Losing Track (35 page)

“So fucking stubborn,” I mumble as I push my key into the deadbolt.

“A hot bath, a few packs of ice, sleep, and I’ll be fine, Mel.” Boone leans against the doorway, looking like he’s about to pass out.

“We’re going to have to get something straight,” I say, pushing the door open. I wrap his arm around my shoulder as we head inside. “I’m in charge here, okay? Just always listen to me and this will work out just fine.”

He chuckles, then winces. “Shit, my ribs feel like shattered glass.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you let ogres use you as a punching bag.” I walk us to the couch, and Boone flops onto the cushion.

Glancing around nervously, trying to figure out what he needs, I say, “I’ll run a bath. But I don’t think hot water is good…for like the swelling.” I take off toward the bathroom, my heart in my throat.

Somehow, I convinced him to at least come back to my apartment so I could look after him for the night. He won’t go to the hospital, stubborn ass. I even suggested having the cab drop us off at Stoney. They have doctors, and everyone knows him there. Loves him there. They could help him.

But he doesn’t want to tarnish his image. He’s still so concerned with how people see him; the illusion. Or maybe he took one too many blows to the head. Regardless, if the pain becomes unbearable, I’ll drag his ass somewhere tomorrow.

I flip the faucet on and let the cool water run over my hand. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I stare blankly at the tiles, too many thoughts and questions and uncertainties filling my thoughts.

I hear him enter, and I look up. “It’s okay,” he says. He drops the toilet lid and sits, now shirtless, his fighting shorts stained with blood. “I know why you left, and I get it. You don’t owe me an apology, and you don’t have to explain. I should have told you from the start.”

I shake my head. “Don’t go there. We’re already past all that, okay? Whatever guilt you harbor, just know I see the truth.” I gaze up at him, my eyes holding his, unwavering. “I just want one thing answered.”

He wraps his arm around his stomach, bracing himself as he leans closer to me. “What?”

“The story you tell at Stoney, it’s about Hunter, not you. It’s Hunter’s user parents, and Hunter’s user mom who wrecked while high, but the child didn’t walk away from that crash, did he?”

Boone’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, his face strained from the effort and pain. “Yes. It’s how I wish the story actually ended.”

I nod slowly. “Then that’s all I need to know.”

His mouth parts, ready to add something, but I stand and press my fingers over his lips. “Let’s get you in the tub. You smell like a backyard brawl.”

Despite his desire to set the record straight on something important to him, he doesn’t say another word. I lower my hand, and he allows me to help him into a standing position. As I examine the damage inflicted on his body—the red welts, dark bruises, fresh scrapes—I run my hands along his skin. His abs. His chest. Feeling for broken bones or tender spots sensitive to touch.

He accepts my examination of his body with tense muscles. After I made the connection to him and Hunter, his story he tells at Stoney, I understand why he chose celibacy. Why he chose, instead, to accept the touch of pain rather than of affection.

The night his son was killed in that crash, he was off getting high—and getting laid. Which, in itself isn’t a crime. But while his son was taking his last, labored breath, Boone was panting in pleasure. For him, this was the ultimate wrong, which needed an ultimate right by contrast.

He had to find a way not to be that selfish person who thinks only of himself and his wants. His high, his fix—whether it be drugs or sex. I get it now. And I think of that moment we shared on my couch and wish I knew then.

I would’ve been more delicate. Or maybe I would’ve told him how his touch freed a desire buried so deep within me, I didn’t know it even existed. That it was more than getting off; it was a connection I’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

But right now, I just want my touch to convey my respect for him.

“Melody…” His voice is husky and raw. I look up, and his eyes are closed. His jaw tense. “I don’t know when I’ll ever not feel…guilty. I wasn’t very good to Ashely—Hunter’s mom. Even if we weren’t a couple, technically…I should’ve been there for her more. Helped out more. I damn sure shouldn’t have walked out when she was asking to me take our son for the night.” He opens his eyes, and I can see his pain pouring out through every irritated vein clouding them.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able just to be with you without the shame that follows…” he trails off.

“Shh,” I whisper. “One step at a time, right?” His swallows hard, and I place my hand in his. “I’m not expecting anything else. One day, one minute, one second at a time.”

Tightening my hold, I tug him toward the tub, then reach for the laces of his shorts. He allows me to untie them, and I slip my fingers under the waistband. Slide them down along the hard, defined muscles of his lower stomach.

I push his boxers down, and they drop slowly to meet his shorts around his ankles. I hear his sharp intake of air as my body lightly brushes his. But this isn’t about sex. It’s about me taking care of him, about him trusting and allowing me to care for him.

With a grunt, he steps over the edge of the tub and settles down in the water.

“Too hot?” I ask, already adjusting the temperature.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m frightened that his pain is too intense. I rush toward the closet and dig out a clean washcloth from the jumble of linens.

When I turn around, Boone’s gaze is hard on me. “I want you in here with me.”

Boone

And I burn, lit by your torch

MELODY STANDS FROZEN IN place, washcloth in hand. Her eyes leveling me with a knowing look.

From the moment she first touched me in this tiny ass bathroom, I’ve been counting down the seconds until I combust. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming in pain, but it’s a distant roar compared the desire to touch her soft skin. Taste her sweetness. Feel her body against mine.

I rise from the tub, my legs aching, but I’ll go to her if she makes me wait any longer.

She swallows and licks her lips, and I curl my hands into fists.

