Awakened (The Fighter Series Book 3) Read online

  “I want to know,” he barks.

  My jaw ticks glaring at him and then I puff a laugh under my breath heading back into the house. He’s not worth my time. I open the door to slide in, but fuck. Kelsie is leaning against my recliner, putting her heels on, not knowing what’s unraveling outside in direct sight.

  “Kelsie?” Nick calls from behind me confounded.

  She jerks up. Her eyes widen with fear and she takes a step backward with her hand over her mouth.

  He shoves the door and it slams into the wall behind it. I block his path of entering my home. His nostrils are flaring, fists clenching to his side, rage boiling in his eyes.

  “What’d I tell you?” He points his finger at Kelsie. “I’ll fucking have your ass in court.”

  “You signed the papers.” Her voice wobbles.

  He shakes his head. “It’s not over until the judge declares it over and when I tell him this—”

  “It’s been over and the judge will see it.” As confident as she’s trying to be, I hear the uncertainty underneath it.

  I’m done hearing this shit. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  “Fuck you, bastard!” he roars, shoving me in the chest.

  I duck just as he swings and shove him backward. He lunges and throws another punch, this time landing the motherfucker to my cheek.

  Most people claim to see red. Others have a total blackout when rage suppresses rational thoughts. Mine…well, mine is a crimson, blood-thirsty red that obstructs any and all light into my world.

  I explode, battering the little prick’s face with rights and lefts. He tries throwing a sloppy punch, but I feint to the side and slam my knuckles into his eye. He stumbles back, tripping down the stairs, and scrambles to get back to his feet. He lunges, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me down into the dew-moist grass. I’m trying to catch his fists, dodging them, when I slide my hand to the side of his neck, buck and push, flipping him to his back.

  Kelsie is saying something but the bloody adrenaline has my ears clogged up. I’m hyper focused on destroying him. I’ve landed one punch to Douchebag’s face when Kelsie yanks me by the shoulder, causing me to lose my balance.

  “Stop!” she screams and this time I hear it.

  He’s back on his feet, but she’s between us slamming her palms into his chest, yelling again.

  I grab her by her arm and pull her away, glowering at him while heading back into the house.

  He shouts something about me watching my back just as I get her to the safety of my house when I spin around.

  “And loving every fucking minute of it. Every fucking moan she gives me,” I bite out of pure spite. “There’s your fucking answer.”

  He wipes his bloody lip and spits. “Payback’s a bitch.”

  “Get the fuck outta here,” I bark.

  Kelsie tugs my arm gently, pulling me into the house, and shuts the door, locking it. She’s leaned against it. I’m pacing the living room.

  Tears have gathered in her fearful, worried eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  I’m livid as hell, shaking from the anger. I head to the kitchen and rip the fridge open, grabbing a bottle of water. I haven’t been in a fight in years. Ironically the last one was with that bitch and that fight was worthless. There weren’t many punches thrown since the pussy decided to show off in front of everyone. They all yanked us apart before things could get interesting.

  “Is he gone?” I gruff.

  She looks out the window. “Yeah,” she sighs. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Last I checked, he was his own man.” My voice is restrained. “You’re going to be late.”

  Cautiously, she steps to me and places her hand on my arm. I fake a smile, trying to hide my anger. She stretches and kisses beside my lips.

  “I love you,” she says softly.

  “Be careful and call me later,” I reply trying to be neutral but still reeling in anger.

  I walk her out, just to make sure that bastard isn’t waiting in the bushes. That’s the little punk ass he his. Her gaze lingers for a few minutes and then she gets in her car and drives off.

  When I head back into the house, I sit on the stool, twisting my water bottle, reeling with hatred. The cocksucker had no business coming here and starting shit. Who the hell knows where that could’ve led if she didn’t pull us apart.

  Chapter 23

  I cried all the way to work. Cussed out loud slapping my steering wheel. Then cried some more. I can’t believe Nick showed up and put Adam in that predicament. They fought—over me—and I feel extremely horrible about it. Adam shouldn’t have to deal with it…and I’m worried that’s the very thing on his mind.

  Emily isn’t here today, apparently having caught the ruthless sickness I had, so I’m stuck at work stewing alone. I haven’t texted Adam, either. I’m scared to death to see the response I may get. He was still pretty enraged when I left.

  And as lunch passed by with no word from him, my heart started hurting pretty badly. Nick’s managed to break my heart, yet again, except this time, I was looking forward to a happy future. I want to act like this hasn’t happened, like everything is exactly the way it was before for the fight, and pretend today is fantastic. But it did happen and the day fucking sucks.

  The day dragged. Time was at a complete stand still. Eight hours felt more like a damn eternity, plus two months just for extra measures. I was lost on my ride home, unsure of everything. I reached for my phone several times, but each time, I’d set it back down. Every song played from the radio was some sappy love shit, and it caused tears to swell, so I turned it off and listened to the sound of nothing. My worried thoughts were better than the heartbreaking songs.

  I’m just getting out of the shower when my phone rings and my heart leaps to my throat from excited anticipation. I kept it close, bringing it into the bathroom with me. You know…just in case.

