Savior (First to Fight Book 4)

by Nicole Blanchard

  “Mornin’.”

  She pours a cup of coffee and leans against the counter as Rocky winds himself around her legs and butts his head against her thigh. “You didn’t have to stay.”

  I haven’t moved from the doorway, but I do at her words, crossing my arms over my chest and giving her a hard look. “You must not have a high opinion of me if you think I’d leave you after what happened.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Nodding to her head, I say, “You’ve got a goose egg the size of a golf ball on your head that disagrees with you.”

  Her fingers touch the spot absentmindedly. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

  “Right.”

  Haunted eyes meet mine. “I just want to forget about this today. I don’t want to think about any of it. I know you probably have to work, so I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay.”

  “I took the day off. I’m not letting you stay here by yourself.”

  She bites her lip, considering me. “Are you ever going to leave?”

  “You can try to make me, but I’m bigger and meaner than you.” When she doesn’t stop shaking her head, I cross the room and cup her cheeks to steady her. “There’s something here, Sienna. Something you can try all you want to ignore, but I’m not gonna let you.”

  “I can’t—”

  I cut off her words with a kiss. I’m done trying to negotiate. Obviously words aren’t getting through the walls she’s built around herself. Her hands come up like she wants to take mine off her face, but she ends up covering them instead.

  “Tell me,” I say against her lips. “If you’re going to say no, tell me why.”

  “You don’t want to be involved with me.” She pulls away and rests her forehead on my chest. “There are plenty of women who’d love to sleep with you.”

  “If sex was all I wanted, I’d find one of them. I want more from you than fucking.”

  She shoves me back, but I still have my arms around her waist so she doesn’t go far. “I can give you sex. That I can do. I can’t give you a relationship right now. I just . . . can’t.”

  “Then, we don’t have to talk.”

  I kiss her again, this time demanding she part her lips, and she does without much convincing. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and she sighs into me again. I could get used to hearing that little noise, and I make it my personal mission to make her do it as many times as possible. I bend just a little so I can pick her up. She reads my movements and wraps her legs around my waist at the same time as my hands cup her ass to hold her against me.

  She lets me carry her from the kitchen and into the living room, where I lay her down on the couch, making sure to brace myself with one arm so I do crush her. She breaks the kiss and blinks up at me, her eyes wide with confusion when she realizes we’ve gone horizontal.

  “You mean right now?” she asks breathlessly.

  “Right now.”

  Single-mindedly, I slip a hand under her shirt, needing to feel the softness of her skin instead of just imagining it. Her breath catches in her throat when my fingers skim up her ribs.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Good.” My hand moves up to cup her breast over the material of her bra. “Don’t think.”

  “Don’t you think you should run my credit before we get to second base?” she asks breathlessly. Did she just make a joke? She grins up at me and adds, “Do a background check?”

  I smile down at her flushed face, then she vibrates against me and all blood drains from my head. “After.”

  Piper

  I lose track of time, track of myself. The only thing I can see, taste, hear, smell, or feel is Logan. I was right, he’s dangerous. His drugging touch and intoxicating kiss does exactly what I want. It wipes away everything but him.

  He tastes of coffee and cloves from the gourmet mixture I buy because there are some things from my old life I couldn’t leave behind. His hands are strong and they span my waist as he scoots me up so he can nuzzle my stomach.

  It’s been a couple of days since he last shaved, and his stubble stokes all my nerve endings to life. With slow movements, he pushes my shirt up my torso and bares my chest to his gaze. Pinned between him and the couch, I can’t do anything but wait for him, which is agony and ecstasy entertained in all the best ways.

  With his eyes locked on mine, he lowers his lips to my skin, dragging them back and forth. The soft touch is a direct contrast to the abrasion from his scruff. He kisses up my ribs and down to my navel. With a wicked glance up at me, he nips my hip.

  For a second, I think he’s going to keep going down, and I want nothing more in the world than for him to slip under the waistband of my shorts. I even move to shimmy them down my hips myself, but his hands stop me. I look back at him in confusion.

  “Not yet,” he says, his voice rough.

  “Logan, don’t mess around. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it.”

  “So you can get it over with?”

  Well, shit, the way he makes it sound is way worse than how it sounded in my head. “No, but I want you. I don’t want to wait.”

  He shifts, presses his lean hips between my thighs and settles, his weight a glorious sensation on top of me. I’d forgotten what it feels like to have the full weight of a man pressing against me.

  “The wait is the best part.”

  I frown up at him and shake my head, pulling my hair out of its band. “No, no you’re wrong. The wait is definitely the worst part.”

  Then he grins, and I shiver at it’s ferocity. “Not the way I do it.”

  Oh, God.

  He presses deeper into me, and I only have a fleeting moment of panic. I don’t even get to finish the half-formed thoughts of doubt before his lips close over mine and sear them away. He’s one hell of a kisser, and there’s nothing like a man who knows how to kiss. They should give him awards for the things he can do with his lips.

  My arms twine around his neck, forcing his body closer. My breasts ache. My nipples pebbling into the material of my bra is so maddening that I can barely think as I yank and pull his shirt up. I groan into his mouth when my fingers come into contact with the tight, sculpted ridges of his abdomen.

