Chapter 7
7
ATLAS
T he ten-minute drive to the condo from the gym has allowed Wren to think—far too much time to stew in her thoughts and drown in the insecurities she tries so hard to hide. An opportunity to second-guess what she’s doing by coming home with me and questioning why I want her with me.
Despite clutching her hand in mine and brushing my thumb over it, keeping that constant contact with her during the tense silence weaving through the streets, her anxiety only rises the closer we get.
Calm down, Little Bird…
She’s practically vibrating with it by the time I help her out of the car in the underground structure. Clutching her hand tightly, I lead her to the elevator and smash my fist to the call button.
The move makes her jump slightly, and I slide my palm over the exposed skin on her back, between the bottom of her sports bra and the waistband of her yoga pants—half scarred, raised and puckered, half smooth and flawless.
Wren stiffens at the touch, and I press my lips to the back of her neck.
“Relax, Little Bird…”
She sags into my touch, her warm skin brushing against my hand as she shifts closer. The doors glide open, and I immediately urge her forward with a gentle nudge.
Her unease tugs at something deep inside my chest, the intense need to protect her, to make her understand how I feel about her, how what happened today flipped some switch inside me that I can’t turn off now.
It courses through my veins as we step in, and I use my free hand to punch in the code that’ll bring us up to the penthouse floor. Wren slides from my hold and turns to lean back against the wall, her knee bouncing rapidly while the doors glide closed behind me.
Those smoky bourbon eyes follow me as I move over to her and cage her in with my hands on either side of her head. Staring down at the woman who was my best friend and now has become my obsession, thinking about how close Satriano stood to her minutes ago, my heart rattles violently against my ribcage.
Anger still heats my blood, but it’s desire, need for this woman, to know she’s safe and secure in my arms, that overpowers the fury directed at him.
The fear in her gaze twists my gut, knowing I might still be the cause of it. That she might still be wary due to how she saw me react. “Why do you look so scared, Little Bird?”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and considers me for a moment before she releases it—soft, pink, and so fucking enticing it takes every ounce of my willpower not to suck on it right now. “Because Christ, Atlas, this is really fast…”
Fast?
It feels like I’ve wanted this forever.
Like a millennium has passed since I last pressed my lips to hers back at the gym.
Like eons since I first kissed her after saying, “I do.”
I grin at her and take her cheek in my palm as the cab ascends. “Is it?”
Dipping my head, I feather my lips over hers. Barely a flicker of contact. A fleeting taste and promise of what’s to come.
She releases a little sigh into my mouth. “I haven’t even been back for a week…”
I kiss her again, harder this time, silencing that voice inside her head that wants to question all of this, that wants some sort of logical answer when this isn’t logic. This is something far more powerful than that. Something that can’t be so easily tossed aside.
“A week, huh?” I kiss the sensitive skin behind her ear. “It feels like so much longer.”
She shakes her head, trembling against me and pressing her hands flat against my chest. “Nope, definitely a week tomorrow.”
“Mmm.” I nod, flicking my tongue over that spot and making her twitch. “Then I’ve been stroking my cock for six days, thinking about you already…”
Her body goes rigid. “What?”
I pull back, sliding my hand down to grip her chin, tilting it up toward me. “I wasn’t fucking kidding before. Since the moment I walked into the studio and saw you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my fucking head.”
Her lips gape open, but the elevator reaches the top floor, comes to a jolting halt, and the doors slide open before she can respond.
“Come on.”
Releasing her chin, I grab her hand and tug her after me down the short hallway to the door on the right that leads into my condo.
She glances at the one across the hall. “Isaac’s place?”
I nod as I throw open my door.
Her wide eyes meet mine. “You don’t keep it locked?”
Chuckling, I usher her in and let the door close behind me. “No one’s getting up here without the security code, and they also need it to get down.”
She turns back to look at me, only a few steps into my domain. Her lips twist. “So, you’re saying I’m trapped here unless you give me the code?”
I grin at her as I advance slowly. “13581.”
“What?”
“The code—13581. If you don’t want to be here, if you don’t want this , Wren”—I shake my head—“I’m not going to keep you here. But I am going to tell you right now that if you say ‘yes,’ you’re going to stay for a long time because I’m going to fuck you on every surface of this condo and probably not let you out of my bed for days.”
Inhaling sharply, she retreats a step, a pink blush rising up her neck and across her cheeks. Offset against her pale skin and dark hair, it makes her look ten times sexier, which I didn’t even think was possible.
“Atlas, I’m not—” she releases a heavy exhale.
