“No, wait. I can scoot over to the edge…” Her long legs stretched out from under the blanket. “Ouch. Maybe not.” She tipped to the right as she smoothed a hand over her left hip. “What happened to me? Why all the bandages?”
“Like I said before, you’ve got a nasty tear on your thigh,” he reminded her. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Yes, please.” Her head bobbed as he doctored her coffee.
“And to be honest, I had to lance a swollen bruise on your butt. I’m not sure how you got that, but it was seriously infected.” He cocked his head as he handed her the mug. “Do you? Know how you received that nasty bruise?”
Her nose twitched, and for the first time, Chance noticed the red sprinkles over the creamy skin on her cheeks. Cinnamon sprinkles on sugar. Man, she was a delectable dessert from her toes to her nose. How the male mind does wander...
Suede cast him a sideways glance as her lips met the rim of the cup. She sipped, then sighed, and his heart thumped at the contentment she derived from a simple cup of coffee, Folgers at that. Yeah, I’m in trouble.
“Lionel likes to be…” She paused, but Chance caught the way her throat muscles worked extra hard to swallow that tiny sip. “He gets, umm, rough sometimes.”
“He hit you?” Chance canted his head, daring her to lie.
Suede didn’t look at him, but she nodded at her cup, her thumb tucked through the loop of the handle, her fingers clasping it firmly. The ponytail trembled. “Actually, he kicked me, but he said he was sorry and…” Again her voice faded to nothing more than a whine.
Like a damned white knight on a prancing steed, Chance caved. He dropped to one knee, needing to see her eyes. “Look at me, Suede. How long’s he been abusive?”
She met his gaze with the same indifference he’d masked his feelings with just moments before. “Always, but he won’t do that again, will he? It’s not like you care, do you?”
Chance smiled. He’d nearly forgotten. Suede Tennyson had claws. She seemed to fluctuate between sweet and sassy, but she was wrong. He did care.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she spat. “I’ve had enough assholes in my fucking life and—”
“Enough!” He cut her tirade against the entire male gender off before it got started. He’d heard it before, maybe not from her, but he doubted her variation was much different than the others. “Rule number one: We don’t swear in my house. We listen and we communicate with real words. We argue, but we keep it civil. It’s called discourse, not character assassination. Understood?”
Her brows slanted together and her lips thinned. Chance touched his index finger to the center of that mean looking line before she could retaliate. “You’re sick, Suede. I had no right taking advantage of you before, and I’m sorry I kissed you like I did. I got swept away by the moment because I do care, but this visit is temporary. Once you’re well enough to travel, you’ll be gone. You’ve got a life to get back to. You’re a celebrity.”
Her chin came up and she pitched forward, her eyes ablaze. “Why don’t you follow your own damned rules and listen? What about ‘I’m not going back’ don’t you fucking understand?”
She had him there, but that mouth. Chance wrapped his hand around her coffee mug and took it from her without breaking eye contact. Once it was safely on the nightstand, he cupped his palm to her jaw, his heart pounding like a freight train.
Like it or not, healthy or not, Suede was about to get what she had coming to her.
Chapter Ten
What now? Another high-handed rule? Another goddamned order!
For two cents, Suede would’ve poured that cup of hot coffee over Chance’s fat head just to prove she had some fight left in her. If he thought for one moment he could bully her after what she’d lived through with Lion, he had another—
Chance moved like he’d bounced off a spring-loaded trampoline. One minute he was at her knee, the next his hands were in her hair and his mouth was fastened to hers, and… Oh, my, my, my. Every last bit of her snark melted. The man moved like a mountain cat, fluid and lethal, his knees now on the bed as he dragged her along with him to the pillow. She could smell the coffee and bacon he’d eaten for breakfast on his breath. She could taste it on his lips. In his mouth. Mmmmmm…
I don’t want you, her heart screamed, even as her poor bandaged fingertips dug into the massive shoulders hulking over her like a life preserver on a raging ocean and made her a liar. With every fiber of her shredded heart, she clung to this one last—Chance. Heaven knew she needed someone in her life, someone who at least pretended he cared.
