Page 43 of The Air I Breathe

There's a slight tremble in the depths of my stomach when I see his bare chest with a smattering of hair displayed on an otherwise smooth canvas. Tattoos sneak out here and there. His calloused fingers brush against my arms, reminding me of the rough surface of my own hands. Those wounds are caused by hard work and dedication to a craft that I think both of us seem to understand more than anyone else.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he takes a bit of control away from me, pressing me back against that chest. He pushes my shirt up my stomach and above my chest, exposing the bare skin. It makes me glad I wore the lace bra that leaves so little to the imagination. That free hand opens wide, palming my stomach before moving up with a slow crawl until it encounters the edge of the bra.

I'm holding my breath, waiting to see what he's going to do. When he gets to the top, he hooks a finger in and pulls it down, exposing my breasts to his gaze. I’m thankful there’s a privacy partition keeping all of this between us. At one point this would've made me extremely self-conscious and I would've done anything to cover them up. But now? With Blake? I want to be the woman he sees me as. I want to be as open to all of this as I can be, and that includes doing things I never would've done before.

"You're perfect, Willa. Everything about your body. This ass, the tits, the little give of your stomach. God damn.”

So many times I've felt stuck. You can't be skinny and still have tits or an ass, but it gives you stomach, and then you have paparazzi saying you’re pregnant, which really hurts after what I've been through. But from the look in Blake’s eyes, the depth of his voice, and the way his cock is pressing against my core, I know that he's not lying. "You're perfect too."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat before bending to take one of my nipples in his mouth. I gasp, trying to be quiet since security is in the front seat. Luckily there is plexiglass between us, and for the most part our sounds must be muffled, but I'd be stupid to think we don't need to be somewhat quiet. "Shhh." He smirks before he pushes my skirt up around my waist and pulls the panel of my panties to the side.

I'm drunk on everything he's doing to me, throwing caution to the wind and being that irresponsible girl that the woman I am never got to be. She was never caught up in her feelings or known to make out with someone in the back seat of an SUV while driving through traffic. But here I am, living what I hope is going to be my best life. Digging my fingers into his flesh, I rake my nails along his waist, loving the growl deep in his throat as he reaches down and undoes the fly of his pants.

Leaning back, I close my eyes, feeling as if I'm flying. The heat from his cock warms my thighs. I reach down, grabbing hold of him, directing his dick toward my aching core. He makes a noise, but I whisper, "The tour is over. We don't have to be double-protected anymore."

He stops what he's doing and reaches out, grabbing my chin. With strong fingers, he tilts it so that our eyes meet. "Are you sure?"

I swallow, licking my lips, tasting him. "Yeah, I'm completely sure."

His eyes heat, and a smirk works its way across his face. "I wish you could see the way you look right now. It's going to be embedded in my mind forever. That red lipstick is smeared off your lips, your hair crazy, tits out for just me to see, and the way those blue eyes of yours are shining? Thank you for showing me this part of yourself. Know that I understand how lucky I am."

I'm burning up. I grab the hand that's holding my chin and pull it to my chest, needing to see the tan arm against my pale skin. "I love you, Blake, and what we're building here, and while I love the words…" I breathe heavily. "I'd love more for you to get down to business."

He chuckles, and at that point, he does as I ask. With two fingers, he teases my clit and then my opening, stretching my body to get me prepared for his entrance. Widening my thighs, I sink down, taking him inside. We start the age-old rhythm against one another.

Rocking our bodies together, we're rushing headlong toward the finish line. We don't have much time before we get to my apartment, so I'm putting in the work along with him. I grasp hold of his sides, using my grip to help me thrust my body against his.

"God, you feel so good." His voice is pitched low, but my groans are getting higher as I get closer to coming. "You have to be quiet," he warns me.

But I can't. I can't hold back because I've let my guard down, and what I want is to take what he's giving me. I shake my head, trying to convey that I can't stop these noises, and then he seems to get it, putting a hand over my mouth, muffling the sounds coming out. His arm tightens around my waist, and out of nowhere, it hits—the orgasm I've been chasing. I shudder through it, trying to take in calming breaths.

Blake tilts his head back against the seat and opens his mouth, letting out a breath as he spills inside my body. For a few moments, he chases his breath, and when he finally seems to calm, he opens his eyes and we glance at one another.

Erupting in giggles, we blush as we glance around.

I notice how close we are to my apartment, and my eyes widen as I start trying to pull myself together."We've gotta get ready. We're minutes away."

He helps me get my shirt back on and fixes my skirt. As he does, we share a sweet kiss. This man will always be a surprise. One minute he'll be sweet, the other nasty, and I can't wait to see what else this life together brings us.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Blake

The past couple of days in New York have been everything I could have wanted with Willa. She's curled up next to me in her bed. Running my fingers down her bare arm, I glance out at the amazing view she has overlooking Central Park. If someone had asked me at the beginning of this year where I would be after this away game, this would not have been it. It wasn't even on my bingo card.

She makes a noise and stretches. "Morning."

This is the Willa that only I get to see. The one who has a fresh face, and sleep not only in her eyes, but her voice. She's not worried what her hair looks like, or what she has on the agenda for the day—she's only concerned with what's happening in this moment.

"Morning," I whisper back to her, bending my head to kiss her nose. "Ready to go back to Nashville today?"

She sighs. "Yeah. This has been a good little getaway, but I am. I have to start rehearsals for the Thanksgiving show."

"Speaking of that." I clear my throat. "I know we haven't talked about it much, but would you and your family like to come to my house for Thanksgiving? I'm throwing it this year."

She turns over quickly. "Are you sure? You're going to be playing in the game. How are you going to have time to make sure dinner is done?"

I laugh softly. "You think I'm cooking? Woman—hell no. Mom will do a lot of it, and then what she doesn't do, I'll hire out. Do your parents want to come? What about your brother?"