“You’re not what?”
Wren shoves a hand over her hair, loosening some of the tendrils from the tight ponytail holding it back. “I’m not used to this.”
I raise a brow at her. “Used to what ?”
She spreads her hands wide. “ This , being kidnapped from work and brought to some secure location by a man who apparently wants to pummel me with his cock.”
I bark out a laugh that carries through the high ceilings and close the distance between us so quickly that she can’t retreat any further, tugging her up against me with an arm around her waist. “Why do you make that sound bad? I promise you, Wren, it isn’t.”
She lets out a little huff of a laugh and smiles, placing her hands against my chest. “It’s not. I’m just…a little overwhelmed.”
“By what?”
Trepidation and longing mix in her gaze. “You.”
“There’s nothing to be intimidated about, babe. You know me.”
“No, I don’t.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen you in over twenty years. I know the eight-year-old boy who used to pull my hair and tease me.”
I tilt her chin up. “I’m still that eight-year-old boy somewhere deep inside, and believe me, I’m definitely going to tease you and pull your fucking hair.”
She laughs, the sound so carefree, despite the intensity of the moment. “You are definitely not the same boy, Atlas. That boy wasn’t so”—she scans me from the top of my head all the way down—“muscly and tattooed and cocky.”
A smirk pulls at my lips. “Are those such terrible things?”
“No. You wear it well…more than well. Fuck.” She squeezes her eyes closed and drops her forehead against my chest. “I sound like an idiot.”
I laugh and bury my face in her hair. “No, you don’t. Your babbling is fucking adorable.”
“I’m just not used to this kind of attention.”
My back stiffens, and I wrap my hand around her ponytail and use it to tug her head back, to force her to look up at me. “What do you mean?”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.
I can read between the lines and see the truth in the uncertainty in her gaze.
Fucking hell.
“Wren—”
“Most men only see the scars.” She shakes her head as much as she can with my grip on it. “They don’t—”
I silence her with a kiss before she can let out the words that are going to drag both of our minds into a place that isn’t going to get us anywhere but me fucking pissed off and her questioning everything she should be enjoying.
She leans into me, accepting the kiss and returning it in kind.
Whatever reservations she has, they seem to melt away when I can distract her from thinking about them.
I pull my mouth from hers. “You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my entire fucking life, Wren. Those men are idiots. I’m an idiot, too, but in different ways.”
She grins. “Oh, I already know that.”
“Do you?”
I give her hair a sharp tug, and she laughs. Releasing my grip on the ponytail, I step back and drop my shoulder, tossing her up onto it. A little yelp slips out, but before she can protest any further, I’m already striding across the living room toward the staircase that leads up to my bedroom.
Her laughter continues to fill the open lofted space. “Where are you taking me?”
I tighten my grip across the back of her thighs. “I already told you. I’m going to fuck you on every surface in here, but we’re starting in my bed, where I can spread you out and feast on you like I’ve been dying to.”
Wren shudders against me as I climb the stairs two at a time and reach the landing that leads to my bedroom.
Even the few moments it takes to get to the door seem like too long, and I’m tempted to push her against the wall and drop to my knees to worship her right here and now.
But I force myself to step into the room, lit by the morning sunlight streaming in from the open shades on the window.
I stalk to the bed and flip her up over my shoulder easily to drop her onto the mattress. She bounces and laughs, the lightness in the sound filling my chest with a warmth I haven’t felt in God knows how long.
Maybe not ever.
At least not since the day Mom and Dad told me she had left, that her dad had come from Texas for her after her mom died. When they explained there was nothing they could do to keep her here, despite Uncle Stone trying what he could through the court system to get Jenkins custody.
In a split second, she was gone. But now, she’s here, all grown up, beautiful and wanting, staring up at me with so much hope and the same lust I feel for her.
I reach down and snag the thin strap of her purse, pulling it down her arm and tossing it onto the floor near the door before I pop the fly of my jeans to release some of the pressure against my hard cock.
Wren’s eyes immediately follow the motion. Her tongue darts out across her lips, wetting them as she shifts on the bed, rubbing her thighs together.
Fuck, yes .
That’s exactly what I want.
Her writhing, needy, wanting, desperate for me the way I have been for her. Every night when I’ve closed my eyes, I’ve seen her like this. Now, it’s a reality, and I’m going to savor every inch of this woman and wring her out until she can’t fucking move.
Then do it all over again and again…
Until we’re forced to come back to the real world.
Because it’s inevitable.
I’m just going to put it off for as long as possible.
