Meant to Be: Southern Heat Series (17 page)

He worked to focus his eyes, watching her hands work him. For the second time that night, she leaned forward, kissing the tip of his penis. And for the second time, he feared he would be done before things really got started.

He’d long credited himself with having ultimate control, being able to put off his pleasure for as long as it took. But Sydney sent him from 0 to 100 on the arousal scale with one touch. He’d hoped their fast and furious mating would take the edge off so he could take his time during their next interlude.

He was wrong. Her touch sent him reeling again and distracted him from his job. Wanting to remedy that, he levered up before she could suck him, and instead, kissed her, his hands finding and kneading her breasts.

The sounds coming from her at his touch were music to his ears. When they’d been together before, she’d held back, her reserve keeping her from letting go during sex. This time, she didn’t hide anything. Each sigh and moan encouraged him and heightened his arousal. Wanting to make this time last, and to prove to her he actually had skills in bed, he pushed her hands away from him. He’d be the only one touching and tasting right now. She tried to reach for him again, but he took her hips and lifted her so she was no longer sitting on his thighs but kneeling. He cascaded kisses along her abdomen and swirled his tongue in her belly button, mimicking things to come. Her breath hitched and her hands grabbed his shoulders. He bent, sliding his tongue lower, lower.

Her breath quickened. Her fingers slid through his hair. At first, he thought she was stopping him, but when he hesitated, she pulled him closer.
No. No reserve now.
He obeyed and dipped his head lower, inhaling her sweet scent. His tongue snaked out and skimmed over the flushed, pink distended nub between her thighs. She cried out, and her hips jerked forward as her hands pulled him to her.

He smiled, gripped her hips, and then feasted, letting her mews, gasps, and moans guide him.

“Oh, God, Mitch. Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

He wanted to feel her come around him again, but he couldn’t deny her this. If he was as good in bed as he thought he was, he’d be able to make her come again once he was inside her. This time, though, he’d give her what she was pleading for. She’d never begged before, and the sound of it was music to his ears.

One hand released her hip, and he slid two fingers inside her and forward as he suckled the hard arousal. Her entire body tightened as she let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan. Then her body convulsed and her hips gyrated against his lips. He held her there, amazed at the length and intensity of her release. Finally, her body sagged, boneless, against him. She sat back, and he had the strongest need to fill her right then. Fortunately, he had the wherewithal to realize he had no protection on. So, instead, he held her until her harsh breathing subsided.

She leaned back slightly, her hazel eyes piercing his. “I was supposed to be in charge here.”

He grinned and lay back, with palms open as if to say, “Have at it.”

She smiled. It was a sexy, erotic smile he’d never seen. Though he didn’t think it was possible, he hardened even more.

She slid back, sat on his thighs, and wrapped her hands around him. Again, she watched her hands slide up and down. Then she leaned over. Her tongue, so hot and wet, started between his legs lapping up to the tip, and it was his turn to gasp. She wasn’t the first woman to use her mouth on him. Yet, this was different. He couldn’t explain how or why. All thought left, leaving only Sydney and the incredible things she was doing. He was quickly heading to a place of no return. He wasn’t averse to a woman jacking him off, but he wanted, needed, to be inside her again.

Somehow, he managed to reach to the bedside table, his hand rummaging through the drawer, searching for a condom. Next time he’d keep them under the pillow.

“Syd. Jesus, Syd.” He thrust the condom at her.

Her hazel eyes looked at him in puzzlement. “I think I’ve got things well in hand.”

She was killing him. He would be dead for sure. He couldn’t find words, which was good, because what would come out would probably be vulgar. Instead, he pushed her hands away and fumbled with the condom.

“Let me.” She took the condom. Tearing it open, she settled the latex over him. “I’ve done this to bananas but never to a man.”

He draped his arm over his face, the agony almost too much to bear. “Probably because you’re too slow.” He sat, pushing her hands away. While one of his hands rolled the condom on, the other pulled her hips over him. “Have mercy.” Now he was the one begging.

He thought she laughed, but at least she took mercy and sank over him, shifting back and forth to make sure he was in all the way.

His groan filled the room. His arms banded around her to keep her from moving. He was teetering on the brink. He might have to surrender this battle and hope that he would feel her coming around him again another time. But he wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight.