  But with a glance, the bastard slays my happy dragon again. I groan, rolling my eyes. “Please tell me you haven’t called to start more shit?”

  Nick clears his throat. “No,” he says sounding somber. “I’m calling to make a truce.”

  I laugh menacingly. “A truce? At what damn price?”

  “I’ve done a lot of screwing up over the years. I should’ve been one hundred percent devoted to you and I’d still have you. I wasn’t and I can’t change the damage I’ve done.”

  “If this is a last ditch effort to win me back, please hold your breath,” I clip.

  “It’s not, Kel. I’m done. You’ve been fair and patient. You were there for me all the years I wasn’t. I’m not going to change and I know it. It’s time to let go.”

  Relief and sadness flock my body. Tears of happiness want to flow. Tears of heartache want to stream my cheeks. I’ve fought so hard to keep our marriage. Then battled so hard to end it. For so long, I’ve wanted this. And for the first time, I get to hear the words exit his mouth. It’s a bittersweet exhaustion.

  “You have to do me a favor, Kel. Please,” he softly pleads.

  “What?”

  “Stay away from Adam. I saw the look in your eyes. He’s no good. He’ll end up hurting you.”

  “You’re worried about someone hurting me? That’s contradicting in itself.”

  “I’ve known him for—”

  “I know. He’s told me. You leave my life up to me. I can make my own decisions.”

  “What all has he told you?” His tone quickly changes to something more worrisome.

  “I know all about it. Your little reputation. The racing. You’ve made a hell of a promising name for yourself. Having a wife and being a good husband was a feature that would’ve destroyed your lavish whoring. I just wish you would’ve told me before I vowed to be your wife. I was so stupid.”

  “I loved you, Kel. I really did and I still do.”

  “Odd way of showing it. Why didn’t you invite me into your little world and allow me to choose whether I enjoyed it or not?”

&nb
sp; “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You were already an accomplished player,” I answer for him. “But I’m really okay. I’m good with what’s happened. Honestly, I’m happier.”

  “Do you still love me?” His question soaks with hope.

  I puff a laugh under my breath. “When you came home at five in the morning, smelling like perfume, and smacked me because I had the audacity to ask you where you’d been, you cracked my heart and it only got worse from there.”

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

  “I possibly could’ve forgiven the first time. Sometimes you have to make a mistake to learn. That’s what allows you to grow into a better person. But you didn’t learn. The second, third, and so forth…those aren’t forgivable. I’ll never forgive you for the nasty words you said to me, nor the bruises you left on my skin. I’m the idiot for sticking around for as long as I did, letting you continuously get away with it. But I learned from you. I will never make the same mistakes.”

  “Adam isn’t the best man for you.”

  “I’ll find that out my way.”

  “I’m serious. You can do—”

  “Better?” I interrupt him angrily. “I already am. I’ll live my life the way I want. Find out things on my own. There’s not much you can say that I’ll believe anyway.”

  There’s a long pause before he finally speaks. “I won’t fight you anymore.”

  “You shouldn’t have in the first place. You’ve made off like a bandit in this divorce. The house, furniture, cars…all for no price to you. I’ll say there isn’t much to fight for.”

  “I’ll pay for the divorce. I’ll go tomorrow and pay your lawyer fees.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I grumble.

  “I hate that you hate me.”

  “You should’ve thought about it much earlier.” I’m cold.

  He sighs. “I’ll call you if something doesn’t go right at the lawyers.”

  “What the hell was that?” I say to myself in the mirror after he hangs up on me.

  I haven’t seen the compassionate Nick since high school, long before he turned into the supercilious prick he is now.

  I brush my wet hair, debating if I should give in and call Adam.

  Eh…I’ll settle for texting, just in case.

  Me: Your silence has me worried.

  Adam: Nothing to be worried about.

  Me: Promise?

  Adam: Yeah.

  Me: I have some good news.

  Adam: What’s that?

  Me: Nick is done fighting.

  Seconds after shooting the text off, my phone rings with Adam’s name lighting up my display.

  “That got your attention, huh?” I answer giggling.

  “It did.”

  “I just got off the phone with him. He said he wasn’t going to fight any longer and he’s going to pay the divorce fees.”

  “Hopefully he stands by his words this time.”

  “Something tells me he will,” I say.

  “How was your day?” he asks with loud noises in the background.

  “Little weirded out that we haven’t spoken. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Car therapy.” His tone is short.

  “I’m sorry about this morning. I hate that—”

  “Quit apologizing. You had nothing to do with it.”

  “I had everything to do with it.”

  “He makes his own decisions. Quit apologizing for his actions. You’re not married anymore,” he snaps.

  I gasp, physically flinching from the curtness in his tone.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he states more softly, as if he just saw my reaction. “None of it was your fault. He’s just a desperate dickhead trying to intimidate me away from you. You owe me no apologies.”

  “It’s not working, is it?” I ask tentatively.

  “Not a bit.”

  “I miss you,” I tell him.

  “Dinner tomorrow?”

  Mentally, I groan. Tomorrow is too far away.

  “That’s fine,” I say as neutral as possible. “You want to go out or stay in?”

