Guts & Glory: Walker (In the Shadows Security Book 4)

by Jeanne St. James

  Maybe she would even let him bind her so he could play as long as he’d like to, also.

  He would leave that decision in her hands. They hadn’t done anything like that when they were young. And he was sure McMaster...

  He gritted his teeth. Not now, he reminded himself.

  Not when his face was between Ellie’s thighs. Not when she was giving herself to him to do with what he wanted.

  No. It was just him and her in this room. No one else.

  Everybody else could wait until the light of day tomorrow.

  Sliding his tongue between her folds, he drew the tip from the bottom to the top, flicked her clit, then ran it back down. Her hips jumped, so he lifted his head to say, “Hands on your knees and keep them spread wide.”

  She adjusted her feet and knees, opening herself up even more to him. Her pussy was perfect. A deep shiny pink, inside and out.

  He had never doubted she’d been put on this Earth for him. She was made for him.

  That was one reason why he never settled for anyone else. Because that was what it would have been, settling. And that wouldn’t be fair to the woman he would only accept because he couldn’t have the one he was meant to be with.

  Using his fingers in a V, he alternated fucking her with his tongue and sucking her clit.

  He lifted his gaze to see her face and her head had fallen back with her eyes closed, soft pants and mews rising from her lips.

  “Eyes on me, El,” he demanded and stopped until she obeyed.

  As soon as she did, he continued. Tasting, sucking, licking, fucking. With his tongue, his lips, his teeth. He would take her there with just his mouth. Nothing else.

  Her hips began to rock, and he watched to make sure she kept her eyes open and on him. He could see her struggle with it. She wanted to close her eyes again, submit to the sensations, let them take her away.

  But he didn’t want that. He wanted her to remain there. With him. Knowing it was him between her legs making her feel this way. Him taking her there.

  He almost stopped and pulled away when her hands wrapped around the back of his head, holding him to her.

  With each lick of his tongue, scrape of his teeth, suck of his lips, her fingers convulsed against his scalp, her nails digging in to the point of pain. She was wanting to let go in one way, refusing to in another.

  Her hips rocked and lifted as she ground her pussy into his face, his name crossing her lips on a moans, sighs and cries.

  She repeated his name until only bits and pieces of it remained along with her shuddered breath.

  But her fingers dug harder, encouraging him to devour her until there was nothing left. Except her release.

  Her hips shot up as she cried out his name one more time, everything about her quivering and clenching against him. Her legs, her pussy, her fingers trembled.

  When her hips slowly lowered, her hold softened, her knees fell open once again, he pressed one last kiss to the top of her mound.

  Her cheeks were no longer pink but held a deeper color. Her green eyes were dark, unfocused, her chest rising and falling quickly, her nipples puckered tightly.

  Complete, utter beauty.

  He kissed her mound again lightly and trailed kisses up her center until he reached her mouth, then he kissed her deeply, sharing her own taste, her own orgasm with her.

  “So perfect,” he whispered against her lips. “So fucking perfect, sweetheart. Thank you for that gift.”

  If possible, her eyes became even softer around the edges. “I think you have that wrong, honey. I should be thanking you.”

  “Back then, I thought we were perfect, that how we were couldn’t get any better. I was so fucking wrong. The kitchen, the bathroom, this bed. You didn’t hold back. You weren’t embarrassed or self-conscious. You showed me true beauty.”

  “I’m only showing you a reflection of what I see. You are the beautiful one, Trace. It’s you. You bring it out in me.”

  She had that wrong. If she saw any kind of beauty in him, it was her doing. She brought it out in him.

  Chapter Eleven

  The chicken had turned to rubber. The mashed potatoes to glue. But he didn’t give a shit that they’d delayed dinner so long it was ruined. It was worth it.

  They ended up tossing it all and he grilled NY strips while Ellie sautéed a bunch of veggies instead, promising dinner the next night would be better.

  He looked forward to it because the chicken had smelled fucking great when he had first arrived home and the cheesy garlic mashed potatoes even better.

  And if it tasted as good as it looked...

  Like Ellie.

  They sat out on the deck at the wrought iron table set his sister had bought him as a house-warming gift. He wasn’t sure he’d ever use it, but here they were.

  “You grill steaks perfectly.”

  “I’m a man. If I can’t grill, they’ll take my man card.”

  Ellie snorted softly, pulling a smile from him. “I doubt it.”

  “When we’re born with testicles, we have to agree to certain things. Becoming a grill master is one of them.”

  She grinned down at her plate as she forked a slice of zucchini.

  He wanted to fork her.

  He lifted his beer and took a long draw from the bottle. His gaze landed on her glass of red wine. He didn’t remember that on the shopping list, but he hadn’t looked too closely at it before forwarding it to Jesse.

  If she had asked for everything in the entire grocery store, he would have paid for it.

  He set his bottle on the table. “Wine instead of beer?” Even though both of them had been underage at the time, he had been able to sneak a few beers every once in a while from his father’s supply in the garage fridge.