One manly palm slid to her right hip, mapping the jut of her hipbone before it cupped her ass. “I’m not him,” he breathed, the salty, smoky flavor on his lips a delightful mix of flavors on her tongue. “I’ll never hurt you.”
I know. I know!
Sucking that whisker-rimmed lip into her mouth, Suede threw everything she was into the sensual assault of this male. This was no boy masquerading in a man’s body and acting tough. This guy was massive power and ripped muscle backed up by intelligence and experience. He knew how to hold her. Where to squeeze. When to let go.
Chance made two of York, but he was considerate, and unlike the bully she’d lived with, he was gentle in his possession of her mouth. A SEAL, huh? The thought flitted over her unsettled brain like a butterfly on a spring breeze that couldn’t decide where to land. The time for thinking had passed. Too much fire boiled in her veins to hold back now.
Chance plundered her mouth with finesse, tangling his tongue with hers, nipping at her lips, bumping teeth, and growling as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Her body responded with wanton delight, lust popping under her skin like sparklers on the Fourth of July. The slut everyone thought they’d seen in the media, the one the press portrayed as willing to fuck any guy in sight, was actually a frigid klutz in bed. She had no skills, but this man seemed to know how to light her fuse. He was enjoying this. She could tell by the way he purred low in his throat. Best of all, he knew exactly what to do with that amazing mouth of his.
The scruff on his chin and around his mouth scraped her tender lips and her chin, but still she wanted more. When a powerful knee wedged its way between her thighs, she widened her knees, but damn. She couldn’t go down that road. Not again!
This firestorm had to end before she got caught in the same trap. This time around had to be different—had to—or it would end like all the others. Slam. Bam. Thank you ma’am, and out the door you go, yesterday’s news. Good for nothing but sex.
Her palms slid to his chest to push him away, and there they stopped, full of the throbbing, bulging muscles of a man who worked out. A lot. Impressive. Chance was as solid as the granite mountain behind his cabin. Bunched and corded, his chest flexed as he supported his weight on his forearms. A woman had to linger at the massive pecs pressed so adamantly into her palms and against her breasts and...
Oh, my, my, my, yes, yes, yes. All man. To hell with being a good girl. I want you. But the shirt in her way had to go. Growling like Chance now, Suede tugged it loose from his jeans and—
“Uh-uh,” he groaned in her mouth, his arms trembling as much as her fingers.
A smile quirked her lips at the power she seemed to hold over this honorable man. “Are you sure?” she whined, just to be certain she’d heard right.
“No,” he said, his breath in her mouth as delectable as the lips and tongue lathing hers. “I mean, yes. I’m sure. I’m not here to use you, Suede. I won’t do that.”
You won’t? Those words took a minute to sink into her overheated brain. Despite wanting to change her life, she’d done it again, spread her legs out of habit. Men used her. It was what they did, and she’d let them, only now… Chance said no. What the fuck?
Fragments of the oath he’d spouted earlier came back to her. You can trust me, ma’am. I served with honor... Uncompromising integrity... My word is my bond. Therein lay the difference. Chance might be caught up in the heat of the moment—who wasn’
t?—but his intentions were different from the other men who’d used her. The ones she’d used in return. God, what a rotten life she’d led up to this point. This had to stop. She had to change.
Swallowing her passion and her pride, Suede eased back to maintain her thin hold on control. That was a mighty difficult first. Breathless and speechless, she decided it wasn’t enough to be just another temptress. Until this impulsive moment, Chance had treated her like a lady. Once upon a time, she’d been one. She could—she would—do it again. Maybe I can stop cursing, too. For him. Just for him. As soon as he moves his hot, hot body off me.
Confused and out of her element, she kissed her way to his impressive chin, then settled her lips out of temptation’s path at the hollow of his neck. He’d showered this morning, and the alcoholic drift of pine and cedar aftershave on his clean skin wasn’t helping her turn this all-important corner in her life. But if he could control his passion—and it was so, so hard—she’d follow his lead.
