It's Always Been You (25 page)

“Love you, sunshine,” he whispered.

Caitlin’s eyes closed as his lips claimed hers in a gentle kiss. It was on the tip of her tongue to say it back. There was just that tiny, niggling doubt that prevented her from doing so.

*****

Travis was fucked. No, he was more than fucked. He was more in love with her now than he’d been all those years ago. It was a sustained feeling trapped between euphoria and despair.
 

He pulled away from the kiss and watched her slowly open her eyes. He felt himself get lost again in those endless depths of rich golden hazel. It hurt. It physically hurt not to have it all with her right now.
 

This was a taste of what they could have with no threats around. Her enjoying the outdoor markets, shopping, devouring food to her heart’s content—even with a motorcycle club in residence. Travis admitted grudgingly that Nicholas Crane could be a man he’d respect. Travis wanted this freedom for her, and he would do his damnedest to give it to her.

Caitlin’s hair was like a golden halo in daylight. He remembered that the first time he saw the play of sunlight in her hair, he had started calling her sunshine. And the nickname stuck, because she was, indeed, that ray of sunshine during a dark time in his life. He met her when he was convalescing from an injury. Travis shattered his clavicle in an explosion that killed two fellow SEALs. He spent two weeks in Germany before he was sent back to Virginia Beach to recuperate. More than his physical injuries, he was plagued by survivor’s guilt. But, somehow, after meeting Caitlin that guilt turned into a renewed reason for defending the country—freedom for his girl to play in the surf under the golden sun.
 

“What are you thinking about, Travis?”

“The first time I saw the sun in your hair. You were like a fairy princess, an exquisite little thing.”

“Is that right?” she teased and cast him that come-hither look she did so well that never failed to get him hard.

That evening, after a couple of tequila shots with Caitlin at Foster Bar, he decided to revisit a
 
piece of the fabric of their past. He didn’t feel like telling, and decided to show her instead. He grabbed her hand and led her to the side exit. He had scoped out the place earlier. There was a shed behind the bar opposite the side of the parking lot.

“You said you were going to tell me about the night we met,” Caitlin slurred.

“Re-enactment, babe.”

“What?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m not going down on you.”
 

“I’ll shut up,” she giggled.

He dragged her to the back of the shed and pressed her against the rickety wall with his body. He was breathing hard; his lust fueled by alcohol, and his erection straining against his jeans. He kissed her ravenously. His hand drifted under her skirt to find her panties soaked. Nudging aside the crotch, he was pleased to find she was incredibly slick and only getting slicker.
 

“You’ve been waiting for me to give it to you, haven’t you, babe?”

“Travis . . . please—”

He inserted one finger and then two, curling them to touch that sensitive bundle of nerves, which had her squirming.

“Shh . . . quiet, Cat, or I’m going to stop.”

She whimpered softly.
 

He had only finger-fucked her that night they met at the bar. But tonight he was embellishing his story.

He dropped to his knees and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. The smell of her arousal threatened to drive him crazy, his erection turning hard as a brick. His tongue stroked her center. She gasped.

“Shh … or I’m stopping—”

He pulled her panties aside and laved her sweetness away, sucking gently and tunneling his tongue into her entrance. She was moaning, but Travis was lost with the taste of her. When she started to scream his name, he quickly got to his feet, slammed his mouth on hers to absorb her cries, and finished her off by circling his thumb over her clit. She exploded in spasms, shuddering convulsively. She clung to him like he was some lifeline that would save her from being swept away.

He murmured against her hair, “Now we take this back to our room. I’m going to fuck you until dawn.”

*****

There was plenty to do outside the small town of Iron Ridge. The main attractions were the hiking trails and white water rafting. After spending two days around town, Travis suggested they explore the Appalachian Mountains, which spanned that area of Southwest Virginia.
 

They hiked for over three hours until they reached the summit of Devil’s Peak. Caitlin squealed with delight.

“Oh, Travis, this is magnificent!”
 

