The Beauty Series (26 page)

It sounded so simple, but she felt her surety reverberate through her bones. He wouldn’t have cheated on her. He wouldn’t do that to her; he wouldn’t even do that to himself. Cheating, at all, would be beneath him.

“Do you want to go back to the waiting room?” she said, reaching for him.

“You go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She had a memory of watching him stare out the window, of feeling his inner turmoil well in the air around him. Only this was worse. More acute.

She frowned. “You’re tired. I’m sorry. I’ve been inconsiderate. You should go back to the house.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here for you.”

Though he must be tired, she doubted that was the real problem. She stepped closer, noticing the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. The stubble on his jaw simply made him more handsome, but the shadows under his eyes gave him a vaguely haunted look.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He waved dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just…hospitals. They have this effect on me. I’ll get over it in a minute.”

Her heart sank. He must have had horrible memories from hospitals. Once, very briefly, he’d explained some of the treatment he’d gone through after the explosion. The skin grafts and reconstruction. Weeks in an enemy torture chamber and then months under a doctor’s scalpel. God.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

He cut her off fiercely. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you even had to see me like this. That’s why I came out here. It’ll pass.”

“You shouldn’t have to go through it alone,” she said softly. She couldn’t take away his waking nightmares, but she could hold his hand.

Turning away, he muttered, “Just go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Taking his hand, she led him into the small linen closet and shut the door.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he said as he leaned against the wall. Clearly he’d been holding it together for her sake, and for the sake of anyone watching. Even she felt relieved to see him relaxed, so she could only imagine his discomfort. Easing him, even for a moment, was well worth the risk of discovery.

He stared at her through slitted lids. “What now?”

The challenge in his voice raised her chin. He wanted to push her away, she could tell, but he wouldn’t. He was incapable of leaving her any more than she could leave him. She brushed his lips with hers, enjoying the way he released a pent-up breath. She feathered light kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other before he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged her, tilting her off balance. She fell into him, but he was prepared; he caught her. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and took over the kiss, deepening it, alighting her with dormant arousal.

The thickness against her belly reminded her that it had been weeks since they’d made love. They would have today, if this hadn’t happened. No doubt they would have been ensconced in his bedroom, lounging on his bed, starving but with no desire to make the trek downstairs for food.

She put her hand to the ridge in his jeans, rubbing firmly. He sucked in a breath.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled against his mouth. “Following through on a promise.”

With long, even strokes, she worked him through the denim. A slight flush of arousal crept up his neck. Between the time apart and his emotional upheaval a few minutes ago, he was already at the edge, releasing soft grunts on every slide of her palm. She squeezed softly, enjoying the way his eyes had gone from tormented to a very different sort of anguish.

Her hand sped up until he was panting against her collarbone, his hips rocking gently into her hand.

“Erin, baby. You have to stop.”

“I know. You’re right.”

She dropped her to her knees and unzipped his jeans. His cock fell out heavy, the head already glistening.

“Please.”

“I know,” she repeated in a whisper. She took him into her mouth, sucking off the pre-cum and licking it up. She paused with her mouth encircling the head while her hand stroked the iron-velvet length of him. His stuttered groans drifted down to her ears, telling her how hard and fast he needed it.
Very
hard and fast.

Carefully, she worked him in deeper until the spongy head touched the soft cleft of her throat. She eased him out and then in again—farther in until the head pushed through the circle of muscles. His hips jerked suddenly and she gagged slightly. Before he could pull away or reconsider, she set up a swift pace—but she needn’t have worried. He tightened his fingers in her hair, asking for more, needing it.

His other hand was clenched tightly, his knuckles white. She reached for him. As soon as her fingers touched his, he opened his fist and held her hand. Their fingers tangled together, grasped each other, connected in a way more intimate than her mouth on his cock.