  I skim up, exploring almost mindlessly, delirious with the sensations. I delve into the defined muscles, scraping lightly with my nails until his fingers snare in my hair and jerk my head back so he can take the kiss deeper. Moving up, I find the crisp hair of his chest and the softness of his nipples. Curious to his reaction, needing to make him as mindless as I am, I trace its shape with the pad of my thumb, and his breath catches in his throat.

  One hand still tangled in my hair, he uses the other to reach underneath my back and undo the snap of my bra, which gives with a slight twist of his fingers. He releases my lips, and his head moves to drag the edge of my bra up with his teeth, causing the underwire to draw along my nipples, teasing them and leaving them aching for his attention.

  I try to do the same and tease his other nipple, but he ensnares my wrists and brings them up over my head. He arranges them over the armrest of the couch and then guides my fingers so they grip the end table.

  Then he ducks his head, and I learn his mouth is as talented there as he is when he kisses. “You might wanna hold on.”

  Then his lips close over me, and I cry out. My fingers tighten on the edge of the table until I’m sure I’m going to break the wood in half. When he’s finished with the first, I’ve changed my mind about having to wait. The way he does it, I can wait forever.

  I let go of the table only so I can wriggle out of my shirt. It and my bra go flying over my shoulder. Vaguely, I hear Rocky scrambling out of the way. I’m too busy drawing Logan’s shirt up and off to pay attention, and then he’s kissing me again. It’s hot and wet with tongues and lips going wild. He doesn’t just kiss, he dominates, possesses, and I learn for the first time what it could mean to be his.

  My feet hook over his legs, pulling his hips as close to me as I can, b
ut it isn’t close enough. My hands roam over his bared skin, touching every available place I can, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. I explore the brutal strength of his arms and the width of his shoulders.

  I learn he has a weakness for my nails on his back when he grinds against me and I forget myself and drag them down from his shoulders to his jeans on a long moan. Eyes wild, lips red, he peels my hands from around his shoulders and places them back on the table.

  “Didn’t I tell you to hold on?”

  “Logan, I can’t wait. Please.” Breathing ragged, I try to move them, but he holds my wrists with one hand and snakes his free hand down to my waist. Then I give up on breathing altogether, because he masterfully peels down my terry cloth shorts with one hand and then kicks them away with his foot.

  “Yes, you can.”

  He nudges my legs open and settles back between them, then his eyes go to the juncture of my thighs and I fidget, rational thought suddenly flooding back as he studies the most intimate part of me with his heated gaze. I want to move, to use to my hands to pull him back to me, but I’m worried he’ll stop altogether if I take them away from the table again.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” I say through gritted teeth.

  He flashes a wicked grin. “That’s kinda the point, sugar.” His lips paint a hot descent down my stomach. “Now hush, I’m tryin’ to concentrate.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the sensory overload. If he concentrates any harder, my panties are going to wave a white flag and spontaneously combust. When I open them again, a flash of heat so intense washes over me and for a moment, I think maybe they did. Then I realize, it’s just the intensity of his gaze on me causing me to burn up from the inside out.

  He pulls his lip between his teeth and laves it with his tongue. If I weren’t already soaking wet, just watching his obvious enjoyment would have me drenched. His eyes flick to mine and then he rests his weight on one arm. A tentative finger traces the line of lace at my waistband, then down and around the curve of my leg, coming so close to the place that’s aching for him. His hand moves down my leg, then back up, across my waistband and to the other side where his fingers dip beneath the cloth.

  With a deft movement, he lifts my hips enough to slide the material to the side. Any opening for embarrassment disappears as his fingers trace lightly over me. His head angles and he nibbles on the inside of my thigh, his breath fanning over my leg.

  When his attention returns, he moves, shifting even farther down. He glances up at me, his eyes wild and stormy. “Keep ahold of that table,” he says. “I’m gonna eat you till you come, but you don’t let go. Understand?”

  My lips are dry and I’m afraid if I speak, my voice will quake, so I just nod. I’m caught in a whirlwind, and he’s at the eye of the storm. All I can do is ride it out.

  His shoulders settle between my legs, and I only have a second to prepare before he tongue is on me. I arch, trying to get away from the tumultuous sensations rocketing through me, but there’s nowhere for me to go. He pins my hips to the couch with one arm as his tongue assaults me with lethal precision.

  Sounds come from deep within my chest, sounds I don’t recognize and have no control over. Wood scrapes across the floor and I realize faintly I’m pulling the table in an effort to strain toward the ecstasy I know is inevitable.

  I glance down and find him watching me. There is something so erotic about him between my legs, seeing him, feeling him, is almost more than I can handle. Then he sucks two fingers into his mouth and with my eyes on him, he slides them into me on one long, wet stroke that has me seeing white.

  Then his lips and tongue are on me again and the combination of the insistent flicks of his tongue and the wet drag of his fingers inches me up the arduous climb toward nirvana.

  My hips roll up to meet him and meet the resistance of his arm. Frustrated, I buck and he lifts his head, lips gleaming and twisted into a satisfied grin.