Travis grinned. For someone who had been bitching about the hike for the last hour, she sure had changed her tune. He watched Caitlin close her eyes and inhale the invigorating mountain air. As for him, his eyes were focused on his wife, thinking how lucky he was to have a second chance with such a phenomenal woman. Sure it was her physical beauty that had drawn him to her that first time, but as they got to spend time together—they just fit. Like she was the missing piece to the puzzle of his existence. When she “died,” the completed puzzle shattered into infinite pieces of despair. He knew he would never recover from losing her.

And now here they were.

“Caitlin—” his voice came out hoarse.

“Shh . . . just a sec,” her eyes were still closed. “It’s so peaceful up here.”

They soaked in the midday sun for a couple of minutes.
 

Finally, she opened her eyes and cocked her head to the side. “Let’s set the blanket over there.” He followed the direction of her gaze to a huge, lush decades old oak tree. Travis nodded and walked easily to the shady spot to lower his backpack, which held a blanket and some sandwiches that were packed for them by the local deli.

After getting them settled under the tree, Travis twisted the cap off a bottle of water and handed it to her. Then he started unpacking their lunch.

“So,” her eyes angled to him. “We never talked about the night we met.”

“Ah …” Travis shifted uncomfortably. “Bar. I met you at a bar.”

“I know that. But were you just planning that one night?” Caitlin prodded.

“Honestly? I knew one night wasn’t going to be enough.”

Caitlin frowned. “Was I by myself?”

Travis felt his body tense. “No. You were with John Cooper.”

“Oh,” Caitlin looked away from him. “If I was with another man, what made you approach me? You don’t look like the type to poach on someone else’s territory.”

Damn right I don’t
. “It didn’t appear that you were together since other guys were asking you to dance,” Travis said. “I got tired of watching assholes grope you and decided to cut in.”

“So you decided to grope me yourself?”

Travis chuckled, “You loved my hands on you. We got hot and dirty on the dance floor . . . took it to the back of the bar. It got too risqué, so we decided to take it back to my place.”

“Wow—”

Travis grinned. “Fireworks, babe. We had it in spades.”

“And the morning after?”

Travis scowled as he remembered her trying to sneak out of his bed. “You tried to leave at dawn. I caught you at the door.”

“What do you mean? You wouldn’t let me leave?”

“Picked you up, tossed you back on the bed, and fucked you until I was sure you couldn’t walk.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes at him. “Stop exaggerating.”

“All right, you could still walk, but I fucking made sure you weren’t coming up for air for a couple of days.”

“So we went at it like rabbits,” Caitlin said dryly. “How did we end up getting married?”

“I knew you were
the
one
after a week. I wanted to marry you by the second week, but I had to force myself to wait for six weeks before I asked you,” Travis said, remembering the angst of waiting to marry her. “But I made sure before I deployed again with the SEALs, there would be a ring on your finger.” He leaned in. “So everyone would know you were mine.”

“Unusually long vacation to be home for over six weeks.”

“A shoulder injury sidelined me for three months.”

“And yet you fucked like a champion.”

“I wasn’t able to show you all my moves.” He waggled his brows at her. Caitlin giggled and threw the scrunched-up sandwich wrapper at him.

“Watch it, babe. The hipsters are staunch environmentalists and littering will land you firmly on their shit list,” Travis teased.

“This is an odd town,” Caitlin mused. “Bikers, hipsters, hippies. Did you see the stained glass sun catcher I got from one of the shops?”

“It’s gorgeous, Cat. Where are you going to hang it?”

“I was thinking in the living room. The window I think is facing southwest, so the afternoon sun will be perfect.”

Travis nodded, thrilled that Caitlin was starting to add her own touch to their home. She was his world. The notion should scare him, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. He lived and breathed for her.

Damn. This mountain air sure filled up his brain with enough epiphanies to last him a lifetime.

He looked around the isolated landscape as another epiphany struck him.
 

Caitlin was in the middle of taking a gulp of water when she must have felt the electricity that zipped between them. Her eyes slid to him mid-swallow. She lowered the water bottle and said firmly, “No.”
 

“Yes.” His body seized with lust as he grabbed hold of her calves and yanked her underneath him.
 