“Don’t move.” His arms made sure she stayed still, but when he suckled her breast, she contracted around him.

“Mitch.” His name came out on a gasp as his lips tugged on her breast and his fingers flicked between her thighs.

“Come.” His mouth went dry. “I want to feel you come.”

She let out a moan and her hips rocked. He grimaced. She needed to move to find her own release, but he was too close. He’d reach the finish line before her. His fingers worked faster and his lips suckled harder.

“Oh… oh…” She sounded surprised, but then her head threw back and she clamped around him like a vice.

And that was it. His release burst, tearing through him with a long, feral growl. He grabbed her hips, forcing them up and down over him. Faster. Harder. Her body squeezing and massaging him until stars swam in his eyes. With a final yell, he yanked her down and emptied everything he had.

S
ydney sprawled over Mitch
, unable to move. She’d remembered enjoying sex with him during college, but she hadn’t remembered it being so exhausting — in a good way. Had that been her fault? She was self-conscious of everything back then, but of lovemaking in particular. Letting loose felt too vulnerable, too embarrassing.

The recent attack on Jenny had been a reminder that life was too short to not live it to the fullest, so she didn’t hold back. If she wasn’t mistaken, neither did Mitch, at least in bed. She shoved away thoughts of the many women on which he’d honed his skills and, instead, focused on the beat of Mitch’s heart under her cheek. Initially, it thundered just as hers had, but now it slowed to a calming, steady, strong rhythm. His hand absently rubbed her back. She wished she could stay that way forever.

She brushed her fingers over the scattering of scars on Mitch’s neck. She’d noticed them on his legs and lower arms as well. She knew from her time in Jordan the scars were likely from shrapnel. It told her he’d been near at least one blast. She was thankful he hadn’t been close enough to lose a limb or, worse, be killed.

She kissed one of the scars. “I was afraid for you.”

He stiffened under her. Charlotte Tavern was small enough that residents knew something bad had happened during the war but also respected that Mitch didn’t want to talk about it and never pushed him. She wouldn’t push, but she would ask.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“It’s the same story millions of soldiers have told throughout time.”

She lifted her head and noted the distance growing in his eyes. “It might be similar, but not the same. Your story, your experience, matters. It stays with you.”

“It’s not something easily forgotten.”

She considered retreating, but she knew from her own experience that talking tamed the demons. “When I was attacked, I wanted to forget it. Pretend it never happened. But I couldn’t. It showed up in my dreams, when I walked through a parking lot, or when I happened to see the scar on my back while looking in a three-way mirror. It’s always there and it changes you.”

Mitch’s expression softened, his hand cupped her cheek, he pulled her to his chest, and he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll find him.”

“I hope you do. But in the meantime, I don’t want him keeping me from life. It’s not easy. It took a lot of effort and therapy to live again.”

“Doctor Andres?”

“No. He’s too much like family to be my therapist. But he was a big help. Did you ever talk to anyone?”

He inhaled a breath. “Yes. But it doesn’t fix anything.”

She lifted her head again. “You didn’t find it helpful?”

“It didn’t bring Brian back.”

Her heart ached at the grief in his voice. “Will you tell me about him?” The fact that she didn’t know much about Mitch’s friends or family was another reminder of how insulated they’d been in their relationship.

“He was my best friend since kindergarten. Besides you and my family, there was no one I trusted more.”

“What happened?”

He looked away.

She used the tip of her finger on his jaw to turn his face back to her. “I know this isn’t my business, and maybe it’s too much intimacy for an affair—”

“There are no rules, Syd. Not everything has a plan.”

She fought the rising hurt and anger at his harsh tone. “There are rules. One is no love allowed. I can’t believe I’m the sole reason you keep people at a distance.”

He swore and tilted his body, effectively rolling her off, and then bounded from the bed. She hated the loss of contact but wouldn’t be put off by it. He went to his dresser, pulling a pair of boxers from the top drawer and slipping them on. He grabbed a T-shirt from a folded pile of them, tossing her one and picking up another one, jerking it over his head. Finally, he looked at her.

She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to respond as she put his shirt on. He ran his fingers through his bronze waves and sank to the edge of the bed, with his back to her. It pained her to see him broken like this.