“
Erin.
”

That was the only warning he could manage before he shot warm, salty fluid into her waiting mouth. She swallowed down the copious amount, more than usual. With a shudder, he released one final spurt onto her tongue before sighing back against the wall. Lovingly, she licked up any traces of his cum from his cock before righting his clothes.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her sex throbbing for attention, but she wouldn’t ask for anything, wouldn’t expect it. This had been a gift.

She’d never understood the way some people could say “just sex” as if it didn’t mean anything—sex had always meant everything. It meant trust and respect. Here, now, it meant love. If anything, it was too much, overflowing with emotion until she had to avert her face just to manage.

He turned her chin toward him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head tightly.

For a moment, he was still. She felt his gaze studying her, but she couldn’t have said anything. Finally he straightened and turned her so her back was against the wall still warm from his body. Without a word, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down.

“Blake,” she protested. “We couldn’t.”

He raised a sardonic brow but didn’t reply. Of course, they had just done the opposite. Her objections seemed silly in that context, but she had done that out of comfort, both for him and for her. And besides, logistically it was far easier to perform on him than on her. But he had it covered. His hand slipped beneath the elastic band of her panties and down into her wet folds. She gasped at the contact and grabbed his wrist.

His other hand lifted the hem of her T-shirt and tugged down the cup of her bra. Cool air washed over her breasts, tightening the nipple. For a moment, he simply stared.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and she felt gorgeous. It was more than the word; it was in his expression and his hands. She felt worshipped. Cherished.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, worrying the taut flesh with his tongue until she felt a gush of wetness slicken her where his fingers played. He teased her other breast while his fingers found a quick and maddening rhythm. Her mouth fell open and a sharp cry escaped her.

“Shh.” He put his hand over her mouth, muffling her helpless sounds while he drove her higher and harder.

Her hips swiveled onto his hand in a desperate bid for release. It eluded her, until she sobbed against his mouth. From the corner of her vision, she could see her breasts move as her hips undulated. They drew him, his gaze, his mouth. He couldn’t stop touching her and licking her. She couldn’t stop rocking in excruciating pleasure. They were locked in shadows of arousal and agony, one bleeding into the other and then back again.

Finally he tore himself away from her breasts. He placed his lips above her ear, murmuring words of sex and longing.
You’re so beautiful. So sexy. So wet all over my hand. I can feel how hot you are there, how tight, can you? Do you wish it was my cock inside you, filling you up? I do.

Her cries grew louder, and his hand clamped down tighter. Tears of need slipped from the corners of her eyes until he found the words to push her over.
This sweet cunt, pretty cunt. It’s mine. This and all of you. You know that, don’t you? Now come for me. Let me feel this hot little cunt come all over me.
And it did, her muscles clamping down hard as an explosive climax swept through her and left her breathless and wrung out.

As she slowly returned to earth, he pressed light kisses across her mouth, mirroring the comfort she’d given him. With short strokes, he calmed the quaking, shivery muscles of her sex.

“There,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She marveled at how easily he had turned the tides. How quickly he had turned his own reward into hers. She’d wanted to bring him comfort, but his happiness was too tied up in her own, tightly woven threads she never wanted to unravel.

When he pulled away from her, he licked her juices off his fingers. She stared in hopeless fascination. Tilting her head back, he kissed her deeply, pushing her own musky flavor onto her tongue and, she knew, tasting the salt of his own release.

B
lake paid and
carried out the two bags of heart-healthy meals from the grocery store. A small complication had kept Sophia Raider in the hospital for two more days than the doctor had predicted. Erin had refused to leave except for brief showers, driving herself to exhaustion with the few hours of sleep she caught in the waiting area—but no amount of persuading convinced her otherwise.

He felt relief that both of them were in Sophia’s home, sleeping. Erin had given him a list of low cholesterol meats and whole grains to replace the cheap noodle packs and high-sodium soups currently stocking the kitchen. With little money and even less time to cook, Erin’s mother had a pantry full of high-sodium foods. That had to change now, and it would, especially with Erin there to cook for the next couple of weeks. They hadn’t discussed beyond that yet.

