Chapter 7
Seven
Rhett
One moment, I’m dead asleep.
In the next, I’m wide awake.
It takes me a moment to figure out why. The darkness is distorting and, for a second, I can’t remember where I am. It’s not until I feel the body pressed up against mine, stiff and trembling, that I get my bearings.
A wretched, gasping noise breaks the silence. It’s a soft sound but as close as I am, there’s no missing it. I know this sound and I know what’s causing her to make it. Immediately, I sit up and feel around for the switch to turn on the string lights.
“Blair?”
After a beat, I manage to find the switch and the warm glow of the string lights fills the space.
I lean over Blair to find her trapped in a nightmare.
The tendons in her neck are straining; her jaw is clenched tight.
When she gasps again, her lips peel back just enough to let the sound out through gritted teeth.
Her body is rigid and trembling. Sweat is beginning to bead on her forehead, and a tear slips free from beneath her eyelid, and trails down her cheek.
“Blair!” I grab her shoulder and shake her. “Wake up.”
Her eyes fly open with alarm, as does her mouth as she gasps for air. She lashes out but I grab her wrist before she can hurt either of us. The touch doesn’t drag her out of her nightmare’s clutches. There’s still panic in her eyes—bright and wild. Her gasping grows more ragged and intense.
“Blair, it’s me. It’s okay,” I promise vehemently. “You’re safe.”
Recognition softens the fear in her eyes and her body sags. The way the tension recedes from her body is so dramatic that she looks smaller now.
“Rhett…”
My name comes out broken and full of despair, and I can’t take it.
Blair’s not one to break down, but right now she’s lost and afraid, trapped in the fringes of a nightmare that I can only assume was about her time before she came to Gnarly Pines.
This woman has lived a life of torment wrapped in the pretty lie of being cared for.
Inwardly, I vow that we’ll kill whoever is sending these people after her, and once they’re gone, she’ll never suffer again.
I won’t let anything happen to Blair—not anymore. She’s mine to take care of. Just like Santi, Wes, and Led—I cut the last name off. Ledger can go fuck himself now.
“I-I’m sorry,” Blair says in a broken whisper as her eyes mist over.
If I could change how things were, I would. Anything to make her happy. But I’m just… me. I have no soft words to offer her like Wesley would. I don’t have jokes or know how to lighten the mood like Santiago. Desperate to stop the tears shining in her eyes, I do the only thing I can think of.
I lean down and kiss Blair.
The brush of my lips is light; a reassurance—not a claim. It’s a wordless decree letting Blair know that I’m here and I won’t let her face these days and nights on her own.
That’s how it starts out, anyway.
Yet the moment I press my lips against her soft, full ones, time freezes.
A conglomerate of emotions gathers in the middle of my chest, churning violently together, then erupts in a frenzied explosion. My heart quakes under the intensity and my lungs seize in surprise. It feels like every piece of the puzzle that makes up my life is clicking together.
This is it.
I’m whole.
Time starts up again.
When I pull away from Blair’s lips, it’s just a scant inch and it’s only to process how fucking desperately I need her. Most human beings need food, water, and shelter to survive. But me? I need those things plus Blair.
A hard tremor rushes through me as I realize I’ve been starving a part of myself. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of what I need, I know that I will die without more of Blair.
Before I can get a grip on my new reality, Blair props herself up on one elbow and reaches forward with her other hand. Her palm slides across my cheek in the softest caress before moving behind my head, her fingers diving into my hair.
With a gentle tug, she pulls my head toward her.
I’m surprised but not enough to deny her anything.
There’s no holding me back as I dive forward and devour the feast laid out before me. This time, when our mouths meet, I swear I can hear a clap of thunder as fate blesses this union. Gently, I suck on her bottom lip and when she gasps, my tongue snakes into her mouth.
Blair groans as I deepen the kiss.
The blood rushing through my veins sounds like the roar of a river after a storm.
I lean forward, forcing Blair back down onto the mattress.
My hands find her waist but don’t linger there.
They slide down until I can feel the hem of her shirt.
My fingers curl around it and I tug it up.
Our kiss breaks only for her shirt to be pulled over her head.
Blair’s hands slide under my shirt, but rather than pull it off, her palms slide over my stomach and chest, caressing and exploring.
I shiver at the warmth radiating off them.
