Chapter 11

Eleven

North

They found someone who might be able to take me.

I’m staring across the ring at the six-foot-three brick shithouse from Jersey through hollow eyes, not assessing him as an opponent. Not strategizing about how to beat him. Nah, I’m merely trying to deduce whether or not he could deliver a death blow. It’s getting worse. Day five without my Gracie. I want to be six feet under. Life is agony. Every fucking second of it is more unbearable than the last. I dig my teeth into my rubber mouthpiece, trying to slice through it. And then I just spit it out altogether, because who gives a fuck if I lose some teeth or bust my jaw? Do it, I chant in my head, though the other fighter can’t hear me. Do it.

I can’t die.

I know that. I’ve come to terms with it.

I have to stay alive for my sister. She’s the only reason I’m bothering.

But I can get some blessed relief from being awake. After not sleeping for five days, endless memories of Grace revolving in my head, I’m willing to take a blow from a sledgehammer. I’m hurting. I’m hurting so bad from the lack of her and the only escape is unconsciousness. Bring it on.

The referee steps into the center of the ring and the other fighter powers forward, punching himself in the head to psyche himself up. I stare back mutely, the sounds of the Hellmouth tinny and cartoonish in my ears. I’m not even here. I’m in bed with Grace on one of those perfect afternoons, kissing her shoulders, cupping her soft knees in my hands, listening to her secrets. Her likes and dislikes. Telling her my own while her eyes sparkle up at me.

If this guy is going to knock me out, that’s the image I want in my head when I go.

Please, for the love of God, let him knock me out.

The fight begins and my fists come up, purely out of muscle memory. Guarding my face, moving in a circle around the other fighter. Anger wells up inside of me, unexpected. Anger at myself for being so naïve. Grace Foster? With a guy like me? Forever? What a goddamn moron I am. “Hit me,” I growl. Then louder, “Come on.”

He seems confused by my demand for oblivion. Can’t really blame him.

Maybe he needs some encouragement.

I feint left, then come in with the uppercut, snapping his head back, causing him to stumble. Cheers go up on every side of the ring, but I’m just focused on my opponent. Hoping I’ve given him the motivation he needs to come back swinging.

And he does. Thank God.

Nostrils flaring, he comes roaring back with a jab straight to my left cheek, followed by a right cross that normally I could handle, no problem, but I haven’t slept or eaten in days, so this time it spins me around, static crackling in my brain, ears ringing. I need to turn around fast, regroup, but only if I want to win—and I don’t. I just want to wait here for another punch.

But then I hear her voice.

It’s not in my head. I know the difference.

In my head, her tone sounds distant, like remnants of a dream.

This? It’s Grace. In the flesh. Right here and now.

And it’s like being electrified.

I turn around just in time to see her climbing into the ring.

Climbing into the ring.

Running toward me.

No.

No no no.

She has almost reached me when my opponent rears back with the death blow. This is it. The one I’ve been waiting for. The one that will put me out. Blessedly into the black. And it’s coming just as Grace tries to insert herself between me and the behemoth fighter from Jersey. It’s a nightmare that happens in slow motion.

“Grace! Stop!” I howl at the top of my lungs, propelling myself forward, determined to block the blow. And thank God, thank God, the other fighter’s confusion lessens some of the momentum in his punch, because I don’t get there in time. There’s no physical way to make it. To stop the horror from taking place. The fighter’s taped fist glances off the side of her head and she recoils, stumbling, my roar echoing off the walls of the Hellmouth.

I cold cock the other man, eliminating the threat to Grace on instinct, and still manage to catch her before she hits the mat. I cradle her in my arms, baying like a broken beast, nothing making sense, the world in a sickening blur around me.

God oh God oh God this isn’t happening.

“Gracie!” I drop down on my knees, rocking her, staring at the angry red knot forming on her temple in terror. “No, baby. No. Why?”

