Her warm hands find mine, and she mimics my massaging motion. My mind screams for her to stop. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me or to think poorly of me because of my missing pieces.
Her touch is overwhelming, and my breathing gets ragged as I fight the need to pull away. If she senses my distress, she doesn’t let that stop her. She simply massages along my thigh and down to my knee and back up. The longer her hands are on my leg, the more relaxed I feel. The less pain I’m feeling. She never once ventures below my knee, but I have no doubt she can see the scars and the ugliness that is my stump.
She doesn’t let up and slowly but surely, it starts to feel better. “Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asks.
“No.”
She keeps going. “You’re welcome.” She kneads my thigh, and it feels amazing. “How long ago?” she asks. The question is enough to bring me out of the torturous feeling of having her touching me there.
“Almost 15 years ago. I was 20 and toward the end of my tour,” I tell her softly. I can’t bring myself to look at her, but I open my eyes and look toward the ceiling. I can’t look at her while I explain this. I don’t want to see pain or pity in her features. I also don’t trust myself to keep that haunted look out of my eyes as I talk about my past.
Despite years of therapy, I can’t ever seem to come to grips with what happened. While I deal with it well enough on my own, talking to someone else is still hard.
Rebel doesn’t need to see that. She doesn’t need to be haunted by my ghosts.
No one needs to see that.
“I’m sorry.” She’s crying again and her hands stop.
“Hey,” I say, opening my eyes and looking at her. “You have no reason to be sorry.”
She looks up at me. “I don’t? I ran away. From you, from Seattle, from everything.”
“And you think if you’d have stayed, I’d have made a different choice? That I wouldn’t have run off to the Marines?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Or more that I would have, could have, been there for you when it happened?”
I frown. “Sweetheart, I was not a good person then. I was pissed off at the world. Being around me wouldn’t have been healthy for you or for me.”
“You were alone.”
“So were you,” I remind her.
“I had Randy and Kathy.”
“Did you?” I ask. “Your speech at the gala gave me another opinion on that subject.”
“That’s why you got so mad?”
I nod. “You didn’t deserve to feel that way—alone.”
“Neither did you.”
I give her a sad smile. “I had the Marines. Trust me, Rebs, I was all right. I was pissed off because I lost a lot of friends that day. I was depressed because I was alive and some very good guys were not. I saw a couple of my buddies suffer fates worse than I did.” I take a deep breath. “For a very long time, I felt like it should have been me, and not them.”
“No,” she shakes her head, moving to climb on my lap. “No, I’d rather have this, you with your scars and missing pieces than a pine box and headstone with your name on it.”
She wraps her arms around me, nearly knocking me over. I wrap my arms around her, holding her to me.
My own tears threaten. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” I breathe.
We stay like that for a minute before I release her, kissing her nose.
“Hop up,” I tell her.
She does, and I shift, sliding back onto the bed with my head propped up. “Come here, beautiful girl,” I say softly.
She grins at my pet name for her and climbs on the bed. I open my arms for her, and she settles into my shoulder, wrapping her arm over my chest. She pulls me into her and I feel warm and comfortable like this, more than I thought I would. I silently curse leaving my shirt on, but it keeps things platonic between us. As much as I want to be buried inside her, we both just need some time to breathe, to take in today. I’ve unloaded a lot of heavy on her without realizing I was doing it. The day has been heavy enough.
We stay like that, holding each other for some time before I break the silence. “So,” I say quietly, “have you decided to ride with me back to Seattle?”
“No,” she says.
“No, you’re not, or no, you haven’t decided.”
“Both,” she says with a breathy laugh.
I shake my head. “How can it be both?”
“No, because I’m not prepared or in a position to take that kind of time off from work. I’ve got a lot going on back in New York.”
“I told you, you can work from here.”
I can practically hear her eyes rolling, then our eyes meet. “I don’t have any clothes,” she bristles. “I only brought clothes for today and tomorrow.”
“So, go shopping. You can afford it.”
