The Strongest Hit.

Chapter 13: What Are You Willing To Do?

Kennedy's POV:

My mind drifted from a dreamless sleep to conscious awareness slowly.
I was wrapped in a blanket of heat.
My body was nestled into a warm and beating chest.
Arms encircled my waist, a hand had found its home in my shirt and rested against my right breast with a soft grip. The cup of my bra had been moved down, and this hand was skin to skin against me.
A strong leg was wrapped around my hip, anchoring our bodies together.
My body betrayed me, by leaning back and savoring the feeling of him against me.
I knew it was him, my dark Angel.
What I didn't know was how I had gotten here, or what had led me to be wrapped in his arms like this.
My mind tried to recall the events of last night, but I'm pretty sure my subconscious was locking something away.
His chin was nestled into the crook my shoulder and neck created, a perfect fit.
I could feel his soft breathing, as it tickled my right earlobe.
He was peacefully sound asleep, and I can't even lie...I never wanted to move away from him. I wanted to stay right here, wrapped in everything Justin.
His heartbeat on my back, his breath against my ear, his head nestled against my own, his hand on my chest, his leg wrapped around me, his body flush with mine.
It just all made sense to my body.
But my mind wanted answers.

This boy threw you out of his life yesterday.
He called you a mistake.
Said you mean nothing to him!

Yet here I am.

I remember leaving the arena and walking the strip of Vegas by myself, crying and screaming, as onlookers gave me worried eyes and stayed clear of my path.
I remember feeling the cold chill in the air and welcoming it against my half dressed form.
I just kept walking, with nowhere to go.
I remember the lights of the strip fading in the background as I walked away from him.
My feet had brought me to a darker side of Vegas.
Each corner became more seedier, filled with women dressed in nothing.
Their angry eyes all falling on me.
I was on their turf, and they didn't like it.
The men driving in expensive cars were slowing down and giving me unwanted attention, and taking it away from the women on the corner who wanted to get paid.
It's my fault for ending up here, still wearing this tiny black dress and heels, I remember thinking.
I remember walking into a rundown biker bar, to escape the hookers and their paying customers.
It started with one rum and coke, but then the large TV began showing the recap of my dark Angel's fight.
I finished another drink before the interview even began.
Then I watched as he destroyed me again on national television.
He was the lion in the cage, lashing out at anyone who dared to get close.
And I had gotten too close.
I couldn't even look at the screen anymore.
But I still heard his voice.
To the world he seemed cocky, to a knowing ear...he was putting on a show.
A show to cover up feelings he didn't know how to process.
I tried not to take it personally when he called me a groupie.
Knowing he was full of shit.
But trying and doing are two different things.
And I let the alcohol take me under, instead of try.
He meant something to me, and as much as I hated what he did...I couldn't change that.
That's the last thing my subconscious would allow me to remember.
So how did I end up in his arms?
He didn't want me, he said so himself.
But his body pressed against me now said otherwise.
I needed to clear my mind, his presence wasn't helping.
I tried to shift away, gently moving his hand from my breast.
But even in sleep, he was claiming me.
His hand came back to my skin, gripping tighter as he brushed his fingertips against my nipple.
His breathing in my ear not as soft.

"Mine. Always Mine." he whispered against my ear.
Still asleep, he had no clue what he was doing to my body and mind.
I slowly turned my body around, until I was face to face with him.
I was giving myself this moment.
I wrapped my arms around his back as I watched his eyes fluttering under their lids.