Blazed (14 page)

"No." Sitting back on my heels, I tugged at the waistband of his jeans as a hint for him to lose them, and quickly. "And I'm not 'women'. So you'll get my number when I get your surname."
 

"Oh,
touché." He wriggled out of his jeans and pulled me back over him, eyes burning like two emerald green beacons. The fact that he'd gone commando turned me on and I had no idea why. "You, on top. I need to see this."

"See what?" I got my answer from his face. His gaze slid down and rested at the point where our bodies would connect. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he watched himself fill me up, fingers restlessly flexing against my hips while the balls of his hands held my weight and stopped me descending too quickly. He snarled a curse, jerking up to meet me, and flipped me onto my back to drill into me hard, fast, and so roughly I battled to catch my breath.

Blaze lacked his usual finesse and I knew that it was because he was feeling tormented. His earlier kisses had said as much. He fucked like he had a point to make, maybe not to me, but to himself. What that point was, I didn't know. Maybe he was trying to reassure himself that it was just the driving urge to screw me senseless that made him miss me as much as he had and we really did just use each other as implements to get ourselves off. Whatever the reason, he charged through, determined and unrelenting, sparing me no time to recover between orgasms that began to roll together and snowball.

It was too much. Pleasure became painful, but I didn't want it to stop. No matter how hard my toes cramped, he drove on and licked away the almost sadistic tears that dripped down my temples into my hair. I was lost to him, forced into a place where I could focus on nothing but him. My new most favourite place in the world, away from all my neuroses and memories
— the only place I could connect so deeply with another human being. An activity I'd spent four years using to validate myself had become a meaningful bridge to a bigger place. Had he turned my life upside down like I'd wanted? Maybe. Given half the chance, Blaze might have ploughed away at me until I was no longer gifted with eyesight, foresight or hindsight, so I might never see for myself just how much damage he'd done.

I whimpered feebly when he sank his teeth into my neck and moaned my name, finally finding his release after I don't know how long. His weight pushed me down into the mattress, making me feel gloriously overpowered and well used. Immediately, my eyelids drooped, but his nose nuzzling my hair kept me just about conscious. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, spending a wave of
goose bumps across my skin, "I lost control." Unable to speak, I grunted quietly and found enough energy to catch his hand in mine and squeeze it. "I've broken you, haven't I?"

"You've ruined me for other men, that's for damn sure." I forced one eye open and winked at him. "I'll be good to go again in five minutes."

Blaze scoffed gently and traced his fingers across his bite mark. "Did you really miss me this week?"

"I did. I just didn't know how much until you came back. You always come back." My trust was rewarded with an indulgent, typically contagious smile. I'd believed in him and clearly it meant a lot that I had. It meant so much more to me too
— it meant that I 
could
.

"What would you do if I was still here when you woke up?" My forehead creased slightly. Our situation was how it was. Why would I consider it being any other way when this was all it could be? What would be the point of conjuring idyllic scenarios that would never become reality?

"Make you get me coffee and do my hair." He cocked his head to the side a little, a gesture seeking my honesty. "It would be weird for me, like it was 'real'."

"Real how?"

"Real like no complications. No reasons 'why not', I guess. If I woke up and you were in the kitchen or something, that's like Chris or Esme being here. But if I woke up and found you sleeping next to me, I think I'd be forced to do something really stupid like think you were mine." Inhaling sharply, I blushed crimson through my already flushed cheeks and closed my open eye to avoid seeing his reaction. I couldn't filter my thoughts when I was sedate, and the last thing I want to do was scare him off with hints at how deeply he affected me. "Can I have my power nap now?"

"Of course, cupcake." He kissed the tip of my nose and pulled me over to lay my head on his sweat slicked chest. His heart was still racing, visibly straining at the confines of his chest. "And I'll be in that kitchen making you coffee when you wake up."

Maybe he wasn't as scared as I thought.

I WOKE UP feeling hungover and raw. It took a moment for me to recall the events that had led to me ending up sprawled out in bed, hugging a pillow wrapped up in a t-shirt I didn't recognise. But I recognised the smell that clung  to it and it was one that didn't exactly encourage me to move. Blaze's scent set me up for the day, along with the memories it provoked of the night before.

But this wasn't the morning after the night before. It was the same afternoon after the same afternoon before, and I had absolutely no reason to feel so disgraceful.
 

Dragging the t-shirt over my head, I winced as I sat upright and surveyed the murder scene that was now my bed. Blood spotted the cream cotton valance sheet that was torn in places, and sweat and other...fluids stained the fabric under where I'd laid to sleep. I hadn't realised just how carnal the sex had been at the time, but seeing how rough it could get when I didn't even know it made my mouth snap open. Blaze was dangerous
— a serious threat on my sanity and self-control, but how savage was 
I
 when I lost my head? It had taken less than five minutes from front door to bedroom to reach this level of indecency...

"Oh, Esme!" I remembered her rude exclusion from my afternoon and knew that I had to explain myself. Or rather explain Blaze.
 
Blaze! 

The sight of him standing in my kitchen stopped me in my tracks. He wore nothing but black briefs and was covered in small, red crescent marks left by my nails. His skin glowed red under the scratches but he looked none too perturbed, leaning over a tablet computer set down on the breakfast bar, watching music videos while he swigged milk from the carton. He was at home here, looking far better off than I did even if he had been brutalised by my hand. All elements of that scenario combined, he looked fucking hot.

"You helped yourself to my Wi-Fi password?" He glanced up, seemingly surprised to see me in my own home, and shot me a smile that made my insides melt enough to forgive the host of violations he'd committed. I loved that he felt comfortable and confident in my small space. It only made sense when he was so happily underneath my skin. "And you're getting your germs in my milk."

