Hard to Hold on To (7 page)

Last thing he wanted was for Jenna to get scared again. Not on his watch.

Except . . . all he’d been thinking about was getting back to Jenna as quickly as possible. Which meant he
hadn’t
been thinking about what he planned to wear when he returned to his room. Where she sat waiting. For him.

As he dried off and stepped out of the shower, Easy’s gaze snagged on a wad of clothing stuffed into the small plastic trash can under the sink. He knelt . . . and pulled out the Lenny Kravitz T-shirt Jenna had been wearing when they’d rescued her. Dropping his forehead to the fabric in his hands, Easy’s gut squeezed as he remembered the day he’d thrown away the bloodied clothing he’d worn during the ambush. He’d discarded it not because it’d been stained but because he’d never again be able to look at it and not remember how the blood got there in the first place.

Carefully, gently, Easy folded the shirt into a neat rectangle and returned it where he found it—where Jenna had discarded it . . . in favor of one of his shirts.

The thought hauled him off the floor. He wrapped the white towel around his waist. No choice but to brazen it out.

He stopped in the bedroom doorway and eyeballed his duffel. He didn’t want to freak her out by parading around half-naked, but there was no help for it. Jenna sat perched on the corner of the bed, one foot bouncing in agitation, her hands fisted in the comforter. Damn, talk about brazening it out. She was scared. He’d put money on it. And so focused on just making it until he returned that she hadn’t even noticed him.

He cleared his throat. “You okay?”

Her gaze flew to where he stood, and then she did a double take. “Uh, yeah,” she said. He didn’t miss her quick face-to-feet sweep of his body, nor the fact that her foot stopped shaking.

“Sorry, I was so focused on being fast that I forgot to take clothes.”

“Oh, no worries,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor.

Easy crossed to his bag and crouched to grab a few things. He’d spent a lot of years in the Army honing his survival instincts. Like most elite operators, he had a knack for knowing when he was being watched. And those instincts were roaring right now. Heat flooded through his blood. He wasn’t sure what it was about Jenna, but she’d made him feel more like a man in the past few days than he’d felt in the whole last year combined.

“I’m sorry I borrowed your shirt without asking.” Her voice was quiet, uncertain.

And he was having none of it. Clothes in hand, he rose and turned, grabbing onto the towel at his waist so it didn’t fall. “Not even a thing, Jenna. You need something and I have it to give, I will, every damn time. You hear me?”

He wasn’t sure whether he was more intrigued by the smile that played around her lips or the way her cheeks turned pink. “Yeah,” she said.

He nodded and gestured to the hall. “Be right back.” Just before he walked out the door, he glanced over his shoulder, and found her gripping the bed and bouncing her foot again. Because he was leaving.

Then he wouldn’t leave. At least, not enough to actually leave her alone. “All right, Jenna. I’m getting dressed right outside the door. Don’t come out now. Wouldn’t want to tarnish my reputation.”

A soft chuckle floated out to him. “Riiight. Okay.” But he heard the relief in her voice, too, and that was all he needed to know he’d made the right call. He dropped the towel and nearly jumped into his clothes, one eye on the bedroom doorway, one eye on the apartment doorway. He’d never live this down if Marz or Beckett walked through the door right now. Not likely, since Marz was neck deep in research, and Beckett had run out to buy more burn phones, but when was the last time things had gone his way?

When you met Jenna?

Easy froze just as his fingers grasped his zipper, then he slowly pulled it up. Hell, yes, when he’d met Jenna.

“Okay, I’m decent,” he said, returning to the room. He hung the wet towel on the inside doorknob. “Want this open or closed?”

“Closed.” Her gaze was full of blatant interest as it ran over him again, and it felt like a physical caress despite the jeans and white undershirt.

“You got it.” The door clicked shut.

Jenna scrubbed her hands over her thighs. Another nervous gesture.

You didn’t spend eight years in the Special Forces without also learning how to read people. Which was part of the reason Easy was so pissed at himself over Marcus’s death. Because the morning their convoy had been ambushed at a roadblock that had no business being where it was, Colonel Merritt had been jingling something in his pocket. Later, Easy had asked him a question, and the Colonel had been staring off into space and hadn’t heard him. Neither the nervous tick nor the distractedness was typical of Frank Merritt, yet Easy had explained them away. And three hours later, six of their friends were dead, as well as Merritt himself.

