Seth (Damage Control #3)

by Jo Raven

  “Hey.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes. The sky outside is lightening. “Can I get you a painkiller?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I know he has nightmares. Mostly from his time in prison. He told me about them, told me a few things about what happened there. Makes me want to hug him all the time, remind him those days are over.

  That’s what I do now. I scoot closer, hug him around his waist. He puts his good arm around my shoulders and I lean on him, inhaling his spicy, musky scent.

  “Bad dreams?” I whisper, my cheek resting on the hard muscle of his pec.

  He hums an affirmation.

  “Want to talk about it?” I look up, searching his face for clues.

  I like to think I’ve learned the small shifts in his expression that tell me what he’s thinking—but maybe he’s just lowering his defenses around me, letting me see what he feels. Even when he’s angry or sad, or shaken by a nightmare—something he wouldn’t have allowed himself before.

  He trusts more. Slowly, in degrees, he’s letting himself believe his life won’t crash and burn come tomorrow. That this isn’t a joke. That he has a chance at happiness.

  He’s back to training at the tattoo shop. Zane is really pleased with his work and wants him taking it up full time soon. Meanwhile, he got a job at a gym. In fact, Cassie’s the one who got him the job. Maybe one day the guys will become friends with her again.

  And I have a surprise for him: I’ve asked at the Herpetology Club at the university if they’d accept a member from outside, and they said yes. I hope he likes the idea.

  “How about I go make us some coffee?” I ask.

  Seth doesn’t move. He’s looking at me under lowered lashes, and I frown. What I see in his gaze is fear.

  “What is it?” I lift one hand and rub slow circles over the hard muscles of his chest. “Seth.”

  He often dreams of the solitary confinement room where he was locked up sometimes, or the guard who beat him up. Can’t stand to see him lost in pain.

  “Nothing,” he whispers. He smiles, the fear slowly fading from his gaze. “It’s nothing. Can’t even recall what the dream was about.”

  I rub my cheek on the soft flannel of his T-shirt. “Maybe it’s stress, because you’re meeting your mom tomorrow.”

  “Maybe.” He shivers, and I manage to scoot just a little bit closer. “Don’t know what the fuck to feel about that.”

  Because she confessed, and maybe one day his record may be cleared. But how do you clear your head from all those memories of pain, or from the fact that it was your own mom who left you to suffer and vanished from your life?

  Yeah. He may forgive her someday, I don’t know. It’s his mom. But as for myself, I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for putting him through this.

  “I’ll be there with you,” I remind him gently. “You’re not alone in this, Seth.”

  He sighs, kisses the top of my head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Been so nice. Now you’re stuck with me.”

  “Good,” I murmur. “You’re mine. Not letting you go.”

  I love the smile that lights up his face. I’ll convince him I’m staying, that this is for real, and that he deserves all the happiness in the world.

  ***

  “Looks like another gray day.” I peek out of the kitchen window, clutching my steaming mug in my hands. “Let’s hope it won’t rain.”

  I’m driving us to Indiana, to visit Seth’s mom in jail. Rain on the highway isn’t one of my favorite things in life, although for Seth, I’d do anything.

  It’s because he looks so delicious, sitting in my kitchen only in his sweats, that muscular chest bare, I tell myself. Even the black sling looks badass on him, the tattoos on his arm peeking over the cloth, swirling on his pecs and shoulders.

  But it’s not just that. I love his mind, his big heart that lets him listen to my petty complaints and rants and think they are important, even if his own problems are that much worse. His lack of selfishness and arrogance.

  Still, that body… Holy crap.

  He looks up from doctoring his coffee with milk and sugar and grins at me. “If it rains, we could take up our lessons in your car again.”

  “Shut up.” My face heats up at the memory of our making-out session in the parking lot of the zoo.

  “Are you telling me it wasn’t fun?”

  How can I lie? It was amazing, and the way he’s looking at me sets my blood on fire. “It was.”

  “We’re behind on your training,” he says, taking a sip from his coffee, dark eyes wicked. “Need to catch up.”

  “So now you’re training me for yourself?” I step close to him, put my mug down on the table.

  “Damn right.” He takes another sip, places his mug next to mine and reaches for me. “Who else?”

