Bitter Edge : A Hero Club Novel Read online

  I feel the bed bow and dip closer behind me. Her lips leave their mark in the middle of my back as her hands take a position on my shoulders. Her thumbs go to work on my muscles. Her hands are definitely as strong as her will.

  Taking in a deep breath, I exhale as that familiar tingle when she’s near races through me. I reach up for her hand and tug her around into my lap. Her wide eyes tell me I’ve surprised her. Then my lips find their home on hers. She’s even more beautiful this morning, if that’s possible.

  I untangle the sheet from her legs and pull her astride me. I take a couple of deep breaths and run my forehead along her nose and lips. She pushes her fingers back into my hair from the base of my neck up. Goddamn!

  She hooks her ankles tight behind my back and gives my rib cage a playful squeeze with those amazing thighs of hers. What men see as a morning curse is made for moments like this. Our shower is going to be longer and more action packed than originally planned, which is more than fine with me. Those athletics legs and the honest essence of her has bred a detour.

  “Hold on tight,” I tell her, as I link my arms beneath her perfect ass and lift her with me as I rise off the bed. She lets go of a playful squeal but that soon fades into a sound I’ve come to love more, a soft moan as I quiet her with my lips.

  Her hands massage my scalp, neck, shoulders, and anything else she can get her hands on while we walk toward the dim lights in the bathroom. I don’t mess with them. It could be dark in here and that would be fine with me.

  I let go of her lips long enough to turn on the faucets. I want it hot in there. I want to watch her face go in and out of the steam. I want to catch only glimpses of a shoulder or an elbow or her pouting lips. It will be a complete mind fuck. No pun intended.

  The rain showerhead waterfall begins and within a few seconds, the steam begins to build. I drip a little water over her body with my hand so she can anticipate the heat. I want it to burn but not in that way. She gasps at first but then settles in quickly. Each handful of water between us is easier than the last.

  My arms don’t even register I’m still holding her. It wouldn’t matter if they did. I step over the lip of the shower floor into the blocks and let the water fully rain over us for the first time. Her hair begins to drip like it did running home from the club in Vegas in the rain.

  I press her body against the far wall. She subtly leans back. My lips instinctively go forward and begin to drink the water off her body. She arches in toward my lips and grips at my waist harder with her thighs. I can feel every contraction they take. My cock does too. It pulses toward her with every single move she makes.

  My right hand takes a bit of freedom and brushes the hair away from her face. As I tuck a few strands behind her ear, she leans into my hand. I love sex, don’t misunderstand that. But the ability to have a woman want to be touched by me and feel comfort in it, that’s the best orgasm in the world.

  I press my body against hers, sandwiching her to the wall. She hisses with the chill of the wall and grasps the towel bar to her right. I hiss because my tip has found its way to where I need to be. I tease her by sliding her hips forward enough so her pulse point and mine connect.

  I know I’ve hit it right when I hear her hand chirping from the grip around the towel bar. “Let me guide you, Cierra, hold on to me.” She nods, exhales, and opens her eyes. Where there was once fear, there’s none. Where there was once uncertainty, there’s none. I can’t promise her a string of tomorrows. I can promise her I don’t intend to go anywhere anytime soon.

  I pull her hips gently forward and push up, connecting us once more. My knees tremble as they bend. I give her a minute to see how she feels. Her head lightly thumps against the wall and her jaw falls open. Definitely a good sign.

  I remember some of her warm-ups yesterday as she stroked around the rink. It was to the count of three. I sink forward to the beat of three and withdraw to the beat of three. My hands grip over her hips and readjust each time I bring her close.

  It goes from a slow three to a medium three within a matter of seconds. I don’t know if she likes this or feels ready but like always, she surprises me. She reaches in and tugs on my wet hair…hard. I let out a groan that echoes off the walls over and above the pounding of the water on the tile.