Hindsight was a fucking bitch.

But none of that mattered right now, did it?

Easy knelt in front of Jenna, determined to get to the bottom of her nervousness. “Okay, what will most put you at ease? Because you are wound as tight as a top.”

“I know. My thoughts are just all a whirl, and I—”

Easy caught her gesturing hands in his. “Not a criticism. Just an observation. And I want to help.”

A series of emotions flashed over her face. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Truth?” Easy asked, wondering just how much of it she needed from him to be more at ease.

“Please,” she said in a small voice, her gaze dropping to a point somewhere between them.

“Look at me, Jenna,” he whispered, loving her eyes on him, loving her
seeing
him when he’d felt like such a ghost for so long. When she lifted her face, Easy let the truth fly. “Because I like you. And you deserve to be treated with kindness. And it feels good to be needed.”

It was the first real smile he’d seen her give since they’d rescued her. And for the first time, he felt something that might actually be hope.

Chapter 5

“
C
AN YOU LIE
down with me? Maybe just until I fall asleep?” Jenna asked. “I know it’s stupid—”

Easy put his fingers on her lips, and damn were they soft. “Shh. I don’t want to hear you apply that word to yourself one more time. Got me?”

“I just feel like I should be stronger than this,” she said as she grasped and squeezed his hand, then continued to hold it.

Hell if Easy didn’t know
exactly
how that felt. How many times had he berated himself for not being stronger? How many times had he been so weak he contemplated just giving up altogether? On himself. On the world around him. On life itself.

Didn’t get any weaker than that.

And, Jesus, if he’d given in to those dark thoughts and even darker imaginings, he wouldn’t be here right now. He wouldn’t have been here to rescue Jenna from a fate maybe even worse than death. He wouldn’t have been here when she needed him.

And that was the moment when Easy understood what people meant when they described suicide as selfish.

Looking down, he watched Jenna slide her slender white fingers between his thicker black ones¸ interlacing their hands. He fucking loved the way her skin looked against his.

“Trust me when I tell you I understand that. Completely. But sometimes,” he said as he peered into her eyes again, “sometimes you gotta let someone else help you be strong before you can stand on your own.” The words resonated inside him, shining light on a whole lotta truths he was going to have to face. Wasn’t he.

Jenna nodded, and Easy pulled her to her feet. He tugged down the covers and gestured for her to get in. She chose the side that would allow her to lie on the uninjured side of her face.

“After what you’ve been through, I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable,” Easy said.

Propping herself on an elbow, Jenna shook her head. “You won’t. You’re the—” She blanched as if she hadn’t meant to say whatever she’d nearly said.

Which made Easy
need
to know. He crawled on the bed as if lured by the words. “Finish. That. Sentence.”

She eased back onto the pillow, red hair sprawling around her shoulders like silk, and stared up at him. And it took everything Easy had not to settle himself on top of her and tease the words out with his hands and tongue.

“The only one who makes me feel safe,” she whispered.

Satisfaction humming through him, Easy turned and stretched out on his back. Because if he kept looking at her while she was looking at him like that, he might not be able to restrain himself from having what he wanted. A taste. A chance.

None of which she was in any shape for. And given the shitstorm in his head, probably neither was he.

“Good. That’s good,” he murmured, blowing out a long breath. Damn, he was tired. Not just because he hadn’t slept much the night before. But because of the size of the load he’d been shouldering for the past twelve-plus months. If he could only figure out how to put it down. He scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could shake himself out of this fucking slump.

If Rimes were here, he’d kick Easy’s ass for being such a morose motherfucker.

But he wasn’t here. Which was the damn problem in a nutshell.

He dropped his arms to the bed and peered over at Jenna.

She lay on her side facing him, hand tucked under her chin, not looking the least bit settled or relaxed.

“Whatchu need?”

“You.” She spoke the word without any hesitation, any doubt, any seeming self-consciousness.

“Have me, Jenna. Whatever you want,” he said, his cock stirring no matter how hard he reined himself in.

Holding his gaze, she moved closer until her head rested on his shoulder and her body trapped his arm between them. And, suddenly, she wasn’t fucking close enough.