  “I never really liked beer,” she admitted. “I only drank it because it was all we had.”

  “If I knew you liked wine, I would have found a way to snag some.”

  “I didn’t know I liked wine until...”

  Until...

  Bet she developed a taste for champagne, too.

  He wanted to change the subject but since his mind was on McMotherfucker, there was no better time than the present to discuss what they’d found earlier.

  “Hunter and I are meeting at the warehouse tomorrow morning to do more digital digging, but we’ve made plans to leave for Denver the day after. You’ll be here alone for at least two days, maybe longer. Depends on what we uncover when we get out there.”

  She placed her fork on her plate and took a long sip of wine, his eyes glued to her throat as she swallowed. He lifted his gaze again when she asked, “What did you find so far?”

  “Nothing concrete except the obvious. He was drowning in debt, which you were aware of. But it was deeper than you knew. I’m surprised you had any equity left in your house. As you know, your credit cards were all maxed out.”

  She made a small noise.

  “Your joint bank accounts were empty, but so were his business accounts. Do you know if he had any offshore accounts he was funneling money into? Somewhere he was hiding his money from creditors?”

  “No. He didn’t talk business with me. I don’t think he thought I was smart enough to understand.”

  It was Walker’s turn to make a noise, which came out more like a low growl. Ellie was far from stupid. “Arm candy,” he muttered.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “What?”

  “He treated you like arm candy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “He buy you fancy clothes, shoes, jewelry, brand name purses?”

  She shrugged one bare shoulder. “Yes, he liked me to dress a certain way when we went out to dinner or parties, or to meet friends.”

  Walker studied Ellie. She had never been high maintenance. He could never picture her being that way, either. She had always been down to earth. Barefoot, pretty summer dresses, loose hair, the only color on her face from the sun. Her genuine smile and her emerald green eyes a thousand times better than diam
onds or gold.

  “Did you mind?”

  She shook her head. “Not at first. It was fun dressing up. It was something I never had, never expected to have. Though, I was glad I didn’t have to do it all the time. It wasn’t important to me. I was always happier in a pair of jeans and sandals.”

  Not sandals. “Barefoot.”

  She tilted her head as she considered him. “Yes, you always teased me about keeping me—”

  “Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen,” he finished for her. He remembered.

  A small smile played on her lips. “Yes.”

  While he did tease her with that, he also dreamed about the day it would be true. He looked forward to eventually coming home after a long day of work to see her barefoot, preparing dinner and carrying his baby.

  She’d be making their home and family. He’d be providing for them.

  And to make sure he could do so, he had joined the Army.

  Doing what he thought best had fucking destroyed that dream.

  “You never had kids with him.” For fuck’s sake, he didn’t want to go there, but he couldn’t resist going there.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Why?” he prodded. “Why, El? You always wanted kids. You insisted on at least two.”

  She pushed her plate away and grabbed her wine glass, avoiding his gaze. “We wanted kids. If I had children, they were supposed to be yours.”

  A sharp pain sliced through him. “But you fucking married someone else.”

  Her brow furrowed and she sighed impatiently. “Again, Trace? We talked about this.”

  “We talked about pieces of our fucking past. That was it.”

  “And as I said, I can’t keep doing this, we can’t keep doing this. The past has already been written. Neither of us can go back and erase it.”

  “No, but we can learn from it by understanding it, Ellie.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Maybe because I fucking need it!” he yelled, then closed his eyes, unclenched his fists and took a long breath.

  Her whisper was enough for him to open his eyes again. “George was something to me, but you were my everything.”

  “But not enough to wait.”

  The next part didn’t come as a soft whisper, the words were harsh, full of frustration. “And I already explained why. Put yourself in my shoes. Especially with how I lost my father.”

  He sat back and tried to do just that. Ellie coming to him to tell him she was leaving for the next four years. Not asking but telling him he needed to put his life and their plans on hold. Simply wait. And then hope that everything worked out in the end and she came home safe.

  Would he have waited while she went and put herself in harm’s way? Could he have sat home and worried, wondering if that call or knock on the door would ever come?

  He wasn’t sure if he could.

  There was a saying he’d heard different versions of, but the one that stuck with him the most was, “If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours; if they don’t, they never were.”

  He thought he was doing what was best for them.

  Maybe she did, too, when she had set him free.

  But now she was back.

  “You should’ve had kids, Ellie.” She would’ve made a great mom. “You missed out.”

  “So did you. And,” her shoulders lifted slightly, “I still have time.”

  “You’re turning thirty-seven soon. Your clock is ticking.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Why didn’t you? Why was he good enough to marry, but not good enough to have children with?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Maybe deep down I knew something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put a finger on it. Honestly, I was worried I’d regret having children with him. And I didn’t want to burden any innocent child with that. That wouldn’t be fair to them because of my decisions or even indecisions.”

  “But he wanted them with you.” Of course, he did. What man wouldn’t?

  “Yes.”

