Fighting For You
By
Publication Date: January 17, 2014
Book Description:
Fighting For You is a revised edition of Head Over Wheels.
Jewelia Delarosa isn't too eager to fight her way through another dead-end relationship. Then her eyes find his. By chance. He's like wine, rich and intoxicating. One sip rocks her world, and suddenly, she's drowning in a guy called Indigo. She doesn't know how to handle her overwhelming emotions. His mood swings. The two women who refuse to let him go. The battle is all uphill. Giving up seems the most sensible thing to do, but once she's tasted his love, given herself to him body and soul, living without him is not an option. Until she realizes, leaving him seems the only protection from heartbreak.
About to begin his residency at NYU Medical center, Indigo's plan is to rescue every child who needs him, even if it sucks the life out of him. He doesn't remember what happiness feels like. His mother haunts him. A wannabe girlfriend stalks him. He doesn't need another woman in his life. Then a stunning gaze captures his, and while fighting to resist, he sinks deeper into something he never thought could be his. Love has never been in the cards for Indigo. But a girl named Jewelia is as necessary as the blood coursing through his veins.
"Hey. I didn't know you speak Spanish. How come you
never told me?" I gave his abs another nudge.
"Why didn't you tell me you speak
Spanish?" Eyes innocent, he grinned, pushing my elbow away, pinning my
hand to my thigh. "Keep your paws to yourself. My ribs are getting
sore."
"I'll have to start telling you that."
I shot him a sarcastic look. "And who could feel a rib through that
muscle?" When I tried to pinch his side, he grabbed my hand.
"Since we've been speaking fluent English, I guess I
didn't find the need to mention I speak one or two other languages." His
tickling fingers tortured my sensitive ribcage.
I screeched, hopping around in the seat, panting, "What
other languages?"
"Russian. Learning Chinese."
"What are you gonna do? Work for the United
Nations?"
He turned serious. "Jewel. I'll be practicing ..."
he hesitated.
I angled my head. "Yes, I know you'll be practicing ...
go on."
"I'll be working with children from a variety of
countries. I plan on learning the languages, backgrounds, traits, histories,
likes and dislikes of each and every child who walks, or is wheeled through the
doors of the hospital."
I'd never witnessed such a degree of dedication. All I could
say was a breathless, "Oh."
"No child is going to slip between the cracks if I have
anything to say about it."
"Oh." Again, I felt the need for an extra gulp of
air.
"There's a lot of work to be done."
"You're such a humanitarian." I threw my arms
around his neck, and a leg over his thigh, and started kissing him,
compassionately at first, then something deep inside me snapped like a fragile
spring stretched beyond its capacity.
We'd left sunset behind in Poughkeepsie, and dusk was
settling over the river, colliding with mist. A moon on the rise projected a
glow on our surroundings, but it was far too subtle to invade the dimness that
had befallen the interior of our car.
When I straddled him, I knew I was asking for trouble. I was
mindless. I was floating. I was trembling with passion. Nothing could have torn
me away from Indigo's arms other than a train crash, perhaps.
I felt as if the car we were on unlatched and barreled on its
own track, swaying, tumbling, and I was thrust headfirst into a tunnel from
which I never wanted to emerge. Life was Indigo and me. There was no such thing
as tomorrow, because if I had my way we'd be locked in that moment, in each
other's arms forever.
My hips were rolling faster than Metro North's wheels. My
hands roamed his chest, rounded his pecs, traced his abs. My fingertips swept
his neck, stroked his cheeks, tousled his hair, while my mouth occupied his. It
didn't matter if I could barely breathe, because I never wanted to come up for
air. As my fingers dug into his flesh, the grip of my lips grew firmer. I heard
Indigo gasp, felt him stiffen, then he seemed to be carried away with the tide.
His arms tightened around me so fiercely, the air in our lungs was shared.
"Jewel ... people will ..." he managed to free his
lips, but only for a moment.
"The car is empty. There's no one here but us," my
whisper assured.