Pretend nothing exists except me and this intoxicating woman.
I free my hard cock from the tight confines of my pants, and her eyes widen. She gulps loudly, staring at me as I stroke it and climb onto the bed. The appreciation in her gaze makes my length jerk in my hand, and I toe off my shoes and pull hers free, tossing them behind me.
Shifting over her, I brace myself with one arm beside her head so I can dip my mouth to find hers again. Wren moans and arches against me as I release my cock to tunnel my hand in her hair and greedily take her mouth, angling her face where I want it to truly savor every bit of her.
The taste of her tongue darting along mine…
The push and the pull…
It’s exactly what I want from her.
All those insecurities, everything that hurt her in the past, don’t exist in this space with me.
I won’t let it.
When I tug my mouth from hers, she’s panting.
Breathless.
Her cheeks pinken even more as I examine her.
Perfect breasts heave in the confines of her crop-top sports bra.
I drift my fingers along the lower hem, and she lifts herself in offering. A low rumble of approval rattles my chest, and I slide my hand under the stretchy fabric and tug on it.
She lifts her shoulders to allow me to pull it up and off, freeing her breasts.
Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful.
High, pert nipples stand at attention, making my mouth water to taste them. I drop my head and suck one between my lips. She groans and tunnels her hands in my hair, arching her hips against mine, pinning my cock between us.
“Oh, God, Atlas…”
My name from her lips is a prayer, one I didn’t know I needed to hear so badly until the day she walked back into my life. But now, I can’t imagine not having it fill my ears every night for as long as I breathe and walk this Earth.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
I have never done commitment, never committed to more than a few nights with any one woman, and that’s the way I’ve always liked it. But with Wren, I know it can’t be that way.
It never could be.
Wren isn’t a one-and-done.
There is no getting this need for her out of my system.
This is a lifelong addiction that started when I was a child and has only grown stronger with the years and miles between us.
And for some reason, I’m abso-fucking-lutely okay with it as long as I have Wren in my life and in my arms.
WREN
Just like he does his opponents in the ring, Atlas overwhelms me.
The brush of his lips against mine and over my heated skin…
His rough, calloused palms grazing along my arm and my side…
His scent invading every breath, which become harder and harder to take…
Each swipe of his tongue…
Every suck and pull at my sensitive flesh…
All of it starts a warm rush through my body I’ve only ever felt at my own hand.
So close.
He releases my nipple from his mouth, and before I can protest, he shifts to give the other one the same attention. A direct line to that sweet spot between my legs. Every time he tugs at the stiff peak with his lips or flicks it with his tongue, my hips bow and pleasure courses through me.
Christ.
Atlas might make me come solely by doing this.
It would be a true miracle. But this man already has me soaked and desperate, and he’s barely touched me. If anyone can finally make it happen, it will be him.
The anticipation of what he will do next makes me vibrate underneath his hard body until he finally releases me again and drags his head back. Blue eyes swimming with lust meet mine, and for the first time, I don’t question why he’s with me or why this is happening.
It’s crystal clear in his gaze.
The desire.
The longing.
The sheer, almost feral hunger.
He trails his rough hands down across my exposed stomach to the waistband of my yoga pants. Fingers play along the edge, tickling my skin in the most delicious way. I twist under him at the contact, grasping his arms to dig my fingers into the tight muscles. He tugs my leggings and thong down and pulls them free in one smooth motion, tossing them over his shoulder without a second thought.
All his focus is on me.
On my naked body spread out on the bed underneath him.
Being fully exposed to Atlas doesn’t make me want to shy away the way it has with other men. I don’t wonder what he thinks about my scars that are now so glaringly on display for him. Not with the way his heated gaze rakes over me.
“Jesus, Wren, you’re fucking beautiful.”
He runs his fingers from my left shoulder, across my chest, and down over my stomach, letting his fingertips linger on that side, over some of the worst of the damage the fire caused.
I tense, waiting for the disgust I’ve seen so many other times, but when he glances up at me, his eyes hold something completely different.
Concern.
“These don’t hurt?”
He’s worried he’s going to hurt me.
My heart melts for the tattooed bad boy whose bed I’ve found myself in, who tries so damn hard to hide his own pain yet worries about mine.
I blink away the burn of tears threatening to form as I shake my head. “No, not anymore.”
The deep worry line in his forehead softens, his fingertips gently brushing over my marred skin. “Good…”
More questions linger in his gaze.
Things he undoubtedly wants to know about the time we were apart, including what gave me these scars. But he doesn’t press me, doesn’t linger, just shifts back on the bed until he is on his elbows between my legs.
