Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (best books for students to read .txt) 📗

“That tickles,” she whispers with a giggle as she stills my hand at her stomach.

“Good morning.” I push my luck and glide my hand up her body to her rib cage just shy of the underside of her breast.

A sharp intake of air and she relaxes.

“How did you sleep?”

“Mmm, really good.” She rolls over to face me.

I prop up on my elbow, my head in my hand, and run my fingers down her ribs to where the sheet lies at her waist and back again.

She touches my cheek with a barely-there brush of her fingertips. “I like these,” she whispers, tracing my dimples.

I roll my eyes.

“What? They’re cute.”

She did not just say that.

“Cute? I don’t want to be cute.”

I didn’t think her giggles could get any sweeter, but her scratchy morning giggles are the best.

“Well, too bad, because you are.”

My smile widens at the compliment. It’s not that I’ve never had a girl tell me I’m cute, but everything means more coming from Raven’s mouth.

Her eyes move to my arm as her finger slowly traces my tattoo.

“This is really beautiful. Ryan Allen Slade.” She reads the scripted name. “Is it a tribute to your dad?”

“Yeah, he loved the ocean so I thought it fitting that the cross rises up from it.”

Her fingers outline the swirls of waves then the cross at my bicep, moving up to the sky and clouds. Leaving trails of fire against my skin, her finger follows the pattern to the angels at my left pec. She looks up at me, her piercing aquamarine eyes heavy with sleep, her eyebrows raised in question.

“Katherine is my mom. Beth is my sister.” The words come out rushed. I don’t want her to think the women’s names inked on my body are past lovers.

“And why the blank spot in between them?” Her finger brushes at the unmarked skin over my heart, teasingly close to my nipple.

“I’m saving that for my future wife.”

She pulls her hand away like it’s been burned and ducks her head. I curse myself for ruining the moment.

I roll to my back to expose my right arm and point to the fiery phoenix.

“This one here I got for a two reasons. First one is obvious.” We’ve talked about me being from Arizona and moving to Vegas after high school.

She lifts her head and nods. I’m thankful to see the awkward moment pass.

“Second is because after my dad died, I was destroyed, like I’d lost everything, not just my dad. Then I started fighting and . . .” I pause, remembering the lost boy I was and comparing him to the man I am now. “It gave me something back. Not so much reborn, but redirected. It gave me purpose, a reason to wake up every day.”

Her thoughtful eyes study mine, her eyebrows pinched in concentration. “You found a way to deal with your pain in a healthy way that improved your life.”

“Yeah, I guess. Although sometimes it feels like fighting found me, ya know? I could have gone either way. Jail for assault or the UFL.”

She sighs and rolls to her back, eyes to the ceiling. “If only everything were like that. It’s not easy to do: owning and accepting the pain of our past, the heartbreak, our misgivings, and using them for good. Make our lives better not in spite of it all . . . but because of it.”

Her whispered words are directed at no one, and I wonder if they were meant more for me or for her. I watch her profile as she continues to inspect the ceiling fan.

It’s not the first time that the girl beside me has knocked me stupid with something that comes from her beautiful mouth. As I sit dazed by her brilliance, my mind attempts to piece together what she’s been through. Being the daughter of a pimp and a prostitute in Las Vegas couldn’t have been easy. Her dad was hawking women’s bodies and profiting from it, even the mother of his own daughter. Revulsion stirs in my gut.

We lie in silence for several long minutes, me lost in thoughts of her, her just looking lost.

Huffing, she turns her head with a sweet smile. “I need caffeine.”

And just like that, she’s back. These last few days, Raven has opened up to me on her own, always changing the subject when she’s done sharing. I want to know more about her, but I’ll let her set the pace.

“Are you always this pushy in the morning?” I tease.

A soft pink kisses her cheeks as she buries her head in my chest. I run my hand up her back into her hair.

“I don’t think I’m pushy in the morning, but then again, I’ve never slept over with a boy before.”

“Boy, huh?”

Rolling her to her back, I climb above her and bury my face in her throat. Her hands slide into my hair, and she holds me to her. I nip at her neck, eliciting a soft moan that vibrates against my lips. It takes every ounce of my control not to flex my hips into her accepting body. I pull up the hem of her t-shirt and rest my hand against her ribs.

“Jonah, is that your phone?”

I ignore her breathy question as my fingertips brush against the underside of her breast.

“Jonah, I think you should get your—”

I silence her with my mouth, swallowing her unspoken words. She hums and tilts her head, allowing me to delve deeper. I do just that, driving my tongue against hers. As slow as I can manage, I move my hand up until it’s overflowing with the weight of her breast. She presses into my hold, molding my hand against her.

“What if it’s an emergency?” She breaks the kiss to speak before pulling me back to her lips.

I smile at her eagerness before sucking her full bottom lip into my mouth. Her hands slide from my neck down to my chest as she explores my body with her touch.

“You taste fucking fantastic.” I