From our position, we were shielded by the opposing seat,
encased in a cubicle of privacy. I felt his craving and longed for him to find
the button on my jeans again, confess that he loved me, smother me until our
final breaths were drawn as one.
His hands slipped under my sweater, hungrily running the
length of my back, the soft pads of his fingers unclasping my bra, drifting up
and down my sides.
Moaning, I locked my fingers around his neck, pulling his
lips to mine, unable to bring myself close enough to the man who was driving me
insane.
Indigo's cologne smelled masculine, his warm lips sweetened
by mints. His hair feathered through my fingers, and as thoughts of tomorrow
swirled through my mind, everything inside me began to explode. I angled my head
every which way, teasing his lips, then sucked in his tongue until it almost
touched the back of my throat.
His palms grazed the side mounds of my breasts, each scathing
caress capturing more of me. He pinched my nipples between his thumbs and
forefingers, twisting until the sensation lit up my insides. I squirmed in his
lap, moaning. He drew in a heavy breath, ragged and indecisive, as if
struggling with something so much stronger than he was capable of handling.
Suddenly his hands were beneath me, pressing, urging, until
the only thing between us were my breasts and his hardness. My body climbed
his, rocked without mercy, then slowed, eased, again and again, the friction
heating the clothing we wore.
My hips danced, rolling faster than the wheels that carried
us home, until I was brought to a screeching halt by my panting partner, who
gently pried my fingers from their death grip on the back of his neck, peeled
my undulating body off his, and set me onto the seat beside him, his hoarse
voice whispering, "If we don't stop now ... I can't be held
accountable." His chest rose and fell as if recovering from a five mile
run. His face was flushed, his hairline dotted with perspiration.
He shocked me to my senses. I struggled to catch my breath,
to throttle my emotions: my racing heart, the tingling ache inside that
solicited more and more from me ... from Indigo.
My head rolling in my hands, I groaned. "Oh, God."
He pulled me close, but didn't kiss me. He just held me. I
felt him tremble. "Oh, babe. I don't know. I just don't know." His
words were choked. "It's getting harder and harder."
"It sure is." I attempted a laugh.
Guilt replaced the butterflies that chewed holes in my
stomach when I was with him. Attempting to lighten the mood, I casually said,
"Are you okay?"
"Not really." His words were tight.
"Is there anything I can do?"
He stared at me in disbelief. "Seriously?" He
heaved one of the biggest sighs I'd ever heard slip through anyone's lips.
"Haven't you done enough?" He tried to laugh, but only his shoulders
moved.
"If it's any consolation, it's not easy for me either.
Women get blue balls too. Even though we don't really have balls, you know the
blood collects, and we feel like we're gonna freak if we don't ..."
He looked at me as if I'd just confessed to murder.
"Jewel," his voice was flat, "I have extensive knowledge of the
human anatomy. I know the physiology of an orgasm, and the effects on a body
when it's denied release." His eyes bore into mine. "I know what to
do to a woman ... how to bring her to a screaming climax." He ran a finger
over my lower lip, a thumb across my cheek.
"You'll have to show me your skills sometime soon,
doc." At the thought, my stomach clenched, and my panties drenched.
The train pulled into Grand Central Station shortly after
we'd composed ourselves. I cradled the containers of rice and chili Mom had
packed for Emma. We hailed a cab and headed for my apartment.
The streets were dim and relatively empty, the pavement
glossy with a light drizzle that had begun to fall. Indigo's arm was around my
shoulders as we sat in the back of the cab. I put my hand on his knee, once more
desperate to know. "Are you sure you're okay?"
In the dimness his pale eyes were crystalline. His thumb
strummed my chin, brought my lips to his for a sweet kiss. "Don't worry
about anything. I'm fine." He drew back and smiled. "I should be off
duty by six on Friday evening. How about I pick you up on the way home? We'll
get dinner, take in a movie. Sound good?"
"Sounds amazing." I heaved a sigh and plastered
myself against his side, confident everything would be just fine.
Bridgette thats beautiful
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