Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  She nodded quietly.

  “So.” He caught the waiter’s eye as he was walking over carrying their plates. “What do you want to talk about as we eat?”

  “Ummm.” Trish gazed happily at her dinner as it was set down in front of her: it looked and smelled divine. “I’d like to know more about your family. You and Kelly growing up as twins, especially.”

  “Aw, man.” Keegan sliced into his steak with relish. “Would you believe that we were hell-raisers at school and home?”

  “Totally,” Trish said pertly. “Tell me everything, honey cake.”

  He paused with his fork in mid-air. “Honey cake?”

  “Yep.” She twirled the tagliatelle and popped it into her mouth. “Seems like a good name for you, somehow.”

  “Does it really? ‘Cause that is a fuckin’ new one on me.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m a big fan of honey.”

  “Well, sugar. I have a killer honey cake recipe, so you best be stoppin’ by my place one evenin’ soon to bake one with me.”

  “Deal, honey cake.” She smiled and he liked that: it was a giant, mega-watt smile, one that lit up the whole damn room, if not the city. “Now… tell me all about you and your hell-raising four-minutes-older big sister.”

  **

  Just over an hour later, Keegan parked his truck outside The Cave, one of his favorite clubs in Denver. Fifteen minutes ago over green tea and a damn good brownie with perfect vanilla ice cream, Trish had told him that she’d never been to The Cave before, just walked past a few times and he’d asked her if that was where she wanted to trip the light fantastic with him.

  She’d laughed and spooned up the last of her ice cream. “Sounds good, honey cake. And anyway, I have to work off all these calories somehow before I burst out of my dress.”

  Keegan’s response had been physical and primal and total: it involved a vivid, vibrant image of Trish bursting out of her dress in the best way possible, namely, standing in his bedroom. In his mind, she unzipped the dress and let it fall away from her luscious body in a slithery wave of purple, then she just stood there in snow-white lacy panties and a bra, that long blonde hair trailing over her curves and valleys.

  He also imagined all the ways that he could help her to burn off some of those excess brownie and ice cream calories: namely, by running his large hands over every inch of her, delving between her sweet thighs and rubbing her clit until she was begging… and then he’d throw her to his bed and take her every way possible. He’d want to watch her face the first time that he entered her body – he needed to see what color her eyes were when he fucked her hard and deep – but after he made her come on his cock, he’d turn her over, haul her onto her knees and pull her hips back and up, arching and opening her perfectly to take him again.

  Yeah, she’d definitely get a work out, one that would use up all that brownie energy. Him too, because no way he’d be able to stop touching her once he got her naked and in his bed and under his hands.

  But he’d kept all of these dirty, amazing thought to himself and merely said, “We both need to work off this dinner – so dancin’ at The Cave it is.”

  They went to the line and gained entrance easily: the hulking bouncer on the door took one look at Trish with all her blonde beauty and tight curves and barely noticed Keegan standing behind her. They were waved in with a terse nod and Trish ducked her head as she walked past.

  “That was easy,” Keegan commented as they checked their coats. “Ain’t no trouble gettin’ in when you’re with me, huh?’

  She giggled. “Bouncers are pretty basic, really. A bit of leg, a bit of cleavage and you’re in the door. It’s all about showing it off.”

  “I’ll have to remember that,” he said wryly. “Unbutton a few of my top buttons and flash my prosthesis. Think they’ll find that hot?”

  Trish’s totally unexpected answer was to get up on her tiptoes and kiss him – to just fucking kiss him. Keegan considered himself a man of action and lightning-quick responses, but he had to admit that he was so surprised, for about three seconds he just stood there like a doofus, unable to believe that this was happening.

  Thank Christ he snapped back to himself before she felt rejected or he looked like he wasn’t interested. His arms came up and around her small body, and he pulled her roughly against his broad chest. His hands snaked up her back, tangled in her waterfall of hair and he held her in place, held her just where he wanted her, as he took control of the damn situation.

  His mouth was slow and gentle on hers, at least at first. He took his time, really luxuriating in taking her rosebud mouth, in exploring her and tasting her. This woman was uncharted territory and Keegan wanted to take his time discovering her. She was a little miracle, a little mystery, and he wanted to get to know her sweetness and secrets a little bit at a time.

  She was responsive to him taking charge, he was pleased to see: she moaned and sank into him, let herself go limp and languid. Keegan liked that just fine, liked that she’d start things up but knew when to back down at his silent command.

  His mouth became more forceful now, more demanding, and when he ran his tongue over the curve of her lips, her response was perfect: she opened to him immediately, just gave over to him. He longed to bend her backwards until she was arched graceful and helpless into his lower body and her hair brushed the floor – but there was time for all that later.

  No rushin’ and no pushin’.

  “C’mon, sugar,” he whispered against her lips as the music slowed and the lights dimmed. “Let’s dance.”

  “Yes, please,” she murmured back, her voice throaty with desire. “Take me dancing, Keegan.”

