Not a Hero

by Cherise Sinclair

  Sitting up next to her, he pulled off his shirt and took hold of the waistband of her sweatpants to strip them off.

  A low sound broke from her. Dismay filled her face.

  Uh-oh. “Easy, Julie.” He dropped his hand and lay back beside her, propping himself up on an elbow. Cupping her face, he set his thumb under her chin and tipped her head up so he could meet her tear-filled eyes. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Shall we stop now?”

  “What happened to you?” Her voice shook.

  “Me?” He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  With a trembling finger, she traced over last year’s gunshot marks on his shoulder, then the older ones on his arms, shoulders, and torso. Scars from shrapnel, knives, a dog bite, gunshot, barbed wire. She found the ugly spot on his ribs from a jagged alder stump he’d landed on during a fight with Bull.

  “These are… Look at all this. What happened to you?” The appalled, distressed edge in her voice was oddly heartwarming.

  And fuck, he loved her straightforwardness—far better than the women who pretended not to notice. “Some happened in combat when I was in the military. I collected a few more in the police force”—he gave her a bitter smile—“which is another kind of a war.”

  “Oh, Gabe.” She shook her head, her eyes damp. “I would have quit after the first time I got hurt.”

  Somehow, he doubted that. After all, she planned to return to the roadhouse tomorrow. The girl had guts.

  And her sympathy worried the crap out of him. Because he liked it.

  He should leave.

  All the same, when she pulled him down to kiss him, he didn’t resist. Hell, he let her—and then took back control, enjoying the way her breathing sped back up when he caressed her breasts. Perfectly plump breasts.

  “Gabe.” She stopped him so she could whisper, “I…uh…haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “Been awhile for me, too.” Since before he was shot, in fact. He circled one rosy tip with his finger. “Let’s see if I can remember what the next step of the process is.”

  Her tiny laugh made him grin.

  His painfully erect cock knew what it wanted next. But no man with a functioning brain would ever take his dick’s advice.

  Moving slowly enough that he wouldn’t jar her ribs, Gabe slipped his fingers under her waistband and stripped her sweatpants off.

  Oh yeah. Her pale skin glowed in the dim light, and he could see the golden hair covering her pussy. Her calves were sweetly curved. Moving her left leg out, he settled between her thighs and bent down.

  She put her hands over his target.

  Seriously? He looked at her and lifted an eyebrow.

  “I-I don’t shave. Guys don’t like that.”

  Fuck, she was cute. “Some do, some don’t.” Trying not to laugh, he moved the roadblocks from his path, set her arms at her sides, and gave her the intimidating stare a cop quickly mastered. “Stay right like that, or I’ll find my handcuffs.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but her arms stayed at her sides…and she flushed a rosy pink.

  The thought of her in his handcuffs was damn tempting. He squeezed her wrists in approval. “Very good.”

  Obstacles removed, he settled between her legs and opened her folds. The things a woman found to worry about. As if a man couldn’t move something out of his way, whether it be criminals or delicate hands…or labia.

  At the top of her pussy, her clit was a gleaming, wet, pink pearl, already swollen and begging for his mouth.

  Perfect. “I’m going to do this hard and fast, little cheechako, since it’s been awhile for both of us. Later, we’ll go for slow.”

  * * *

  When he licked over her pussy, the burst of glorious sensation nearly sent Audrey off the bed. “Oh, God.”

  His unexpected masculine laugh melted every bone in her body—even as his teasing tightened her muscles. His tongue started an intimate dance with her clit, leaving her breathless. Then he drew his cheek over her inner thigh, rasping his beard shadow over her tender skin.

  Her leg jerked, and he leaned his weight against it and slowly drew his abrasive chin up her thigh, toward her pussy.

  Her muscles tensed. And when he reached the top, he licked over her and sucked the sensitive nub back into his mouth.

  The noisy moan she gave startled her.

  By the time he repeated the pattern on the other side, her clit was tight and throbbing with need.

  When he lifted his head, she couldn’t suppress a protest. More.