Miracle of miracles, her eyes flutter open and I hold my breath, praying I’m not just in denial. Praying I’m not just imagining her being conscious. With my entire existence suspended in time, I watch as she turns and presses her lips into my chest, reaching a hand up to cradle my cheek. “Because I love you,” she whispers, starting to cry. “I love you so much.”

Her image blurs, my throat closing up so tight that I can’t speak.

Can’t do anything but reel in the disbelief.

I stumble to my feet with Grace in my arms, easing us through the ropes, carrying her through the mass of people who have gone silent. Horrified. “I have to get you to the hospital.” I’m slurring, hoarse. Dizzy. She loves me. She’s dying. She loves me. She’s dying. “You need a doctor. You’re not…you aren’t made to be hit like that, Gracie. Jesus Christ. Does it hurt too bad?”

“Nothing hurts right now. I’m with you.” Tears course down her cheeks, her palm stroking up and down my chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Please. Please. I need someone to look and tell me you’re okay. Please.”

After a moment, she nods, snuggling into my chest. “Okay.”

Expelling a relieved breath, I pick up my pace, her health and safety consuming my focus. After I’m assured she’s not seriously injured, I’ll process the fact that she loves me. That she came back. That I’m holding her again. Right now, though, all I can do is imagine the worst. A concussion. Something bleeding in her brain. All I can do is see the punch connecting with her beautiful head, over and over again, and my entire body is shaking and sweating.

“I’m okay,” she says, levering herself up to kiss my face. “I-I shouldn’t have done that, but you weren’t hearing me. It was too loud. I knew…I knew the next punch was going to be bad. I couldn’t let it happen, North. I couldn’t. Your sister came to get me. She told me you’ve been getting hurt on purpose.” She makes a choked sound and bursts into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

We’re on the sidewalk now, moving toward my car at a fast clip and I’m not stopping for any reason. Doctor. Hospital. But the sight of her misery almost breaks me. “What do you have to be sorry about, Gracie? You were just doing what’s best for yourself. I…it was selfish of me to expect you to trade that nice life for this one. Look at what my world does to you.”

“You don’t understand. My father…he…” She has to stop for breath, visibly trying to calm herself down and I can’t help it, I slow my stride and kiss her forehead, cheeks, the crown of her head, holding her tighter in my arms to comfort her. “North, my father isn’t a good person,” she whispers. “He’s in league with a really dangerous man. And h-he threatened to have you killed if I didn’t break things off.” Her chest starts to heave. “Oh God, I could be putting you in danger right now.”

I’m too overcome with fear that she’s been gravely hurt to fully process this news. But I hear it all the same. I hear the most important part and my heart starts to beat again for the first time in five days. “You didn’t…want to leave me?”

“No!” she cries out. “I’m dying without you.”

Her words wind me, knock my breath right out of my lungs. “This is real. This is real? I know I’m not having a fantasy, because I’d never daydream of you getting hit.”

“It’s real. I’m here.” We reach my car then and I sit her on the hood while I unlock the door, then pick her back up and gently place her in the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. Before I can close the door, she snags my wrist. “I don’t know what to do, North. I’m scared. I can’t stay away from you, but I could get you killed.”

“Listen to me, Gracie, we’re going to figure this out. Together. Knowing you want me? That’s all I need. No one is keeping me from you again. I fucking bleed with love for you,” I say thickly, hands shaking violently. “Let them come for me.”

“I love you,” she whispers, laying her head back against the seat, the affection on her face slaying me where I stand. “I’d bleed for you, too.”

“You are bleeding for me,” I rasp, throat on fire. “Please let me make sure you’re all right, beauty.”

She nods and I exhale jaggedly, closing the door and running for the driver’s side.

* * *

Grace is okay.

She’s okay.

She’s okay.

I repeat those words to myself on a loop while leaning against the hallway wall outside of her hospital room, still shirtless, eyes bloodshot. The nurses made me leave Grace’s room in the ER so they could ask her some questions. I know they’re asking my girlfriend if I’m the one who gave her that knot on her head—and I’m glad. I’m glad there are people in place to protect her, even if the very suggestion that I’d hit her makes me sick to my stomach.