  That’s right. I laugh when he pulls me to his lap. “So I’m not good enough yet?”

  “You’re the best there is,” he says, his voice going husky and deep. “The sexiest, most beautiful girl in the world.”

  “But you think I need training,” I tease, straddling his lap, lacing my arms around his neck. “More training.”

  “One can always improve,” he says, “and practice makes perfect. You know, you could train me, too.”

  “I’ll do that,” I whisper, bending over him, kissing his soft lips, his scruff scratching my chin. “Teach you a thing or two.”

  “Oh yeah, baby.” He groans, his cock hard and thick, pressing between my legs. “Teach me what you like.”

  Oh God, I like everything I do with Seth, everything he does to me. I love it when he touches me, I love putting my hands and my mouth on him. He’s like chocolate and Nutella. The boy’s addictive.

  Like now, when I worm my hand between us and into his sweats, finding his hot, hard flesh, when he moans and whispers my name. His hard-on is velvet wrapped around steel. I slide my hand up and down, feeling it swell, pulling it out of his sweats, rubbing my thumb over the head, smearing the clear liquid there, the way he likes it.

  “Shit. Yes.” He rocks into my hand, bracing one hand on my shoulder. “Fuck, if you keep doing this, I’m gonna come all over you. Dirty that pretty top you’re wearing.” He manages to smirk as he pants for breath. “I think you’d better undress.”

  “To save my top?” I snicker.

  “No.” He tugs on the hem. “’Cuz I wanna come all over your tits. Unless I can come inside you. If you can reach the condom on the shelf.”

  “You stashed condoms on the kitchen shelf?”

  “For emergencies. Like this one.”

  Can’t argue with that. I need him with an intensity that frightens me—and his hand slipping under my top, finding my breast and tugging on my nipple isn’t helping things.

  God, it feels so good. He lifts his face toward me and our lips meet again, his taste heady and dark, his tongue stroking mine until I think I’ll die from wanting him. His naked cock rubs over the thin cotton of my panties, over my sensitive clit, and my body’s on overload.

  Can’t… Can’t take more. I try to break away, find the condom, but he twists my nipple, a light, small twist, and my core clenches so hard I come with a tiny wail.

  Oh shit. God. This never used to happen to me. I don’t just come from a guy’s hand on my nipple and his cock rubbing over my panties.

  But I am. With Seth I am. Sometimes I think a look from him can do it.

  “Condom,” he whispers, his voice strained. “Or I’ll come all over you.”

  The thought of him losing control because of me, like I just did because of him, is so exciting I moan. My fingers scramble blindly on the shelf overhead, until they encounter the crinkly foil. Grabbing it, I tear it open and reach down to put it on him.

  He hisses as I tug it down, over his impressive erection.

  Then he urges me to lift up, yanks my panties to the side, and sinks inside me.

  Oh wow, holy shit. Every time I
fight the intrusion, the thickness of him, not sure he’ll fit inside me—then he slips in, slides deep, even deeper, and the pleasure hits.

  We both arch back at the same time. His hand drops to my waist, his hips roll up, and I rock on top of him, grabbing his shoulders for leverage. The movement shifts his cock inside me, and I gasp, hot sparks flying up my spine. My breasts tighten, my nipples stiff like pebbles, aching.

  I lift a little, lower myself again, and he groans my name. I do it again, rippling around him.

  “Yeah. Like that. Fuck.” His fingers tighten on my waist, blunt fingernails digging in a little. “Do it, babe. Lose yourself.”

  I’m close. Can’t believe I’m so close again already. Swallowing another moan, I spread my legs more, taking him deeper, and he shudders. He’s close, too, his body tensing up.

  “Come for me,” he hisses. “God, I fucking love it when you come on my cock.”

  And I come, his words shooting through me like wildfire. Gasping, I clench around him, again. And again. As he grits his teeth and shakes underneath me, his cock jerking inside me, I can only think that I’ve never been so happy in my life.

  Not even when I thought I’d become a first class ballet dancer.

  Nothing compares to being with Seth and somehow I know nothing ever will.