“Here,” he whispered, lifting his arm and inviting her closer. And damn if his heart didn’t soar when she fitted herself the rest of the way against him, her face against his throat, her breasts against his ribs, her leg curling up onto his thigh.

He wasn’t sure whose sigh was louder. All Easy knew was that this was the first time in more than a year he hadn’t felt alone. Wrapping his arm around her, he couldn’t resist squeezing her in just a little closer.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her breath ticklish against his neck.

He laced his fingers between hers where they rested on his chest. “I gotchu. You just close your eyes and know I’m here.”

J
ENNA AWOKE WITH
the immediate realization that she was wrapped so tightly around Easy that she might as well have been lying on him. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad or guilty or embarrassed about it in the least. Because his heat and his touch and his clean scent in her nose had allowed her to sleep without nightmares. And because she refused to regret something she wanted and might not get to have again.

After all, he’d said he liked her, but she had no idea exactly
how
he liked her. Maybe he meant like a kid sister. Or maybe he meant as a friend.

Except . . . his hips shifted under her leg, and she did
not
think she was imagining what she was feeling. He was hard. He was holding her, and he was hard.

Jenna’s heart tripped into a sprint. Not out of fear but out of curiosity, amazement, interest.

Turning twenty in a little over a week, Jenna had had a few boyfriends. Despite her illness and living at home with her big sister, she wasn’t totally inexperienced. But she’d never had sex. She’d thought that was where her and her last boyfriend had been headed, but then they’d cooled off and agreed to be friends instead. At the time, Jenna had been relieved.

And now she was lying in bed with an older man—how much older she wasn’t sure—who made her feel safer than she’d ever felt in her life.

He was hard. She was more than a little intrigued.

Because Easy was patient and kind, and he made her feel special and cared for. And from his handsome face to his incredible muscles to the ink on his chest, he was totally, freaking gorgeous.

And he’d saved her life.

Couldn’t forget that.

The simple act of thinking about the man in these terms made Jenna’s belly flip.

And while she half expected to freak out at the idea of sex after she’d been pawed by Bruno’s assholes, when she looked at Easy, she didn’t see any of that, she didn’t feel it, she didn’t think about it.

What she thought about instead was that, if those assholes had killed her, she would’ve died without ever knowing what it felt like to love a man. And be loved in return.

She could’ve
died.

The realization made her feel like she’d never really been living. But now she could. Now she had a second chance.

Jenna shifted herself closer, her body reacting to her thoughts and her closeness to his.

A hand clamped down on her thigh.

And Jenna’s heart turned into a hammer inside her chest.

“Jenna,” Easy said, voice full of gravel and warning.

She tilted her face upward, bringing her lips against his throat. And before she’d even thought about it, she kissed him. A long, soft press of her lips against the suddenly jumping pulse in his throat.

He groaned, and it was a sound as sexy as it was tortured. Beneath her thigh, he hardened further.

She kissed him again, dizziness threatening as her body slingshotted from sleepy to utterly, eagerly awake. And aroused.

“Jenna,” he said again, though this time it came out as more of a plea. His hand slid up her thigh. His fingers pressed into her back, pulling her tighter against him.

She slipped her fingers from his and gently cupped the other side of his neck as her lips found his skin again and again.

Though she couldn’t believe she was actually doing this, she didn’t want to stop. And though he seemed to be trying to restrain himself, he wasn’t stopping her, either.

Shifting closer brought his hip firmly between her legs. Jenna moaned at the friction against her center.

“Fuuuck,” he rasped.

Jenna kissed the spot just below his ear, then his jaw, then she pushed up enough to make eye contact. And the heat and desire in his dark brown eyes nearly stole her breath.

Easy looked like he wanted to devour her.

And damn did she want to be devoured.

Her lips hovered so close to his that she could feel his breath caressing her. Staring into his eyes, she got closer, and a little closer yet, and then her lips brushed his.

On a groan, he hauled her body on top of his, letting her feel every long, hard inch of him. She’d thought she understood his power and strength before? It was nothing compared to feeling him move beneath her and hold her. Because the guy was all lean, hard muscle and leashed, lethal power. Yet he touched her gently, tenderly, as if he were afraid of breaking her.

Their kisses were soft, slow, almost tentative, and he let her lead even as his hands landed in her hair.

Need vibrated through her, and she licked at his top lip and shifted her hips against his length. One of his hands clamped down on her ass, holding her still yet pressing her more firmly against him.

