Bitter Edge : A Hero Club Novel Read online

  I take a couple of steps toward him. I cross into the little sunlight left and as I hit the beams, he calls out to me, “Stop.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he says. “Not a single thing. I want to stare at you.”

  “I could say the same thing. Spencer?”

  “Yes?”

  I whisper, “Touch me.”

  Spencer comes at me with absolute purpose. He presses his rock-solid body against mine and takes my lips with a passion that sucks all the air from my lungs. He’s so warm. His body is radiating a heat that envelops me. His fingers knead up my back and travel their way down again. As I lock my arms around his neck, he flexes his gentle giant hands back from my knees and lifts me around his waist. His tip teases me between us. I gasp immediately. If it would work, I’d climb inside of him.

  Spencer walks us back toward the bed without breaking our lip connection until he lays me back on the down comforter, like he is spreading a bouquet of roses before himself. I slide back a little bit on the bed so only my ankles hang over the edge.

  I feel this enormous flock of butterflies taking up residence in my body. Flutters of all shapes and types are everywhere. I’m taking particular notice of the ones beneath my core. There are pulses in there I didn’t know could exist. Spencer threatens to kiss right below my belly button and my hips rise to meet him. For a moment the gentle rub of my thighs gives me a break from that pulse.

  He smiles as he breaks right before his lips even touch my skin. Involuntarily I groan in defeat. I’m so desperate for his contact I could explode. I want to come so badly at his hand I’d crawl across a desert for it. I know he knows it too. He’s trying to make it last.

  He slides up my body, offering some of his weight to calm me and for his lips to find mine again. His kisses are so soft, slow, and deep that I’m finding it hard to breathe. With his kiss alone he’s taking me on a journey to places I’ve never been.

  I’m digging at his back; I’m offering him my neck. He’s hitting that spot below my earlobe and jaw where a nerve, when touched right, is the key to starting a fire.

  I’m fighting that fine line between fright and flight. If we give in, will it change everything? I hope so and I hope not. If we do this, will he still want me after? Will I want him? Is this going to hurt like hell? I hope not and I hope so. What does this mean? Nothing or everything.

  I keep going back to what I feel inside. That saying of a thin line between love and hate is real. I hated him for how hard he pushed me, and now I can’t imagine it evolving in another way because he loves me.

  The room has gone from the glow of the sun to shadow and the first glimpse of the moon. He’s kissed me into a frenzy. The damp feeling between my legs is so new. The second heartbeat I feel there is too. I feel like our bodies have their own language and are speaking to each other. I’m calling out for him and he’s responding.

  He presses up on his sexy strong arms, leaving a distance between us. His eyes flutter from closed to open. His gorgeous blue eyes stare down at me. Now I know why I loved to look at the marina so much. It wasn’t for the calm it gave me. It wasn’t for its steady beauty; it was because the color of the water unconsciously called me: it was the same color as Spencer’s eyes.

  Those eyes that have quietly called me on my shit, silently watched me rise and fall, and right now, they are the ones looking down on me with such a sense of love, or at least I hope it is.

  “Don’t stop,” I beg.

  He’s a bit breathless when he reaches back down with his lips only for a soft kiss. “I’m not stopping. Just a pause. I need to hear you say it. Say this is still what you want.”

  “Can’t you tell?”

  “I can,” he whispers. “If at any time it’s not, say it.”

  “I’m yours.”

  I say that so quickly, it can be cliché. I never thought I’d use the phrase but it’s true. I want to be his more than anything. I want him to be my first. I’m not looking past today. It would be so easy to. I don’t want to be hurt, and I don’t want to hurt him.

  I know he can tell I’m thinking too much. So, the distraction begins. He kisses the top of my right breast, pulling a bit of the skin between his lips. A line is drawn with them stopping at my nipple. He has no idea how sensitive I am there. His hands nearly took me out of body before. His lips are that and more.

