Guts & Glory: Hunter (In the Shadows Security Book 3)

by Jeanne St. James

  But here she was with a man she’d only known for days in her bed, who was rocking her world. She nipped his palm and his fingers jerked against her face. She smiled, but it was quickly lost when he removed his hand, demanded, “Quiet,” from her in a shiver-worthy growl, shoved an arm under her hips and yanked them up to a different angle to pound her even harder.

  He pressed his cheek against hers and said in a ragged voice, “Keep it together, Frankie. It’ll really suck if we get interrupted.”

  It would most definitely suck. He had given her an orgasm once while he ate her like he was in a pie-eating contest with his hands tied behind his back.

  And, yes, did he win that blue ribbon.

  “Frankie,” came his ragged whisper in her ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “Gonna come soon?”

  “Depends on you,” she answered.

  When he suddenly pulled out, it was like he had drawn the breath from her along with him. She bit back a squeak as he twisted her onto her belly, yanked her hips up and shoved her head down, plunging inside of her all the way to the root.

  Again, not gentle, but definitely glorious.

  She twisted her face into the pillow and muffled her gasp. But his low grunts that accompanied each thrust made her clench around him. If it wasn’t so noisy, she could imagine him smacking her ass hard as he fucked her.

  Oh yes, that would be glorious and welcome, too. That first day they’d had sex, she discovered he knew how to do it just right, making it hot and not hurt. And she was surprised to find out how much it turned her on.

  She was learning he liked to push her boundaries and also discovering she liked things she never expected.

  His fingers weaved into her hair and he fisted his hand, holding on tightly, tugging slightly, just enough for her to feel a sweet burn against her scalp.

  Shoving a hand beneath herself, she ground her fingers against her swollen and sensitive clit as he drove even deeper and harder.

  “Feel you rippling ‘round me, loquilla. Keep that shit up and I’m gonna come before you.”

  No, he wasn’t. She was right there. Just at that point where it wouldn’t take much to topple her over.

  As if he could read her mind—or her body—he knew just what it would take. A wet digit pressed against her tight anus and she clenched harder.

  “Let me in.” His voice was tight, labored, the pull against her scalp became sharper. Then he jerked the fistful of hair he had prisoner, demanding, “Let me in.”

  She closed her eyes, struggled to suck in air, as she concentrated on “letting him in.”

  This time it was gentle and glorious.

  “Hunter,” she whimpered softly. Then she tensed and everything exploded within her. Her climax radiated from her center outward, taking him along with her as he planted himself deep and stayed there, his own orgasm so strong, she could feel his cock throbbing, even through the condom. She could only imagine if he wasn’t wearing one, he’d be filling her, marking her from the inside, claiming her as his.

  But those thoughts were foolish.

  Today, Max was doing the press release. Hopefully, in the next couple of days Taz would surface. Then, once Hunter and his crew did their thing, the man currently giving her his weight would be gone.

  His forehead pressed against her back, his fingers loosened in her hair, but he remained buried to the root inside her, his breath beating a rhythm against her heated skin. After a few moments, he nudged her, telling her without words to drop her hips to the bed and she did so, until she was flat on her stomach. His weight still covered her, his face tucked against the side of her head, his hands planted on the mattress, probably so he wouldn’t crush her.

  She cherished that moment as long as she could. With him above her, she felt secure. And though she could take care of herself and Leo on her own, and had been doing so for more than the past three years, it was nice to have someone else looking out for them for a change.

  He was beginning to soften inside her so she knew he would be moving soon, sliding off of her and heading down the hall to dispose of the condom and clean up. She got a glimpse of the clock next to the portable monitor on the nightstand. They still had an hour before he needed to slip from her bed, so he’d be back after his trip to the bathroom. He always came back, he always pulled her into his side and she liked that, too.

  She wondered what it would be like to have a man like Hunter in her bed every night and also stepping in as a father to her son.

  She felt awful she couldn’t give that to Leo. A balanced home with both a feminine and masculine influence.

  One day, maybe.

  However, today was not that day. And those thoughts were not only foolish, but dangerous. She had been hurt badly once. She should know better than to allow that to happen again.

  Think before you act, Frankie.

  With a groan, he moved, sliding out and off her. He removed the condom, slipped into his boxers and headed down the hall without a word. She rolled onto her back because every time he returned, he was a sight to see and she didn’t want to miss it. Especially when he dropped his boxers to his feet before climbing back into bed.

  Which he did this time, too.

  He brushed his knuckle over her cheek, sweeping away a stray lock of hair. “Go do your thing and hurry back,” he told her in a low rumble.

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. And when it was her turn to climb back into bed, he wrapped one of those muscular arms around her and tucked her into his side, like he always did. Using his shoulder as a pillow, she let her fingers drift over his warm, smooth skin, his pebbled nipple, then over his defined abs.

  She never saw abs like that on a man in real life—definitely not in her bed—and had wondered if they really existed. Now she knew they did and were a result of hard, dedicated work. As she explored the distinct ridges and valleys, his muscles danced under her fingers.