Oh, God…
He uses his broad shoulders to spread my thighs open wider, and I grip the comforter tightly, anticipating his next move. His blond hair glistens in the morning light streaming in from the window. Almost giving him an angelic appearance, despite all the ink and attitude. But the wicked gleam in his eyes is far more devil than angel.
My pussy throbs, and almost as if he can sense the heat radiating from me, Atlas leans forward and blows gently over my slick core. My hips bow up toward him in offering as flutters of arousal rattle my body and mind.
His strong arm comes up, and he presses down against my hips, anchoring me to the mattress. “You stay here, Little Bird. Exactly where I want you.”
The weight pinning me down, keeping me prone, while I’m stripped completely bare in front of him, should bother me. Being in this position, utterly at his mercy, should make me want to rebel against it. But with Atlas, it all seems so right to follow his commands, to let him take control, to close my eyes and allow him to have his way with me.
He kisses up my inner thighs slowly, letting his lips linger over the skin, sucking and licking, paying extra attention to the left side, along the ragged edges of the scars.
Making them shake.
Making goosebumps pebble.
Making me ache and clench, until he finally reaches the apex of my thighs and my throbbing core.
His tongue flicks across my clit sharply. I jerk against his hold, but his intense strength keeps me splayed wide while the way he works me over steals my breath.
Unable to move.
Unable to speak.
Unable to even think.
He shoves his tongue into me without preamble.
Fuck .
I squeeze my eyes closed and tighten my grip on the comforter, undulating underneath him, shifting and seeking something…but I don’t know what.
All this is too new.
The sensations so unfamiliar.
This attention overwhelming in the best way possible.
He kisses and sucks at my flesh, probing his tongue in and out of me, alternating that with vicious flicks against my clit before he slips two fingers inside me. “Fucking hell, Wren.” He releases an approving groan against my damp core. “You taste fucking incredible. Your pussy’s so fucking sweet, so fucking hot, and so fucking tight. I can’t wait to slide my cock into you.”
His words make me clench around him, and something flutters low in my belly.
The first spark.
One that never seems to fully ignite except at my own hand.
My body tenses immediately, and Atlas lifts his head, stilling his hand, with his brow furrowed. “You still with me, Little Bird?”
God, yes. I want to be.
I force myself to relax and let out a shaky, uneven breath. “Y-yes…”
It must be convincing enough because he dips his head again, curls his fingers deep inside me, and starts thrusting and dragging them with every retreat. He sucks my clit between his lips again, pulsing on it in time with his ministrations.
Oh hell …
My head thrashes as he devours me. As a racing heat floods through my body, attacking me the same way the flames once did. Only these don’t hurt. They wrap around me, cocooning me in bliss while leaving me searching for something so close but out of reach.
He shows me no quarter, just like he doesn’t offer any to his opponents.
But that isn’t what I am.
This isn’t a fight.
At least, it shouldn’t be.
Yet, somehow, it simultaneously feels like I’m losing and winning in this battle against Atlas.
He seems to have lost all control, yet somehow is in it.
Pinning me in place.
Taking what he wants while also giving me the type of pleasure I’ve never experienced in my entire life.
“Oh, God, Atlas. I’m going to—I need—”
I have no fucking clue what I need.
Just more —of this.
Of him .
He growls low against my flesh and draws on my clit harder, pulsing and dragging his fingertips inside me rapidly in the same spot until the white-hot wash of orgasm blasts through me.
I arch against his hold.
Twisting my hands into the fabric beneath me.
Thrusting.
Grinding.
Mindless.
Nothing but flashes of bright lights and sizzling nerve endings as he licks and sucks and consumes me so thoroughly it’s almost agonizing. Until the pleasure is so intense that I can’t take it anymore—
Gasping, I release the comforter to push at his head. “Oh, God. Stop…”
He lifts it, and his hooded eyes meet mine.
I try to catch my breath, struggling to drag in air. “I can’t-can’t breathe.”
The satisfied look and all humor vanish from his face, quickly replaced by worry. “Are you okay?” He slides up over me, making sure to keep his body weight off. One hand cups my cheek gently, and he searches my gaze, concern furrowing his brow. “Wren…”
I nod, trying again to suck in a strangled breath. “Just g-give me a m-minute.” I press my hand over my chest. “L-lung damage fr-from the fire. Sometimes, I c-can’t—”
“Shh…” He shushes me softly, lightly brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Stop talking. Long, slow, deep breaths.”