  I’m so focused on what his mouth is doing, it takes me a minute to realize what his hand is doing. His index finger passes by his lips down the center of my body, down and around my belly button, and dances through my hairline. The nerves kick in and I don’t know if I want him to be there. Am I clean? Will it feel weird?

  He’s so relaxed and the way he’s breathing…

  Every romantic movie or show I’ve ever seen, where the hero and the heroine get to this point, the man seems to always have this way of breathing. It’s like they got done running a marathon, but their body is super calm. That’s how Spencer is right now.

  I wish I had three brains. That way each one could focus on a different part, so I don’t miss anything. I do have two elements to my personality to keep me in check. I have the feeler, who is my persona on the ice, and then I have the analyzer who usually takes up residence everywhere else. I’m deciding I’ve thought off the ice for too long.

  Cierra, stop! Just feel!

  With a long, deep breath I put the thinker in a box with a lock and chains and focus solely on Spencer. His finger feels like a feather gliding over my skin. He can feel my body tense at my hairline, so he pulls back. He takes a more guided route over my hip and diagonally in the inner crease of my leg.

  Each millimeter he moves is a new sensation. I decide to settle in it and as quickly as that feeling registers, a new one takes its place. It’s a pattern that’s constantly on repeat. That’s when I realize I’m not afraid anymore.

  Wow.

  That’s something I’d never thought I’d say again.

  He’s tested me over and over. I’m ready. Instead of following the line of my leg, he switches course. His finger curls back toward my hairline and cuts across. I don’t tense this time. I don’t shy away. I fully relax. My whole body exhales. I know he has a plan. I need him to execute it. I trust him more than I ever have.

  My heart is pounding. I know he can feel it because his lips curl a little bit at the corners. He slowly winds his finger in little circles until he reaches the center and parts me for the first time.

  I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t that. It feels like he should have always been there. It is this hot button to my soul. I can feel this unexplainable shot of warmth from where he’s touching me straight to my heart.

  The lazy stroke that once was in the crease of my leg is now inside me. It feels like a subtle paintbrush sliding through paint. The brush is dry at first then as it swirls through the color, it soaks up everything around it. I’m the paint.

  I know my body. I want him to find that place I know exists. I want to have him make me come like I know I can. He’s dancing inside my body like we danced in Vegas. It’s slow. Methodical. It’s fucking amazing and fucking maddening at the same time. I don’t want this to go from zero to sixty like my body wants, but I can’t help what I am craving.

  As my thoughts begin to overwhelm me, that’s when he answers every one of them with finding the spot just beneath the surface. I gasp a little as my body even arches. His hand doesn’t move but his lips calm me with a soft kiss.

  I take his face with my hands, likely a bit harder than I ever have. His lips slowly graze across mine. The intensity of his lips exactly matches what his fingers are doing. If Spencer is being delicate, his touch is soft. If his tongue parts my lips, his finger is sliding in and out.

  Then, in an instant, he becomes more primal. He’s making subtle noises. I didn’t understand until now that giving to me in this way would give him so much. Now I do.

  His fingers begin to vibrate. He’s doing it. He knows whe
re and how to coax from me what I give myself. How does he know? I feel my body tense. It’s not because of fear or regret. It’s because I want more. I need more. I shift my weight beneath him so I can feel his movements deeper. I know a little extra pressure from myself and I will get what I’ve waited for.

  Spencer slides off my body a bit to my right. His left arm wraps lazily around the top of my head. He sweeps his finger lightly across my forehead playing with a few locks of my hair. It takes the sting away of his body leaving mine. His right hand doesn’t leave its new home.

  “Why?” I whine, my mouth drier than it’s ever been.

  He gives me the softest smile I’ve ever seen. “I want to watch you first.”

  His fingers begin to move again. They start in slow circles. At first, I’m able to watch his face. His eyes sparkle every now and again. He smiles but then waves into his classic intensity. My body responds to his touch and my eyes flutter closed.

  Each stronger vibration makes me breathe harder than any on-ice session. My legs shake a bit and slide along each other at the ankle creating even more friction with his hand.