  Then it struck him. “And that’s why you have an IUD. It’s undetectable.”

  Her eyes slid away. “For the most part, yes.”

  “Did you lie to him?”

  She lifted her chin and her green eyes slid back and hit his. Not sweet, soft Ellie. Oh, fuck no. A woman full of quiet strength and determination. “Yes. I’d been on the pill when we got married. After a year, he insisted I go off. I wasn’t ready and told him that, but he pushed it. I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready, but I didn’t want to fight about it, so I had the IUD implanted instead. I wanted to be sure. I didn’t take having children lightly.”

  This was a fierce Ellie, standing behind her decision. Not letting anyone make that choice for her.

  And while in one way he was relieved with her deception, in another he wasn’t.

  What if he hadn’t gone away? What if they had gotten married?

  What if she’d done that to him?

  To find out your wife was secretly on birth control because she wasn’t sure of a lifetime commitment...

  “You loved him, though.”

  “I thought I did.”

  “You had to love him enough to marry him.” If she didn’t marry him for his money, it had to be for love, right?

  “I thought I did. But in the end, I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought. Marrying him was a knee-jerk reaction to you abandoning me.”

  He ground his teeth at her word choice. “I didn’t fucking abandon you.”

  “That’s what it felt like at eighteen, Trace. Today I might look at it differently. We were so damn young.”

  “And now we’re not.”

  “Now we’re not,” she repeated softly.

  “Now we both have to live with our decisions.”

  Again, a slight shrug, and an expression of sadness. “That’s life, Trace.”

  Yes, it fucking was.

  She found it interesting that Trace had three prostheses that she knew of. The one with a boot, one with a foot and one with a blade.

  Of course, the one with the boot went with him to Denver. Since his crutches remained behind, she wondered how he managed without them.

  He was probably pretty good at managing a lot of things. Or figuring out alternatives. Like MacGyver.

  The one with the blade, the one he used for running, reminded her of something the Bionic Man would be equipped with. When she told him that yesterday morning as he left for a run before meeting Hunter again, he said nothing.

  So, she let it drop. She was still dying to know how he’d lost his lower leg. But since he wasn’t willing to talk about it, at least not yet, conversation last night ended up being about whether he had found any worthwhile information on their second day of searching instead.

  They hadn’t and hoped to find some better leads in Colorado.

  She wasn’t sure she could deal with being stuck in Trace’s house for the next week. Especially when he flew out that morning, leaving her alone for the next couple of nights.

  Alone in his bed. Alone in his house.

  But then, she was used to being alone. She’d been that way since she left George. When she thought about it, she had felt alone even before then.

  Even so, she was back in Trace’s life all because of her late husband.

  He’d probably hate knowing that. He hated Trace. For some reason, George had a deep-rooted jealousy of him which she didn’t discover until much later because he hid it well. But a couple years after they’d married, once she uncovered it, she realized why he pursued her so diligently after Trace left to join the Army.

  He approached her first as a friend, used his McMaster charm and spent time with her when she was lonely and heartbroken. He slowly convinced her he’d give her a good life and would never leave her behind. He swore to give her the family and stability she sought.

  The life she wanted with Trace.

  In the e
nd, George was determined to get the girl Trace had. Why? She had no idea.

  Trace had his choice of girls in high school. So did George.

  But it turned out George was the kind of man who wanted things he couldn’t have. If someone else in town had a nicer car, he did everything he could to one up them. He made sure to have the best clothes, watches, everything. That’s why she didn’t understand his fascination with her.

  She had nothing to offer him. Just herself.

  She didn’t come from money. And she wasn’t looking to marry into it, either. Which made her believe his interest in her was genuine and true.

  And later, after George had made several snide remarks about Trace, she had no idea why he’d be jealous of him. Like her, Trace didn’t come from money, either. He had a handed-down beat-up Ford pickup, clothes that were clean but not fancy, no expensive watch, no money even for college.

  But Trace lived an honest life. His father, a carpenter, was loved and respected in their town. His dad passed on his traits of being a hard-worker and being appreciative of everything that he did have. Even though it wasn’t much, it was his and he earned it.

  Maybe that was it, George was never satisfied with what he had. He always wanted better, wanted more. And if there was something he couldn’t have, he did whatever he needed to do to get it.

  Like his pursuit of Ellie.

  Once, he had mentioned she was a “clean slate.” When she asked what he meant, he made a comment about how she wasn’t jaded like some others.

  But that stuck with her since his excuse didn’t sound genuine.

  Eventually, she figured out why.

  She was a clean slate to him. He could mold her to anything he wanted. Or at least, that’s what George thought.

  While he had generously put her through college, afterward he wouldn’t let her go out and use her degree by working or starting a career. Her education was reduced to a useless piece of paper in a frame.

  Her “job,” she was reminded every time she mentioned it, was to be the lady of the house.

  Though it was difficult to even be that when he hired everyone to do everything she could do when it came to running the household.

  She wanted to contribute to their marriage, to their life. She even offered to help at the office.