  She glanced down at her own stomach which was far from flat, had stretch marks from carrying Leo, and even a touch of cellulite.

  She nuzzled her face into his neck and told it, “I need to lose some weight. Do some crunches or something.”

  “Says who?” came the deep grumble, his question vibrating against her ear.

  “Says me. I don’t have an excuse any more. Leo is three.”

  He snagged her hand and stilled the motion, giving her fingers a light squeeze. “You’re fine. You look great in those bikini tops you love to wear.”

  He liked them because they obviously emphasized her breasts. But the rest... Most of her faults she kept hidden by wearing high-waisted shorts. “You don’t have an ounce of fat on you. I have your share.”

  He lifted their clasped hands to his lips and brushed them over her knuckles. “You keep it.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  Suddenly, she found herself flat on her back again, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his forehead to hers, his light brown and gold eyes serious. “Loquilla, I want you to have it. It’s yours. It’s you. I’ve got no complaints.”

  But it won’t always be you in my bed.

  “I’d look better thin.”

  He huffed out a breath. “Frankie, you look smokin’ hot thick.”

  “Thick?” she whispered.

  His face was too close to focus on it. She tried to roll her head away, but he grabbed her face between his hands and held her still. “It’s a compliment. Don’t get bent about it.”

  “How can I not? We live in a world where beauty is everything—”

  “Everything about you is beautiful, Frankie.”

  She heard the words but didn’t believe them. “I’m far from perfect. My actions have been far from perfect, too.”

  “Nobody is perfect, baby. Nobody. Stop beating yourself up about things that aren’t important.”

  “I should try harder,” she insisted.

  “At what?”

  “Working out, getting in shape.”

  “A ma
n wants something worth holding onto in his bed. In his life. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  How about you?

  But before she could ask him, he rolled onto his back again and tucked her against him, his fingers lightly gliding up and down her spine.

  “I like a woman who eats. Like a woman who cooks. Like a woman who’s confident. Surprised to hear you say everything you just did.”

  Even the most confident of women still have moments of doubt. She said out loud, “Strong women still have weaknesses.”

  “As do strong men.”

  “Well, I told you my weakness. What about yours?”

  His lips flattened, he tucked his chin to his chest and met her eyes. “Slick, loquilla. Real fucking slick.”

  She trailed her fingers down his bearded cheek and over his lips, her eyes following the same path. “You said you were going to tell me. Why does Leo’s room feel like a coffin? Why can’t you sleep?”

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time, then he took her hand, pulled it from his face and slid it down his stomach, pausing it over his gunshot wound above his hip. “This,” was all he said before guiding her hand lower, to his thigh and he stopped it over his wound there, covering her hand with his and holding it there. “This.”

  She was confused. “Because you got shot?”

  “Because I got shot, I took cover from enemy fire.”

  A shiver threatened to sweep through her at the words “enemy fire.” She couldn’t even imagine being in the type of situation where you could die at any moment. You were fighting for not only other’s lives, but your own.

  He continued, “I took cover in the closest place I could find. I thought it was a safe place until I heard what was coming.”

  “What was coming?” she whispered, not sure she wanted to hear it. Dread crawled up her throat, even though she knew he survived whatever it was. But again, she couldn’t imagine hiding somewhere to avoid dying and then hearing something worse coming.

  “A plane. One of ours. Dropping bombs, flushing out the insurgents. They had no clue I was in the area, or any of my unit, in fact. One hit the building I was in, demolishing it.”

  “But you got out,” she breathed.

  “Eventually. But I couldn’t get myself out. I was buried.”

  “You got out,” she repeated, unable to stop it. Of course he got out, he was in her bed.

  “Yeah. I got out, loquilla.”

  “How long? How long where you trapped?”

  “A couple days.”

  A couple days buried under debris, shot and bleeding, not knowing whether you were going to live or die. Sounded like a nightmare. Which was why he probably couldn’t sleep.

  “I admit Leo’s room is small, but small enough to affect you?”

  “Truth is, I struggle with your whole house. The rooms are all small, the hallway and stairway narrow. It constantly feels like the walls are closing in on me. That the floor is rising and the ceiling is lowering. Though, I know in reality it isn’t happening, it’s a fear I can’t shake. I was diagnosed with PTSD-induced claustrophobia.”

  “Was that what happened last night?” She’d never forget seeing him like that, on his hands and knees, feeling his way through the bathroom, and then following him in to see him standing under water as cold as it could get. Her stomach had risen into her throat and began to choke her, while her heart had squeezed painfully at the look on his face.

  “A panic attack.”

  Yes, that was what that look was. Complete panic. “Have you tried to get help for them?”

  “I did. Once I realized what was happening. Not much I can do about it but avoid certain situations. And recognize some of the triggers.”

  “Like small, dark rooms.” Her house was small, but her mom had handed it down to her when she moved into her retirement community. And Frankie would be forever grateful for the chance to give Leo a roof over his head, but his room was smaller than a lot of walk-in closets in expensive homes.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is your team aware of it?”

  “No, no one knows but you. And the doctors who diagnosed me.”