  I press my cheek to her chest, panting to the beat of her heart. On the next beat of three, I bring her in close and keep her there. I keep to the lucky three but each time we connect it’s the beat of one. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. I have no control.

  I struggle and growl against her skin until I push our foreheads together. She’s whimpering. It’s not one of pain. I recognize what it is because I feel it myself. It’s the last few seconds before we give way into something that becomes an out of body experience.

  I wrap both of my arms around her lower back and pull her toward me one last time. I grunt blissfully as she cries out softly in my ear. Her hand releases its vise on the towel bar as she collapses over on my chest. The rosy cheek that once was against the top of my head now rests on my shoulder.

  Her dripping hair cascades down my back. We sink, still connected, slowly to the floor. The water, still steaming, rinses and mingles with the sweat I know was there. I slowly withdraw from her body and pull her in between my legs, wrapping her up completely.

  In our haste to get in, we seem to have knocked all the towels to the floor outside the block stall of the shower. I reach across the barrier lip and grab a rogue washcloth from the pile. I wet it down then begin to massage Cierra with the soft cotton.

  Her head once again falls back against me. If my actions weren’t enough, I want her to know something. “Cierra?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 36

  Cierra

  I wish I had someone to talk to about all of this. I don’t really have any girlfriends who I’d tell this sort of thing to. I usually tell my dad everything but this, not so much. Some girls would instinctually tell their mom. I’m not sure about that either. This would be one of those times where a sister would come in handy.

  Spencer was so everything this morning. All this time I thought he was only paying attention to my body. He was paying attention to things much deeper. He seems to know what I need on the inside, even when I don’t. When I woke up, I didn’t know what to expect. How would I feel? Would it be awkward? Would he be different? Would he still want me?

  Let’s take these questions in order. How did I feel? It was weird. I never felt more confident or more unsure in the same breath. I finally get what it means to be really connected to someone. Sure, you have a connection to family and friends. They wouldn’t be family or friends if you didn’t.

  When you have a physical connection to someone, you realize that person is yours and you are theirs, even if it’s for a few minutes. When it’s right, you only want to care for them and about them. Nothing else exists or matters. Their feelings are all you sense.

  That is super powerful for me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I mean, I’ll remember his smile, his hair, his body, his walk, for sure his hands, but more than that I will remember that first instant I realized he was inside me. If feelings were colors, this would have been the rainbow over the water like at the Bellagio.

  He held me so soft and tight. There was this connection between our hearts. I had no idea it could be like that. I worried so much about the mechanics of it all and being perfect, I missed I only needed to be me. That’s what he wanted.

  That’s the second answer. No, it wasn’t awkward. I never felt less than even though I asked if he enjoyed himself. I didn’t have anything to measure against. I’ve never been this close to anyone I feel this much for.

  I was enough.

  I can’t believe it took me twenty-one years to feel it.

  I am enough.

  He answered whether or not he’d still want me by taking me to the shower this morning…twice. The first was super rough and furi
ous. That was new. I kind of loved it. It was full of passion. It wasn’t the kind you act out. It was the kind that lives. I want that again.

  The second was as soft and slow as our first time. He was washing my hair; I was washing his. It was a slow drag of a hand across a naked body. Then it was a look. God, that look. His eyes seemed to trace my entire body. He’s always had expressive eyes, but he hides a lot. What I mistook for fear was him holding back. He wasn’t holding this back anymore.

  He’d tilt his head a little bit and give a hint of a smile before his eyes lit with a fire. It wasn’t one of a rage. It was a slow burn. He burns for me. I burn for him too. The only thing I’m afraid of is the fire burning out.

  I feel my hand being lifted from the console and brought in for the softest kiss on the back below the knuckles. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

  “I’m not sure. It’s nothing bad. I’m processing. I wish I had a bestie or a better relationship with my mom in times like this.”

  “So, I’m not sensing the silence of regret?”

  “What? No. God, no. Do you want to know what I was thinking? Remember our deal, only say yes if you can handle the answer.”