She definitely rolls her eyes this time. “Yes, because Dutch Harbor is the fashion mecca of the world,” she scoffs playfully.
“So, fly up to Anchorage or down to Seattle, buy what you need and come back.”
She shifts, lifting herself on to her elbow. “Why is this so important to you?”
The truth is, I have no idea. I’m scared if I let her leave in the morning, I’ll never see her again. “Because you own this monster, you should see how she runs,” I lie.
She narrows her eyes and her eyebrows knit together, scrutinizing me, trying to read the truth between the words. “Bullshit.” Her voice is a bit singsong in a way that makes my cock twitch.
“Because you can use a vacation,” I try.
“Horseshit.”
Goddammit, she’s not going to let me get away without being honest with her. I take a deep breath. “Because I want to spend time with you.”
“That’s better, what else?”
Damn her. “Because if you leave tomorrow, I’ll never see you again,” I admit. My eyes close against the pain at the idea of losing her for another 20 years.
She snuggles into me. “I never said you’d never see me again.” Her voice is soft, but I hear the hesitation in her words. She doesn’t feel the conviction in them.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure had I not left that morning in New York, you’d have been gone before I woke up.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, you didn’t give me the chance to make that choice.”
“No, I didn’t because I knew you’d handle my leaving better than I’d have handled yours. I knew exactly who you were that night. To you, I was nothing more than someone to sate your needs.”
She lifts up again. “That’s not true.”
I throw her words back at her. “Bullshit, sweetheart. I knew the moment you kissed me and said we should get out of there exactly what I was to you.”
“But you came anyway,” she counters.
I smirk. “Of course, I did. I had the woman who was once the little girl that loved me in my grasp. I was never going to let that opportunity pass me by.”
“Loved you?” She cocks an eyebrow.
I narrow my eyes, scrutinizing her. “Tell me that you didn’t love me back then?”
“Dirk, I was 12. The only things I loved were fishing, playing in the woods, and…” she lets the thought trail off.
“That’s what I thought.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re swimming with intrigue and maybe even a little hint of desire. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
“No, you’re a beautiful, successful, very talented woman.”
“Who can’t spend two weeks locked on a boat with her childhood crush.” She lowers her eyes and her head, her shoulders slouching some, deflated.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because, at the end of the ride, I have to get off and go back to New York.”
“Says who?” I argue.
“Says me.” Her eyes meet mine again. “It will never work.”
My heart hurts. “You don’t know that, Skylar. You don’t kn
ow what will happen. That’s the point I’m trying to make.” I sit up, our heads close together, and I let my right leg hang off the bed. “Sometimes, you have to take a chance. Sometimes,” I whisper, “you have to throw caution to the wind and say, ‘fuck it’ and do something you’ve never done before.” I hop off the bed, grabbing the wall for support, as I move awkwardly around the bed, cursing myself for taking off my prosthesis. I can’t get away as fast as I want. I can’t even just grab the crutch and take off.
I sit down on the end of the bed, bringing my prosthesis with me. I’m pulling on my sock when she shifts, moving to wrap her arms around me from behind. Her head rests against my back, between my shoulders. She’s warm, a comfort, a softness that causes me to pause. She sighs, “I can’t. I honestly cannot take two weeks away from New York. I’ve got three new, very large acquisitions in process. I nearly cancelled this trip in the first place.” I deflate. “Can I counteroffer?”
I sigh, “I’m listening.” It comes out a little harsher than I intended it to. Her grip loosens around me and I lower my head, cursing myself for being cross with her. I’m not even sure why I’m upset. “I’m sorry,” I breathe.
Her arms tighten around me again, I put my hand on hers, holding her to me. “I can stay here, with you, until you leave for Seattle.”
Warmth floods through me, and a smile spreads my lips. I turn toward her, and she releases me. I put my back against the footboard and pull her onto my lap. I lift her chin so that her eyes meet mine. “You mean it?” I ask.
