Warrior Undone

by Ruben, Jessica

  “Lie down,” I instruct, moving myself to the far edge of the seat and lowering my mouth directly to her core.

  Moving the small scrap of lace to the side, I blow. Her legs shake.

  I let my tongue lap around her clit before sucking hard.

  “Ahhh!” she screams, the sound low and guttural.

  I lift my head. “Yell all you want. No one here but us.”

  I put my lips directly on her glistening heat and suck. She screams loud enough to wake the dead.

  I lick up and down, and she moans, “Slade,” from the back of her throat.

  I don’t normally go down on women. I always like to make them feel good, of course, but this act is intimate. For Lauren though? I want nothing more than to inhale her.

  “You’re so hot. Your perfect tits high and nipples hard. Do you like it? Do you like the way I eat you?” I get deeper with my tongue. Her sweetness intensifies. “I wanted to drag you into the restroom at The Blue. Screw you against the wall.” Lick. “You would have liked that.”

  I suck harder, and she goes almost wild, body so hot that the windows are fogging.

  The visual, combined with her taste, has me out of my goddamn mind. I move my hand to the back of my jeans, needing a condom. It’s empty, so I try the next.

  “Fuck!” I curse.

  Fumbling up, I open the console, but it’s empty. Reaching forward, I open the glove compartment—empty again.

  “What’s wrong?” She’s splayed out on the seat, naked and pink and quivering. So close.

  “I don’t have condoms on me.” I lift my hand to touch the roof of the car, heaving with annoyance. “I can drive us to a gas station. There’s one about seven minutes away.”

  “Let’s go back to your place,” she says, body quaking as she sits up.

  I lean back on the seat again, and she crawls back to my lap, kissing me with absolute abandon. Gripping the back of my head. Moaning with her scent all over me.

  This woman.

  Her hot tongue sliding into my mouth with need. I want to pull off my jeans and slide inside her, but I won’t. Couldn’t disrespect her in that way.

  “Let’s just drive and pick those condoms up,” I groan, wishing my car could fly.

  “Okay.” Kiss. “And then how far to your place?” Kiss.

  “No.” I grip the back of her neck, sucking on her bottom lip.

  Panting, she asks, “Huh?” Her eyes settle in confusion as she pulls back, away from me.

  “I don’t bring women back to my place.” I grit my teeth, remembering Lilly in my bed and what I did to her.

  Fury brews at the fact that Lauren wants more. It’s irrational, but she’s asking for things I cannot give her, and that pisses me off.

  “We’ll finish this here. Trust me; it’ll be amazing.” I press my lips to her collarbone, wanting to kiss this gorgeous woman who is somehow magical to me and say, I’m sorry, baby, but we can’t. I’m dangerous and not to be trusted. Please, just take what I can give.

  But she turns away, oblivious to my silent pleading.

  “Excuse me?” Her brows lower in the offensive. Bending down to take her clothes that have been strewn around the car, she turns her face away from mine, hands covering her full breasts.

  “You heard me,” I repeat, my voice low and deep.

  I want her, but it’s got to be on my terms. For the sake of her safety, there is no other option.

  She leans down again, picking up her bra that hangs from the headrest of the front seat. “So, that’s how you see me? Some easy lay? Good enough to fuck in a car but nowhere else?”

  I pause. She’s completely wrong. I’d like nothing more than to screw her brains out in my bed. In my shower. Over my kitchen counter. But, if she enters my house, she’ll want to stay over. I can’t provide what she wants. I’m incomplete and fucked up. I’m a man who’s been altered by war. I’m not the man she thinks she knows.

  “Oh, that’s great, Slade. You’re silent? Screw you.”

  “Lauren, come on.”

  Her jeans come on first and then her bra and top. I can do nothing but watch her redress.

  We both make our way back to the front seat, and I bring her back to the hotel in silence. I can feel her angry thoughts stewing, but there is no defense. At least, none that I’m willing to say out loud. I can barely speak the truth to myself.

