Cancer.
It's a curse.
It turns people's lives upside down and ruins their relationships.
Brynne Foster is a perfect example.
After being diagnosed with leukemia at age 17, Brynne's family struggles to accept her decision of refusing chemotherapy...
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As I wake up to the cool air conditioning blowing against my bare legs, I am pleasantly surprised by Blake cuddling with me.
I savor the feeling of his arms wrapped around my waist, and his head burrowed in my neck. The warmth of his body against mine sends a feeling of fullness to my heart. I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else.
My nose twitches as I smell the cologne floating off of him.
How does he smell so heavenly, even after all of the sweating we endured?
I grin at the thought of last night's activities. Glancing at the broken table in the living room causes the memories to come flooding back.
Wow.
Are my legs still attached?
I guess I'll have to see for myself once I escape from this bear hug.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. It feels warm and safe in this bed, and I never want to leave.
Blake makes me feel protected.
His bruised face radiates heat that brushes against my own. I can almost feel the pressure of the blood flowing throughout my cheeks. In an attempt to cool him off, I move the hair off of his forehead and blow air onto his neck. Despite the darkness, I can still make out his long eyelashes and defined cheekbones.
My lips plant a kiss on his soft skin before I claw my way out of his grip. In doing so, I almost break a sweat.
Damn, he's one strong man.
I'm not sure if I want to tell him that was my first time. He may judge me since it was obviously not his first. I don't want to ruin the experience for him.
It was certainly an experience.
As I get up and walk around the penthouse, I notice the bruise on my back is sore, and so are my legs. I'm not surprised after some of the things we pulled last night.
I tug the blackout curtains only to reveal that it is still dark outside. I guess I have already gotten my sleep for the night.
I might as well go back to the warmth of the bed and snuggle with Blake for a little longer.
As I return to him, I am rudely interrupted by pounding at the door.
That's odd.
Not even room service would be awake at this time.
I slowly shuffle to the entrance and peer out the tiny hole.
My jaw drops in realization. There are around ten men who are armed to the tooth. Guns and knives are hidden all over their bulky bodies. Amidst the gang, a tall man is wearing a suit.
These men look like they would break down any door to get what they want.
Maybe they have the wrong room?
I quickly run to the bed where Blake is still sleeping and gently shake him.
"Mmmmm," He groans.
Oops. I touched his bruises.
Undeterred by his discomfort, I shake harder to wake him up.
"You up for another round?" He whispers as he yawns and stretches his body.
"I would be if it weren't for the army standing outside our hotel room."
His smile quickly fades as he notices the concerned look on my face.
He gets out of bed and puts on his sweatpants.
"Go in there," He points to the bathroom, "Get in the shower and lie down.
"What? Why?" I ask confusedly.
He walks over to me and grabs my hips, just like the night before.
"Do you trust me?"
I nod.
He kisses me passionately and nudges me towards the dark and empty bathroom.
I crawl into the shower and sit in a fetal position on the floor.
The cold porcelain tub causes me to shiver.
Suddenly, there is a clatter in the kitchen.
My ears perk, and I listen to the commotion.
Plates breaking? Glass smashing?
What the hell is going on.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to escape.
My breathing hastens, and I begin to worry about Blake.
It's ten men against one.
He doesn't stand a chance.
I need to be out there helping him.
"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?" I hear someone yell.
"She's long gone," Blake's muffled voice says affirmatively.
Even though the door is closed, I try to figure out what is happening.
More glass breaks, and it sounds like they are throwing furniture.
Who is she?
Is he talking about me?
"Search the whole area," I hear the same man say.
"Yes, sir," The men respond in unison.
I hear the bathroom door falling against the tile and pull my knees closer to my chest.
Immediately, I feel a large hand grab my neck and pull me out of the tub.
I am dangling from his grip and begin to kick anyone or anywhere I can.
I can't breathe.
"Help."
"Help me."
I hope someone can hear my mumbling. I hope Blake is okay.
As my sight becomes blurry, I hear yelling coming from the other room,