She smirks. “Yes, I mean it. But I need to get some things. A couple more changes of clothes, or at the very least something that I can wear around the boat. Unless you want to stay at the house?” I shake my head. “I didn’t think so. I will also need to make sure things are handled back in New York because it will be Wednesday sometime before I get back. I need to figure out what to do with Scott and Diem.”
“Can they go back to New York without you?” I ask.
“They can,” she sighs. “I’m sure Scott will, but I don’t know about Diem. He’s fiercely protective of me. He won’t willingly let me out of his sight.”
“Then leave him in the house. You can stay here, on the boat, with me.” She smirks. I change the subject. “How much time do you think you’ll need to take care of stuff, get what you need?”
She shrugs, “I don’t know, a few hours. I have no idea what’s even around here for clothes.”
“It’s kind of like being at home.” I smile. “You can wear what you want, or you can wear nothing at all, so long as you never leave my room.”
She smirks. “So, I’ll be sharing your room, will I?”
I snort. “Unless you want to sleep under Dribbler.”
Her mouth falls open. “Uh, no,” she laughs.
“Then yes, you’ll share my room.”
She shifts, lifting up, her mouth close to mine. “Mmm,” she moans, “I like the sound of that.”
Excitement dances in her eyes. I bring my lips close to hers, so close I can just feel them ever so slightly against my own. “So do I,” I breathe and claim her mouth with mine. She whimpers, wrapping her arm around my neck, pulling me into her and deepening our kiss.
Her lips part, and I slide my tongue in, meeting hers and stroking it gently. She tugs a little harder, shifting more. She grinds against me and my cock grows long and hard faster than I could have thought possible.
I drop my sock on the floor and wrap my arms around her, holding her to me. I’m holding her so tight I can feel her heart pounding in her chest. The rhythm matches my own. Fast and needy. My breathing slows to short, shallow breaths and my head swims. Lost in the sensations of her mouth on mine and her lithe, sexy body pressed against me, I groan.
I want to move her, lay her on the bed, but I can’t, not from this position. I have no way of bracing myself, and for the first time in about 10 years, I silently curse my missing leg.
Chapter 17
Rebel
I have to break our kiss. My breathing is short, and my head is swimming. I pull back, sucking in a long, deep breath and blushing when I hear him do the same thing.
“On the bed,” he smirks.
I shiver as my pussy heats.
I get off his lap and reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. I hear him hiss as he drinks me in. Then he’s standing, grabbing his crutch, and I narrow my eyes at him. He moves rather gracefully to the door and latches it, locking us in and everyone else out. I toss my shirt aside and reach back for my bra, unclasping it and adding it to the shirt on the floor. He turns toward the bed. He stands there watching me, and I shiver. My pussy pulses with the promise of his beautiful, hard—I can see it in his boxer briefs—cock filling his shorts. I shiver again, sliding my pants and panties down my legs.
I lay back and look at him.
He steadies himself, pulling off his t-shirt, and then I’m treated to seeing his long, beautiful cock bounce as he slides his shorts down. I lick my lips.
For all the sex that he and I have had, today and back in January, I never had the pleasure of feeling him in my mouth. I move, kneeling on the bed, and I gesture with my finger for him to come to me. He smirks and moves, coming to stand before me. I lick my upper lip again, this time slower, more tantalizing. His cock inches from my mouth. I let out a breathy moan and lean forward, putting my hands on the side of the bed, bracing myself. I flick my tongue against the underside of his mushroom head.
His mouth falls slack, and he lets out a rush of breath.
I smile before opening my mouth and slowly wrapping my lips around the head of his cock.
He groans as I flick my tongue against him, licking him and allowing my lips to get wet so I can move up and down his shaft more easily.
Remember when I told you he was huge? He feels like I’m trying to suck on a water bottle, and I’m disappointed I can’t get him in very far. That is, until my eyes meet his hooded, stormy grey orbs. They’re dancing with need, lust, and excitement. I realize it’s not going to matter how deep I can take him. He’s enjoying this. I’m not sure if it’s the view, or my mouth. So, I work with both.