  “If we stay in, we’ll never eat.” His tone holds seduction. “Besides, there’s this Italian restaurant I want to take you to. I’ve been craving their rigatoni.”

  I giggle. “You and food.”

  “It’s your only competition,” he chuckles.

  “I don’t know. I’ve heard about guys doing things with pies.”

  He bellows out a laugh, which cracks me up too. Tears threaten my eyes and I can barely breathe.

  “You’ll be the only thing I’m dipping into,” he says catching his breath. “Pies don’t moan like you do.”

  Dammit, I have to get better at not blushing.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he tells me with more noise clinking in the background.

  Car therapy.

  “Love you,” I say and hold my breath.

  “Mmm…” he moans in pleasure, just as predicted. “Talk to you later.”

  And he hangs up.

  He’s not said the words to me, even though I know he feels it. His eyes along with his body language tell me what his mouth isn’t. I’m not sure the hang up, but I’m not going to worry until his eyes lose their desire.

  Chapter 24

  When I arrive home, Adam is sitting on the top step of my porch looking all delicious. I hate going a day or two without seeing him. It takes all I have not to run to him and jump into his arms like I haven’t seen him in months.

  I smile, kissing him on the cheek, and let us in so I can get ready for our date. I’m in my closet changing when I feel his profound presence behind me. Pulling my shirt to my chest, I twist around. He’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching me change. His eyes are dark, sliding over my body. I know this look…

  “Ever tell you just how fucking sexy you are?” His voice is thick.

  “Often, but I enjoy hearing it as many times as you’d like to tell me.”

  He drags his teeth over his bottom lip and nods. “Take off your skirt.”

  His order is suggestive and sends an instant heat through my body. “I have to get ready for dinner,” I say, playing a game of chase.

  “Take off your skirt,” he says more sternly.

  I swallow and lower the zipper in the back, keeping my eyes on his greedy browns. As it falls to the floor, his glazed gaze rakes over my body, from my eyes to my toes.

  “Now your bra,” he demands.

  I cock my hip. “Your shirt first.”

  His left brow twitches, but then he complies, pulling his shirt over his head. His chest muscles and abs flex with each movement, his biceps tightening as he tugs it off.

  I unsnap my bra and slide the straps down my arms.

  His head is slightly tilted down, looking at me from under lustful heavy lids. His lips are pursed but pulled up in a sexy as hell, panty dropping smile.

  He grabs my hips and pulls me into him, dragging his hand up my back and snaking it into my hair. He tugs gently, bringing my face toward his. “You’re fucking sexy,” he exhales against my ear.

  He glides his tongue down the side of my neck and I moan softly. He twirls me, putting my back against his chest and presses me against the wall. His hand slides under my thong and he groans.

  “Soaked at the thought of me,” he breathes. “I fucking love it. Don’t move.”

  And I don’t as he steps away from me. A few seconds of shuffling behind me and he’s pressed back against me, sliding a black fabric over my eyes.

  Immediately, I tense up. “I don’t like this,” I tell him.

  He kisses my neck, tenderly. “Trust me?”

  “I-yeah, but—”

  “Then trust me. I’m right here.” His voice carries softness.

  He squeezes my right hand before dragging it over my shoulder, around my breast, and down, splaying it across my stomach. He takes a step back, pulling me with him.

&nb
sp; “Relax,” he whispers, continuing backward.

  His words are pointless as my mind runs rapidly with every step. I picturing our location—out of the closet, into my room.

  What if there’s a group of people watching this? Would he do that? What if he’s recording this?

  “Adam, I—”

  “Relax,” he repeats. “Trust me.”

  “I don’t like this,” I admit.

  He takes more steps. “What do you see?”

  “Nothing. It’s black.”

  “Good. Let your mind slip into the same place, and focus on just my touch.” He turns me, keeping his hands attached to me. “Let my hands guide you.”

  My calves hit the cold, soft comforter of my bed and slowly he lays me down without letting his touch release from my skin.

  He slides me up the bed. “Sink into the empty place,” he whispers. “Follow my touch.”

  He grazes my arm with his fingertips and I can feel the goosebumps spread across my skin. My breathing feels erratic, like I can’t get enough air, but I’m wildly aroused by this.

  I feel the weight of him on the bed beside me, but only his fingers are touching me.

  He continues up my neck to my chin and replaces the tips of his fingers with his lips. They barely touch mine, leaving me aching for more. I jerk when his tongue flicks across my nipple and then gasp as he sucks it hard. It only lasts seconds before he stops and blows on it. He repeats it to the other one and after, moves my legs apart, gliding his hand to my feet.

  His weight on the bed disappears, but he still has a hold of my foot.

  “I hate my feet being touched,” I say timidly.

  “I’m only letting you know where I’m at.”

  Something soft, weightless and silky starts up my leg, crossing over my pelvis and down the other leg. He’s back beside me again. The item starts on my forehead and drags slowly down my neck.

  It’s so minimal it’s almost a tickle, but just enough to be utterly relaxing.

  As it crosses my breast, I bow involuntarily wanting more of the sensation.

  My body is shaking, every muscle independently tensing and releasing. My breath is slow but ragged. My whole system is confused, cross firing with nerves on end.