“You’re not to blame. I’d still be pissed, but there might have been a chance for us if I hadn’t gone into the military.”

His words were both a relief and a source of frustration. “What happened?”

“The saying, war is hell, is accurate. I may have been young and even a little naive, but I knew what I’d likely see.”

“But seeing it is different in reality, isn’t it?” Memories from Jordan bubbled to the surface: Refugees missing limbs, starving, blinded, and scarred, physically and emotionally. The hardest to cope with were the children, who stared at her with such hope, and yet were hungry, wounded, and not likely to see relief anytime soon. Sydney hadn’t ever felt as useless as she had in Jordan. Why the world hadn’t long ago found a way to stop war to avoid the atrocities, heartache, and despair, she’d never know.

“Yes. But it’s worse when it comes from your own side.”

“What?”

His forearms rested on his thighs, his head down. He looked so lost, and she wanted more than anything to wrap him in her love and make all his heartache go away. If only it were that easy.

“I don’t know how it is up north, but love of country is important down here. Love of God, country, and family, in that order.”

Sydney didn’t think the south held the market on patriotism, but she didn’t say anything.

“Patriotism is a staple and serving your country is a great honor.”

She remembered how important enlisting had been to him, even though it had significantly changed their plans. She’d supported it because it hadn’t occurred to her not to. Back then, she didn’t have her own voice.

“Brian, he was born to serve. I wanted to serve, but he was a born soldier. We thought we were lucky to serve together in Iraq. We thought we’d lucked out to get Sergeant Hancock’s squad. He was larger than life. Like he walked out of a John Wayne war movie. He helped us. Mentored us. And by us, I mean all his men. That brotherhood thing is for real.”

“You admired him.”

He turned his head enough to see her. “Yes.” He paused. “They train you to do things and think in ways that most people don’t.”

“I imagine you have to think quickly when you’re in danger.”

He scoffed and turned away. “And you obey orders. People die if you don’t. Except, people were dying when we did.”

Sydney frowned. What did he mean? Wasn’t war about killing the enemy, in which case, people died?

“The first inkling something wasn’t right was when Hancock put a weapon in a dead Iraqi’s arms after he’d killed him.” Mitch turned to her again. “I believe in my country and the military.”

She nodded, confused by his assertions.

“But not everyone who serves is… good.”

Sydney’s breath hitched. “Your sergeant?” She breathed. If Mitch had blindly obeyed his corrupt sergeant, as was his training, he’d done dreadful things.

He stood and studied his reflection in the mirror. What did he see? It couldn’t be good if his pained expression was any indication.

“It’s hard to tell who the enemy is sometimes.”

She wanted to say something to comfort him but didn’t think there were any appropriate words.

“Jesus… they were innocent. Families… children…” He placed his hands on the dresser and looked down, as if he couldn’t stand to look at himself. “Such chaos, at least that’s what Brian and I thought.” He looked up and caught her gaze through the reflection in the mirror. “It wasn’t, though. It was planned. He was hunting them, killing them, and using us to do it.” His words choked. “Not me.” He turned to her, face distorted into the worst sort of torture, his eyes red with tears. “I never killed them. Neither did Brian.”

He spoke with such vehemence. It was important to him she understood. And because she did, she stood and went to him.

“You wouldn’t.” She put her arms around him and held him, wishing she could rid him of the pain.

He tensed, resisting her comfort initially, but then he pulled her to him and buried his face in her neck. After a few moments, he pulled away and turned from her. “Brian reported it and I backed him up. But…”

“They didn’t believe you?”

“They did, eventually, but not before Brian and I were sent on a patrol.”

Sydney’s stomach dropped.

“I can’t say they planted the bomb, but… well, it doesn’t matter. Brian died.”

“Mitch, I’m so sorry.” She sensed he wanted space, but she was unable to stop herself from touching him. She reached out, placing her hand on his arm.

“I held him as he bled to death. He asked me to watch over his mom and Chelsea. I told him I would, although, I didn’t think I’d make it out alive. I was wounded. I knew I would be okay if I could get help, but there was no way I’d be able to get back to base alive. Not alone.”

“Where were the others?”

He shrugged. “They left.”

Mitch never came out and said it, but Sydney understood that he and Brian were set up, not just by his sergeant, but by the others in the squad who agreed with the sergeant’s tactics.