  When I pull up to the hotel, she unbuckles her belt. “I’ve always been honest. I understand you aren’t interested in me long-term. I knew it when you didn’t call after the wedding. I’m a big girl who can handle sex without strings, but I won’t be disrespected or treated like a girl you just want to fuck in your backseat and dump. It’s never been me, and it won’t be me. It’s a line I won’t cross.”

  I grip the steering wheel and face forward, not wanting to see the look on her face when I deliver the truth. “All I’ve got to give is this. If you don’t like it, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “So, now what?” Her words are final but also questioning.

  She wants me to fight for her or change my mind, but it won’t happen. It can’t. We haven’t known each other too long, but we’ve been through a lot together. She deserves more than a quick fuck in the back of my car. But she also deserves a decent life, and that’s something I can’t give her while my head is in this state. My mind is made.

  “Now, nothing.”

  When I look at her large eyes, filled with hurt, my chest freezes. Right now, Lauren’s almost childlike. She’s so trusting and open, waiting for me to change my mind.

  I want to yell, Don’t trust me! Don’t come close to me! I’ll hurt you. But I don’t. Instead, the warning sits on my tongue like bitter acid.

  After a moment of hesitation, she leaves.

  I slam my hand on the steering wheel, cursing as she runs into the hotel—away from me, as she should. Suddenly, my anger starts to blow. I want to break something! I slam my hands down over and over again, yelling like a lunatic. Part of my mind knows this is crazy and irrational, but I can’t stop myself.

  With shaking hands, I take three pills from my glove compartment and swallow them dry, needing to calm down. There is no other way.

  8

  Slade

  The hotel is the epitome of rest and relaxation. The only colors around us are white and cream. Oh, and beige. Who can forget good old beige? And, at the rate I’m being asked if I want a hot towel, cold towel, or my bags taken, it’s clear there are at least three staff for every guest here.

  For a fact, Vincent hates this shit. But he’s got it in his mind to take Eve to the best places in the world. Apparently, it’s something he swore to do a long time ago.

  This is the second time they’ve dragged me to one of these fancy resorts, and I can safely say I officially can’t stand them. I’m too big for places like these. Don’t even get me started on the food. The plates are two bites each. Not least, I can’t take a step without worrying I’ll knock something or someone over.

  A few months back, we flew to Paris to meet with potential investors for the Milestone. Vincent and I stayed at the Four Seasons where I made the mistake of sitting on a silver couch in the lobby. How was I supposed to know it was an antique and not actually for sitting? The concierge ran over to me, red-faced, cursing my American ass out.

  The trip over here this morning could have been awkward, considering last night’s clusterfuck, but I did my best to stay out of Lauren’s way while she zoned out on her e-reader. Last night, at The Blue, I’d wanted her to come on this trip. For Lauren, nothing could be better than a trip of rest and relaxation on the lake. Obviously, I’m regretting it now. After the car last night, I’m twisted. I want her badly, but it can’t work. She’d expect answers, as she should. But I’m not in my right mind to give her those things. I can’t give more than what’s available.

  Vincent and I step up to reception.

  A boy, suited up and dressed as a man, waits with a smile. He swallows hard, trying not to
show anxiety. “Hello, and welcome to the Anam.”

  “We need another room,” Vincent says brusquely. “It’s under Borignone. We’ve got two right now, but we must have a third.”

  Vincent pulls out his phone, checking e-mails, while I stand a step behind him and survey the area. I’m not technically his personal security now that the mess with his past life is behind us, but old habits have a way of sticking.

  The concierge types on the computer before blanching, eyes flitting from the flat computer screen to Vincent. “I’m sorry, Mr. Borignone, sir. But we’re completely booked. There aren’t any e-extra rooms,” he stutters.

  Vincent was sure there would be space for Lauren, but as luck would have it, there isn’t. I cross my arms, hoping that a little intimidation will magically open a room.

  “You have two reserved,” he continues. “One master suite with a king bed and another suite with two queen beds.”

  “Two beds?” Vincent repeats before lifting two fingers up to me.