  Without another word, he turned and headed for the dance floor and all Trish could do was follow him. He had both of her hands in one of his, clasped tight and against his lower back, and he didn’t let go of her as they walked through the crowd, his wide body clearing a path easily. He kept her behind him so she didn’t get pushed or jostled, taking the weight of the bodies so she wouldn’t have to.

  When they got to the floor, Keegan took her in his arms, held her tightly as they moved together slowly. God, she just felt so damn good, so damn right. She fit on into him like she’d been shaped and sculpted to be there – like she’d been born to be right where she was.

  Right here. Close to him.

  Mine. Fuckin’ mine.

  **

  Trish was surprised at how readily she handed herself over to Keegan when he kissed her back. Loud and clear, she heard his silent insistence that although she might have made the first move, he was taking things over now, thank you very much… and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

  Actually, she was a bit taken aback at how she’d just thrown herself at him; she’d kind of attacked the man without any warning whatsoever. She hadn’t even known that she was going to do it until she was in the process of doing it. But he’d just been so damn charming over dinner, regaling her with stories about him and Kelly, and their parents (who sounded amazing), and Janie (who sounded smart and funny and amazing), and he’d been a perfect gentleman when he’d put his hand on her lower back and escorted her to his truck, then to the door of The Cave.

  But now, Trish was good and done with Keegan being a gentleman. There was a time and place for that, to be sure and she’d enjoyed seeing that side of him, she’d basked in the attentive kindness of that aspect of his personality. She was absolutely certain that his parents – the soldier and the stay-at-home Mom – had instilled that respect for women into Keegan, and Trish was stunned at how nice it felt to be treated like a lady first and foremost, and a sexy woman second, or maybe even third.

  It was a new thing for her, to not just be a set of tits and an ass, a pussy, a mouth to be used in one of many ways, each one more degrading than the last. Oh sure, Keegan had made his attraction to her clear – hell, he’d openly said that he’d noticed her looks at the wedding, told her that she had a body that didn’t quit – but he hadn’t made a m
ove on her. He hadn’t propositioned her. He hadn’t made her feel like a thing for even one second. Trish had never met a man who didn’t make her feel like she was for sale one way or another – and that her price was goddamn cheap.

  Keegan made her feel like a million dollars. She had value and worth in his eyes… and she liked thinking about herself that way too.

  It was a sensation that she could get used to.

  So she’d kissed him, kissed him for his enviable childhood so different from her own, for being a good son and brother and uncle, for being a soldier who’d paid a steep price for what he believed in enough to fight for, for having the guts and grit to start his own business, for treating her like a queen and not a whore.

  She’d kissed him because he was all muscular gorgeous inked hotness, and cool moonlight on still and silent water, and the sweet comfort of sugar and honey in a warm kitchen.

  He was completely safe and deeply dangerous; achingly familiar and undeniably alien; pure gentleman and fierce wolf.

  Keegan was everything that Trish had ever wanted and hoped for, and which she could maybe have, though just for a little while – until she told him the truth and she probably lost him.

  So she’d kissed that I hope, that maybe, that just for a little while.

  And now here she was in those large arms, held against that muscled chest, dancing with a man who moved liked a dark angel on the dance floor. No hesitation, no stumbling, no trying even a little bit to keep his balance. If she didn’t know that he had a prosthetic leg under those jeans, Trish would never have guessed it. Not in a hundred years.

  Everyone has secrets.

  **

  Almost two hours later, they left The Cave. Trish had wanted to stay but Keegan had been insistent: it was almost midnight and although he could show up at The Cakewalk the next day anytime he wanted since he had enough staff on, Trish had things to do by eight a.m.

  “It’s making coffee and putting some cookies on a plate!” she protested as he helped her put her coat on. “You heard Meredith – it’s easy-peasy!”

  “No arguin’, baby,” he said firmly as he opened the door for her, his hand resting protectively on her lower back. “Move that cute little ass. Now.”

  She pouted at him, only half-joking, and he shook his head at her sternly, mostly serious. They reached his truck and he opened her door, helped her in, then came around to his own side. As soon as he slammed his door and turned to her, they were on each other.

  They’d been exploring and enjoying each other other all night, of course: kissing and flirting and whispering on the dance floor, over a shared drink, at a cosy and private corner table. But this felt different: they were all alone now, no prying eyes keeping them in check and in control, and their kissing had an edge now. A beautiful need and a gorgeous ache, one that had been there before this moment, but hidden away just below the surface. One that had been bubbling and boiling, just waiting for the time to break free and loose.

  That time was now.

  Trish moaned as Keegan’s hands, rough with tiny little burns, moved up to her face and cradled it, holding her in place as he kissed her over and over, the passion rising between them so strong and solid, it was almost tangible. Trish swore that if she opened her eyes, she’d see a pink foggy mist, an actual physical manifestation of her desperate, almost frantic, arousal.

  She knew now – knew with everything that she had and was – that Keegan was an extraordinary man, the kind of man who was as rare as a jewel. She also knew that she herself was as rare as a nickel and about as precious – and it was only a matter of time before Keegan saw her for who she really was. When that happened, it was going to be all over between them, so she knew that she had to experience him as fully as she could while she could. She had to have him, even if it was just once, before her guilty conscience forced her to either tell him her truth, or to end things with him as self-protection.