  After studying her a long moment, he smiled. Continuing to watch her intently, he slowly pressed a finger inside her.

  Her pussy was already throbbing, and the merciless penetration shocked her senses with pleasure. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Every cell in her body focused on the feel of his finger as he pulled back and pressed in.

  “You’re tight, but you can take me.” He added another finger.

  As he pushed his fingers in, she felt her body stretch slightly. A tremor ran through her.

  Bending his head, he closed his mouth around her clit. As his tongue flicked over the nub and he sucked lightly, his fingers increased speed, thrusting faster.

  She never came unless she used her own hand, but this time…

  Her pussy tightened around the intrusion, her hips tilted, and the pressure inside grew with each touch, each thrust, each slide of his tongue over her clit. He was going to make her come. Did she want this? “I don’t…”

  He didn’t relent, didn’t slow.

  Sensation piled on sensation, so unstoppable, building higher.

  And everything inside her erupted.

  “Oooooh.” The irresistible pleasure seared through her veins in an overwhelming lava flow, one raging wave after another.

  As she gasped for air, he pinned her hips down, licking over her, sending new rushing thrills thrumming in her system.

  Slowly, the spasms eased. The roaring in her ears decreased.

  “That was fucking gorgeous.” Rising up, he pressed a firm kiss to her lips.

  She could taste herself.

  “I…” What could she say? Was thank you appropriate?

  Sitting back, he took a condom from his wallet, opened his jeans, and sheathed himself.

  She had a moment to think, he’s awfully big, before his cock was at her entrance.

  Gradually, he worked his way partly in, big enough she felt the burn as her core stretched to accommodate him.

  Her pussy kept contracting around him in fresh bursts of pleasure.

  Carefully, he lowered himself on top of her, bracing a hand beside her shoulder to keep most of his weight off her sore ribs.

  Pausing, he evaluated her expression. His smile flickered, and he rubbed his cheek over hers. “Hang on, Goldie.”

  Even as he spoke, he pressed in, the relentless advance stretching her impossibly full. The feeling of being…taken…rocked her to the core. Possession. No choices, no worries, no decisions.

  And then he was in. So very hot and thick.

  Oh God. She panted as new ripples of pleasure shot through her.

  “You feel amazing.” Ever so slowly, he pulled back and pressed in again. “Put your arms around my neck, Julie.”

  She obeyed and ran her palms over his back. The skin over his shoulders was satin stretched over rock-hard boulders of muscles. A patch of bumpy scarred tissue was palpable proof he was a warrior.

  He pulled back, thrust in. Each slow slide of his shaft sent heat lancing across her senses.

  His eyes were slightly narrowed, his gaze on her face.

  With each controlled thrust, his pelvis rubbed over her exquisitely sensitive clit, setting up a pulsing cadence in her center. Helplessly, she tightened around him.

  “That’s right,” he murmured…and increased the pace.

  Her body wound tighter and tighter, the pressure building. Oh, oh, oh. The surge of her impending climax was so strong, so terrifying that she whimpered.

/>   She heard him whisper, “Hang on to me, sweetness,” and as she gripped his broad shoulders, it hit.

  She was coming—coming so hard that every single cell in her body joined in the fireworks of pleasure.

  As her hips lifted, he ground against her clit in a stab of brutal pleasure. A wailing cry broke from her.

  Then, with a low growl, he pressed in, so very huge and deep inside her, and she could feel the jerking of his shaft.

  * * *

  As his muscles relaxed to putty, Gabe moved far enough to lie at Julie’s side. The sweetness of release simmered through his body. Yeah, it’d been a long time.

  Propping his head on his hand, he smiled at the pink flush that ran from her breasts to her face.

  Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was still fast, her lips reddened from his kisses. Damn, she was touchable, and he couldn’t resist stroking her silky skin. Under his palm, her breasts still felt tight and swollen, although her nipples were softening.

  As was his dick. With an unspoken curse, he eased off the bed.

  After he used her bathroom to clean up, he frowned at himself in the mirror. Should he leave now?

