Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 19

"f.u.c.k it." I flip her to her back. "My turn."

I pull out completely before filling her so deeply her neck arches off the bed. "Oh my . . ."

Again, I slide out and in, allowing her to feel every inch as I press against her. She sucks in a breath, her eyes wide and lost in the sensation. Over and over I move with force but at a pace that'll keep her wanting. Firm, deep, and slow.

"I could do this all night, baby." I pull out and glide back in. "All f.u.c.king night inside you." I bend my knee, angle my hips, and grind in deep.

"Oh, Mase...it's-" She gasps, her legs clamp against my hips, and she throws her head back. My name falls from her lips with the guttural groan of release as she pulsates beneath me. I cus.h.i.+on the top of her head to keep it from banging against the headboard as I power into her, easing her back from her o.r.g.a.s.m.

"Whoa." She sighs with a scratchy voice. Her legs drop from being wrapped around me, and her breathing is labored as I rock into her slowly.

I drop soft kisses on her eyelids, her forehead, and the tip of her nose. "You good?"

A lazy and s.e.xy-as-h.e.l.l smile pulls at her lips. "So much better than good."

"Mmm . . . I like hearing that." I move again, testing her to see if she's open to more. As much as I'd hate to be done, I'd rather suffer through the blue b.a.l.l.s than push her too far.

"Don't stop." Her feet hit the bed, and she meets me thrust for thrust.

I hook one of her legs with my arm, getting deeper than I had before and almost coming right then. I don't want to stop. Ever. Not with Trix.

The powerful need to keep her rides me harder and my pace quickens.

"Yes!" She digs her nails into my arms, sc.r.a.ping down my biceps, and intensifying the tingling at the base of my spine. "Mason, you're so good, perfect, and mine . . ."

I ignite.

Stars burst behind my eyes, and I bury my face in her neck. My hips jackhammer into her body while my head spins from the euphoric high of her words.

I'm hers.

f.u.c.k, but no truer words have ever been spoken.

I kiss her long and deep, unable to look into her eyes out of fear that I'll see her regret. "Let me get rid of this." Pus.h.i.+ng up from the bed, I toss one side of the comforter over her and she giggles.

Moving to the bathroom, I blink into the bright light and trash the condom.

Does she mean it? Or is that like telling someone you love them while having s.e.x? I'm almost afraid to ask.

f.u.c.k it. It doesn't matter. I know she's it for me.

Trix Curled up in Mason's thick down comforter, surrounded by his scent, and with a delicious ache between my legs, I'm grinning like an idiot.

I really, really like this guy. More than I should, but I don't care.

A tiny voice in my head reminds me that I'm getting sidetracked. I'm not supposed to be dating or having mind-blowing s.e.x with handsome fighters. I'm supposed to be searching for Lana's killer.

After her body was discovered, the crime scene investigators swept the entire area for clues, but there were none. No fingerprints or DNA on her body or clothes. The only tire tracks were from her car. Best evidence they had to go on was an eyewitness who said they saw Lana's car pull over to help a motorcyclist. And a card found at the scene.

One card was buried beneath rotting leaves and Lana's blood.

A VIP card to Zeus's.

Every decision I've made in these last four years has been because of those two things: bikers and Zeus's.

Every decision, except the one I'm currently basking in the glow of.

Dating and sleeping with Mason is the first thing I've wanted to do for me. It's a little reminder that, under all this revenge and anger, I'm still a person with a beating heart and desires of her own.

And as much as I'd love to set her free, I'd never forgive myself for giving up on Lana.

"Don't think so hard. It'll give you a headache." Mason stalks toward me from the bathroom, and my mind short-circuits as I take in his masculine naked body.

Wide shoulders, bulky arms, and a narrow waist flow into powerful hips. He's a Michelangelo sculpture. A flash of ink catches my eye. I caught a glimpse of it earlier, but in the heat of it all didn't think to study it.

On his hip, riding just below where the waistline of his pants would fall, is a tattoo of a wave. Its base is low, touching the outside of his upper thigh, and it curves up to just over his hipbone.

He catches me staring and groans. "Don't ask."

"How can I not?" I crawl from my comforter coc.o.o.n and meet him at the edge of the bed. "Turn."

He rolls his eyes, but s.h.i.+fts to the side so I can study it further. On closer inspection, it's more than a wave. There's the letter "B," and the fingers of the wave cras.h.i.+ng over it make the number three. "B3."

"Yeah." He gathers my body to his and slips us both beneath the covers. "It's stupid. We were kids at the time and thought it was so bada.s.s. I've been meaning to get it covered."

"What is it?"

"The Bone Breaker Brotherhood."

"Bone Breaker? As in Bone Breaker Alley?"

"Same one. We claimed that break a long time ago. Kept the local surfers protected from the tourists that would come and disrespect them."

"Howlies?"

He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. "Yeah, howlies."

"Do all the guys have the same tattoo?"

"Yeah, but most of them have it on a more visible part of their body. I knew I wanted to go to college and wrestle, so I made sure I could keep mine covered. Not a lot of hiding places under a wrestling singlet."

"Mmm." I run my hand over his hip. "I like the location. It's s.e.xy."

"f.u.c.k it, then. It stays."

We laugh, and I fight to keep my eyes open. I have no idea what time it is, but this night has exhausted me as much as the stress has probably aged me.

"Trix, baby?"

My eyelids flutter open. "Hmm?"

"I want to take you out of Vegas, just for a couple days."

