“But… that kiss.” She studies the spot where her hands rest unseen beneath my shirt. Her eyebrows pinch together like she’s seeing me for the first time. And she doesn’t look happy about what she sees.
“The kiss was hot, Mouse.” Hottest damn kiss I’ve ever experienced, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Her hands drop from my chest, and she pulls against my hold. “Let me go.”
“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” I flex my fingers at her neck and hip.
“Blake.” She glares at me, and I watch the violent storm build in her eyes. “Let. Me. Go.”
I should, and I will, eventually. But knowing that this is the last time I’ll hold her this close and feel her soft skin beneath my palm, I’ll milk the clock and soak up every second. “Just wanted a taste. Didn’t know how good it’d be.”
She rocks back with a grunt, but I hold her flush to my body. After a second of resistance, she sags in my arms. “Blake…” Her whispered refusal dies on her lips along with her fight. She leans her weight into me and grips the sides of my T-shirt.
My eyes slide shut, and I’m stuck somewhere between What the fuck and There is a God. Holding her like this, feeling her give herself over to me like she did before our kiss—Fuck. If I let myself feel what I’m burying deep, I don’t think I’ll let her go. Ever.
I lean down and bury my nose in her hair, my thumb tracing circles on the bare skin of her lower back. So soft, so fuckin’ sweet, so—oomph!
Sharp pain explodes between my legs. I double over, holding my balls, and drop to my knees. Shiiit.
“Next time a woman tells you to let go? Let. Go.”
Her purple and black Nikes walking away are all I see from my fetal position on the floor. I pinch my eyes shut with a groan and roll as the pain surges from my nuts into my stomach. Motherfuck. I swallow hard, fighting my gut’s attempt to jump out my mouth. My lungs burn and struggle as I suck air through my nose and grind my teeth.
I curl up tight and prepare for the ten minutes of hell that I’ll have to endure before I can chase after her. Or, fuck, at this point it might be better to quit while I’m down.
Twelve
Layla
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I let him kiss me. He doesn’t so much as look at me for almost a week, and I let him kiss me. Even worse, I begged him to. It took him ten seconds to get me right where he wanted me. Ten seconds before he changed my world, had me skating on rainbows and seeing stars, only to knock me down. You girls need steady? I’ll never be that guy?
And where in the hell is the cereal?
The crack of my kitchen cupboard slamming shut gives me little relief. Not as much as seeing Blake squirm on the floor of the weight room like a dying animal. Ass-fucking-hole.
I stomp down the hallway to Elle’s room. “Elle, did you eat all the—?” Her room’s empty. “Elle?”
It’s almost nine on a school night. I wrack my mind, which is slushy from the kiss I still feel in my damn toes. Killian was supposed to bring her home. Or did she tell me she had plans after school, and I forgot? Maybe they went to a movie or had a late study group. No, I specifically remember her telling me she’d be home. If there was a change of plans, she would’ve called.
I tug my phone from the pocket of my sweatshirt. No new calls, no texts. I scroll to her number and press send.
Voicemail. Shit.
“Elle, it’s Mom. Where are you? Call me as soon as you get this.”
Heart pounding, hands shaking, I grab my keys off the kitchen counter. I’m halfway down the stairs to my car when I realize I have no clue where to look for her. I don’t know where Killian lives. Do I even have his number?
Dropping down, I sit on the step, my head between my hands. Deep breaths.
Good thing you’re infertile. You can’t even handle the one kid we have.
“Please, no. Not now.” Brought to my emotional knees. I’m not strong enough to fight the mental assault. I thought I could do this. I thought I could take care of us. No food in the cupboards, I’m having to take handouts, and I’m losing track of my daughter. I dig my hands into my hair and tug. The stinging pain on my scalp pulls me back to my reality. Where could she be?
I lift my gaze and clear my head. Jonah, he might be able to get ahold of Killian. But how do I get in touch with Jonah? I flip open my phone and scroll through my contacts to Raven’s cell number. I’m about to hit send when the rumbling of a truck engine grabs my attention.
Is it her? I push my ass off the step and down the stairs, resolving to hug her to death and then kill her.
Oh no.
The black Rubicon’s headlights flash off, the driver’s side door opens. Blake. And just like every other time I see him, I’m struck silent. His narrowed glare , rigid jaw, and solid frame targets me. He prowls forward. The ferocity of his gait sends my feet a few steps back in retreat. Running into the bottom step, I swing out my arm to catch myself from falling back onto the stairs.
Oh, God. He’s really mad. His green eyes burn into mine while his huge body closes in.
I walk backward one step at a time until I’m at his eye level.
He steps up to me and then stops. “Mouse.” His scowl moves from my hair to my cheeks, and relaxes into something softer by the time he meets my eyes. “What the fuck?” His voice is absent of its earlier irritation. “You okay?”
I blink at his sudden concern, surprised he didn’t call me out for kicking him in the balls. “No.”
He brings his hands to either side of my neck, forcing me to look at him. His thumbs run along my cheekbones. “Talk to me.”
“Elle. She’s not home. I don’t know where she is.”
Fire flares behind his green eyes. “She usually home by now?”
I nod into his hands.
“Did you talk to her after she got home from school today?”
“No. She’s been getting rides home from Killian, and sometimes they’ll grab a bite to eat or go study, but she always calls to let me know.”
“And tonight?”
“No call. Nothing.”
“Up.” He moves his hold from my face to my hips, turning me to guide me up the stairs.
I scurry up to my apartment, Blake following behind me.
Before he’s even inside, he has the phone to his ear. “Hey man, you got Killer’s number?”
I grab a piece of paper and a pen out of the junk drawer and hand them to Blake.
“It’s for Layla. She’s looking for Axelle.” He scribbles a few things on the paper. “Nah. We got it. But I’ll let you know.” He smiles at me in a way that I’m sure is supposed to be comforting, but the hint of fury that still works behind his eyes makes me squirm. “Later.”
His eyes drop to his phone. He punches in numbers then brings it to his ear. “Killian. It’s Blake. Listen, you take Axelle home today?”
I move in close and lean my ear toward the phone. Blake’s arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. Gosh, that feels good. I nuzzle in, dropping my worry for what he might think the action implies, and soak up his comfort.
Killian’s voice mumbles through the cell phone, but I can’t understand a word. I peer up at Blake. “What’s he saying? I can’t hear him.” Panic throbs behind my ribs.
“You sure about that?” The arm around my shoulder pulls me tighter, and he nods. “Right. Thanks, man.”