  He should. There were a lot fewer misunderstandings if a man left after sex.

  But…no. She’d had a rough evening earlier, and—relationship limits or not—he wouldn’t chance making her feel worse by pulling a slam-bam, thank-you-ma’am. So he stripped completely.

  When he came out of the bathroom, she’d already crawled under the covers. Seeing him, she gave him a hesitant smile and lifted the sheet. Yeah, she was a sweetie.

  He tossed his jeans over the footboard and joined her, carefully easing her against his side, so her head could rest on his shoulder. The way she snuggled closer and gave a contented sigh made him smile.

  Hours later, he realized he’d fallen asleep.

  And that his hand was cupped around a sweetly plump breast. Hell of a way to wake up.

  Well, he had said that “later” they could go for slow. Seems like he’d made a promise he should keep.

  And he still had two more condoms in his wallet.

  Reaching around, he slid a finger in her wetness and over her clit. Just a touch at first. Ever so gradually, he roused her, increasing the pressure and the strokes, and she was so responsive that she was already coming before she fully woke.

  “G-Gabe?” Her back arched, and her hips bucked under his arm.

  “Mmm, that was nice.” He rubbed his cheek in her hair, inhaling the light lemony fragrance of her shampoo…and the scents of female and sex. When he moved his hand up to cup a breast, he could feel her heart hammering with her release.

  Since playing with her had him harder than a rock, he rolled her over, set her on elbows and knees, sheathed himself, and slid into her from behind.

  Fuck. Her slick pussy closed around him like a hot fist, and his grip on her hips tightened. Pausing to regain control, he curved an arm around her and put his fingers back on her clit.

  When he started rubbing the bundle of nerves, she moaned. Her hips wiggled irrepressibly, making him grin, and damned if his control wasn’t shot, just like that.

  So much for slow.

  He raised her hips for greater penetration and took her with mercilessly driving thrusts. A second before he lost it, he slowed long enough to tease her clit again, pushing her into another orgasm.

  And as her cunt clamped down on him in rhythmic pulses, he came in violent juts.

  Feeling her post-orgasmic shudders was incredibly satisfying all by itself. Damn, she was fun.

  This time when he came back from the bathroom after disposing of the condom, he chuckled. She wasn’t hiding under the covers this time. No, she lay in a limp, sated sprawl.

  Simply gorgeous.

  As he walked up to the bed, he frowned. During sex last night, he’d been focused on her curves, her breasts, her pussy.

  Now his head was clear enough to see…damage.

  A faint bruise showed on her thigh—the outline clearly a boot mark. Someone had stomped on her leg.

  Her right arm, draped over her chest, showed tiny dots of yellow—the remnants of a punishing grip.

  Above that was a thin pink scar. He knew too well what a knife wound looked like.

  Kinky sex?

  Doubtful, despite the fact he had a feeling she’d enjoy submitting to a lover. But she said she hadn’t had sex recently. An untruth? People did lie all the time—cynicism was a side effect of a law enforcement career—but he doubted she’d lied about this. Unless her last lover was pencil-sized, she hadn’t been taken for quite a while.

  Someone had beat her up. His jaw tightened to the point of pain. Hitting any woman was screwed-up, but to hurt someone this sweet was…

  He had no words.

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he traced the mark on her thigh and studied her torso. On her ribs, a red line from the edge of the table last night crossed older yellow-brown bruising. Another shadow on her softly rounded belly might have come from a punch or kick to the gut. “Jesus, the bastard really did a number on you.”

  When he looked up, she was watching him, worry in her eyes. Her muscles had tensed.

  “Tell me the asshole was arrested.”

  “I… I don’t want to talk about it.” She looked away.

  Gabe scowled at another spot on her hip and then caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me he’s behind bars, Julie.”

  “He’s behind bars.” Her voice came out a snap. Her eyes said she’d lied right to his face.

  Pulling in a breath through his nose, Gabe released her. Anger roiled uncomfortably in his gut along with disappointment. And he was a dumbass. They’d just had sex, yes. She’d welcomed him inside her body, yes. That didn’t mean she trusted him.

