That’s the surprise? Dancing?
“Okay, I can tell by your face that you aren’t excited,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Maybe this will help.” She jazz hands me. “Line dancing?”
I just stare at her.
She bursts out laughing. “Okay, so no line dancing either? Before you think I’m totally nuts, there was a reason I want you to dance. It’ll help you in your movements a great deal. When you’re walking or running, it’s the same motion, over and over. But dancing changes things up, makes you move laterally, up and back, turn. I was going to actually work with you on an oldy but goody, the Electric Slide.”
Ah, I’ve heard of that.
She walks over to the iPad and pulls up a music app. She taps around until she’s satisfied and, ugh, country music fills the room. Really? Achy Breaky Heart? I should have jumped off that cliff.
“Oh stop it,” she says and taps again. Something better. Lots better comes on.
“Who’s that?” I ask her.
“Florida-Georgia Line. I love this one with Nellie.”
“Love Nellie.”
She smiles at me. “Then I think you’ll love this.” She begins to move. “Let me show you the steps, then tomorrow we’ll practice them. Electric Slide will work with any music with a strong four count.”
I find myself really liking the music, or maybe I just like watching her glide back and forth across the floor. She moves well for one so tall, especially when she shakes her ass at the end of each movement.
“Got it?” she asks me. “The basic steps I mean, enough to practice it more tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I think it might even be fun.”
It’s the right answer because her face explodes in a grin. She walks over to the iPad and taps around until something I’ve never heard comes on. “This would be another terrific one for you to gain movement practice. It’s the Cha-Cha Slide.”
She turns it up. “You basically just do what the DJ says.”
She slides one way and then another and I realize she’s right. Her movements follow the instructions.
“When you get to things like criss cross, I would practice those slowly and then build up your speed.”
“So start slow?” I ask her and stand up. I reach out a hand, beckoning her to me. When she’s there, I pull her against my chest. Then I touch my lips to hers, barely moving them together. “Slow like this?”
Her tongue flicks out and moves across the seam of my mouth. “More like that.”
I suck her lower lip in my mouth and let it out millimeter by millimeter. “Better?”
She whimpers. God, I love that sound. Then she makes another sound I love. She speaks and says, “Can it be night time yet?”
Hhmmm. “Yes, it can be anything we want it to be.”
Her eyes flick down. “Clean. I want to be clean. I’m going to open a bottle of your wine and take a bath. Is that okay?”
“Can I join you?” Her breath hitches and her eyes flick down again. I tilt up her chin. Wait until she meets my gaze. “I want to shave you, remember?”
Her bottom lip trembles and I pull it down with my thumb, then slowly lick the inside rim. “Do you know what else I want?”
She shakes her head.
“Since I first met you, I’ve wanted to know all your secrets. I want to know what your nipples look like. Large or small. Pink or dark. Do they respond as quickly as I think they do?”
As a test, I pass a thumb over them. They respond and I smile.
“I want to trace a line down your stomach with my tongue. See if the muscles jump. If you arch your back into my touch. I want to hear the sounds you make as I get closer to your pretty cunt.”
She blinks. I’ve broken the spell with the c-word.
“I offended you. Do you not like that word?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you know it’s the only word that describes a woman’s entire genitalia? The clitoris is a bundle of nerves. The labia is those beautiful lips. The ones I want to suck into my mouth, run my tongue between, spread them open. Vagina.” I nuzzle her neck, taste the salt of her skin. “Hmm. The vagina, meaning tunnel or scabbard—a sheath for a sword.”
She swallows and I can imagine my cock in her throat.
I smile, teasing her. “If it soothes your sensibilities, I won’t call your sex your cunt anymore. Do you prefer pussy?” I smile bigger when she frowns. “Do you want to make love or fuck? I’ll do anything, say anything you want. Just let me in. Let me touch you. Taste you. Be inside you. Have you ever squirted?”
Her eyes grow wide and I lean forward to kiss her forehead.
“I’m going to make you come so hard, you’re going to squirt all over me and you’re going to scream while you do. Do you believe me?”
Her head tilts downward and she breathes, “Yes.”
I kiss her forehead again. “Pour your wine and run your bath, my love. I’ll be with you very soon.”
Chapter 14 – Grace
I gulp down a large glass of wine, then sip a second one more slowly as steam billows in the bathroom and I slip my arms into a fluffy white robe.
This is really happening. Now. The fantasy that’s been playing through my head is about to be real.
I had practically run to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and went straight to the mirror to see just how bad my lady parts had gotten.
Shit.
Not good, but not horribly horrible either.
Bare? I’m still surprised that women actually go bare in real life. With my flat chest, I’d look like a giant first grader.
Shit.
What should I do? I pull out a drawer, looking for scissors and then squat over the toilet for a super quick trim.
What were the options? Neatly trimmed it is, I suppose. If he wants anything else, he’ll have to do it himself.
My knees grow weak at the thought.
Knowing I’m running out of time, I toss the robe onto a hook and step into the water, going all the way under, staying there as long as I can.