"You're getting your germs in my t-shirt." I walked into the arm he held out and leaned into him, sliding a hand down the front of his underwear to stroke the trail of hair that crept down from his navel. If he stuck around like this every time he fucked me into slumber, we'd never leave my flat. "God woman, you're insatiable. You might be ready again but I need longer than half an hour to recover from something like that."

"Half an hour?"

"Hmm." He nodded and reached around me to pour a large mug of coffee from a steaming hot jug he'd already made. I usually used instant, and was amazed to see that I even owned a coffee grinder. I definitely didn't have the beans... "I thought you'd sleep longer. I was going to sneak a shower and make myself look pretty before you woke up. I brought a change of clothes."

"Quite good at taking liberties, aren't you? Making up for lost time?" The playful atmosphere dissolved with the reminder that we'd been apart for what seemed so long but was really no time at all. We were becoming too emotionally involved in our tryst. I didn't want to pry into his absence but I had to. "Has your uh... 'caree' been ill?"

"Nothing else could have kept me from you, Emmeline." The mood lifted with the tenderness of his tone. "This would be another good case for you giving me your number. I couldn't leave her but I wanted to talk to you, let you know that I was thinking about you."

"Phone sex isn't my thing." I muttered into my coffee and smirked. "It would be too easy for you to just send me a picture of your cock and spare the words."

"You know," Blaze took the mug from my hand and lifted me up onto the breakfast bar next to the tablet, which quietly piped out
 Panic! At The Disco, one of my favourite bands, "you're much more amenable when you're freshly fucked. I do think of you beyond your erogenous zones, and the only time I get a sense of you feeling the same is when you're lulled into a post-coital stupor." He sounded affronted, even if his face didn't show it. "I get it, I do. You don't want to let your guard down for something hopeless, but please don't wound me by pretending you're bulletproof. You've got me by the balls here." His honesty still shocked me sometimes. I'd overheard enough conversations by scorned women to be led to believe that men sugar-coated their feelings or kept them completely locked away. A great source of frustration to womankind, I thought. I appeared to have the entirely too forthcoming exception to the rule standing in my flat.

"I can has guilt trip?"
 

He mirrored my pout.
 "I don't want to make you feel bad, I just don't want to throw myself into something imbalanced. I don't know that I'm not chasing a mirage if you keep hiding behind innuendo and bravado. Sometimes it's just not practical to bend you over and prod the truth out of you." 

I still felt guilty. I'd been trying to run from my feelings for so long that I just didn't know how to express them anymore, and I certainly didn't want to muddy the waters with them. What we had was so simple, or at least it had been at first. We were both in way over our heads now, dangerously close to the point of no return, and maybe I did have to seriously consider playing my part in these far too frequent discussions about 'us'. There
 
was
 an 'us', I couldn't deny it. I just still didn't know how to deal with the fact someone had pushed their way into and warped the Hunter shaped hole in my heart. Some parts had bowed, forced to move around Blaze, but there were still some gaps around the edges that made the fit imperfect. I didn't know that the round peg in a square hole would ever be a good substitute for what I'd spent nine years wanting, but if a miracle happened and Hunter returned from Japan with his arms spread wide for me, I didn't think he'd be enough either anymore. I was in limbo and, paradoxically, the only way I could live through it was to shield my emotions with a subject change. 

"Is 'she' still ill?" I rolled my eyes and swung my feet impatiently side to side. I hated that he'd given her a gender so the irrational part of me had ammunition to be childish and possessive.
 
He's spending all week with another woman... 

Blaze stooped to look up into my downcast eyes and grinned, seeing my rogue thoughts the way only he could. Somehow, he looked almost happy to see my naughty little green eyed monster. "Why, Miss White, are you jealous that there's another woman in my life?" It was typical that the one man in the world who didn't freak out over a possessive woman would be the man I didn't truly possess.
 

"No..." I knew that mine was the only world Blaze was rocking, but I couldn't say the same. I had no right to be jealous, and was determined to pretend that I wasn't for the sake of not being a hypocrite. "Is she okay without you?"

He nodded and pushed away from me, making a beeline to the coffee table for my glasses. "I usually have back-up at the weekends. Last week was an annoying exception."

I followed, hot on his heels. I couldn't stay away from him too long
— always had to be close enough to touch him. He was addictive and so potent it scared me. "So Saturday is Emmyday?"

"You want a whole day, cupcake?" A whole day? A light at the end of the week and an excuse to wheedle out of work early? The best part of a weekend to enjoy the hell out of him? A guarantee that he'd be there on the
 
Double Booked
 threshold ready to make me centre of his universe, even if just for an evening?

"... Yes, please. Weekly."

I didn't know how he'd take the request, but was relieved when he smiled and sank down on the couch, patting the seat next to him for me to join him. "And what would we do with said days?"

"Depends how long it takes you to recharge..." He tried on my glasses and recoiled back immediately, blinking like a light had been shone in his eyes. It was a reaction I was used to seeing, but somehow it warmed my heart when it came from him. He made every expression look gorgeous, doubly so when so devoid of clothing.

"So you're like, blind." Blaze slid the glasses onto my face and the hangover type pounding in my head began to subside. Far from blind, I often forgot how much I needed them when I could still see capably without them. Okay, I couldn't see the details of faces or read, but I wasn't exactly walking into furniture. "You don't wear them when you're at 
Esme's.
"

"I don't want them to get broken."

"Buy new ones?"

I sighed, head dropping back. "Truly spoken like a man with perfect vision. For something so necessary, they're really quite expensive. My lenses are complex, so they take days to be ordered in, and glasses are like work boots. It's not as simple as putting on the first pair you find. They might not suit and they're not comfortable right away. You have to wear them in because they'll be too tight, too loose, some lenses put the ground at a funny angle
—"