  Men wanted sex; they wanted it all the goddamn time. Sure, they could respect a woman, get to know her and like her, even be willing to wait until there was an emotional connection. But at the end of the day, men were holding out for sex plain and simple and if it wasn’t forthcoming, they lost interest and they were out of there and gone in a puff of smoke.

  Keegan was a patient man, obviously. A good, honest man. Trish was sure that he’d wait for sex and he’d be the kind to actually make her coffee in the morning and call her the next day. But he was a man – a strong, virile, sexy man – and he had needs and desires. Trish was a woman – a woman who knew more than most people about what men needed and desired, more about catering to those fantasies than anyone she could think of off-hand – and she wasn’t shy about her body. She wasn’t ashamed of sex.

  She knew that Keegan wanted to fuck her; she knew that she wanted him to.

  So… she was going to give him what he wanted and needed, what she knew how to do and give.

  It’s all you’re really good for and good at – so enjoy him for tonight, because there might not be much of a future in this whole thing.

  Still kissing him and with no preamble at all, Trish reached between their bodies now and stroked Keegan’s cock through his jeans. She felt triumphant upon discovering that he was huge and hard, delighted to have confirmation that he was as turned on as she was. She felt powerful in the face of his need and she twisted her hand to cup him, to press and tease.

  I can do this for him, if nothing else.

  So it was nothing but a surprise when Keegan gripped her hand in his and pulled her away from his cock with a growl of, “No, sugar. That ain’t happenin’.”

  Trish felt the crashing crush of rejection, felt utterly confused and lost.

  If he doesn’t want that from me, what else can he want?

  What else can I offer him? Offer anyone?

  **

  Keegan was stunned when Trish grabbed him without any warning or lead-up to it. Hell yeah, he liked assertive women and getting straight down to business was fucking hot – but that was with someone that he knew well, someone whose body he could read like a book. He loved getting to know a woman and what turned her on, he loved learning her sweet spots and erogenous zones, he loved figuring out what triggered knee-trembling and melting orgasms that had her eyes rolling back in her head as she screamed his name.

  But going from zero to ninety on a first real date was not Keegan’s style. Not even slightly.

  He grabbed her hand and removed it from his swelling cock. OK, yes, he was turned on and there was no denying that – but that didn’t mean that he was going to act on it. Not yet.

  “No, sugar,” he said, desire making his voice lower and rougher than usual. “That ain’t happenin’.”

  She froze, stared up at him. Her face showed the most heartbreaking combination of bewilderment and hurt, and he rushed to explain himself:

  “I don’t do that on the first date. Never have, never will.”

  She blinked and he saw her trying to process his words. “You – what?”

  “I don’t have sex on the first date.” He smiled, trying to set her at ease again, trying to make sure she understood that this wasn’t a rejection… it was just a slight delay. “And I guess since we did have coffee together at my bakery, technically this is actually our second date, but I need to explain that I don’t have sex on the second date, either.”

  “I don’t – I don’t get it.” Trish shook her head. “You don’t want to –”

  “Oh, I want to,” he grated out, gesturing at the front of his jeans. “I fuckin’ really want to. But I ain’t doin’ it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because as I told you, we ain’t rushin’ this or pushin’ anythin’. I know you’re all eager to get down to it now, but I get the strong feelin’ that you’re the type that will think about it tomorrow and feel bad about it, then you’ll run screamin’ away from me. And I don’t want any of that to happen. I don’t want you to feel bad about somethin’ that we both want and
I sure as hell don’t want you disappearin’ on me.”

  “You – you don’t?”

  “Nope. Why the fuck would I?”

  “I guess because – because it’s all about sex. I mean – it’s always all about sex, right? That’s what guys want.”

  “Not me.”

  “So –” She looked completely lost now. “So what do you want?”

  “I’ll tell you what I don’t want, baby. I don’t want one night with you here in this truck.” Keegan reached out and gently traced the curve of her cheekbone. “I want lots of nights, more than I can fuckin’ count and in more places than I can think of. I want to know your body, but I want to know you first and more. I want to let you go after we spend the night rollin’ around my bed knowin’ that you’ll be back, that I’ll see you again, over and over again. I want you to be a sweet addiction, one that I ain’t ever gonna want to get over.”

  Trish was gazing at him like she’d never seen him before in her life: the utter astonishment and shock made her look younger somehow, more vulnerable and fragile, and Keegan longed to make her feel safe again. He didn’t know why she looked so shocked to hear that he wanted more than a single night with her, but the fact that she did spoke volumes and told him plenty about how she was used to being treated. He suspected that she’d run across some real dickheads in her life, guys who’d been full-on and attentive until they got her in the sack – and then took off.

  Well. That didn’t interest Keegan. He didn’t know Trish well, but that was the whole damn point: he wasn’t going to see her naked until he’d seen her naked emotions and thoughts. He wasn’t about to let her expose her breasts and pussy to him until she’d been open and honest with him about who she was.

  Seduce her mind and heart, get her to trust you and believe in you, and the body will follow.