When I surface, Link is there, raising a bottle of beer to his lips, draining the contents before he tosses it in the trash. He smiles at me and hands me my glass of wine. When I toss it back, he grins and hands me the bottle.
“Nervous?”
Oh hell yeah I’m nervous. I take another sip of wine straight from the bottle. “A little.”
He props the crutch he is using against a wall, then pulls his shirt over his head, the muscles in his entire upper body rippling with the movement. He tosses a towel on the floor and then holds out a hand to me. “I hate to ask for help, especially right now, but … help.”
Realizing his predicament, I grab another towel, holding it in front of me, suddenly shy.
I step in front of him and he sighs. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He takes a corner of the towel and pulls it away. “Pink, I knew it.” He leans down and takes a nipple in his mouth. Oh, yes. He sucks, and I feel it in my toes.
Moving my fingers to his shorts, I push them down, taking his boxer briefs with them. There are bandages to deal with, so I sink to my knees and pull off the elastic sock, then unwrap the bandage.
His erection is right there, where it’s been day after day while I checked his injuries. Now I can touch it. Take it into my mouth. I don’t hesitate; I do exactly that.
Long and thick, I circle my fingers around the base and slip the head past my lips. He groans and his hands go to my hair. “So good,” he says and I keep going, taking him into my throat, wanting all of him. Too soon, he’s pushing me back and pulling me to my feet. “I don’t want to come yet.”
Standing naked in front of him, I expected to feel vulnerable and exposed. He’s the one who calms me this time. He runs a finger down my breasts, down my sternum and to my navel. There he pauses, examining my scar.
“From the baby?” he asks, tracing the thin line of the emergency c-section. From my belly button to the top of my pubic bone, he traces it, up and down
. “It makes you even more beautiful. Unique. If only he could have been saved. I’m so sorry he wasn’t.”
I swallow. If only.
But he’s gone and Link is caressing that terrible wound.
“You’re shivering. Let’s get in the tub.”
We end up helping each other.
I thought our first coupling would be urgent and intense. It isn’t. It’s so tender and so very sensuous. He shampoos my hair, and runs conditioner through its length, then washes every inch of me, paying special attention to my toes.
As promised, he pushes my thighs apart and glides a razor between my legs. So beautiful, he says over and over, then he raises my hips above the water and tests for smoothness with his tongue.
“I need to be inside you.” He licks up my slit, delving his tongue deep into me. “Here, I need to be here.”
I need him inside me too.
“Make love to me, Link. In your bed. I want to be with you in your bed.”
When he lets go of my hips, he grips the edge of the huge tub and pushes himself up before turning on the hand-held nozzle to rinse us both. Water streams from him. Over the perfect flesh and over the horrible scars. The scars that don’t seem tragic to me anymore.
Getting out of the tub isn’t as easy as getting in and we find ourselves laughing as we dry off and move to his bedroom to climb on his bed.
But I’m not laughing when he takes my lips. I’m drowning in our powerful connection.
I’m not laughing as I roll a condom down his length.
I’m not laughing as I take his weight on top of me.
“Open your eyes,” he says and I do, gazing into the beautiful blue ones hovering over me.
He moves and he’s there.
In me.
So deep.
So wide.
Stretching me, filling me. Loving me.
He groans and closes his eyes.
“So hot. So wet. So tight.”
I push away a bead of sweat that’s forming on his forehead. “Open your eyes,” I say.
He does, and goes wild.
Crying out, I take his thrust, accepting him, clutching him as he spears into me over and over.
I watch his face as he watches mine.
“So beautiful,” he says and takes my lips again.
I wrap around him, holding onto him, racing toward an edge I can’t see.
This is it.
This is what having sex is supposed to be like. A whole body … whole brain … whole soul experience. I’m fully present. I notice everything. The sounds we make. The smells we produce. The electricity that is charging around us.
And I feel everything.
His weight.
His warmth.
The hardness and the softness of him.
I feel something deep in my belly tighten, build and grow.
I sink my teeth into his shoulder as I come unraveled beneath him, exploding into some time and space that has stilled just for me. I’m crying. Sobbing with the intensity, but it isn’t over. Not close to over.
“Look at me,” he growls and I open my eyes again and he kisses away the tears.
He thrusts, jarring my entire body, but my eyes never leave his.
He thrusts again and groans, his face hard and tight with his intensity. He stills and spills inside of me. I regret the condom. I regret the barrier that stops me from feeling everything.
Wrapping him tightly in my arms and my legs, I hold him as he falls back into reality, his breath ragged and warm.
When he rolls off, he pulls me with him, our bodies still connected until he grows too soft and the connection is broken. He tosses the condom away and pulls me closer.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he says with a sleepy voice, his hand playing in my still damp hair. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
Then he’s asleep, a curl still wrapped around his finger.
I listen to his heart, feel the pump of it against my cheek and wait for his nightmares to return.
Chapter 15 – Duffy
Pulling on my c-leg, I listen closely for any sounds.
It’s quiet. So quiet in the house.
Where’s Grace?
