I use the shampoo and conditioner that are already in the shower. The smell reminds me of Johnny, and I breathe in deep, allowing his essence to fill me. Johnny might be the strongest person I know. To have grown up in such a hideous excuse for a childhood, but to come out with integrity and principles. Sure, he’s not perfect. He wouldn’t admit to being an angel either, but against all odds, he is decent. He’s caring. And he’s learned how to love when I’m not sure his father even knows what the word means.
K uses his love as manipulation. As fear. As an iron fist to follow orders.
Johnny’s better than that.
I let the water cascade down the crown of my head for a few minutes, clearing my head to make sure I’m ready for the brainstorming session that’s about to go down. Then, I shut the water off, grab a towel from under the sink, and walk out into the bedroom.
Brawler’s sitting on the edge of the bed. His dirty fight shorts are gone, and in its place, a pair of dark gray joggers hug his hips with no shirt. His muscles bunch as he looks up at me. As soon as he sees my face, he pales.
My mouth parts. “What?”
He swallows. “Your face.”
I bring my fingertips to my cheek. “What is it?”
He shakes his head and looks away. “I hurt you.”
I close my eyes and breathe out, understanding filtering through me. I fought Brawler just hours ago. Barely any time at all, even though it seems as if a week has gone by since then. My face must be bruised and swollen. I knew he’d have this reaction. I walk toward him, putting my fingers underneath his chin and making him look me in the eyes.
He grimaces.
“Hey,” I say, waiting until I have his full attention. “It had to be this way. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I can’t even feel it.”
He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t make me feel any better. You know I never wanted to hurt you, Kyla. I would never—”
“—under normal circumstances? Of course, I know that.” I lean over to press what’s supposed to be just a soft kiss to his lips, but Brawler’s hunger takes over. His fingers sink into my heated flesh as he pries my mouth open with his tongue, forcing his way through like he expected a barrier.
He groans and moves to his feet, wrapping his arms around me and holding me so tightly as if he’s scared I might run away. “I need to make this better.”
In his words are the undercurrent of the real problem. He needs to feel close again. He needs reassurance.
He takes my hands, stretches them above my head and then backs me up to the bedroom wall. Somewhere along the way, my towel drops. He presses into my bare skin, and the length of his cock brushes my hip. “I don’t know what I can do to show you. That wasn’t me. I don’t do things like that.” He looks at me, his turquoise eyes filled with regret. His large muscles stand out, straining as if he’s holding a lot in. “Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I try to tell him. “We’re only doing what we have to.” I stare at his swollen lips, and my body vibrates with the tension between us.
He steps closer, and his cock nudges the apex of my thighs. I swallow, heat enveloping me like a rabid wildfire.
He takes my hands in one of his and then brings his other down to brush his fingers beneath my eye, hovering just over the painful parts. “I put these marks on you.” He shakes his head. “It’s unforgivable.”
“These marks…” I tell him, voice raspy. “They’re just skin-deep. They don’t change anything between us. Nothing will change what’s between us, Brawler. Nothing.”
He groans, succumbing to his tightly wound urges. He moves forward, dropping his head so he can suck on my neck while he lifts his hips into me.
I spread my legs, welcoming his touch. “We can prove it to each other.”
Brawler pushes his joggers down, freeing his cock. He aligns the head with my opening, and I suck in a breath at feeling him so close. I meet him at the same time he presses forward, angling my hips toward him. We both make mutual sounds of satisfaction when he pushes inside. For a moment, we stay that way, taking deep breaths and enjoying the feeling of being together.
“I’ll never hurt you again,” Brawler promises. He starts to move, grinding his pelvis against mine. “You’re my everything.” He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips.
He won’t listen, so I need to show him how I’ve already forgotten what happened. I wiggle out of his grip and sink my fingers into his ass. “I need more,” I tell him, already heady with sex. Brawler broke through the barriers I put up when I first came to the Heights. He put a sledgehammer through the concrete blocks despite the danger he was putting himself in with Johnny and the Crew. I owe him everything.
I start to climb his body, and he easily lifts me to wrap my legs around his bare, muscular ass. Pinning me against the wall, he thrusts inside me over and over, each movement of his hips teasing my clit.
My moans spur his movements, and he stays there, working my body over until it tightens. Deep spasms rock me, and I ride out an amazing orgasm that curls my toes.
“Beautiful...” He cups my ass and turns. His steady footsteps take us to the bed, and he holds me to his chest until I’m safely pinned between him and the mattress.
Despite the shitty day we’ve had, the fact that my energy is spent, and my lungs still burn a little, I want nothing more than for Brawler to forget about the stupid bruising on my face or the fact that we fought in a ring for other people’s pleasure. We’re so much more than that. We can’t let one event define us. “Can I ride you?”
He flips us in an instant, gripping my hips to steady me. I find purchase with my palms on his killer chest to slide up and down his cock. With each stroke, I’m telling him what happened doesn’t matter. I’m telling him the bruising is temporary, but what’s permanent is our feelings for each other. When his exterior cracks, my pleasure heightens. I grind down over him until an orgasm hits me so hard I cry out, doubling over him, hands fisting the sheets on the bed.
“Fuck, Kyla,” he groans, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking it, spurring on another round of spasms over his cock. He jerks inside me, and then sits up, holding me on his lap as he works his hips up and pulls me down at the same time. He watches how we come together, his hips thrusting upward in this sexual dance between the two of us. “Come again. For me?” He slips his hand between us, rubbing my nub. It’s too much. I bring the whole house down with my scream as my climax basically attacks me.
Brawler tries to ride it out, a fierce expression of determination on his face, but he can’t. He gives in, jerking inside me as he unloads his hot cum with a possessive roar. It’s almost unlike him, but I understand that need to be a part of something, especially when you think something is threatening to take it away.
I wrap my arms around him as the last of his tremors subside. He pulls me down, our legs tangled as we kiss, sealing the moment with a soft embrace of lips.
“You understand now, right?” I ask.
“What I understand is that your capacity to love, Kyla, is undeniable.” He brings his fingers up to trace under my eyes again. It stings, but I don’t pull back. There’s no sense in making him feel worse than he already does. “You’re still beautiful,” he says. “Even when you’re sad about Johnny. Even when I put these terrible bruises on your face.”