He was enticing in every way. The way his body moved swiftly around the ring as I watched him from behind the bar. He was the best. And the best never loses.
When Blake Anderson gets a job as a bartender at the local fight club, Chargers, she meets...
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Sex.
It was always something that women usually used to keep men around for longer. It was sometimes a hopeless cry for them to stay, to not run, to not break their hearts in half. Men used relationships for sex and women used sex for relationships.
However, I think that is the difference between me and my past relationships. Grayson followed up with that stereotype, but Harry never has. Or with me, he hasn't. He definitely did before.
"Fuck you're so beautiful." He groaned as we moved our way through the hallway in the middle of the night, me pushing him towards his bedroom early as his hands grip my clothes.
Our date was wonderful while it lasted, halfway through the flirty touches and simple, intriguing words, darting and daring looks across the table. We restrained ourselves in the steamy car on the way home, but the minute our feet hit the hardwoods of his mother's place, we were all over each other making small promises to be quiet.
Sex was different after we laid our confessions on the table out in front of each other. It was painfully amazing. To be so closely intimate with another human without wanting to be conjoined as one. I don't know what I felt for Grayson anymore if this is what love is.
Nothing I've ever felt has ever been so powerful on me. I've never had such a hold on my heart and feel his fingers wrapped around my beating heart and loving soul, holding it in his hands with the power to do whatever with it. He tends to make it beat.
My heart beats for him, I think.
Can hearts hold hands?
I think that's the best description of the love I have for him. Every time we are together no matter the situation, no matter the danger, no matter the underlying issues we are both having in our lives together, his heart has a hold on mine that never lets go. Knowing that his heart beats the same for me as mine does for him is an indescribable feeling.
I think true happiness in this life comes from love and to be loved. Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, only what you're expecting to give. My love for him was selfish. I could not breathe without him.
He was my Malibu Sunshine.
We were toxic at first. The lies, the secrets, the inability to connect on a deeper level than just sex. I liked him when he followed me to the bookstore. I liked him when he came to visit me after work. I liked him when I was in his arms at night. I liked him when we danced like nobody was watching. I loved him when he got on his knees and cried before my feet, begging me to stay.
"Bed. Now." I demand, detaching my lips from his soft and velvet ones.
"Demanding?" He teases as we whisper words into the silence of the house, pushing through the door to his bedroom. His hands were steady on my hips, holding them tight against his own.
