I spend the last few minutes of the drive casting Stew Moorehead from my thoughts. Gagging his memory and replacing it with the beautiful things I’ve experienced with Blake.

It’s time I shut Stew up for good. And nothing will do that better than a first time with a new guy.

Eighteen

Layla

We arrive at Blake’s condo, and he parks the Rubicon in his assigned spot. Neighbors mill about walking their dogs, bringing in groceries, and sitting on their patios, like most folks would on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. Laughing, we run up to his door hand in hand. Carefree and a little bit dangerous, like we’re a couple of teenagers ditching school to go make out.

He makes quick work of the door lock and I’m pressed against the wall, pinned there by his hips, before the door shuts behind us.

He doesn’t kiss me like I thought he would. Instead, he plants his hands on the wall on either side of me, caging me in. “Mouse.”

“Snake.” I know what he wants. Permission. It’s sweet, but he’s going to have to stop treating me like I’m breakable. I smile and tilt my head.

A low groan vibrates up from his chest. “Don’t want my rebellious girl. Not now when I’m aching for you. I want my Mouse.”

His Mouse. I like the way that sounds.

He leans in close, his lips only inches from mine. “Been waiting too long for these lips, sweetheart. That drive was ridiculous.”

“Yeah, it was.” I laugh and curl my hands behind his neck. “Okay, Snake. I’ll bite.”

“Yeah? I like it when you bite.”

I suck a ragged breath into my lungs. How is it that he can seduce me with nothing more than his words? “Kiss me, Blake. Touch me.”

An agonized moan that sounds more like relief than pain slides from his lips as he brushes them against mine. “Fuck, is this really happening?”

Tilting my head and parting my lips, I give him my mouth as an answer, letting him dive in deep. His hands tangle into my hair, and he holds me close. Our tongues slide against each other’s in a slow dance timed to perfection. No awkward slips or messy coordination, but like we were made to fit together. My belly tightens, twisting with delicious expectancy.

He grips my hair tight, and the pleasure-pain shoots straight to my nipples and womb. I arch my back, pressing my chest into his in search of the needed friction. He slides his hand down from my hair to my back. One tug at the tie of my bikini top and his hand skates up to work the tie at my neck. The top falls between us, and our bodies press together skin to skin. Warmth from his chest penetrates mine. His muscles flex against my nipples, and a wave of pleasure washes over me.

He curls his big arm around me and grabs my bottom. Pulling me up, my legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me down the hallway. Not once breaking our kiss, I squeak in surprise when I go airborne and land flat on my back on his bed.

Standing at the edge, his eyes devour my topless body as he unlaces his board shorts. He moves his gaze downward, from my bare chest to my belly, before focusing on the waistline of my linen pants. “Need those off. Shoes too.”

I’m lying on my back, and there’s a trained fighter who’s double my size looming at my feet, but I’m the one with all the power. Blake has proven that my feelings are his main priority. And the hunger in his eyes, combined with the response his body is proudly showing, makes me feel sexual and dominant.

I hold my foot up toward him. “Nu-uh. You do it.”

He smiles a crooked smile and bites his lip. I stare, envious that it’s not my teeth sinking into the plump flesh. I lick at my lips, savoring the taste of his tongue that lingers there.

His shorts hang dangerously low on his hips. A light sprinkling of sandy brown hair trails from his belly button and disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts. His muscles flex as he pulls off one of my wedge sandals, then the other. My eyes eat up his body with gluttonous satisfaction, and I study his tattoo.

The illustration of the world with an anchor through it looks almost three-dimensional. Its detailed shading contains so many variations of gray that it almost seems to be made up of colors. Amazing. The eagle stands on top of the earth with its wings spread proudly. Above it, printed in striking bold letters, is Semper Fidelis. That, I know, means “always loyal.” But below the art, on his ribs, is something else in flowing, scripted letters: Si vis pacem, para bellum.

What does that mean? There’s a story there, but I’ll be damned if—Ooooh…

Blake’s big strong hands rub circles into the soles of my feet. I drop my head back onto the bed. “Mmm, that feels good.”

He chuckles, his laughter laced with arrogant pride. “This ain’t shit, Mouse. You’re in for a lot of feelin’ good.”