I smell her. There’s a strand of her hair still lying on her pillow.
Not enough.
I need her.
Standing, I double-check the fit of the prosthetic, smiling at how well Grace has trained me in making sure everything is correct.
Pulling on a t-shirt, I walk from my bedroom and down the hall. Coffee. Bacon. I’ll find her. All I have to do is follow my nose.
But she isn’t in the kitchen. I walk to the window and find her on the patio, sitting on her favorite lounge chair, her knees pulled up to her chin.
She turns when she hears the door click open and I’m relieved to see the smile spread on her face. I was afraid she would have regrets, but from the look in her eyes, I can see she doesn’t.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
Her smile grows wider and she stands, moving into my arms. “Good morning.”
She’s wearing the fluffy white robe. I need to make sure she takes it with her. Something to remember me by.
“Nichol made us a feast this morning,” she tells me and waves a hand at the table filled with silver-lidded containers. “He said if it got cold, to let him know and he’ll make something fresh.”
I kiss her hair. “I’m sure it will be fine. I’m on a mission to never waste food again.”
She runs a finger across my forehead and down my nose. “That’s a very good mission. Have a seat and I’ll make you a plate.”
Breakfast is comfortable. We talk about nothing important. Just chat about favorite movies. Favorite musicians. It’s so normal.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
Her smile grows brighter. False brighter. She presses her fingers together, pulling down the sleeves of her robe. “I did.” Her eyes soften. “Last night was wonderful.”
I watch her closely. She’s hiding something. “Let me see your hands.”
She jumps up. “I need more coffee. Want some?”
I stand and reach out to her. “Grace, let me see your hands.”
She exhales and turns to me, takes a step closer.
I push up the sleeves of her robe and curse. Shit. Bruises around both wrists and dots of them up her forearms. I open the neckline of her robe and nearly collapse in relief when I don’t see any bruising around her neck or shoulders.
“It’s okay, I promise. You didn’t hurt me.”
I step back. “Like hell I didn’t. You aren’t safe with me. No one is safe with me.”
“It was a nightmare. It wasn’t you.” She steps closer and grabs fist fulls of my shirt. “It’s not you. Do you hear me?” She pokes me in the chest. “You didn’t do this. You can’t stop your subconscious from reliving the terror of all that you’ve been through.” She grabs my face, her warm palms against my cheeks. “Listen to me. It’s worth it. Every minute I’m able to lay beside you is worth it.”
“You can’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t hurt you anymore. It’s good that you’re leaving.”
She gasps and pain flicks across her face, then she fights it back, anger replacing the hurt. “You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.”
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I push her back a few steps and turn away. Then I turn back, needing to hurt her. I need to hurt her so bad she’ll run away and never look back. She’ll leave with bad memories, but at least she’ll be safe.
“What’s up with you?” I growl at her. “Do you enjoy domestic abuse?” She gasps and I harden my heart. Safe. I have to keep her safe. “How many other times did your husband push you down the stairs? Did you climb back up them and ask him to do it again?”
Smack.
My cheek stings and I accept the pain. I turn away. I can’t accept the tears flowing down her face.
“You bastard. Don’t do this.” She’s crying so hard I barely u
nderstand the words.
I ignore them and walk to the edge of the cliff, my hands gripping and ungripping the safety fence.
There’s a boat in the water, bobbing peacefully. That’s what I need. A boat. I need to sail away to the farthest reaches of the earth.
I listen for the door to slam. I listen for her car to start. I listen, but I hear nothing at all.
Then a hand is on my shoulder and I flinch away from the touch. “Don’t do this. I know you didn’t mean that. Don’t take away our last day together.”
She pulls me back and slips under my arms, trapping herself between me and the fence. She strokes my biceps. “Don’t do this,” she says again. Gently. So gently.
“I hurt you.”
I watch the boat. So peaceful. Then I squint against a flare of light that comes from its deck.
Shit.
The sun flares off the glass surface again.
Binoculars? A camera? The fucking press?
I step back and grab her hand. “Let’s go inside.” As I say the words, my pager goes off. Then my cell phone begins to ring.
She gasps, stiffens. I look at her and her eyes are wide with terror.
I look down and understand.
The flare of light.
A scope.
The red dot over my heart.
A gun.
Time slows.
I lift my head to look at the boat as Grace screams and flings herself at me, taking us both down.
Pulling her to me, I take her weight and roll. A flowerpot explodes beside us. Then there’s the ping of a bullet off brick.
I roll. And roll. Holding her head to my chest, cupping my hand over the back of her skull until we’re behind the safety of a brick portion of the fence.
The bullets stop and in the distance I hear the sound of a boat rev up. I hear the engine gun, screaming its sounds in the air.
I look down at Grace. Her eyes are closed. She’s still. So very still.
“Grace.” I shake her.
“Grace!” I shake her again.
But her head rolls on her shoulder like a doll.
Wet.
I feel it then.
Wet against my hand.
I don’t want to see, but I have to see.
Pulling my hand from underneath her body, I close my eyes.
Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance Page 22