  He shared something with her that he hadn’t with his own team? The men who supposedly had his back? “You haven’t told anyone?”

  “No reason to. But you witnessed me during an episode, so I needed to explain it. I also wanted to let you know why I couldn’t sleep in Leo’s room.”

  “You knew it could possibly trigger you, but you tried anyway.” All so he could stay close and protect them.

  “Yeah, loquilla, it was there or the couch since I can’t be in your bed.”

  “You can. Once Leo goes to sleep and before he wakes up.”

  “Right. I can sneak in here after he falls asleep and leave before he discovers me in the morning sleeping with his mother.”

  The way he said that shot a pain through Frankie’s chest. Her heart squeezed and she studied his face. “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

  “He’s three, Frankie.”

  “You’re only here for a few days. I don’t want him to think...”

  “The wrong idea,” he finished for her, turning his head until he was staring at the ceiling.

  She studied his strong profile. The few strands of gray at his temples, his jawline covered in a tightly trimmed beard, his cheekbones, his nose, his lips she’d gotten to know oh so very well.

  “He’s impressionable,” she whispered.

  “Frankie, he’s three,” Hunter repeated.

  “And how many three-year-olds have you had?” His head jerked as if he’d been slapped, but his expression remained blank, which made her feel bad for asking that question. But she felt the need to defend her reasoning. “He doesn’t have a father and he’s aware he’s different from some of the other kids. Other kids in daycare mention theirs. I’m just waiting for the day he asks me where his is. Why didn’t he have one? Do you know how much that’ll break my heart?” Her voice caught and she quickly cleared her throat.

  Hunter’s chest rose sharply again as he continued to stare at the ceiling.

  Now she felt the need to fill the awkward silence. “I can’t just tell him his father didn’t want him to exist. That the man whose blood runs through his veins is a piece of shit. That I’m all he’ll ever have.” Damn, something kept getting caught in her throat and her eyes began to burn.

  His head turned toward her. “You’re not all he’ll ever have.”

  She raised her brows. “No?”

  “He has his grandmother.”

  An ache began deep in her chest.

  “And it’s not like you’ll never meet another man. Like I said, any man would be lucky to have you, Frankie.”

  That ache intensified. “I don’t want just any man.”

  Hunter’s nostrils flared and he turned his face back to the ceiling. “You shouldn’t accept just any, either.”

  “And that’s why I need to be careful about who’s in my bed. I don’t want to give Leo the wrong idea. Or the false hope that the man I’m having sex with is anything more than just that... A man I’m having sex with.”

  “Fuck,” Hunter muttered. A muscle twitched in his cheek. It took him a few moments for him to explain his reaction, but she waited him out. “Claustrophobia doesn’t just apply to closed spaces, Frankie. It applies to other things, as well.”

  Things like relationships.

  But she hadn’t fooled herself into believing that was where this was going between them. She knew better.

  “I’m asking nothing from you, Hunter. It is what it is. I expect nothing more. I’ve appreciated the time you’ve spent in my bed and I hope it continues while you’re here in town. Once your job’s finished, I know you’ll leave. I’m not a clingy woman, I’m not needy. I never have been, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  He rolled to his side and cupped her cheek. “If there was ever a woman I’d want to give anything more to, Frankie, it would be
you. But that’s not me, it’s not how I live my life. I struggled to put down roots in Shadow Valley, I still struggle with it every day. The deeper those roots grow, the harder it is on me. Some days I want to take a chainsaw and cut myself free just so I can breathe. Diesel needs me, my team needs me and even though I’m doing my best to overcome that issue, I’m not sure if I ever will. Being trapped is a true fear I carry around with me every damn day. And, trust me, I’ve never told anyone that, either. I’m giving you more of me right now than I’ve ever given anyone.”

  Holy shit. She moved until she was on top, straddling his waist and pressing her chest into his. She combed her fingers through the sides of his hair and pressed her lips to his, but only briefly. When she lifted her head, she whispered, “Thank you for letting me in. I’m sure it’s not easy for men like you to reveal your weaknesses. You’re expected to be strong one hundred percent of the time, but that has to be exhausting. I can’t tell you how much it means to me you’ve shared what you did.”

  “Frankie.”

  “Yes?” She held her breath.

  “You tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

  She blinked. Then the breath rushed out of her, she dropped her forehead onto his shoulder and laughed. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.

  “Frankie,” he said again.

  She lifted her head. “Yes?”

  He smoothed her hair away from her face and whispered, “If it was going to be anyone, it would be you.”

  Her laughter died and she swallowed hard when her throat tightened and the sting in her eyes returned. What should be a compliment of sorts was more like a sword jammed into her chest.

  If it was going to be anyone, it would be you.

  She couldn’t dwell on that remark. She couldn’t expect anything more than what he just handed her. She should be grateful for what he did give her.

  He cared about her. Even though it had only been days, he did.

  She cared about him, too.

  Think before you act, Frankie.

  She was afraid that “act” would be feeling more than just caring. She could very easily fall in love with the man beneath her in her bed. It might not be smart because he admitted he struggled with putting down roots and Frankie needed roots. If not for her, then for Leo.