Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (39 page)

BOOK: Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance
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“Geez. I can’t believe so much has changed.”

“Shit changes every day, babe. No one is ever prepared for it, though. That’s why they call it
life
.”

I look up at him. “Well, I guess we should start packing then?”

“Yes, but first we have to take care of something.”

My brows dip. “And what’s that?”

His mouth twitches as he points his gaze down at my hand. I realize my hand is near his crotch and laugh, pulling my line of sight back up to his.

“I guess I can take care of that,” I giggle.

He squeezes my hand and leads the way towards the bed.

“No,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you. After all the shit I’ve put you through, you deserve it.”

Chapter 41
Drake


S
ing one
of your songs to me,” I command.

Well, really it’s more of a plea. I hear the weakness in my voice and I don’t even care. I want her to feel accepted in every way. Every form.

I don’t want her breaths to be measured, or her heart to feel like it can’t beat wildly around me. I want her open and free. I want her to remember what we were—how wonderful we were when we were teenagers—and how much greater we can be now.

She giggles as I nuzzle the crook of her neck with my nose and mouth. “Drake, come on,” she whines. “I don’t want to sing those to you. Most of them are bad, I swear.”

“Fine.” I perch myself up on one elbow. “I’m sure you have your music on your phone or something somewhere. Let me hear it.”

“Actually, no.” She sits up, as if triumphant. “It’s back at my apartment in Yale. On my laptop. I’m supposed to go back to get my things in a week or so, before the lease is up.”

“Another thing on our to-do list, I see.”

She displays a bashful grin, hooking one arm around my neck. We’re lying on the bed. I’m in between her legs, my body hovering above hers, my groin pressing into the mound between her thighs.

“Yes.” She kisses me softly. Sweetly.

“You’re still not off the hook. Sing a small verse for me—doesn’t even have to be one of the bad ones. It can be a good one.”

“There aren’t many good ones.”

I groan. “Jenny...”

She takes note of my tight features and then does exactly what I want her to do.

She caves.

“Okay! Fine. You win.” She slides from beneath me and sits up, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But I don’t want to hear you complain when you hear it.”

She picks up her cellphone from the nightstand and then scrolls through it. When she finds what she needs, she presses play and instrumental music fills the room, streaming from an unknown source.

It’s a light, soft melody. One that, oddly, matches her entire personality. Her aura. It has a bit of quirkiness to it, but not so much as to bring the smooth melody over the top. An easy, steady pace, that is easy to relax to.

Pianos, violins, and an acoustic guitar are what I hear.

“I won’t sing a bad one. This one is much nicer compared to the others. But it was written for you… when we were okay. When we were eighteen. You’ll probably know what I mean when you hear it.” She reveals a faint smile and then shuts her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

And when she starts to sing, I can’t look away.

I can’t stop listening. Her words hit me hard, but there is one part that gets to me the most.

A part that causes those memories we created to come tunneling back.

I remember in my bedroom

Eighteen and so soon

Constant turning in bed, thinking of you

I wanted all of your love that night

I wanted to see how hard you’d fight

I called, tempted you, made a fool of myself

I swear you were no, no good for my health

But my love for you is out of this world

Love, for you, is such a powerful word

You are my man,

My prince, my beast in disguise

And I am your princess

Your life

I’ve been in love with you all this time

Don’t you see?

We have always been meant to be

We have always been meant to be

H
er words continue flowing
, her lyrics so plentiful and clear. I thought for sure she’d give me hell—sing a song that I didn’t want to hear but deserved to listen to, but I can tell this one means a lot to her.

I can tell by the way she sings it. How she shuts her eyes and pours it all out with so much passion and soul that it’s almost palpable.

When she’s finished, my throat thickens. I feel every sense of my wellbeing being taken over—swarmed with one thing I used to try and avoid.

One word that used to confuse the fuck out of me.

One word that I have said to Jenny over and over again.

Love.

“You hate it, don’t you? See, I told you it was stupid to sing my songs for—”

I stop her from talking. Not with my hands or my words. But with my lips. My mouth takes over and I don’t stop. I don’t hold back.

I can’t.

I wrap her up in my arms, hauling her onto my lap as she laughs with astonishment. Her hands clasp my face, and I slide mine up her bare thighs, moving past her panties and up her dress. I push the fabric of the dress above her head and then unlatch her bra.

Her hands clamp right around my face again. She’s greedy for me—just as hungry for this burning desire as I am. My heart is beating a mile a minute, my hands all over her warm body.

I’m so desperate to touch her—cling to her. All I want is Jenny Roscoe.

I want her love.

Her heart.

Her compassion.

Her understanding.

Her forgiveness.

I want everything from her and I want to cherish it this time. Keep it as my own and never let it go.

I lift her hips and yank her panties off. When she’s free, I flip her onto her back and then stand, stepping out of my shorts and then my boxers. Once I’ve sprung free, I climb between her legs, picking up where I left off.