  Each roll over the swelling inside of me creates a sound from Spencer and I together. Each deep breath or groan from me is echoed by a subtle moan from him. I can feel it coming. The tidal wave that will overpower me. It builds quickly. Even quicker than when I’ve pleasured myself.

  I pant quickly again and again. My body bows off the bed into his hand. My fingers jet across his chest to grip his forearm as my dream becomes real. I come hard at his hand. The room nearly lights up as my jaw slacks open and breathing stops.

  In a moment, I think of our first meeting, his words and mine, then a flash forward to this point in time. My orgasm finally ebbs with a chill that runs to my toes. I open my eyes to find Spencer staring down at me. His fingers, which once were inside me, are now circling my belly button then with a slow drag find my lips.

  I can taste myself on him. I didn’t think I’d like that, but I do.

  Chapter 35

  Spencer

  She draws my fingers into her mouth and sucks on them like a piece of candy. I let off a growl that runs low and deep. Watching her was a pleasure. I could tell she was in her head. That’s not where I wanted her to be. Watching her, getting to know her body better was the key to gaining her trust, stopping her fear, and getting her ready for the next step.

  I drag my lips across her chest on my way to hover over her. The afterglow of her peak would be evident in the darkest of rooms. The rise and fall of her chest are still at a high rate. I may look chill on the outside but inside I’m barely holding it together.

  As I nudge below her earlobe with my nose, I ask, “Are you still with me?”

  “Mmm hmmm,” she mumbles.

  Resting on my elbows, I reach between us and angle my cock in line with her and I carefully slide my tip just inside. Cierra wraps her arms tighter around my neck. Her nails even dig into my skin a bit. If I tell her what I’m going to do she may tense. I don’t want that for her.

  Without warning, I slowly bury myself inside her. Her head pulls up off the pillows and she buries her face in my neck. I can hear her cry out a little. I cradle her head in my hands and whisper, “Shhhh,” in her ear as I freeze to allow her time to adjust to how this feels.

  I know how it feels for me. She’s perfect. This is perfect. I’ve never been anyone’s first. It’s powerful. I didn’t realize how powerful it is until this minute. She knew it would hurt and still took the leap anyway. She doesn’t know what we are or if we’re going anywhere, and she is still willing to give me herself. I feel a huge sense of honor and much respect for her.

  When her arms slack a little, I know I can begin to move. I like holding her head in my hands so I’m not going to let go. I roll my hips to get a sense of motion between us. “Move with me, Cierra.” I drag my lips to her cheek and close my eyes.

  Each bend of my body or hers, she makes a little sound. It’s a blend of a breath and a squeak. I hold her head and neck in my left hand so I can roam. I cup the side of her breast and hold tight to her rib cage. I’m so hard inside her right now it’s nearly painful.

  Quickly, I slide my hand down her leg to just behind her knee and gently raise it. She gasps again as I sink to my root. I growl at the new feeling for both of us. She’s riding with me as if we’ve done this a million times. I’d like to make this last for hours if I could. I know I won’t make it.

  Cierra is starting to sound like she was a few minutes ago. I never expected I would be able to make her come this way. That’s the other selfish reason I wanted to watch her fall apart at my hand. Every moan or gasp is only spurring me on.

  Her walls are telling me she’s getting close. Fuck. She starts panting against my neck. I respond with groans of my own. Come on, Cierra. I speed up. There’s no stopping what’s coming.

  I call out her name as she cries out seconds later. I feel my forearms shake and my thighs tighten as I pulse beyond our climax. I freeze in that place after sex where you feel like you’ve had your spine ripped out and you can’t even form a coherent thought.

  Cierra is still breathing rather ragged in my neck and that’s when I feel it. She’s shaking. I think it’s because I haven’t been able to let go of her leg. I finally find reality again and lower it down. She’s still shaking. I know she’s not cold. I can feel the literal heat between us.

  What is it?