“Travis!” Caitlin was laughing and gasping as she lost hold of the water bottle.
 

“Fuck,” Travis muttered as he realized her shorts wouldn’t come off with her hiking boots on. He pulled away a bit, lowered the zipper, pushing his own shorts low, and freed his cock. He shifted to a kneeling position, moving her to all fours, spreading her legs, and slammed in behind her.
 
His hips pounded her ass, an arm gripping her against him. He folded over her back and fucked her in the most primitive way, out in the open in a field of wildflowers.

“You’re insatiable,” Caitlin muttered when they finally hiked down to where they had parked their car. He knew that self-satisfied grin he had on his face infuriated her. He dominated her very well when it came to sex, and if she protested too much afterward, he knew it was just an attempt to regain control in their dynamic.
 

“Only for you, babe,” he shot back as he bleeped the locks. The roar of Harley pipes caught his attention, and he felt himself tense. A grouping of five Harleys cruised down the road. Judging from their cuts, these bikers were not of the Iron Skulls MC. Their lead guy gave him a salute as they passed their car.

“Get in, Cat,” Travis ordered.

After the run-in with the Iron Skulls, Travis made it his business to find out what he could about the motorcycle club.

The Iron Skulls was a newly formed MC—a little over a decade old. Surprisingly, some of them were ex-military. Nicholas Crane used to be in the Navy’s Underwater Demolitions Team (UDT), a precursor to the establishment of the Navy SEALs in 1983. This explained his spot-on assessment of Travis during their first meeting. Ashe had been a staff sergeant with the Marines and had seen action in Afghanistan.
 

Like most MCs, they had lost faith in the U.S. government and decided on a life of anarchy to take care of their own. They operated legitimate businesses like a garage and several lucrative rental properties like the Foster Bar. A majority of the members had day jobs working in mostly adrenalin-fueled touristy businesses like white water rafting and rock climbing. There were rumors they controlled the crystal meth pipeline that ran the length of the Shenandoah Valley to Maryland. A huge population of Mexican workers in agricultural lands facilitated the smuggling of the banned substance into Virginia.

“I wonder where they get their money to run the club?” Caitlin asked. Obviously, Travis had not shared his intel. “I hear most of them run drugs.”

“Caitlin,” Travis said sternly as he backed out of the parking lot. “Don’t go around making such assumptions, especially in this town.”

“Sorry,” Caitlin said. “I think it’s exciting.”

Travis scowled. John Cooper fit the biker mold, with braids in his hair and copious amount of ink on his body. He found it odd that they were best friends, because Caitlin was not a typical biker chick. She wore little make up, and her blonde hair was wavy, naturally framing her face. She hardly wore jewelry, leather, or jeans with rhinestone shit on them.

“What’s exciting about running drugs, Cat?” Travis asked scathingly.

“Chill! There’s this biker show on TV with a very hot dude, okay?” Caitlin retorted.

“You like guys on a bike?”

She shrugged. He thought he heard her whisper, “Maybe.”

Before he had a chance to go off into another epic sulk, a vehicle parked on the side of the road caught his attention.

A couple was having an altercation by their car.

Shit. It was Bella.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It appeared to be a violent lovers’ spat. Caitlin was about to yell at Travis to stop the car, but it seemed he was compelled to do so anyway when they saw the mean-looking Latino guy grab the woman by her throat and slam her against the car.

The woman looked familiar, but she wasn’t any of the club women who ganged up on her at Foster Bar. She heard Travis muttering under his breath. He was probably uncomfortable about getting involved in a domestic dispute, but Caitlin was still confused with the indecision on his face, because Travis didn’t strike her as a man who would let a woman face abuse, physically or verbally.

Travis parked their Suburban right behind a vintage Chevy Impala. The man was of medium height and wearing a wife-beater shirt that covered deep brown skin. He was almost the same height as the woman, but clearly had the advantage of pure viciousness.

“Hey!” Travis shouted as he slammed out the car. “Let her go.”

The guy slackened his grip on the woman and glared at Travis. “Mind your own fucking business, hombre.”