, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a guy like Blake had some mafia connections. That’s all I need.
I lick my lips and push up to my tiptoes. He leans down to meet me halfway. Our mouths come together in a feather-light touch, a simple, slow caress. “There. Now talk.”
“The Internet.”
We smile against each other’s lips. Apparently, I need to lay off the Soprano re-runs.
“Despite what happened tonight”—our faces are so close I can feel the breath of his words—“that was hot. I know we’re going to be working through some shit. But you should never hold back with me. You’re always safe when you’re in my arms.”
I nod into his hold. “I believe that. I do. It’s just old habits die hard.” And slow. And painful.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He looks over his shoulder then back to me. “Now, let me get you home to Axelle before you get grounded for being late.”