Suede closed her eyes and moved her wandering fingertips far away from his zipper to his heaving sides, his safe zones. Her palms settled to his waist, and slowly, his palms settled at her hips, his nose in her hair and his heartbeat a throbbing hammer in his chest.
“I don’t want to use you, either,” she told him, keeping her voice devoid of the coaxing, come-on tones that worked on York. She had some skills as a slut, but she put them aside, and for once Suede meant to deal with Chance reasonably. Logically. With real words like he’d said. He was different from York in every way, and if she acted like she had before, she’d end up with nothing to show for her near-death experience but a roll in the sack with a stranger.
Sex with this man—if ever—would be incredible, but it had to come last, not first. After friendship, not before. Once they knew each other better than they did now. At the moment, they were barely acquaintances without much restraint, much less friends with benefits. If only she could stop the zany butterflies that had taken flight in her chest.
A manly chuckle vibrated up his throat. “I’m the guy here, remember. Isn’t that my line?”
She shook her head. “No,” she replied, still working on ignoring the tempting male body poised over her. Nature was a cruel mother to instill such wicked automatic impulses in her male and female creatures. Even now, the tip of Suede’s tongue lifted to lick his neck, to taste the salty flavor of this magnificent man. She resisted the temptation. “I’m pretty sure it takes two. Every time. I’m not a victim. I’m as much to blame for this predicament as” —gulp— “you are.”
It had taken nearly dying to realize that her life was a fucked-up, umm, a big mess, but Suede knew it now. Change had to come from within and it had to start right now.
“I think I care for you,” she told her savior honestly. Resolutely. Chance might as well know what he was up against. Forewarned was forearmed, and all that stuff. That way he could push her away while the leaving was still easy. No strings. No happily-ever-afters. She didn’t believe in that crap anyway.
He rolled to her side, but took her with him, his long fingers splayed like a catcher’s mitt in the middle of her back. “I’m here to help,” he whispered, his chest heaving as much as hers and his voice as tight. “Just ask.”
Suede nodded, but didn’t dare tell him how much his unexpected kindness meant. Anything she said now would only add fuel to the fire she needed to tamp down, the bright fire that was already burning out of control in her heart.
Chapter Eleven
Twice! I’ve kissed her twice, and damn, I want to do it again. Chance lay breathing hard on his back, one forearm draped over his eyes, his other still around Suede, and his fingers aching to do more than massage and medically treat her delightful body. Even as banged up as she was, he knew a real woman when he held one, and Suede Tennyson was a luscious, tempting armful.
But damn. He couldn’t believe how easily he’d lost control. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his body humming. She was injured, no doubt had whiplash from her fall, yet he’d been on the verge of taking her. Right here. Right now. Like a pig in rut. And she’d responded, melting that luscious body to his. Molding herself. Moaning into his mouth. Yeah. None of this was right, and he knew better. They were both running on emotions and this was sheer torture. It had to stop.
Chance drew in a deep breath to steady his physical reaction as much as his mind. The worst—or the best—was yet to come. He still had to help Suede into the shower, and change those dressings. The thigh wound would be easy enough. He had latex-free waterproof coverings to tape over the packing to keep it dry, but that hole on her hip was another thing. He hadn’t stitched it on purpose. It needed to drain, and that, in and of itself, was no big deal. But it was On. Her. Ass. And that ass was fast becoming a problem.
She said she cared for him, but he knew better. Females tended to crush on the guy who came to their rescue. It happened a lot during and after hostage operations. The females got dewy-eyed and flirty. They sent thank-you cards and left their phone numbers once they were home safe, ones Chance had never called. He wasn’t going to start now.
It’d be—hard. Just thinking the word sent his palm to his pants, needing to choke the little brain lurking there that overruled his good intentions. He wasn’t a bastard who used and abused women, but Suede brought the animal in him to the surface in a quick way. He didn’t dare think of her in a dress or when she was on her A-game, intentionally flirty. He’d lose.
Mind out of the gutter. Back to business. “Your coffee’s getting cold,” he said, clearing his throat when his tone sounded harsher than he intended. “I’ll let you eat. Be right back.”