They want to keep Grace overnight as a precaution only and I’m not going to leave her side for a goddamn second. I’ve already called Tulip, who is safe at home, letting her know where I’ll be. She cried and apologized when I told her Grace got in the middle of my fight, blaming herself, but I wouldn’t allow it. There’s no one to blame here. Grace and I were born on the opposite side of the tracks. Money and status and public perception are the culprit. They’re what kept us apart.

But I’m not allowing that to happen anymore.

Grace could never look anything less than beautiful, but one look at her face and I can see the toll it took. To be separated from me. We share one heart, one soul. Being away from each other isn’t an option. Five days without us has stolen her healthy glow, surrounded her eyes with purplish shadows. I can’t stand to imagine what she’s gone through. If she experienced half of my pain, I don’t know how she’s even breathing right now.

The nurse comes out of the room holding a clipboard and nods at me. “Well,” she laughs. “Someone certainly loves you.” Her eyes skate down my chest, in a practical, motherly way. “I’m going to check and see if we have scrubs in your size. I doubt you’re going to leave your girlfriend—”

“You’ve got that right.”

Again, she laughs. “And you can’t sit here half-dressed all night.”

I nod once. “Thanks, that would be great.”

“Stay here.”

Pacing, eager to get back into the room with Grace, I watch the nurse disappear into a supply closet and step out a moment later with a blue garment. It’s a little tight, but I manage to get it over my head and down my chest, arms and torso. With one more nod of gratitude for the nurse, I reenter the dark room, my heart pounding out of control at the way Grace smiles at me, reaching out her hand.

I cross the floor and take it, holding her palm to my cheek.

Can’t believe I’m touching her. Can’t believe she came back.

“They’re not going to call my parents. I’m eighteen, so I have the option,” she murmurs. “But when I don’t come home tonight…I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“You just rest, beauty,” I say, kissing the small of her wrist, keeping my lips there until her pulse stops rollicking. “Nothing is happening tonight. I’m right here. I’m standing guard while you get the sleep you need.”

Her brow wrinkles with concern. “What about the sleep you need?”

“Gracie, you came back to me,” I manage, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can run at least another few years on that alone.”

I’m about to pull back when she turns her head, bringing her mouth flush with mine. “We could both get some sleep. Together.” Her tongue skates along the seam of my mouth, sending every ounce of blood in my body rushing south. “There’s enough room in this bed for both of us. If we cram in really tight.”

A hoarse sound scrapes out of me. “No. No, baby. You got hit in the head tonight. I’m not making love to you. I can’t. What if I hurt you or made it worse?”

“I’m fine. They’re only keeping me as a formality.” She drags a knuckle down the front of my chest, stopping just above my bulging erection, then slowly tracing the thick line of it, rubbing side to side when she reaches the head, saying in a whisper, “I can tell you missed me.”

“Missed you?” My laugh is broken, humorless, pained. “My world went black.”

“Mine too,” she says haltingly.

She peels back the covers and my eyes trail down the hospital gown to where it has bunched up around her hips, exposing her sheer white panties. Her eyes are innocent and imploring and I’m fucking toast. “Let’s not miss each other anymore.”

There’s a permanent notch in my throat as I slide into the bed with her, her cherry cola scent dragging me closer until we’re face to face on our sides. She wiggles the remaining distance, pressing the fronts of our thighs together, her tits chafing my pecs. Immediately we’re breathing hard, our mouths seeking the home they’ve been deprived of for five days. I catch her hip in my hand and tug her lap tight to mine, desperate to lose myself in her soft femininity, desperate to be healed. Panting for it. And finally, finally, our lips reunite.

We’ve barely started and we’re already overcome. One swipe of my tongue into her sweet mouth and she whimpers, trembling, the weight of what we’ve been through obviously catching up with her. So I wrap my arm around her as tight as I can, drawing her hard and tight to my body, urging her upper thigh around my hip, and I kiss her in the name of comfort and relief and our undefeatable love.