“How did you make it out?”

“Another patrol came through. I was in the hospital about to be sent back to my post when a couple guys from CID showed up. It’s the army’s investigation command.”

“Was your sergeant arrested?”

“Yes. He and several others are serving time, but it was too late for Brian.” He turned to her. “And me.”

Something inside him had died that day. It was just as Jenny had told her. He lost his faith in humanity and chose to keep the world at bay rather than risk betrayal or being used to hurt others. She considered asking him what sort of life Brian would want him to have. Or tell him to not let the evil doings of a few men affect his view of others, especially since there was evidence of good all around him in his family and friends. But she decided it wouldn’t matter.

“But, hey, I got a medal.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “So did Brian, not that it did him any good.”

“Thank you for telling me this. I know it’s painful for you.”

“I don’t talk about it.”

“I know. And we don’t have to anymore. Except, I want to tell you Mitch, I…” She paused with the words poised on her tongue. “…I know you. You’re a good man.”

He looked away, his head shaking slightly. Would their affair last long enough for her to prove to him he was good? She hugged him again, holding the embrace for some time, until his tension and grief subsided, replaced by something sensual. His hands slid under her shirt and his mouth sought hers with a desperate hunger. She wanted to tell him sex wasn’t a solution to grief, but he wasn’t in a place to hear that message either. So she kept her mouth shut, except to accept his kiss. If he needed sex to soothe his soul, she could give him that.

This time lasted longer than the first two times, but even so, they had trouble pacing themselves. Not that she was complaining. But it seemed like they had only one speed: fast and furious. It pulled Mitch out of his melancholy, though, which she was glad for.

He rolled and pulled her with him so they lay on their sides. He nestled her neck. “Are you hungry?”

Where did he get the energy? “Again?”

He grinned. “I meant for food. I’ll need it before we go another round.”

Another round?

“And we haven’t had supper.”

“Oh. I said I’d cook and I didn’t get to it.”

“You cooked.” He waggled his brows.

She laughed, loving the funny, unguarded Mitch. But it sent conflicting messages. When he was angry and annoyed, it was easier to remind herself they had no future. This sexy, engaging Mitch was too easy to love. Apparently, with their agreement in place, he found no need to be guarded. She, on the other hand, needed an iron wall to keep her heart safe.

“I think you’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”

He frowned. “Three times now you’ve robbed me of my mad skills. I can’t seem to help it.”

“I like that you can’t help it.” She waggled her brows.

He rolled her under him and kissed her, thoroughly. Her body heated. Was round three, or would this be four, commencing?

“I’ve got eggs or we can warm up a casserole.”

“Do you have more of Mema’s macs and cheese?”

His eyes narrowed, as if he was considering her request, and then he grinned. “I’d say you’ve earned Mema’s macs and cheese.”

He rolled off and Sydney immediately missed the physical contact. He grabbed the two T-shirts he’d picked up earlier that had been discarded on the floor, tossing one to Sydney and pulling the other one on. She slipped it over her bare skin, noting the Charlotte Tavern Police Department emblem on the front. While he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, she got up, intending to search for her panties. Just as she got to the bedroom door, he stopped her, pressing her against the doorjamb.

“You look good in my shirt, Doc.”

It was the first time he’d used the nickname since college. She’d called him counselor. It didn’t seem right to do it now, since he’d gone into law enforcement instead of law.

“Are you going to frisk me, officer?”

“It’s detective.” He grinned, his hand sliding under the shirt that came mid-thigh on her. “Let’s eat so the frisking can begin again.”

She followed him up the hall. He went to the kitchen, while she went in search of her panties. They lay by the front door, where all her clothes were strewn about, except for her bra, which hung on the ceiling fan, where it landed when Mitch tossed it over his shoulder.

She grinned. This was why it paid to live to the fullest. The old Sydney would be horrified to see her delicates on the ceiling fan.

“You okay?”

Mitch stood in the doorway of the kitchen. His gaze followed hers upward. Then he laughed, a deep laugh that had her looking at him, wanting to see the unguarded joy she hadn’t seen in him since college. He reached over and flipped a switch, and the fan began to spin.

Within a few gyrations, her bra flew off, landing on the back of his recliner. She looked at him again and grinned. Who knew an affair could be so fun?