Sucking on the crook of her neck, I run my hand up her forearm until I’ve met her fingertips. And once our fingers have become entangled, our breaths heavy and bodies sticky with sweat, I slide into her.

I take what’s mine, and I don’t pull away. She holds onto my hand tighter, the heel of her foot pressing into my lower back to guide me deeper.

“I love you, Jenny,” I pant, picking my head up to look into her eyes. I stroke my hips, feeling my tip hit a soft, tender spot. Her back arches and just when I thought her grip couldn’t get any tighter on my hand, it does.

Dipping my head down, I suck on her taut nipples, swirling my tongue around them to heighten her arousal. She sighs and moans, her body bucking as I swirl my hips, hitting every blissful spot.

“I want to make love to you over and over again. I want to give you all of my love—all of me, Jenny.” I cradle one side of her face in my free hand. “You let me do that, and we will never end again. Just as long as you continue to love me, I will love you with everything I’ve got. What I feel for you is fierce and it will continue to grow as long as you accept me. As long as you love me. As long as you are here for me.”

She nods her head, but when I lower my face to suck on her neck, gluing our damp bodies closer, she cries out my name. I hit her tender spot repeatedly, bringing my hand down to rub her swollen clit.

She gets so wet for me—so wet that I can’t handle it.

I flip over again, this time so she’s on top of me, and she doesn’t dare stop. She rides me like she means it, like she’s taken every single one of my words to heart and will never forget them.

I grab her waist, feeling her move fluidly on top of me. Watching her like this, her perky tits bouncing, her flawless skin rolling with sweat, and feeling her pussy wrapped so tight around me, is all too fucking much.

“Shit, Jenny… babe. Fuck.” The back of my head falls back, sinking into the pillows. She leans forward and clutches the top of the headboard, her mouth hovering only inches above mine. They are only a breadth away. I can feel them, and that act alone is enough to put me on the verge of coming.

She’s teasing me. Tempting me. Bringing me up with her. Her hands finally clutch my face and she kisses me fiercely. I come like never before.

I let go, my body locking as she grinds her pussy around my cock. It feels so fucking amazing. None of the women I’ve slept with while Jenny and I were apart can compare. I haven’t had sex this passionate—this deep or this great— since the last time I saw Jenny in Fox River.

Only she can pull this out of me. Only she can please me, not only physically, but emotionally as well. We have this connection that is hard to break. Though we have our differences, we are insanely compatible.

She is soft and sweet and feminine. I am hard, gruff, and manly. I am an animal and I don’t deserve her. But she thinks I deserve her, plus more.

How can any man deny such a feeling? Feeling something so deep and raw for someone that it cuts your heart into tiny pieces when you are away from them for even a day?

That pain is something I don’t want to experience again. I consider it a sacrifice—that time I spent away from Jenny. It was so I could get my life together and so she could leave Fox River like she always wanted to. She deserved to get away.

But look at us now.

Going back to the place we swore we never would return to, tomorrow.

We must be insane… at least that’s what I think, until I realize we are going
together
.

Together, we can accomplish and conquer anything, even the demons from our past. Together, nothing can stop us.

“I love you,” she says, and that’s all I need to hear.

We’ll be okay.

I know it.

Chapter 42
Jenny

I
look through the window
, at the white jet that’s waiting for Drake and me to board. Or should I say Doomsday because that’s the name on the jet. In bold, fierce blue letters.

I’m surprised that his signature logo is a fist, similar to the one that represented the Dirty Dawg Pit. I guess he wants people to remember where he came from. Where he started.

Or maybe this is a reminder for him every time he sees it. To remember where he came from, and if he messes up, how easily it could be to slip back into that dreadful reality.

“Oh, Jenny,” Kylie groans as she swiftly pulls me in for a tight hug. “I’m so glad I could see you. And even happier that things have worked out with you and the D-man.”

I smile. “I am too, Kylie. Though, I think I should still scold you for setting this up.”

She laughs, holding her hands out. “Hey, I was only helping a friend in need.” Her eyes slide over to Oscar who is talking to Drake about his schedule. “You guys be good to each other, okay?”

I look at Drake. “Trust me. I don’t think we’re letting go again.”

“Well, good.” She plants a hand on her hip, and just as she begins to talk about a pair of shoes she found yesterday, her topic is rudely interrupted.

Otto steps between us, throwing an arm over both our shoulders and tugging us in.

“Otto!” I laugh.

“What? Do I smell? I mean, I know I do, but I swear I’m heading back to the hotel to take a shower after this. Just had to come see one of my favorite girls off.”

Kylie scoffs. “Favorite girl? Isn’t that what you were saying to that blonde stripper you shagged at the club?”

“Shh!” he hisses, playfully narrowing his eyes. “She doesn’t need to know that. See, you’re blowing my friendly mojo. If you plan on being my future sister-in-law, you gotta play along!”

Kylie and I look at each other before snorting. “You are such a douche,” she jokes.