Caribbean gaze locked with mine, he holds me steady in those warm waters as I follow his mesmerizing voice giving me directions.
“In…”
Drawing air in slowly against the constriction of my chest.
“And out…”
Releasing it.
I do my best to concentrate on filling my lungs and letting the air free until the tightness in my ribcage finally starts to relax, and I can actually feel my body getting some oxygen again.
The heavy crease between his brows softens. “Better?”
Nodding, I take one more deep inhalation and let it out to confirm it’s passed. “Yeah.”
He glances back at my bag by the door. “Do you have an inhaler?”
“In my purse, if I need it.”
Atlas tips my chin. “ Do you?”
Testing my unreliable body, I take another breath and exhale slowly.
I shake my head. “Not right now.”
These incidents suck.
They always seem to come at the most inopportune time.
In the middle of a flow at the studio…
Out for a run…
When I’m excited or worked up about something…
And I am most definitely worked up at the moment. My body thrums from the orgasm, still wanting more, still craving Atlas’ hands and mouth all over me. His hard cock inside me instead of where it’s currently pressed against me.
I shift against him, running my hand along his side and offering him a smile that I hope convinces him to forget the little mood-killing incident.
The corner of his lips twitches. “Might want to have it handy for what I have planned for you.”
“That’s…quite the promise.”
He rubs his hips against mine, his hard cock grinding into my stomach. “I still don’t think you get it, Wren. How much I’ve wanted this, wanted you , since the moment you came back.”
I think I do get it.
Maybe…
Even though he can have any girl he wants? When dozens of them throw themselves at him every fight?
That little voice at the back of my head screams the longer I stare into his eyes, washing away any pleasant, lingering effects of the release he gave me, and I start to turn my head away.
He captures my cheek and pulls me back, forcing me to look at him. “Where did you just go?”
“I’m here.”
“No, you’re not.” He shakes his head. “Whatever you were thinking, don’t .”
Tears well in my eyes.
Fuck.
All of this is so overwhelming.
I’m not sure I can fight it anymore.
“I’m sorry, Atlas. I just haven’t really ever had anyone…”
His brow furrows again, that deep concern filtering into his gaze. “Haven’t had anyone what?”
“Want me like this. No one ever did… that. ”
“Jesus Christ, Wren.” He lets out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to collect himself. When he looks at me again, a mixture of anger and something I can’t quite place stares back at me. “Part of me is pretty fucking pissed that’s true.”
There’s the anger…
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “But the other part of me is also glad I’m going to be the one who gets to show you what it should be like.”
Pride.
That’s what I see shimmering in his eyes.
Atlas wants to be the person who unravels me. He wants to destroy me in the best way. He wants to own that piece of me that no other man has ever touched. Wants to control all my pleasure. And I am more than willing to let him.
He shifts his knee between my legs, urging me to reopen them for him. I spread wide, inviting him in, accepting the offer he just made and the promise in his words.
Warm, eager lips find mine again, and he kisses me senseless, obliterating any reservations, until my head is spinning, my body writhing, my pussy aching and clenching for something that isn’t there.
His promise rings in my ears.
Of what he can offer.
What he wants.
The same thing I do—us.
This.
One of his large, rough hands slips between us, and he grasps his cock, dragging the thick length through my release. A low, guttural groan vibrates through his chest, and I gasp as the head catches my hypersensitive clit.
He rests his forehead on mine as he aligns himself at my core.
It would be so damn easy for him to slip inside.
A single thrust of his hips will anchor him so deep that nothing will be able to tear us apart.
Hot, slick, hard flesh glides over mine.
Again and again.
So fucking close.
“I-I…I’m not on birth control.”
He slowly lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine without a hint of the concern I expect to find there. “Have you been tested?”
I nod.
“I am, too, regularly.”
“But what if—”
Atlas raises a blond brow. “What if I get you pregnant?”
I bob my head.
A slow grin spreads across his lips without a second of hesitation. “I think seeing you pregnant and your belly growing with my baby would be the most beautiful thing in the fucking world.” He kisses me deeply again, probing with his tongue, gliding along mine in a way that promises he’s not kidding. “I hope I do knock you up.”
Oh, Christ…
That should bother me.
Give me pause.
Make me tell him to stop.
But as crazy as it may be, his words only make me want him and this more.
The sincerity in them.
The passion and need deepening his voice and lighting his gaze.
A tear finally slides from my eye and trickles down my cheek, and I arch into him, giving him permission to sink into me in one long, slow thrust that steals my breath and any hope I had of keeping my heart from being completely owned by Atlas.