  I vehemently shake my head, mouthing, No.

  Vincent turns away from the concierge, whisper-yelling with teeth gritted, “Don’t be an asshole, Slade. What do you want us to do, send her back to Nevada?”

  Both of us look at Lauren, who’s relaxing on one of the white chairs in the lobby, holding her e-reader. Her brows are furrowed, as though in concentration. I try not to stare at her long legs, casually crossed. Is she in another lace bra and panties? I swallow hard before finding Vincent staring at me with a smile.

  “The answer is no,” I tell him, gathering myself. “You should have thought of rooms before you brought us all out here. I’m not staying with her.”

  “Just a second, sir,” Vincent says politely, obviously trying to soften his hard look.

  He throws a heavy arm over my shoulders, pulling me into a private corner of the hotel lobby. “What’s wrong with you? There are two goddamn beds. Grow a pair. You obviously want to get with her. And she wants you, too. You should be fuckin’ cheering right now that you have to share a room.”

  I should tell him that Lauren and I were just together in Vegas, but if I did, he might ask about the shooting. Lauren told Eve not to tell him, but Eve and Vincent are crazy tight. Maybe she did?

  I froze when the shots started. Can’t even remember how I got us out of the club.

  I’m not in denial about my issues; I know there’s a screw loose in my head. But I won’t seek professional help because I know that, with time, I’ll fix this on my own. I don’t need someone psychoanalyzing me. Someone who doesn’t even know me and has no idea about what I went through overseas. I can handle this myself. Vincent knowing what happened would earn me a one-way ticket to the VA hospital. But having a girl like Lauren sharing a bedroom with me? Also, a bad idea. The question is, which bad idea is the better one?

  I straighten my shoulders. “We already hooked up at your wedding,” I reply easily, knowing that I need to give some truth to shut him up. Vincent is the kind of man who reads people easily. A lie won’t cut it.

  “Yeah, so what? Even better.” He looks at me like he doesn’t understand what the problem is.

  “She’s into me. And I don’t want to give her any ideas.” I maintain direct eye contact.

  “Lauren’s an adult. Keep it in the pants or don’t. Just don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep. I know she looks flighty ’cause she’s cute and into fashion, but she isn’t. She used to help Eve on huge cases. She’s sharp as a whip and really intelligent. She’s not some clingy moron.”

  I look back at Lauren as she adjusts her white sweater. It falls over one shoulder, showcasing the smooth line of her collarbone. Vincent isn’t telling me anything I don’t know.

  “There are two beds,” he continues. “It’s just a few nights. Not a big deal.” Placing his hands on his hips, he waits for an answer.

  Vincent would be right if he were talking to a normal guy who didn’t medicate to control dark memories. I need to weigh the shitshow that would go down if he put the pieces together about Vegas versus having her and me share a room.

  My job would be in flux if he figured out what I’d been dealing with—or worse, he’d throw me into therapy or rehab. On the other hand, Lauren could witness a night terror and be in harm. Then again, there are two beds in the room, so she wouldn’t be directly next to me. And, with my meds combined with a good amount of liquor, I’d be able to conk myself out well enough to keep her safe. I try not to mix drugs too often, but it’s okay. I’ll do it. Staying with Lauren is my best bet at keeping the image of myself steady.

  “Fine,” I find myself replying with a silent, Please, God don’t let this blow up in my face..

  “Fine?” He looks at me funny, as though my sudden agreement surprises him.

  “Yeah, man. Fine. We’ll share the room.”

  I dare you to argue with the fact that I agreed.

  He easily reads me and backs off.

  9

  Lauren

  I slide my large, round Chloe sunglasses over my eyes. Not that it’s sunny, but I don’t want Slade to see my face right now. I’m nervous to be staying with him. I’m good at faking things but not that good. Plus, it dims everything around me. I don’t want to see his huge body and handsome face. He’s almost too much. After leaving me on the brink of a deep orgasm, followed by his admission that I’m nothing more than a one-night stand, unworthy of being in his bed, I feel frustrated, insecure, and angry. I begged Vincent and Eve to find another room for me, but the hotel is completely booked.