  “Cierra, I want to know.”

  “I want the last twenty-four hours to be how it is forever. I want to feel this powerful and…loved forever. You did this. I don’t want you to take it back or have it go away.”

  He doesn’t look at me so I can read his eyes. I think that is on purpose, but he doesn’t let go of my hand either. “Cierra, I can’t promise you forever right now. I can promise you I meant everything we said and did last night and this morning. I can promise you I will always be honest. I can promise you I will stay.”

  I nod my head, so he knows I heard him. I did hear him. I understand. I don’t let go of his hand either. In fact, I hold it a bit tighter. I hope he hears what I feel.

  ~~~

  When we weren’t locked at the lips or another body part this morning, Spencer told me the next stop on our road trip. We were going to see his friend, Chance, and meet his wife, Aubrey.

  I heard more about Chance in the last two hours than I’d heard about him in all the months Spencer and I have known each other. The story of what Chance and Aubrey went through is like the most fucked-up, true fairy tale I’ve ever heard. I get the need to protect the person you love. I do. I get the sense that Spencer sees Chance as a brother. This is a big deal for them to see each other after all this time and that Spencer wants me to meet him too.

  Chance and Aubrey live in a town just off the coast called Hermosa Beach. It was a short but nice drive, even in LA traffic, for us. It was nearly straight south. Spencer decided not to take any of the freeways and stuck to the scenic route. I could watch the ocean out the window the entire time.

  The only time I don’t is when I text Coach B. I haven’t been in contact with Brian since we left. Things happened so fast yesterday. I wanted to process before I told him anything. I still don’t know completely what to say, but I want him to know I’m okay.

  Me: Hiya B. I want to talk, really talk when we get back. I want to tell you thank you for so many things. I might be off grid today but don’t worry. Just know I’m more than okay. Xo

  I knew he was in a training session, so I didn’t think he’d respond. He did though.

  Coach B: There she is. I’m here when you’re ready. You’re welcome for all those things. Be safe.

  I tuck my phone away and refocus back to our bubble. Usually we’ve had the radio on as we drive, but today we left it to the waves we could hear rolling on to the shore, the birds flying overhead, and the sounds of each other. He can’t promise forever, he said. Then I want to remember every second.

  We pull up out front of their cute little two-story. The yard is enclosed with a white picket fence and beautifully trimmed hedges. I notice what I think is a really big dog wandering in their yard. As Spencer rounds to my side of the SUV, I hear not a bark but a loud baaa as we get closer.

  “Holy shit. That’s not a dog. That’s a damn goat!” I exclaim.

  Spencer belly laughs. “I should have warned you. This is one story I haven’t had the time to tell you.”

  “I see you’ve met the welcoming committee.” A husky accent booms from outside the yellow front door on the top step. “Let them be, you bugger. Come here, Pixy. Well, Broten, it’s taken ya long enough.”

  I’ve always thought hot men seemed to flock together. I was not wrong. Jesus, Chance is model hot. He’s a bit taller than Spencer but their bodies nearly match. His hair is a copper and brown combination. It’s more copper in the sunlight. It’s a mess like Spencer’s. Birds of a feather, I smile to myself. Chance pads down the three steps to the sidewalk with a definite swag, meeting us at the gate. He has a hug and few pats on the back for Spencer.

  I’ve never seen Spencer with family, or someone he feels is family. His smile is so wide. He holds on for a moment and I watch his fingers flex over Chance’s shoulders. Maybe he is feeling what I was feeling this morning. Maybe he needs that person to talk to just as much as I do.

  Chance focuses on me over Spencer’s shoulder as I reach my hand out to tentatively pet the goat. “Who is this lovely lady? She couldn’t possibly be with your ugly ass.”

  I smirk as Spencer responds, “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Junior? You’re the ugly one. Chance Bateman, this is Cierra Avila. Cierra, this is the pain in my ass Chance.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cierra.”

  I usually hear my name with a Russian, British, or French accent. Hearing that A drawn out with the Aussie spin is quite nice, I must admit. I extend my hand back to him. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you recently.”

  “Only recently? Well, I’m sure much was left out. You don’t need to be afraid of Pixy. Like a massive dog, really, that prefers grass. I never have to mow.” We all laugh as we follow up the sidewalk. “Aubrey is upstairs. She’ll be down in a minute.”

  We enter the front door and their house is so cute. It’s very minimalist, very grounded. There are reminders of love with quotes or pictures on the walls. There are earth and water symbols either through art or simply rocks and shells. The colors are very neutral or all different shades of blue.

  “Business must be good, eh?” Spencer asks.

  “Yeah, we do all right. I’ve got a full crew and I’m working on a second. Gives me time to work on my art. I’ve got a studio out back.”

  “You’re an artist?” I ask.

  “I tinker,” he winks. We hear a soft coo from the stairwell, leading to the second floor, mingled with footsteps. “Mate, there was one thing I didn’t tell you. I preferred to show you.”

  “What’s that?” Spencer questions.

  Out of the shadows of the stairwell comes a redhead cradling an adorable half-asleep baby with a ton of copper brown hair like Chance. “He wouldn’t go down, Princess?” Chance asks.

  “I think he was wanting his daddy.”

  The woman slides the baby gently into Chance’s arms. “Right now. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  “Jesus, Bateman, you’re a father.” Spencer’s shock is clear.

  Chance smirks. “Best thing next to being this one’s husband. Aubrey, this is the infamous Spencer Broten and his lady, Cierra.”

  She straightens the messy bun on her head, before she hugs me first. “It’s nice to meet you, Cierra.” She then turns her focus on Spencer. “Hi. I’m sorry it took so long for this to happen. I’m really happy you’re here.”

  Spencer freezes a bit in her arms but then quickly warms. “We’re glad to be here. Congratulations on everything. Marriage. Baby.”

  “We were apart long enough. We didn’t want to wait,” Chance responds, pulling the baby close to his chest. “You partially inspired his name. He’s Junior now.”

  Spencer smiles. “Now I can call you that at will, is what you’re saying?”

  “Not on your life, Spence.”