  “Sienna,” he chastises and licks his lips.

  “What are you doing? Don’t stop!”

  “I thought you said you didn’t like the wait?”

  I twist my head from side to side and reach for him, but he bats my hands away. “I love the wait. Love it. Please don’t stop.”

  His shifts and hovers over me, his fingers going back to the spot and rolling until I’m writhing once more underneath him. “Don’t stop this?” he growls in my ear, then takes my mouth, his kiss a hot temptation that tastes of me. “God, you’re so wet,” he says against my lips.

  I can’t resist touching him anymore and my arms go around his shoulders. His fingers abandon my clit and slide inside me, working me in a frenetic pace. Unable to focus on anything else, my head falls back to the couch and I tense in anticipation.

  He leans back enough so he can see me, his face still inches from mine. Close enough for me to watch the naked hunger sharpening his gaze. Hunger for me. His fingers slow, sensing that I’ve reached the edge and he brings his lips back to mine for and endless open-mouthed kiss. I’m arching up to meet him, thrusting my hips up to his hand, clutching at his wrist and going absolutely wild when his phone starts vibrating in the pocket next to my thigh.

  He curses, his body one long live wire of tense muscle alongside and above me.

  I throw myself backward, the illusive climax draining away leaving me bereft, wanting, and exhausted. He moves back and his hand regrettably moves away. We both take a mental step back and I scoot up into a sitting position. The call is only an all too vivid of a reminder of all the things I am trying to escape.

  Logan yanks the phone out of his pocket and swipes, pressing it to his ear. He pulls a throw off the back of the couch and covers me with it, sending me a look full of remorse that I’m sure my own face mirrors.

  “Blackwell,” he says into the phone as he gets to his feet.

  My eyes are drawn to his pants, where a thick bulge presses against the material, which only intensifies the disappointment.

  Since my ears are still buzzing from the missed orgasm, I don’t hear the conversation, but the look on Logan’s face says it all.

  Logan

  A cold fury fills me. Not only for the interruption, the senseless violence of the crime I now have to investigate, but the haunted look that returns to Sienna’s eyes the moment I hang up the phone.

  Before I can say anything, she gets to her feet and wraps the blanket around her body like another shield. “Go,” she says, her hands gripping the blanket between her breasts. “It’s okay.”

  I cross the distance and crowd her. “No, it’s not.” I kiss her firmly until the tension melts from her shoulders. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  She presses her hands to my chest so she can put some distance between us and shakes her head. “What? Why?”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone here until we find out what’s going on with your ex. I wouldn’t leave you right now if I didn’t have to.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Ignoring her, I pocket my phone. “I’m also going to have a couple uniforms drive by every half hour just to check on things, make sure you’re okay.”

  “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

  I trace the bandage still on her forehead with a finger. “You’re tough as nails, I don’t doubt that, but I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for me. I’ve got to go and do my job, and I won’t be able to do that if I’m worrying about you. Please. For my peace of mind. I’ll go crazy worrying about you.”

  Her internal battle is written across her face. Finally, she sighs. “Fine.”

  “Don’t answer the door for anyone you don’t know and don’t let your gun out of your sight. Stay here until I get back. Promise me.”

  “Logan.”

  I kiss her softly. “When I get back, we’ll finish what we started here.”

  She softens underneath my hold. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to.”

>   “I’ll wait up for you tonight.”

  I let her go and holster my gun. Keys in hand, I turn back. “Keep Rocky with you.”

  “I will.”

  I hesitate and then say, “We’re going to have to do some digging into what happened in Miami. I want to find out if this is your ex one way or another. You mean something to me, so I don’t want to do it behind your back.”

  Her arms go around her waist. “I understand.”

  “I’ll bring something to eat on the way back.”

  She starts to protest but then swallows it back. When she speaks, her voice sounds small. “Thank you.”

  “Lock the door behind me.”

  On the drive to the crime scene, I can barely manage to get my anger under control. I drive too fast, brake too hard, and nearly miss the exit for the local state park.

  Three times.

  Three women who’ve been assaulted.

  Three is three too many.

  And based on the current victim, the offender is either escalating or exacting revenge for being interrupted with Sienna.

  I meet Colson at the entrance. A couple black and whites are parked behind him with their lights still flashing. It feels like a carnival in the middle of the woods, lending an otherworldly quality to the scene. Colson is a sight of his own in beat-up, ancient jeans and an oversized cowboy hat. Since he’s as skinny as a pole, he cuts an off-balanced figure.

  “What happened?” I ask as I cross the parking lot.

  His lips twist, as if the words themselves have a bad taste. “Same MO as the last attack and the one with your girls. Public park, but an otherwise secluded area of the trail. Single woman who is approached by a man and then attacked. This one was different, though.”

  “In what way?”

  He jerks his head toward the sidewalk, and I follow him down a way. There are techs and other officers processing the scene, but I don’t need their evidence markers to know what happened.

  For one, there is blood everywhere. On the ground, on the trees, in the bushes. It’s like he tried to imitate a morbid Jackson Pollock painting.