  That’s when I hear it. Quiet, gentle sobs. I lie down beside her on her left on my elbow and turn her face to me. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” She shakes her head no. “Cierra, I need you to talk to me.”

  She sniffs a bit and immediately curls into my body. “I’m just…” her voice trails off.

  “You’re what?”

  “A lot of things. Mostly happy.”

  I hold her head to my chest and stroke up and down her back. “Only mostly?”

  “I’m processing how I feel with all my questions.”

  “Do you want to talk about it with me? I mean I understand if you don’t.”

  “Did you…I mean…was it….”

  “Ask me, Cierra.”

  “Did you enjoy it? Was I okay?”

  I’m stunned by her questions on many levels. This is the woman who needs zero validation from anyone. She makes a choice and makes it work for her on all levels at any cost, even to her. If someone would ask me a word to describe Cierra it would be confident.

  I turn her face to look at me. “Cierra, I need to answer a question with a question. Do you know what I was thinking the whole time?”

  “No.”

  “I was thinking how amazing you are, how I was praying to hold on long enough to make it what you needed. Were you enough? I never want you to ask me that question again. You’re always enough, even if someone else doesn’t think you are.” I pause and pull her into my arms again. “This was amazing for me. You were perfection.”

  ~~~

  The sun rises and I’m not sure I’ve even slept. I wanted to watch her all night if I could. I must have slept some because the blanket was pulled around me. I don’t remember doing that. I do know who did. Cierra has a little fistful of it at my side.

  Her head is using my chest as a pillow. The humidity in the air has kinked up her hair into loose ringlets. The waves in her locks resemble those the marina contains. The gentle inhale and exhale of her body is very calming. I thought I might feel a bit of uncertainty after. I don’t. Looking back, this is the direction we were heading in for weeks, if not months, if I’d only paid attention.

  I wrap my arms tighter around her frame and rest my cheek on top of her head. My eyes drift closed. I circle back to images of last night. Her laugh. Her honesty. Her fear. Her confidence. Her intelligence. Her beauty. For someone so young, her soul is wise beyond her years.

  “Broten…turn it off,” she mumbles against my chest.

  I chuckle. “I thought you were still passed out.”

  “I
am. This is a recording.”

  “My lady has a full sense of humor this morning.”

  She turns her head, so her chin is on my chest. “Is that what I am now? Your lady?”

  “Do we want to have that conversation now?” I know I do, and I don’t. I don’t have any concrete answers for her. I know I wanted last night. I know I’m comfortable where we are right now. Beyond that, I don’t want to think about it yet.

  “You’re the one who said it. I was only asking.” She lays her head back down on my chest.

  “Cierra, I want to spend some time with this. That’s all.”

  “I understand. It’s fine.”

  I begin to stroke her back. “No. Don’t do that. I know you have a voice. We have gone back and forth and up and down, from hate to making love. I want to stay here, right here in this space for a while to see how we feel.”

  “You said we.”

  “Of course, I said we. I’m not going to ditch out on you, Cierra.” I hold her tighter than I was. “How do you feel? Are you in any pain?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Did I hurt you? Jesus.”

  “Calm down. It’s not like that. You and I both know real pain. What I feel is more like a reminder. I’m okay with it.”

  “I don’t want to be responsible for your pain.”

  “Pain is inevitable.”

  Ouch. By that statement, it seems as though she’s already anticipating me walking away. It dawns on me; she thinks this is goodbye. She was back on the ice truly skating yesterday. She was jumping and spinning like nothing had happened.

  “Cierra?” I pause, I need her to know I’m in this with her regardless of if this ends or not. “Shower with me?”

  “What?”

  I smirk. “Instead of a reflection in the mirror, come shower with me.”

  I kiss her forehead and toss my sheet back. She gives me a subtle smile as she grips the sheet around her. I settle my feet on the floor as I sit up. My neck bends forward to my chest as I roll it out first to my left, then to my right. My hands, which were solely focused on her last night, are focused on my normal. I massage my knees to get them going for the day.