I’ve never begged for anything.

Ever.

But if she doesn’t touch me right now, this second… I’ll fall to my knees. And dare her to give me just one look that says she’s mine.

“You’re hurting,” she says.

“I don’t care.” And I don’t. After suffering these past few days without her, not knowing if I ran her off forever, whether or not she despised me…not knowing if she was high, lost, in trouble—I have to touch her, make sure she’s real, and that she knows just how much I’m going to try for us.

I’m scared as hell. Worried that when I kiss her again, I’ll picture Hunter’s face. Pale and empty of life. The self-loathing I feel for myself for not being there to protect him has crippled me, and I may botch this whole thing to hell.

But for her, I’m willing to do anything to be the man she needs. The one who can hold her and not flinch. Be strong enough that, when she shakes with need for a fix, will rub her calves, soothing away the raw ache.

When she pangs with need, I want to fill her physically and emotionally; remove her mind so far from the addiction she feels safe to lose herself, trusting me to be the one to take her away.

I’m not a fool. I know it’s dangerous to trade one addiction for another, and I’m not so conceited to think I could even be that for her—but I’m damn stubborn enough to refuse to let this woman slip through my fingers again.

She takes one small, hesitant step forward, and it’s all I need. I’m out of the tub and rushing toward her. I pull her body against mine and lower my head, my lips crush hers.

Despite my swollen fingers, I work the button of her jeans open. My hands in a rush to remove every article of clothing, to feel her silky skin against mine. She notices my struggle, and I can feel her smile against my mouth as she helps me push her jeans down her legs.

She backs away just enough to let me tug her tank over her head, then she removes her bra. My eyes hungrily devour her breasts and stomach, the curves I can’t wait to explore. Without any prompting, I’m on my knees and sliding down her underwear.

A groan escapes my mouth as I press my lips to her thighs. Her hand goes to my hair, fingers fisting as she gains her balance against my greedy need to taste her. I lift one of her legs and place it over my shoulder. She yelps, catching the wall for better balance.

I gaze upward. “Sorry, but you’re not going to slow me at this point.”

I’m not sure if it’s excitement or fear I witness in her eyes as she meets my gaze, but her chest rises and falls with her rushed breaths, her brown eyes pleading for…something. I’m going to find out what that something is—what it takes to make her come harder than she ever has before.

Slowing my movements, I skim my palm along her inner thigh, run my finger over her smooth lips, slipping it just between. She sucks in a quick breath, and I push my finger inside. Her warmth and wetness surrounds me, and my dick aches to feel her.

Pressing my mouth to her, I kiss gently, my finger sliding along the swollen flesh as I shoulder her thigh higher, opening her up to me. My tongue traces her lips, making her quake against me, until I find the spot that makes her grip tighten in my hair. Her thigh quivers.

I slide in a second finger, run my tongue along her clit, until her breathing intensifies.

“Boone…please. I want to come with you inside me.”

Stopping only long enough to seek her eyes, I say, “You’re coming for me now. And you’re coming for me again when I fill you.” I push my fingers in deeper and suck her into my mouth.

I no longer have bones or flesh; the bruises and fractured ribs replaced by points of pleasure. As if I’ve traded in every broken piece of me for an intangible being that’s sole purpose is to worship this woman.

Her hips rock into me as I massage, working my fingers quicker, my mouth bringing her closer to the edge. I grip her hip with one hand, needing to steady myself, wanting to hold her right in this position as she moans, her legs trembling. She’s so wet… Oh, fuck, my cock is rock hard, throbbing against my thigh.

Then she tenses. Her walls tighten around my fingers. And as she comes, I halt my movements, savoring her sweet taste, her breathy climax, bringing me over the edge with her.

I don’t stop here. I’m on my feet and lifting her into my arms, wrapping her legs around my hips as I move us to the bathtub. Words fail. Pain too distant. My hunger for her removes every rational thought from my brain.

As her breasts crush against my chest, and her wet, swollen pussy grinds against my dick, my only purpose, my only desire, is to submerge her in blissful warmth so I can find the same within her.

I settle down in the tub, Mel on top of me, bringing her forward so I can kiss her lips. Her hair falls around my face, enveloping me in the scent of her shampoo. I run my hands along her back, grip her shoulders, push her harder to me as I thrust my hips upward.

Wrapping her hair around my hand, I get a firm grasp and apply enough force to pull her head back, revealing her neck to me. Her pants elicit the need to run my teeth over her skin, slide my tongue up the column of her throat.

As her pussy slides along my shaft, the water surrounds us, the slippery feel making my eyes roll into the back of my head. I’m so damn hard, aching—that if I don’t enter her soon, I’m going to come right in this tub.

Mel reaches back and wraps her fingers around my dick. I flinch and my teeth graze her neck. “I want you inside me. Now,” she says, her breathy words caressing my ear, causing chill bumps to raise all over my body.

She runs her hand to the top of my shaft, then back down. Stroking me, as if I need to be any harder. Then, as I fist my hand in her hair, clamp the other on her hip, she rises up and places the head of my cock right at the center of her entry.

Fucking hell. I’m not going to last five minutes. But before I can ready myself, she leans back, captures my gaze, her brown eyes intense, and begins to slowly lower herself. Her walls open around me, pulling me inside, and my breath just fucking stops. Halted in my chest, until she takes me all in…then a hard exhale rips from my mouth.