Settling her back against the pillow, he set the breakfast tray on her lap and her cup of coffee within reach on the nightstand. He lingered just long enough to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, more to assure her that he wasn’t deserting her than anything else. Nothing more.
Chance cleared the bathroom of his towels and dirty clothes, then vacated his bedroom, intending to make a quick call to Sullivan before he started what looked to be several loads of laundry if he counted Pagan’s. His heart pounded as he shut the door quietly behind him.
“You kissed her,” hissed out of his brother’s big mouth. Pagan stood there by the fireplace, his thick hair wet from his shower, one forearm on the thick pine mantle, his other hand in his pocket. Gallo waggled at his knee. “Didn’t you?”
“Shut the hell up,” Chance shot back at him. “You’re supposed to be resting.” So mind your business.
“And you’re supposed to be on the wire to Sullivan.”
“On my way,” Chance replied without meeting Baby Brother’s sharp eye. “Now back off.”
Pagan followed him down the east hall that led to their communications room and his office, the workout room, laundry, and Kruze’s room in that order. “I knew it. You’re in love with this chick. Shit, Chance. It’s only been one night. What are you thinking?”
Chance growled as he dropped the load into the rolling laundry basket and backtracked to his desk to make that call. “I’m not in love, dumbass. She needed help. I helped. End of story.” Not.
“I call bullshit,” Pagan insisted as Chance sank into his leather chair. “I know trouble when I see it, and you’re in trouble. Big time. It’s written all over your ugly face. Admit it.”
Two monitors lined the desktop. One keyboard. Deftly, Chance brought up Sullivan’s private line and turned his back on Pagan. Baby Brother needed to learn when to shut up. Now’d be a good time.
The Senator picked up on the first ring. The monitor flickered to life as Chance acknowledged his supervisor. “Good morning, Senator.”
“Not unless you know something I don’t,” Sullivan replied, his lips set in a thin line as his gaze drifted out the window of the car he was riding in. Back seat. Behind the driver. Most likely his limousine. Tall as a Texas fence post and just as weathered, the silver-haired giant of a man was a cattle baron in his home state and
a miracle worker at compromise in D.C. The man hardly ever smiled. His fingertips worried the ends of his handlebar mustache when he turned to his in-car monitor and stared Chance down. “What?”
“Permission to speak frankly, sir.”
“Cut the Navy bullshit, son, and stop calling me sir. You got something to say, spit it out. Make it quick. I’m busy.”
“Is this line secure?”
Sullivan’s bushy brows dropped as he leaned forward and activated the privacy screen between his driver and the rear seat. He flipped another set of buttons and said, “Is now.”
“Pagan arrived early this morning with the assignment from you to end York,” Chance declared brusquely. “Not sure why you didn’t contact me first, but I’ll be taking it.”
“What else?” That was interesting. The busy senator’s head bobbed once, but he’d offered no explanation as to why he’d tagged Pagan. Whatever was going on, Sullivan was playing hardball.
“I have Suede Tennyson in protective custody after she was thrown off my mountain late last night in the middle of the blizzard. You know the one I mean.” Chance gave that a second to sink in before he reinforced it with, “You’ve got a mole in your staff.”
“The bastard chucked her over the edge? I’m surprised she’s alive. How bad is she?”
“Nothing’s broken, but she’ll be down awhile. She could use a change of clothes, a decent winter jacket, and boots before I move her to a hospital in the valley.”
Another nod told Chance those supplies would be delivered to his front door via drone once the weather cleared. “I knew York was in Montana, but I didn’t realize Miss Tennyson was with him. So the wedding of the century is off.” Another evil-eyed squint and Sullivan’s lips pinched to the side. “Which begs the questions, why your mountain and who knew what, right? That why you’re calling me out, son?”
“Yes.” Chance bit his lip at the automatic ‘sir’ that nearly tumbled out of his mouth. Navy habits died hard. “My question is how York knows where I am, and if he also knows he’s at the top of your hit list. This can’t be a coincidence. Someone on the SOB Force had to have fed him that intel.”
Angel: An SOBs Novel Page 9