I want that warmth everywhere. I need it.
I break the kiss, this time to remove my own shirt and to climb over her so that I’m on my knees, one on either side of her legs.
As I toss it away, Blair’s already reaching back to unclasp her bra.
Before I can help, she pulls it off and throws it in the same direction I’d tossed my shirt.
I drink in the sight of her breasts. Her dark areolas and perky nipples call to me. Leaning down, I suck and tease her hardened peak as if I’m seeking out the sustenance they could produce. The other nipple isn’t neglected. I tug and roll it between deft fingers.
There’s a gasp and then my name slips out as a moan, “Rhett…”
Fingers dive into my hair, nails scraping gently across my scalp, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine.
Her legs come up, snaking out from beneath me.
They wrap around my waist in a surprisingly strong hold, and she lifts her hips to grind against the hard length of my dick that’s straining against the front of my pants.
I pull away from her nipple with a strained chuckle.
“You’re greedy.”
“The greediest,” she confirms without hesitation, her legs falling back down onto the bed. “Can you handle that?”
I laugh—the sound raspy—before I start to plant kisses down her stomach. My hands slide down her sides, skimming across smooth, soft skin. When I get to her waistband, I grab and tug at it. Together, we work the jeans off her body. They’re forgotten the moment they leave my hand.
My heart skips a beat. Laying naked beneath me, looking unabashed and sounding just as breathless as I am, is Blair—the woman who’s taken my life and shaken it up for the better.
I’ve seen Blair naked before. Back then, I was broken and drained, but despite that I could still appreciate her beauty as she stood before me.
Seeing Blair like this, however, is different. She’s naked, panting, and her eyes shine with a stark hunger that matches my own. This is like witnessing the resurrection of a goddess. Holy shit.
“You’re beautiful,” I mutter.
The words aren’t enough.
I wish I could express just how much awe she inspires in me.
But words elude me as I take in every inch of her.
She’s absolutely stunning. Soft in all the right places, toned everywhere else.
There’s no missing the scars on her body, though.
Some I know to be from bullet wounds, others I can only imagine where they came from.
My gaze flickers to the stitches on her arm.
Soon, that’ll be just a scar. One more to add to her collection.
All these marks that mar her pretty brown skin are evidence of the hell she’s gone through and proof of her resilience.
Leaning down, I kiss a scar on her abdomen. An old bullet wound, I’m sure of it.
Blair sucks in a sharp breath.
I kiss another scar.
“You don’t have to…” she murmurs, her body starting to tense. “I know they’re ugly—”
“Hush.” I look up to find Blair squeezing her eyes shut.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed or uncomfortable about. You are…” I shake my head, not sure how to describe her perfection.
Blair opens her eyes slowly and looks down at me.
Holding her gaze, I tell her, “You are more captivating than the sunrise, and more devastating than a sunset, Blair. There’s nothing that isn’t perfect about you. ”
Her pretty full lips pop open in surprise. Not doubt taken back by the tenderness.
To be honest, I’m a bit surprised too.
With Santi, I’m degrading. He loves being my little whore and I love his complete submission.
Blair isn’t Santi though. She doesn’t need filthy words or a strong presence to ground her—Blair needs a partner.
An equal. Apparently, I can adjust accordingly because sweet words tumble easily from my lips.
I smile at her before returning my attention to her body. I kiss another one of her scars, then move to another, and then another. As I lean up to capture her left breast into my mouth, my hand slides over her mound and between her legs.
As my fingers slide through her pussy’s folds, I’m greeted by slick arousal.
“Jesus, Blair,” I mutter against her skin. “You’re so wet… I’ve barely touched you.”
A shiver rushes through me and my cock strains harder against my pants.
“I’ve wanted this for a while, Rhett,” she admits as her hips tilt upward and her legs spread wider for me. “Please…”
“Shhh, I got you, Blair. I’ll give you what you want.”
“What I need,” she corrects with a sharp gasp as I sink two fingers inside of her.
A hungry growl answers her. Words escape me as hers wrap around my psyche. Blair needs me.
Good, because I feel the same way when it comes to her.
I groan as my fingers are gripped tight by Blair’s body. “Damn it, Blair, you’re going to feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick. Your pussy is fucking perfect—made for me. I can already tell.”