opened up.
How did you warn someone of your own bitterness? He didn’t like to admit it to himself.
But it was there, like a serpent hiding in the shadows. Bitterness about his own foolish
mistakes. About what he’d had to deny himself because of it—being a firefighter, like
his father, his brothers, his grandfather. That anger burned through him to this day,
but he kept it banked through the fights, and through the control he exerted as a
Dominant.
Except that Allie challenged his control too damn much. But he was going to play her
anyway.
Maintain control.
Words to live by. And he did, damn it. He
would
.
He passed the old iron gates of Washington Square, the trees bent, their leaves nearly
touching the ground. A few homeless, regular residents of the park, still lay sleeping
under their blankets on the grass, where later in the day the local musicians would
jam.
He and Allie had spent some time on that grass, listening to music, talking, kissing . . .
The old plaid blanket he kept in a roll on the back of his bike. Allie lying on it,
her hair spread in long, silky strands, her eyes glinting golden in the sunlight.
“Mick, kiss me again.” A small smile on her lovely face, her hands coming up to push
his hair out of his eyes, then skimming down to grab the lapels of his leather jacket
and pulling him closer. She laughed. “Come on, Mick. You know I can never get enough.
Kissing is my favorite thing.”
“You’re my favorite thing, Allie girl.”
“Oh, now you really have to kiss me.”
He leaned in to press his lips to hers. Lips like plush velvet,tasting of summer. Tasting of her. Their skin, their hair, smelling of the sunshine
in the park. Kissing until their lips hurt, then laughing about it. His heart hammering
simply because he held his girl so close, because her eyes were so damn pretty, shining
with love when he pulled back to look at her. Love for
him
. Pretty heady stuff. But she was
his
girl, and this was exactly how it should be.
Except for the dark beast he kept hidden away from her. The one side of him he could
never show her.
Damn it.
He pushed himself harder, starting to break a sweat in the humid morning air.
He needed to stop thinking of her for one damn minute. That was how he’d let his sparring
partner’s fist through yesterday morning.
No point in thinking about it now. He forced his mind to empty, to focus on his breathing,
on his feet pounding the pavement as he ran the last few blocks.
He slowed as he reached the gym and swung open the door. It was already crowded, but
he spotted his sparring partner, Antoine Duke, working out with the double-end bag,
his dark skin gleaming with sweat. He’d see if Antoine would have time to work the
heavy bag with him when he was done. He’d be meeting his Muay Thai instructor later
for a more thorough MMA workout. Meanwhile, he’d start on the speed bag. It’d be good
for him. Help him burn off some of this energy raging through his system.
He would be in the gym every morning until he saw Allie. And maybe every night. He
hated to admit how much he needed it right now, but seeing her had dragged memories
to the surface, things he’d rather forget.
Sometimes he thought he’d rather forget her—not that it was possible. Especially now
that she was in New Orleans.
And he was going to play her at the club.
He took a quick jab at the bag, let his fist plow a lot harder into it than he should
since he hadn’t warmed up his hands yet. Fuck it. He would do whatever it took to
calm the hell down. Had to. Because these same hands would be touching her bare flesh
all too soon.
He slammed the bag again, focusing on the pain in his knuckles. Welcomed it. Deserved
it.
Allie. Naked. Under his command.
Oh, yeah. He was definitely going to hell. He was pretty sure it’d be worth it.
* * *
M ORNING CAME TOO early, the sky a still blanket of fog outside her
How did you warn someone of your own bitterness? He didn’t like to admit it to himself.
But it was there, like a serpent hiding in the shadows. Bitterness about his own foolish
mistakes. About what he’d had to deny himself because of it—being a firefighter, like
his father, his brothers, his grandfather. That anger burned through him to this day,
but he kept it banked through the fights, and through the control he exerted as a
Dominant.
Except that Allie challenged his control too damn much. But he was going to play her
anyway.
Maintain control.
Words to live by. And he did, damn it. He
would
.
He passed the old iron gates of Washington Square, the trees bent, their leaves nearly
touching the ground. A few homeless, regular residents of the park, still lay sleeping
under their blankets on the grass, where later in the day the local musicians would
jam.
He and Allie had spent some time on that grass, listening to music, talking, kissing . . .
The old plaid blanket he kept in a roll on the back of his bike. Allie lying on it,
her hair spread in long, silky strands, her eyes glinting golden in the sunlight.
“Mick, kiss me again.” A small smile on her lovely face, her hands coming up to push
his hair out of his eyes, then skimming down to grab the lapels of his leather jacket
and pulling him closer. She laughed. “Come on, Mick. You know I can never get enough.
Kissing is my favorite thing.”
“You’re my favorite thing, Allie girl.”
“Oh, now you really have to kiss me.”
He leaned in to press his lips to hers. Lips like plush velvet,tasting of summer. Tasting of her. Their skin, their hair, smelling of the sunshine
in the park. Kissing until their lips hurt, then laughing about it. His heart hammering
simply because he held his girl so close, because her eyes were so damn pretty, shining
with love when he pulled back to look at her. Love for
him
. Pretty heady stuff. But she was
his
girl, and this was exactly how it should be.
Except for the dark beast he kept hidden away from her. The one side of him he could
never show her.
Damn it.
He pushed himself harder, starting to break a sweat in the humid morning air.
He needed to stop thinking of her for one damn minute. That was how he’d let his sparring
partner’s fist through yesterday morning.
No point in thinking about it now. He forced his mind to empty, to focus on his breathing,
on his feet pounding the pavement as he ran the last few blocks.
He slowed as he reached the gym and swung open the door. It was already crowded, but
he spotted his sparring partner, Antoine Duke, working out with the double-end bag,
his dark skin gleaming with sweat. He’d see if Antoine would have time to work the
heavy bag with him when he was done. He’d be meeting his Muay Thai instructor later
for a more thorough MMA workout. Meanwhile, he’d start on the speed bag. It’d be good
for him. Help him burn off some of this energy raging through his system.
He would be in the gym every morning until he saw Allie. And maybe every night. He
hated to admit how much he needed it right now, but seeing her had dragged memories
to the surface, things he’d rather forget.
Sometimes he thought he’d rather forget her—not that it was possible. Especially now
that she was in New Orleans.
And he was going to play her at the club.
He took a quick jab at the bag, let his fist plow a lot harder into it than he should
since he hadn’t warmed up his hands yet. Fuck it. He would do whatever it took to
calm the hell down. Had to. Because these same hands would be touching her bare flesh
all too soon.
He slammed the bag again, focusing on the pain in his knuckles. Welcomed it. Deserved
it.
Allie. Naked. Under his command.
Oh, yeah. He was definitely going to hell. He was pretty sure it’d be worth it.
* * *
M ORNING CAME TOO early, the sky a still blanket of fog outside her
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