To save his life, like he saved mine? Yeah, I’d follow through.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chasing the devil isn’t hell. It’s realizing that you’re chasing yourself that’s hell.
Tex
WHAT THE HELL was I thinking? Smooth skin taunted me, begged me to touch, to caress, to damn near lick from head to toe and refuse to stop until Mo was so boneless that she could barely lift her head.
Sex with Mo had always been playful, fun, hot as hell, but right now? It was scorching. My heart, you know the part that I still had, scolded me, told me to stop while I was ahead.
But my head?
My body?
Begged and damn near pleaded for me to continue touching her. She was mine, after all. Not Sergio’s, not Nixon’s, not anyone’s but mine. She’d always been mine damn it, and I was going to make sure she never forgot that. It wasn’t even about love… what I was doing was pure need. Forget love. Did it even fit in our relationship? After the hurt we’d given each other, I had no idea. But what I did know?
No woman ever responded to my touch like Monroe Abandonato. In a smooth motion, I lie across her body, careful to keep my weight on my elbows so I could hover.
“Your shirt is still on,” Mo said hoarsely.
“Right.” I looked down. “Odd, yours came off surprisingly fast for being almost dead a few hours ago.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Right, some barbarian just ripped it from my cold body.”
“Not cold,” I snapped, my right hand moving down her shoulder, stopping at her strap and then sliding it down her arm. “Hot, very, very hot.”
“Are you complimenting my skin?” She arched as I drew slow circles down her stomach and then tugged her other strap down.
“Yes, Mo. That’s what I’m doing. I’m complimenting your skin temperature because I’m a player like that, and that’s my game.”
“Game,” she panted as my fingers slid behind her back and unclasped her bra, “needs work.”
“Game,” I mock repeated, “hasn’t even started.” With a tug I threw her bra onto the floor and stared my fill. In all my years of living, I would never get used to seeing her naked body in all its glory. Damn, she was topless and it was like staring at the sun—utter perfection that I knew she was allowing me to mar with my hands, taint with my bloodlines, I narrowed my gaze on her stomach.
“You’re still so skinny.” My thumb caressed her belly button. I hoped the baby inside her, even though it wasn’t mine, was okay. I’d asked Stephen and he said when she was feeling better we could run tests, but for the most part if she miscarried, there would be more blood. Her injury had been bloody and if we hadn’t stopped the bleeding it could have been more serious—but as it was, she would just be really sore for a while.
“Tex.” Mo hissed out a breath. “Are we doing this or are we talking?”
“Oh.” I reared back, allowing the thoughts to dissipate. “I’m sorry, are you tired of talking? Need a little more caressing?” I tugged her shorts down and cupped her ass. “A bit more teasing? Nipping? Tugging? Pulling?” I lowered my head to her hipbone, licking around in lazy circles as she arched towards me.
“Damn it, Tex!”
“Aw, baby you know I love it when you scream my name.” I chuckled, fanned my breath across her stomach then replaced it with my tongue. Tasting Monroe Abandonato was my number one favorite thing to do in the entire world. Her taste was unique, totally her, and I coveted it more than a sane person should. Then again, I never claimed to be anything but insane so there you have it.
Mo’s fingers moved to my shirt, she tried to tug, but she was too weak from blood loss, which again reminded me that I probably shouldn’t be trying to seduce her, but my body had other plans. And damn if I didn’t want to mark her, brand her, fill her to the hilt and just bask in the fullness of what it was like to be inside her.
“Tex…” Mo dropped her hands from my shirt with a sigh of frustration. “I’m going to need a little help here.”
“Say please.” I straddled her and slowly lifted my shirt up to my head but didn’t pull it completely off yet. “I’m waiting…”
“You’re an ass, you know that right?” She wiggled beneath me.
“Keep doing that, I’ve got all the time in the world. Really, you’re not slowly killing me or anything by rubbing against me.”
“Take off your shirt!” she said through clenched teeth. “Please.”
“Aw, there it is… who taught you manners? Nixon?” I chuckled and could almost imagine that there wasn’t a chasm of anger and hurt between us… I imagined a world where I was the father of our child in earnest, where I was the hero, rather than the monster.
When my shirt fell to the floor, Mo’s breath hitched. Her dainty hands danced across my rigid stomach, tightening my muscles to painful levels wherever she touched, her fingers slowly, agonizingly, moving up and down.
“This is new,” she whispered, her hands hovering over one of my many scars.
“Yeah.” I licked my lips. “It’s a flesh wound.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, I know all about those.”
“Sorry to break it to you but yours is more than a flesh wound there, little tyke. I thought you were dying, and if you want this to continue you’ll stop reminding me why I shouldn’t be getting you naked.”
“Nixon may shoot you.”
“Great.” I leaned down and kissed her hot mouth. “Then he can get my other shoulder; it was feeling left out anyway.”
Monroe laughed against my lips, I couldn’t help but follow suit, her hands reached for the zipper of my jeans—and all laughing went straight out the window.
It would take an act of God for the girl to be able to actually strip me of all my clothing, so I stood, yanked off my jeans and waited for her to blush.
She always blushed.
It’s part of the reason I loved her so much.
She pretended to be a bad ass, but that was to protect herself… she pretended that sex wasn’t a big deal. But I knew it was. To Mo it always was… maybe that’s why it stung so much that she would give her body to anyone but me.
I’d taken the girl’s virginity.
I’d been the forever guy.
Until I wasn’t anything anymore.
“Tex—” Mo held up her hand. I grasped it and lay down next to her.