“What are you doing to me?” he rasped.

“I just . . . need you,” she whispered against his lips. God, how she wished the one corner of her mouth didn’t sting because she wanted him so much that she just wanted to let herself go. But these slow kisses were good, too, because they allowed her to taste him, to learn him, to explore him.

“You feel like a fucking dream,” he said.

The words as sweet as they were sexy, Jenna’s heart squeezed and her blood heated even more. Their tongues touched and twined, and Easy lifted his head from the pillow to pursue her lips in return. Soft, teasing brushes and pulls and sucks at her skin that made her gasp and pant.

Cradling her by the head and the back, he gently rolled them over, his handing tangling in her hair, his chest falling on hers, his thigh pressing maddeningly between her legs. He kissed her uninjured cheek, her jaw, her throat. Jenna tilted her face away, giving him access—and ready to give him everything he wanted to take.

His hand fell on her hip and squeezed, and his touch so close to where she vibrated and grew damp with need made her moan and thrust her center against his thigh.

“Easy,” she rasped.

He brought his face back to hers and kissed her full on the mouth.

A sharp sting on the corner of her lip. She sucked in a breath and flinched.

He reared back like she’d slapped him. “Jesus, Jenna. I’m sorry.” And then he rolled away until he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her and his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?”

Jenna pushed herself into a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her knees, her body torn between arousal and confusion. “I don’t want to stop,” she managed to say as she rested the side of her face on her arms.

He shook his head and shifted to look at her, his expression stone cold pissed. “I shouldn’t have kissed you—”

“You didn’t kiss me. I kissed you.” Part of her felt like she should be scared to push him, and there was no question that the expression he wore was freaking intimidating. But she also knew the sweet, protective man was in there. And that he’d wanted her.

I. Could. Have. Died.

And now she wanted to live. Now she wanted Easy.

She crawled closer to him, close enough that she could feel his heat but shy of touching him. “I still want to kiss you,” she whispered, meeting his intense brown eyes.

“It’s not right, Jenna,” he said. His gaze drifted from her eyes to the side of her face. The side with all the bruises.

She touched her fingertips to the puffiness on her cheek. “Is it that ugly?”

His mouth dropped open, and he grasped her hand. “Hell, no. You are beautiful.” The compliment gave her stomach the feeling of floating inside her. “Those bruises aren’t ugly. They’ve proof that you survived. But they’re also proof that you’re hurt, and you’ve been through something traumatic.” His brows cranked down, and he shook his head, like he was having an argument with himself.

Jenna nodded and looked down to their joined hands where they rested on Easy’s knee. His thumb stroked over her skin again and again, and it was so comforting. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “I know all that’s true, but it all feels better when I’m with you.” She swallowed hard, then met his gaze. “And I don’t mean that like I’m using you to forget. Please don’t think that. It’s just . . .” She shrugged and searched for the words.

Easy leaned his forehead against hers. “What?”

“I like you,” she whispered. “And when I’m with you, I feel safe enough to just be a girl who likes a guy and not a kidnapping victim who could’ve died.”

“Jenna—”

“Plus you’re really sweet.”

Easy chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone that. You’ll ruin my rep.”

Jenna couldn’t help but smile. He was even sexier with a little humor shaping his face.

Just then, Jenna’s stomach growled so loud it was almost a roar.

“Saved by the stomach,” he said with a wink.

She smirked. “Like you needed to be saved from me?”

“No,” he said with a pointed look. “
You
needed to be saved from me.”

Heat rolled over Jenna body. “But what if—”

He kissed her, just a soft press of his lips against hers that cut off her words. “A man can only resist so much temptation, babe. So whatever you were about to say, please don’t.” He winked, taking the edge off the rejection. “You’re hungry, and I bet it’s been a damn long time since you last ate anything. So let’s take care of that need now. How’s your stomach feeling?”

“Better,” she said. And it did. The nausea was gone, replaced by an aching hunger that was almost painful. Easy was right, as much as she hated to admit it. “I guess I am hungry.”

Easy smiled and sat back, his thumb still stroking over her hand. “You wanna come downstairs to grab some food? Sometimes we all eat together, and sometimes everyone fends for themselves. Not sure what the plan was today, but you could meet everyone, and I could show you around.”