Page 64 of Vipers & Roses

Ignoring my warning, he moves closer, yanks a rose flower from the bush, and holds it under my nose. “Smell it, Rae. Breathe it in.”

What the hell is he doing? I can barely breathe, and he’s wanting me to sniff the fucking rose.

In a calm yet demanding tone, he states, “Breathe in the scent of the flower.”

I do as he says and breathe in the sweet scent that I usually love, but it is sickly and heady at this hypersensitive moment. His hand rubs my back, and in a calm voice, he says, “Keep breathing in the scent. Whenever Mom had a panic attack, Dad would make her smell strong scents, like his cologne or culinary herbs. It worked a treat every time.”

I don’t know what worked the most, the sound of Cormac’s reassuring voice talking about his family or the scent of the rose, but my breathing levels out, my strength returns, and the world falls back to normality.

“Are you okay, Rae?” he asks softly, rubbing my back.

“Sorry, I can’t handle being squeezed like that, and I guess I’ve been stressed lately…”

“Like those guys that jumped you?” he assumes since that’s the only stressful event I’ve told him about. Mostly, the pressure I’ve been putting on myself to kill The Four. I have many moments where I talk myself out of it, succumb to the threats, and move on with my life. Every day, I ask myself if it is a good idea. Every day, I have to steer myself back onto the path of destruction over forgiveness because I don’t think I can achieve peace until I destroy everything that created this battle in the first place.

Forgive and forget vs destroy and nullify.

“Yeah,” I wheeze as he wraps an arm around my waist, kissing my forehead and stroking my ponytail.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out, Rae,” his voice hums against my skin.

A group of students walks by without noticing us hidden in the foliage. “It’s not your fault. I have issues I have to work through.” I flick my hand dismissively, eager to move on from this incident because I don’t want to turn it into a big deal. “I prefer my weaknesses to be hidden.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, me too.”

“Have you got weaknesses?” I ask, pleased we’re moving the attention away from my annoying episode. My lungs have a lead brick trapped in there, and there’s a dull ache behind my eyes, but the less we talk about it, the better. “Like what?”

“Well…I don’t know If I should confess anything, but I am a sore loser,” he says gruffly.

I snort and wince when I receive a pang in my chest. “That does not surprise me.”

“I’m also finding that I have a great and expansive weakness for you,” he admits, licking his bottom lip. “I guess I have a thing for difficult blonds.”

My cheeks burn red, and I take his hand in mine, lean into him, and rest my head on his solid chest. “So, about that massage?”

“Sounds good,” he rolls his shoulders. “I’m a little achy and could use a woman’s touch. Although I was hinting at a blowjob in the roses, but a massage will do.”

“Sure, buddy,” I hiss sarcastically, “You wanna choke me to death? Huh? I had a panic attack just being hugged. Not sure if I’m ready to have your big dick in my mouth.”

A breathy chuckle exudes from those lips. “Yeah, I am big. Glad you noticed.”

I crack up laughing, and I’m pleased he’s taking it lightly because it may take some time before I can do some sex acts, but at least I know who I want to do the sex acts with. And maybe some healing will occur as I open up more and let them in.

29

Smooth, bare back with rippling muscle is laid out before me as I sit astride on his toned backside and slide my oily hands up and down his spine. We’re shut up in his bedroom in a frat house home to his male swim teammates. Muffled voices and slamming doors serenade us as I dig the base of my knuckles into the small of his back. He’s a magnificently built man, shaped in a triangle with tremendously broad shoulders, a thick, powerful chest, and silky skin.

He grunts with every stroke of my palm or a dig of a knuckle as his skin shines from the menthol-scented balm. His body moves underneath me, skin against skin, toned butt pressed hard against my vag and growing wetter by the second. Every time I wiggle, I receive an erotic sensation that travels up and down my thighs, and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning.

“That’s so good, Rae,” he groans blissfully into the pillow as his dark eyelashes tremble and the muscle in his jaw pulsates.

“When was the last time you had a girlfriend?” I ask to take my mind off the river flowing between my legs.

“Too long. I don’t have time,” the swimmer rumbles slowly in that deep masculine voice. Gold medals require blood, sweat, tears, and everything in between.”

“Yeah, I understand,” I sigh, blocking out the memories of my days as a competitive swimmer, and I wasn’t even at Cormac’s level of training. To ruin the moment, Lyons's face enters my mind, and I immediately brush it aside by focusing on my hands moving up and down Cormac’s body.

Sweat trickles down my neck as the temperature soars from the sun on this side of the house. “I’m just going to open the window,” I tell him and climb off his impressive behind, giving it a gentle slap before I step to the window. We’re on the third floor in a three-story modern complex with as much architectural character as a gnat, but we have a good view of the street below, lined with equally uninspiring-looking halls and frats.

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