My tummy somersaults. I know he feels like he’s on a mission to reform my no-climax status, but I hope he’s not disappointed when it doesn’t happen. “Um… don’t expect too much. You’re dealing with sixteen years of bad programing.”

“Remember, Mouse. Nothing more than you’re willing to give. You can trust me.”

And that’s it. That’s what it is about Blake. I can trust him. It’s not logical to put my faith in someone like him, and yet here I am. When he tells me I’m safe, and that I can trust him… I believe it. To the core of my soul, I believe him.

He puts a knee between my legs on the bed and braces himself over me. His big body hovers and sends me shrinking back into the mattress. Trapped. My mouth goes dry, and I struggle to take a full breath.

As if reading the panic in my body language, he frowns. “Fuck.” Shifting to the side, he drops to his back and pulls me on top of him. “I’m not him.”

I pull in a shaky breath. “I know.” Boy, do I know.

My heartbeat calms against his ribs, and my arms tuck in tight to his sides. The warmth of our skin ignites a desire to taste him. I run my lips along his tan skin. It’s unnatural for a man this strong and intimidating to be so soft. Moving lower, I concentrate on his tattoo, dropping kisses against his ribs. He groans and shifts his hips beneath me.

I smile against him at his restlessness. “This is really beautiful.” Peeking up from beneath my eyelashes, I find him staring at me.

His vibrant green eyes burn with hunger. “Nothing close to as beautiful as what I’m looking at.”

His simple compliment flips around in my belly. I dip my lips to his torso. “This script? What does it mean?” I hold my breath while I continue to rain kisses on his tattoo, hoping he’s relaxed enough to open up about his past. Then I tilt my chin up and see that he’s looking down at me.

“If you want peace, prepare for war.” His expression is serious, and I wonder what his story is.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you fight. Anything worth having in this life, you fight to get. And you don’t stop fighting until you get it.”

Yes. Exactly. Where was he seventeen years ago when everyone was telling me to do the right thing? I had plans and dreams. I’d never have given up Elle, but I had options. I could have fought harder for what I wanted, rather than giving in to what everyone wanted for me. His words remind me that it’s not too late. That it’s never too late to fight for our future. To fight for our peace.

A wave of contentment washes over me. I skate my open mouth from his ribs to his belly button, dragging my tongue along to savor the mild salty flavor. His hands fist in my hair, and I can feel the evidence of what my attention does to him digging between my breasts.

A ravenous hunger hits me hard. The overwhelming desire to devour him, to gorge until I get my fill.

I move lower, making sure to keep my eyes locked on his. “Blake, I want to taste you.”

“Your show, sweetheart.” His tense smile confirms the worry I see in his eyes.

Confused by the mixture of signals he’s sending, I slide back up his body, making sure to drag my bare chest along his until I’m at his mouth. “Stop worrying about me. I’m a big girl. I know what I want.” I place my lips to his in a tender kiss, hoping to reassure him. “I want you.”

He pinches his eyes closed for a moment before looking deep into my eyes. “Promise me this won’t fuck things up between us. If you’re not ready or if—”

“I promise.” Cupping his strong jaw, I run my thumb along his stubbled cheek. So handsome. “Now, may I?”

“Never say no to you, Mouse,” he whispers. “Never.” He grips my head, and brings his lips to mine in a passionate kiss.

Our tongues thrash together, desire pushing our bodies impossibly closer. Hips grinding, hands roaming, breathless moans and whimpers filling the room. He sits up and pulls me close so that I’m straddling his lap. He moves to my breast and sucks one nipple deep into his mouth. I roll my hips in approval. My body heats, feeling like it’s on the verge of catching fire from the attention of his skilled mouth. “Blake—”

“Need these off.” He tugs at the waistband of my pants.

Grateful that they’re drawstring, I make quick work of the tie and open them enough for him to slide his hand in. The intrusion of his fingers beneath my swim bottoms drops my head back on a purr.

“Fucking beautiful.” He slides two fingers in, and my breath hitches. “Everything about you is so damn perfect.”

With his hand engaged between my legs, he drops back to the bed. I look down to see his forearm running the length of his impressive abdomen. It flexes as he rolls his fingers, and the tightening in my belly coils deeper, bringing me to the edge of delirium.