"What?" A yawn rips from my throat. "Why?"

"After what happened tonight, it feels like we can't go anywhere without someone giving us s.h.i.+t."

"Who says we have to go anywhere? I'm happy right here."

His fingers draw lazy patterns on my back. "I am too, and we'll do that as well. Starting this weekend."

Disappointment settles in my gut. "I can't this weekend. I'm going home for a few days."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's my dad's birthday, and I try not to miss it."

"That's perfect. I need to take care of some s.h.i.+t with my brother. Let's head up together."

I tilt my head back, resting my chin on his chest. "Are you serious? You'd do that?"

"Of course. You can do your dad's birthday, and then we'll have a couple extra days to hang out. We can go to Cowell."

"That would be great, except my dad is . . . Well, he's a pastor, so you can't stay with me."

He laughs hard, his body shaking with the force of it. "No s.h.i.+t, Beatriks. I'll stay with my mom."

"Okay, but I already got my plane ticket."

"It's cool. You give me your flight info, and I'll see what I can do."

"Wow, we went from first-time s.e.x to meeting my parents."

"No, we went from s.e.x, to a sleepover, to meeting your parents."

My chest warms with the gentleness of his voice, as if everything we've experienced so far and will experience in the future means something to him. "Sleepover?"

"Stay with me." He rolls to his side, positioning my back to his front. "I want to hold you a little longer."

"Okay, Mason." I relax, and this time I don't fight the comfort that consumes me. I don't try to talk myself out of how right this feels. Being with Mason is as easy as breathing. I don't allow the guilt to penetrate, and I ignore the voice that tells me I'm selfish.

With a smile on my face, I hold him to me while sleep takes me under, and dreams of a life I never imagined skate through my mind.

Eighteen.

Mason Getting out of training on a Friday wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. After getting an earful of s.h.i.+t from Blake and only mild dirty looks from Cameron, I managed to convince my team that one day off wouldn't kill me. Or them. Upon receiving their grumbled agreements, I made a phone call and was able to book the same flights as Trix for our trip back home.

We're waiting outside on the curb of San Jose International Airport, my duffle slung over one shoulder and Trix's hot pink roller bag in hand. She tilts her head up, and a slight breeze tosses her loose blond and purple locks around her face. Her lips curl in a smile, and I can't see behind her sungla.s.ses, but I'd be willing to bet her eyes are s.h.i.+ning with humor.

She hikes her purse higher on her bare shoulder, tugging on the skinny strap of her tank. "You look good in pink."

I c.o.c.k a shoulder and swing my gaze to the row of cars trickling down the terminal as they wait for their pa.s.sengers to appear. "I look good in everything, baby." I squint, searching for my brother's Cadillac.

Since our flight took us to San Jose, I called up Drake and guilted his a.s.s into picking us up from the airport. Trix a.s.sured me that her parents could get her, but knowing I'd have to let her go eventually, I'd rather milk every last second of our time together.

She giggles. "I can't argue with that."

d.a.m.n, I dig this girl.

"Come here." I throw my arm over her shoulder and pull her to me, maneuvering her around my bag so I can get to her lips. Aware we'll have to keep all public affection to a minimum when around her family, I refuse to pa.s.s up the chance to steal a kiss. Tilting my head to avoid bas.h.i.+ng her forehead with the bill of my baseball hat, I press a long close-mouthed kiss to her soft lips.

A slow hum vibrates our connection as she gives her weight over to me. I should stop, pull away to avoid making a scene, but the way her hands grip my tee at my belly, her sweet floral scent whirling through my senses . . . I part my lips. She takes my cue and wraps her arms around my neck, pus.h.i.+ng up on tiptoes and pressing her t.i.ts into my chest.

My pulse rockets through my veins, and I slide my hand down her back to the base of her spine. Don't grab her a.s.s in front of all these people. Do NOT grab her a.s.s- A horn honks. "You gonna f.u.c.k her out there, or do you two h.o.r.n.y b.a.s.t.a.r.ds wanna get in the d.a.m.n car!"

We grin against each other's lips, before turning to see Drake leaning over into the pa.s.senger side of his ride, windows down, and scowling.

"Have some f.u.c.king respect, you little s.h.i.+t!" I motion to the back of his car. "Pop the trunk."

I open the back door for Trix to get in before I take our bags and secure them in the trunk.

I hop in the front seat and pull on my seatbelt. The smell of Drake's cologne mixes with the stale scent of weed. My stomach twists with worry. "Thanks for the ride."

"Sure thing." Drake has on his sungla.s.ses, but I can tell by the slight lift of his chin that he's checking Trix out in the backseat through the rearview mirror.

"Eyes on the road, bro."

He shoots me a look and a c.o.c.ky grin then merges with traffic. "Where to, sweetheart?"

"Drake." f.u.c.kin' thinking he's a d.a.m.n baller. Idiot.

He laughs and sits deeper into his seat.

"I-17 south to Los Gatos." There's a hesitant sound in her voice that makes me wish I was in the backseat so I could touch her in some way to calm her nerves.

Silence descends on the three of us. Drake and I have plenty to talk about, but none of it I'll say in front of Trix. And there are a million things I'd like to say to my girl but don't want Drake to hear.

He pulls onto the long stretch of highway and settles into the fast lane. "So you guys are dating, yeah?"

I c.o.c.k my head to glare at my little brother. "Are you stupid?"

He shrugs. "What? It's an obvious question. She's a stripper, dude. For all I know, she's just escorting you home for the right price."