 
~~~

  Aubrey gave us a quick tour of their home and showed us the guest room on the main level where we could put our things and stay the night. The three of us went out to the deck to have a drink while Chance tried to put their son down for a nap. I couldn’t be sure, but I could swear I heard lullabies with an accent coming from an open window above us. I think Spencer heard it too.

  After the baby fell asleep, Chance brought Pixy in through the house and into the backyard. A goat. I still couldn’t believe it. Chance and Spencer left the deck to fire up the grill for dinner and geek out over Chance’s motorcycle and art pieces in the garage they converted to a studio. That left Aubrey and me time to get to know one another.

  “It’s nice to see them together,” Aubrey says, motioning over the deck rail to the guys below.

  “I’ve never seen Spencer with a friend before. He has coach buddies in Sun Valley, but not like this. It was never like this.”

  “Chance told me you’re rehabbing from a skating injury.”

  “I am. That’s where Spencer comes in. He was the specialist my coach hired to work with me.”

  “How is that going?”

  “Spencer or rehab?” I ask.

  Aubrey smiles. “Both, I guess.”

  “Well, it’s complicated.”

  “It always is. I’m a good listener, Cierra, if you want to try and uncomplicate it.”

  “I don’t know if we have enough time and alcohol for that.”

  She laughs. “Why don’t we start with you and Spencer then.”

  I laugh, “He’s even more complicated and confusing than the skating part.”

  “Matters of the heart always are.”

  “We’re only friends right now.”

  “Cierra, I don’t know either of you very well, but I can say with certainty, you’re not only friends. I used to be a lawyer. I was paid well for my powers of deduction and observation. You’d have to be blind to not see it.”