“It’s okay, beauty. It’s okay.” The perfect taste of her makes me lightheaded. “I’ve got you. North’s got you now.”

“Promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I promise. I swear to God.”

Our kiss is fervent and cherishing, our hands roaming everywhere. I learned early that Grace has a serious appreciation for my body and she shows it now, dragging up the hospital shirt and scrubbing her palms up and down my muscle, occasionally trailing her fingertips down to the waistband of my shorts, lower, teasing my dick with light strokes.

Jesus, it’s a challenge—it’s always one—not to try and eat her whole. Possessiveness and obsession and this incessant craving for Grace are a constant monkey on my back. They make everything urgent. Fuck her now. Fuck her hard. But even though I’m more eager than ever to get inside of my girl, I force myself to maintain control. She’s worth every ounce of it. She’s my very own gift from God and I’m not going to be selfish with her.

That being said, my Gracie is a horny little thing.

Everything she does is designed to snap my restraint.

Every whimper, every writhe of her pussy against my erection, every brush of her fingertips over my nipples, down my happy trail. Every meeting of our frantic mouths.

And when she pulls down her own panties, kicking them off somewhere into the hospital bed, her tongue skating along my lower lip, enticing me, I begin to lose the battle to wait. “I need inside, Gracie, baby. Need to get up inside all that softness.”

Already shoving down the waistband of my shorts, I start to roll her over, onto her back.

But she slows my actions with a hand to my chest.

“Can I ride you?” Her breath pelts my mouth. “I want to work for your come.”

My groan is broken, strangled, my hunger so intense, I have to concentrate on not ejaculating right then and there. And then, Jesus, she’s pushing at my shoulder, begging me to lie on my back, as if I would deny her fucking anything. Anything I have the power to give her from now until the end of time is hers. Especially this cock. It’s stiff and pulsing with pain and it’s all hers. She knows it, too, her hand finding me, pulling on me lovingly, jacking me, the movements causing my balls to slap lightly against my inner thighs.

With every stroke of her hand, my sanity slips a little further out of my reach. It brings the honesty pouring out of my mouth. To Gracie. My confessor, my confidant, my other half. “I didn’t want to come without you. I couldn’t,” I rasp through my teeth. “I hated my cock without you there to take my fuck. You’re the only reason I have a cock, Gracie. It gets hard and comes for you. That’s what it does. That’s all it does.” My lips peel back in a snarl against her mouth. “Tell me no one touches your cunt but me. Tell me I’m the only man who’ll ever get to lick and bang and guard it. Reminds me it’s mine.”

She guides my hand between her thighs, molding my palm to her warm, wet sex, making me groan. “It’s yours, North. It was yours before I even met you. It was yours from the day I was born.” She beats me off roughly for a few pumps, robbing me of breath. Of sanity. Her words ring in my head. “There’s a lock on that part of me when you’re not around. You’re the only one with the combination. You’re the only one who fills me up so tight. It’ll only ever be you.”

“Yes,” I growl into a kiss. A violently possessive one. “Yes. Mine.”

“Completely. Yours.”

Slowly, sinuously, she gives me one final ride of her fist, then climbs on top of me, our chests flush, mouths mating in an eager rhythm, her wet pussy grinding down on my bare dick. Slowly, so slowly. Torturously. My hands slap down on her naked backside, kneading, urging her to go faster, but she maintains her slow, teasing tempo until I’m panting, out of my mind with lust. “Gracie, I’m in pain, baby.”

With our mouths interlocked, she reaches back and circles her hand around my dick, dragging my hardness through her ass cheeks, lower, to the entrance of her sopping wet pussy. And she works herself down on it, looking me right in the eye as she wiggles side to side, her tits dragging around on my chest, forcing me once again to lock my muscles up tight to keep from busting.

“Enough teasing. Get it in or I’ll put it in,” I growl, my fingers punishing on her backside. “Maybe that’s what you want. Me to flip you over and pound that juicy little gash?”

