Fighter in Lingerie (Lingerie 14)

I stared at his lips as we moved together, our bodies so aligned, we seemed to be a single person. We lived and breathed for one another, yearned for one another. There didn’t seem to be anyone else out there who mattered, not when we had each other. I always felt safe with him, knowing no one else had the power to even touch me. But I’d never felt safe from him—until now. This man would never hurt me. He would never lie to me.

And he would never break my heart.

When I came home from work the next day, Bosco was in a terrible mood. He glared at me the second I walked in the door, knowing I would grab my suitcase and then leave town to spend the weekend with my family.

He looked like he might destroy his own building.

I walked past him and entered the bedroom, doing the best I could to ignore his coldness. We’d extended our relationship for an extra three days to make up for my absence, but he was still angry about the whole thing.

I really wanted to spend time with my family since I hadn’t seen them much lately, but I didn’t want to leave him either. There was nothing better than sleeping in that comfortable bed with this man keeping me warm. It was hard to imagine going back to my old bed, which seemed like a cot in comparison. And there would be no sexy man waiting for me.

Bosco never mentioned his interaction with Ruby. When I came home yesterday, he behaved as if everything was normal. Maybe he forgot about her the second I walked through the door. She wasn’t important enough to remember.

Or maybe he simply didn’t think it was any of my business that some other woman wanted his balls.

I hated thinking about that whore.

I piled everything into my duffel bag, making sure my dress for tomorrow was on the hanger covered in plastic. My makeup, hair supplies, and sleeping clothes were packed. I wanted to bring one of Bosco’s t-shirts, but my mother came into my room all the time, and she would immediately notice I was wearing a man’s shirt.

His footsteps sounded behind me. Heavy and slow, they announced his ominous presence. He moved until he was directly behind me, his scent entering my nose.

I zipped up the duffel bag on the bed before I turned around to face him. He was in his sweatpants, barefoot and bare-chested. Whenever he was home, he never wore anything else. Sometimes he walked around in his boxers, showing off his muscular thighs and calves. His broad shoulders led to sexy arms, and his powerful chest led to a tight stomach that was so ripped it didn’t seem like he had any fat. He was the product of a sad life, a life where there was no pizza and pasta.

He wasn’t as angry as he was when I first walked in the door. Now his rage simmered, probably because he realized being pissed off wouldn’t change anything. I would leave on bad terms, and that kind of departure wasn’t good for either of us. He moved his hands into his pockets and sighed quietly, his nostrils flaring.

“It’s really only two days if you think about it…” This man was so possessive that nothing I said would make him feel better, but I thought I would try.

“And two nights.” His voice was ice-cold. “Just one night is too long.”

“It’ll be over before you know it.”

He gave me another cold look with a hint of skepticism. “Maybe for you. I would just put my dick in my hand, but I don’t think I can go back to that after having pussy like yours.” The shadow across his jaw was getting thicker, highlighting the masculine curves of his face. Only a man bursting with this much testosterone could pull off a statement like that.

“How sweet,” I said sarcastically. “I’ll miss you too.”

The corner of his mouth rose in a smile at my joke. “I really will miss you, Beautiful.” His eyes turned serious again, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to cup my face. His thumb brushed across my cheek before he gave me a soft kiss on the mouth.

“I know you will…”

His other arm hooked around my waist while his fingers continued to glide through my hair. He didn’t kiss me, just held me and caressed me at the foot of the bed. He touched me with a gentleness that didn’t seem possible coming from a man like him. His affection was always territorial, but not always sexual. Sometimes, he was so delicate with me, handling me like a flower rather than a woman.

He tightened his grip around my waist and pulled me closer to him, squeezing me against his chest. He rested his chin on my head as his fingers continued to play with my hair, touching me like I was more than just a lover.