“So I’ve been told.”

Drake and Oscar come our way. Drake has his suitcase in hand and when he meets up to me, he smiles. “We can board now. You ready?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“Kay.” He turns to look at the rest of the clan. “I’ll see you boys back in Cali. Kylie, I’m sure I will see you again soon.”

She bobs her head, pressing her glossed lips. “You will. You guys have a safe flight—and be good to my girl!” she calls as Drake turns with his arm draped around me.

He peers over his shoulder. “I’ll be the best damn thing to ever happen to her, again. You have my word.”

I grin up at him. We walk down the hallway with our suitcases and when we get outside, the pilot greets us.

His name is Ryan. He has bright blue eyes and pale blond hair. He seems nice.

As I sit down, in awe of the seats made of black leather and detailed with blue, I can’t help but think about where we’ll end up from here. Our destination in Fox River.

I look out of the window and release a thick puff of air from my lungs. Drake takes the seat right beside me after everything is tucked away.

Grabbing my hand, he squeezes it tight and I look over at him.

“Nervous?”

I shrug. “A little.”

“You don’t have to worry, Jenny. I’ll be here with you. I’ve got your back. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, we’ll leave. I promise.”

I swallow the thick guilt in my throat. “Okay,” I say, and then I turn to look out of the window again.

We take off within the next ten minutes, and the higher we get from the ground, the tighter I squeeze Drake’s hand. Not out of fear, but from the sheer reality I will soon be facing.

The truth is, I don’t know if Mom has changed. I don’t know if she’s lying or telling the truth, but what I do know is that deep down, I want to have a relationship with her. One that every mother and daughter should have.

I hope I’m not running to Fox River for nothing.

If she really wants my forgiveness, she better not make me work to get the apology out of her. If so, I will never give Fox River a chance again.

This time I mean it.

It all boils down to the woman that raised me.

It’s in her hands. Let’s just hope she doesn’t screw it up.

* * *


J
enny
?” A hand shakes my arm. “Babe?” My eyes flutter open to meet Drake’s bright green irises. His lips spread to smile. “We’re here.”

I blink rapidly, sitting up straight. Looking out of the window, I release a thick breath, studying the lake that isn’t too far away. Yep. That’s Lake Ultimate.

A thousand memories hit me as I remember all that I’d gone through around this lake alone. I look back at Drake and he extends an arm, holding out his hand. Sighing, I accept it and he pulls me to a stand.

Gluing my body to his, he asks, “Having second thoughts?”

“No. Are you?”

“No. This has to happen.” He forces a smile, kissing my cheek before letting me go. “Come on. We’ll see your Mom first.”

“What time is it anyway?” I ask, following him out of the plane. When we step out, I take a look towards the lake, shielding my eyes from the setting sun.

“6:20. Not too late.”

I nod. “Well.” I hold my arm up in the air. “Might as well get this over with.” I take out my phone as a black SUV pulls up in front of us. Drake walks to the truck to toss in the suitcases and that’s when I notice Bill in the front.

I smile as he waves. He must have left early. He didn’t drop us off at the airport. Preach had a limo.

I send Mom a text, requesting the address. She responds in less than thirty seconds, leaving me no choice but to hand the address over to Bill when Drake asks.

I was hoping she would have second thoughts, give me more of a reason to never come to this city again.

I guess that’s not the case anymore.

Whatever she has to say must be important.

It takes us about fifteen minutes to reach our destination. Uncle Ned’s house is actually really nice. It’s smaller than the one I grew up in, though.

A two-story home made of whitewashed brick, black shutters, and a wide chimney right in front of the home. It’s very colonial, a worn-out black driveway leading up to this house on a hill.

The Mom I know would never even think about setting foot in this place. Not that’s it is ugly or bad looking—it’s just too…
typical
for someone like her.

Bill puts the car in park and I stare ahead. I feel Drake rub my lower back and then I look at him. “How about now?” he asks, a lax smile on his lips.

“Nope. I’m good.” I collect my cellphone and clutch, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You should come in with me. I don’t think I’m the only one she owes an apology to.”

His brows dip instantly. “Jenny, no. She wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, but you are who I’m with, Drake. You are what I want. She should know that—whether we leave off on the same foot or not.”

He runs a rough hand down his face, and then focuses on the house. The porch light switches on as we both look, and then the door swings open. A tall, thin silhouette stands between the frames and I thin my eyes, as if it will clear up the view.

It’s not until the person steps into the light that I see it’s her. Mom.

Oh my goodness. What in the hell is she wearing?

All I see is her flawless, porcelain skin. She has always been much lighter-skinned than I have. I take most of my color from my father, whom I still have no idea about at the moment.

On top of her head is a black veil with a thick white strip. She’s covered in very modest, dark clothing.

I can’t really make out anything else but her face.

“Wait,” Drake says, his voice full of shock. “Your mom is a
nun
now?”

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