Her body grows slicker at my words and down she slips, filling herself full of me with a slap of flesh on flesh, gasping against my mouth, her body shaking on top of mine. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you,” she whimpers, her hips beginning to move. To ride up and down on my throbbing shaft, her tits raking up and down on my chest, our mouths still engaged in a battle of tongue and lips and teeth. Christ. She’s so fucking tight. Those tiny muscles between her legs lock around me and milk, milk, stroke. I’m never far from coming. It’s just a matter of hanging on, waiting until she gets off. And that’s what I do now. Endure the pleasure/pain of being balls deep in utter goddamn perfection. I let her rub her addictive pussy on me, her breath coming faster and faster, the sound of our flesh smacking together growing quicker, filling the quiet hospital room, along with my grunts.

She breaks our frantic kiss and sinks her teeth into that full lower lip, her eyes glazing over. “Oh Daddy.” Her hips whip faster, her pussy clamping down, and I suck in a breath at the sexual agony, reaching for the rails of the hospital bed and gripping them in my hands. Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come. But my hips are thrusting upward viciously, speeding me closer to the edge, my dick cramming in and out of her quickening heat. “It hurt to be without this,” she whispers, gasping, panting, our foreheads pressed together. “I don’t want to be alive without you fucking me. Every day. Every day. You fuck me so good.”

My Grace has never used those terms with me before.

Fucking. Fuck.

It’s a signal that she’s lost in the lust. Lust for me. And it’s such a heady turn-on, this ladylike angel from Beacon Hill riding me for broke, telling me she needs to get dicked every day of the week. She’s better than any fantasy—and somehow she’s mine. Somehow this beautiful girl is having a bone-rattling orgasm on top of me, grinding herself down like she needs every inch of me to achieve it, her sobs of my name filling my ears.

God. God, I’m the luckiest man on earth. How is this real? I wrap my arms and rock my hips, guiding her through the storm. Anchoring her. Rejoicing in the privilege. When she stops trembling and I’m assured she’s coming down the other side of her climax, my urgency takes over again. Digging its claws into my belly, my loins, my balls.

“You want my fuck every day, huh?” I growl, trading our places, covering her mouth with my hand for that first pump with me on top, because yeah, it’s deeper. It’s deep as hell and she screams into my palm, the sound growing breathier as I thrust. Fast. Hard. Shaking the hospital bed around us. “You better mean that, Gracie. Because every day means every day. Means I ride this hot piece even if we’re having a little fight and you’re giving me the silent treatment. Hard days, easy ones. Even when you’re bleeding. I get it no matter what. Every day means we’re never apart.”

“That’s what I want,” she says choppily, her nails buried in my shoulders, breaking the flesh, her hips working, writhing beneath mine. “That’s what I need.”

“That’s what you’re going to get,” I grit out, dipping my mouth to her neck and sucking the flesh just below her ear. “I’ve got a five-day load, baby. Open your pretty thighs and take it for me. Look me in the eyes when I bust and tell me you love your Daddy.”

She does even better.

She clamps her little muscles around my cock—squeezing—and gives me a bratty pout. “I love you, Daddy.”

And the seed is ripped straight out of my balls. I pound her roughly, eight, nine times, the sloppy, hot seed finally spurting free into her tightness. My eyes go blind and I drop my mouth into her neck, panting, groaning, my hips straining between her thighs, trying to get the full relief, purging the pressure that’s built for the last five days.

Grace. My Gracie. She’s an addiction. I know it in that moment, with my blood rushing wildly and everything inside of me expanding, exulting, feeling wracking me like never before. I know deep in my bones that we’re co-dependent junkies and there’s no being apart. Ever. There’s no life without this. Without her. Without us. And she feels the same. I can see it now with our love-stoned gazes boring into each other, tears coursing down her temples, that this is a lifelong obsession for us both and I’m not holding back. I’m going full throttle.

I let her know it with one final, hard thrust, my mouth stamping down over hers.

My tongue ravaging her mouth. Claiming her for good.

God help anyone who tries to separate me from my Grace again.