With my lips and mouth on his cock, I situate myself so I’m on my knees. I slide my hands up my body, grabbing my tits in my hands and squeezing gently until my fingers find my nipples. I begin rolling the tight peaks between my fingers. I moan around his shaft, and he groans above me.
“Give me that,” he says huskily. He reaches for my right nipple with his free hand. I shudder at his touch, feeling his fingers roll and tug on the ring and flesh. My pussy pulses again, clenching and releasing. I whimper and put my right hand between my legs. I find my bare mound and my slick sex. I cry out when my fingers touch my hard clit. It’s ready to explode. “Don’t stop, god, don’t stop,” he moans.
I don’t stop.
My mouth moves with more purpose and need. The more wound up I get, the harder I fuck his cock with my mouth, and the more he tugs and pulls on my nipple, the more I want to come.
I release my left nipple and take his cock in my hand. Stroking, licking, sucking, flicking, up and down, harder and faster than before. “Fuck,” he growls, and he extracts himself from my mouth. My fingers still strum my clit. “You’re going to come, aren’t you?” he asks.
I close my eyes, pleasure consuming me. “Yes,” I moan like a slut.
“Do it,” he growls.
I shiver. My nipples pebble, my clit throbs, my pussy clenches. I rub myself harder until I’m quaking and trembling, moaning as my orgasm consumes me.
“Fuck me,” he breathes. I can’t open my eyes. The pleasure is too much. I’m grunting and moaning softly as I start to slow, rubbing my clit gently as my orgasm subsides. “That was beautiful,” he murmurs.
I blush deep cherry red. Embarrassment flooding through me. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I don’t exactly know what came over me, but I was determined to put on a show for him. Apparently, he liked it.
<
br /> “Lay down,” he says softly. “I need to be in you.”
I open my eyes and they meet his, hooded and needy. “Front or back?” I smirk.
“Back, I want to watch you do that again,” he breathes.
I shiver, goosebumps peppering my skin. My nipples hard between the rings.
I move, laying on my back, and I let my legs fall slack, an open invitation for him.
He wastes no time taking it. He puts his crutch against the wall and climbs onto the bed to hover over me. His warmth causes the goosebumps to return. The room is cold, his body hot and draped over me.
I grab the tie in his hair and pull it free. I whimper when it falls down around his face, past his shoulders, creating a beautiful curtain around us. I gently grab the back of his neck. “Kiss me,” I breathe.
The smile on his face lights up the room. His eyes sparkle with need and desperation. I shiver again. Then his lips slant over mine, and I moan. He lowers himself, bringing his body onto mine. His cock brushes against my soaked center. I reach between us, finding and grabbing his cock, pulling it toward me. I lift my legs and wrap them around him, encouraging him while his tongue finds mine.
I release his neck in favor of letting my fingers slide around to his shoulder and down his chest. His pecs and abs are well defined, and I want to lick my way through their maze. Then he pushes toward me, into me. I moan and break our kiss. “I need you,” I whine.
He smirks and pushes himself inside me. I cry out softly, not wanting to alert anyone else on the boat to the fact that we’re fucking.
“Don’t stop,” I say breathlessly as his cock fills me to full and overflowing with a desperate need to feel him moving inside me. I flick my hips against him. He smirks and pulls back, then he slams into me, and my eyes roll up. I bite my lip, preventing the scream I want to unleash as pleasure consumes me. He pulls back slowly, achingly slow. I want to thrust my hips up into him, pulling him in deeper when he slides back inside me, hard and fast again. Then again, and again. My pussy clenches and releases around him over and over.
His eyes meet mine and they’re hooded, lust-filled and glazed over with pleasure. I reach up and tuck some of his beautiful brown wavy hair behind his ear and he smiles sweetly at me. His hips thrust in and out.
Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance Page 14