Had she ever planned to return home permanently? If so, no wonder she’d been uncertain when he’d asked her to move in with him.

Quietly, he let himself into the back door using the key Erin had lent him. The upstairs was still quiet, so he set about putting the food away. Despite the dinner hour, he suspected the two women would sleep through the night, which would probably do them more good than a bite of food. He himself was bone tired and chugged down a glass of apple juice before climbing the stairs.

He took a pit stop for a hot shower in the hallway bathroom before finding Erin’s room. They hadn’t really discussed whether he was allowed to sleep with her, so he preferred to assume he could. She was sprawled on the bed, naked. Almost naked. Above the hem of the sheet, he could see the beige tone of her panties. Her jeans and T-shirt lay in a pile beside the bed. His chest swelled with tenderness.

Stripping down to his boxers, he climbed in behind her. Her hair fanned across her pillow, reflecting the dim light like a still lake at midnight. Her even breathing was too quiet to hear—and yet he felt each soft exhale in his soul. Pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamt. She was, in all ways, the epitome of peace.

When he’d first met her, he’d been sure he never deserved contentedness. He was too broken, too shameful, too horrified by what had been done to him and what he’d done in return. On the day before they’d been rescued, Joe had stopped responding to external stimuli completely. Blake had kept his hand on Joe’s wrist, feeling the weak pulse and waiting for them both to die.

When the SEAL team had shown up, mayhem had ensued. A saner man would have laid low until they had neutralized the threat. But Blake was out of his mind with grief and pain. He’d gotten hold of a gun and shot as many of his captors as he could find, until an American soldier had gently but firmly disarmed him.

How could he come back from that? He couldn’t. He’d never planned to, but the damned doctors were persistent. They’d pounded away with their surgical meat tenderizers until his body was functional again, but it had taken Erin to revive his heart. She’d done more than that, she’d become his heart. Wherever she went, whatever she felt. It was lovely and excruciating.

The delicate base of her neck peeked from her outswept hair. The line of her spine was sinuous as her body twisted in sleep. Shadows pooled at the base of her back where the sheet ruched against her skin. His fingers twitched to trace the soft muscles and gentle lines, but he didn’t want to wake her.

She stirred anyway, moving restlessly. Her face turned toward him, eyes still shut. He tried to soothe her before she came fully awake.

“I’m here. Just sleep.”

As her body turned over, soft breasts pressed against his arm and drew his low groan into the air. His body responded, cock thickening, heart pounding. He felt the same carnal urge to claim, to mate, to please her. But above that sang a new melody, one he recognized as ancient—the desire to care for her. To nourish her, body and soul. That secret wish had imbued his actions at the grocery store, feeding her. And now as he ignored the demands of his body to let her sleep. Small gestures for feelings that ran impossibly, unendingly deep.

She flung her leg over him. Her calf touched his erection, and she stilled, coming awake enough to realize his condition.

“Never mind,” he murmured. “We won’t do anything. Just rest.”

She didn’t, though. With sleepy strokes, she fumbled beneath the sheet until she grasped his cock in her small palm. He made a coarse sound, his whole body stiffening. Her eyes remained closed as her soft, clumsy caresses drove him insane. He wasn’t even sure she was totally awake, even when she slipped her panties off beneath the sheet. He was two seconds away from pushing her away when she slid over him and centered her core above him. His mouth went dry as he stared at her breasts swaying slightly with her motion. Her nipples were dark brown and puckered with arousal, or the cold.

“Erin? Are you sure?”

The sound she made was muffled and indistinct, but it told him what he needed to know.
Shh,
it said.
I know what I’m doing. Let me take what I need.
He was, would always be helpless to refuse her. His arms fell to his sides, trembling with the effort not to hold her, touch her, make her move.