  Hell, he didn’t trust her.

  But, God, he hated liars. His shoulder ached as if to remind him what happened to gullible idiots. He tried to fight the unwarranted feeling of betrayal and gave up. No need to continue being an idiot.

  He rose. “I should get going.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.”

  After dressing, he turned to look at her.

  She sat on the bed, staring out into the black night. The covers were wrapped around her in a way that indicated she’d cocooned herself against him.

  The visible barrier made his chest hurt. What the fuck had happened to his defenses?

  He moved closer. Maybe they could talk. Work through…whatever this was. “Julie.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He lifted his voice. “Juliette.”

  She jerked and turned.

  Realization dawned. “That’s not your name, is it?”

  Her face told him the answer.

  Yeah, okay, he was done. “Have a good day…whatever your name is.”

  Chapter Eight

  When his alarm went off, Gabe silenced the damn thing with a curse and squinted against the bright morning light. His bedroom on the second floor overlooked the living room—and he hadn’t closed the wooden pocket doors that gave the loft some privacy. Sunlight streamed through the huge downstairs windows right into his room.

  Hell. After stretching, he walked out of the bedroom. Naked, but it wasn’t as if anyone could see him. Mako’d insisted on buying enough acres to make the Hermitage as isolated as possible while still being close to town. It’d cost some bucks to get electricity to this side of the lake, but even the sarge had admitted he enjoyed the convenience.

  Leaning on the railing, Gabe looked out over the downstairs and then outside.

  The lake was buried in a dark gray mist…the color of Julie’s eyes.

  His mouth twisted. Welcome to a crappy new morning. Even if his shoulder felt better, his conscience now had an ache that massage wouldn’t relieve.

  Sure, Ms. Juliette Wilson had lied about her name and probably other things. Liars pissed him off to the nth degree, especially when it came to the female gender. Guess he could thank
his ex-wife for that.

  Even so, he could have handled last night better.

  He scowled at the urge to retreat to the wilderness. Away from people who’d do anything they wanted without a care for whom they hurt in the process.

  And now he’d hurt someone—he’d seen her face as he left—and even if she was a liar, he still felt like shit. For all he knew, the city girl had a damn good reason for being in Alaska and lying her head off.

  Hell, people were always moving to Alaska and changing their names, hiding their pasts. Starting over. He, Bull, Caz, and Hawk had done the very same thing.

  Yeah, he’d overreacted.

  With a sigh, he walked into the master bath’s big tiled shower that he’d installed with his first merc paycheck.

  As the nearly scalding water beat against his back, knotted muscles began to relax. Civilization did have some rewards, after all. Damned if he hadn’t missed inside plumbing and hot water last winter.

  As he scrubbed, he caught faint whiffs of a light spicy scent. Julie’s—or whatever her name was.

  Dammit.

  A shave and clean clothes later, he headed downstairs to the kitchen and brewed up a cup of strong black coffee. Cup in hand, he walked out onto the lakeside deck and leaned on the railing.

  The temperature was a few degrees above freezing—not bad at all. It was almost 7 a.m., a couple of hours after sunrise. In the lake shallows, a moose breakfasted on early aquatic greens. With slow grace, two trumpeter swans glided past the dock, stirring the mist, before landing on the water. They probably had a nest nearby.

  It was spring, after all.

  He gave a dour snort. Bah, humbug.

  And yet…

  He’d fought insurgents in the desert, policed in the polluted stench of overcrowded Los Angeles, and spent the last couple of years in and out of South America’s steamy jungles.

  Spring in Alaska had to be the most beautiful time and place on the planet.

  Sipping coffee, he stood and watched the mist dissipate as the world came to life.

  To his right, he could see the semicircle of the other cabins, similar in design. His was the leftmost arm, then his brothers’ three houses, and finally Mako’s empty cabin at the other end of the U. The enclosed two acres contained a chicken yard, garden, patio, and gazebo.