  The bellboy trails after Slade and me as he brings our bags to the room. My black suitcase is full-sized while he has nothing but a small green Under Armour duffel bag. Figures.

  We enter our beautiful room, and I do my best not to clap in delight. Two plush white queen-sized beds are on either side of the rectangular room as serene black-and-white photography of a mountain sunset adorns the space between. A large white desk sits at the opposite corner alongside a cream couch. A black-and-chrome Nespresso coffeemaker sits atop a beautiful cream-colored dresser.

  “The bathroom,” the bellboy announces, opening up a door to a huge double-sink marble bath.

  I peek inside, feeling utter relief. This is exactly what I need to relax my nerves.

  After the bellboy gives us a detailed description of the beautiful amenities of the property, including handing me a schedule of group workouts on the property, Slade opens the minibar. Leaning in, he seems to scan the items. I can see the top of his boxer briefs; the black elastic band is nice and tight around his firm waist.

  “Everything in here is alcohol-free.” Shutting the door, he turns back to the bellboy in fury.

  I’m taken aback by his attitude. I love a glass of wine as much as the next person, but Slade looks legitimately angry.

  “That would be right, sir.”

  I’d bet sweat is taking up residence beneath his uniform with the way his eyes have widened. I glance between the two of them, unsure.

  Slade crosses his arms, apparently waiting for a reply.

  “Utah state law a-affects alcohol service, sir. The m-minibar must be dry because it is complimentary, and complimentary alcohol is illegal.”

  “Shit,” he says out loud, clenching his fists.

  After pulling out a bill from his wallet, he hands it to the shaking kid, who hastily makes his exit. There’s a moment of awkwardness as the door slams shut. His exaggerated response makes me feel uncomfortable.

  “Which bed do you want?”

  He calmly raises his brows, and I take his cue. Brushing the incident under the rug works for me.

  I drop my purse on the bed that is closest to the bathroom, staking claim. We need to have a conversation about the fact that we’re stuck in a room together. I want to relax, and here I am, instead stressing out over my temporary roommate.

  “Sunshine, you look like a bug right now.” He chuckles.

  “Sunshine?” My heart pauses at this potential ter
m of endearment, but then I process the rest of his sentence. “Wait. Did you just call me a bug?”

  “Yep. What are you wearing those ridiculous glasses for? The sun isn’t shining in here. You aren’t hungover either.”

  “I can wear my sunglasses anytime I want to.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Sure you can. They take up half your face though. Very round, too,” he adds.

  “So? Round is stylish.” My teeth grind together.

  “Well, if you’re going for bug-style, you’ve done it.”

  I tear the glasses off my face, and there he is. No longer darkened by my lenses, but full-blown. Perfect. And then he smiles, and my heart sinks.

  “There you are, Sunshine,” he croons.

  “Why are you calling me that?” I huff, trying to ignore how sinfully hot he is.

  “Because you are.”

  “No. Right now, I’m a dark cloud.”

  We both pause, and then he starts laughing—from his belly, no less.

  “Lauren, you’re goddamn hilarious,” he stutters, clapping his hands together.

  Dark cloud? Could I have come up with a dumber line?

  He’s laughing at me. I want to laugh, too, because, fine, it was a stupid retort. This man calls me on my shit like no one else.

  Jumping onto the bed near the window, he lays comfortably with his big body practically taking up the whole mattress. When he sweeps his tongue across his full bottom lip, I try not to salivate. I need to say something to clear the air. We’re stuck together for two nights, and I don’t want awkwardness.

  “Just so you know,” I start, “I’d appreciate it if we could just move past last night.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Sunshine. I’m past it. We’re here, sharing a room. I can keep my dick in my pants.”

  “Right,” I exclaim, feigning relief. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  Silence takes over the room as he grabs his phone and begins typing.

  I begin unpacking my stuff when he says, “I noticed last night. It looks good, by the way.”