  ***

  I’m not allowed into the room when he meets with his mom. I wait outside, in my car, with my ereader and a cup of Starbucks latte. Trying in vain to focus on the words on the screen and read the novel I started last week.

  Yeah, no way. Can’t remember a single thing I’ve read in the past hour. Hopeless. So I get out of the car and pace in the parking lot, jumping up and down to get warm.

  I’m… stressed. Okay, in fact I’m scared. Scared of what this meeting might do to Seth. Can’t imagine how hard it must be to reconcile his feelings about his mom. His love for her, his sadness, the anger that consumed him for years, the bitterness that seeped into his mind… How did her confession change the way he sees her?

  And as if that isn’t complicated enough, what she tells him now, how she reacts may change things all over again.

  I always thought it unfair my mom’s gone so far away from me, that I was practically left with one parent in the world. These past weeks have changed the way I look at my life. Now I’m grateful I know both my parents love me. That at least one of them is supportive and present.

  When Seth finally comes out of the jail house, I run to him, catch his hands. I mean to ask him how it went, but the look on his face isn’t clear, so I just wrap my arms around him and we stand there, in the gray early September afternoon.

  “Okay?” I whisper after a while, pulling back.

  “Okay.” He gives me a ghost of a smile.

  I don’t ask what she said, what he answered. His good arm snakes around my waist, and we walk back to my car in silence. I don’t expect him to talk about what happened at the prison.

  So I’m a bit shocked when he does.

  “It was fucking strange, seeing her.” He shifts in his seat, awkwardly pulling the seatbelt on as I start the engine. “I mean, in my dreams she hasn’t changed, but she looks old now. Too thin, too…bitter. You can see it in her face.”

  “She did bad things,” I mutter. “Makes sense.”

  “She insists she didn’t think much about me and Shane—for years. Fucking years. Always high on one drug or another. Never living in the present.” His good hand taps on his leg, fingers drumming. “Trying to escape the truth, I guess.”

  I reach over, squeeze his hand. “Yeah.”

  “She apologized. As if her apologies could cut it. Dammit.” He knocks his elbow into the window. “She has no idea.”

  God, can’t bear to hear him so sad. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”

  “No.” He sighs. “No, it was good. I’m glad I saw her.”

  “Really? Should I believe you?”

  He sends me a quick smile. “Yeah. Put some ghosts to rest. And she said…” He swallows, the knot in his throat bobbing. “Said she loves me. Maybe it’s bullshit, you know? Maybe it means nothing to her, but it does to me. Needed to hear it.”

  I get that. And then I think to myself, if he could do this, find the courage to face his demons, then I can damn well call my mom and tell her about the change in my studies.

  Comes with the territory of being the girl of one of the bravest people I know.

  ***

  “Whatcha doing, babe? Isn’t it too early for coffee?”

  Seth has me cornered against the kitchen counter, trapping me with his hips and his one good arm. Can’t believe the action this kitchen has seen in the past weeks. This apartment.

  This body. This heart.

  I turn against him, our bodies aligning, pressing together, his hard length digging into my stomach.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I whisper.

  The only light on is a small lamp on the kitchen table. Outside the window, dawn hasn’t broken yet.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  I smile up at him. “Nothing’s wrong. My mind was too busy to let me sleep, I guess.”

  “Busy with what?”

  “Everything that has happened. The changes in my life.” I wink at him. “You.”

  “So I’m the one not letting you sleep?” He seems pleased by that. Maybe it’s because I rise on tiptoe to kiss him. “I can help you take your mind off things,” he whispers.

  “Hm-mm.” I brush my mouth over his, and he groans.

  “Fuck, babe.” He grabs my hip, pushes me up until I’m sitting on the counter. Then he tugs on my sleeping shorts and panties, tearing a seam in the process.

  I don’t care. All I care about are his hands on me, his desire for me. He’s lifting my top now, and I raise my arms, helping him get it off me.

  “Perfect,” he breathes. He pushes down his briefs and his hard-on bumps against my hip. “So sexy.”

  I wrap my legs around his lean hipbones, my arms around his neck, and grin at him. “Hi, handsome.”

  “So you think I’m handsome?”

  Like he has to ask. “Yep. And hot. And amazing in every way.” I lick my lips when his eyes turn dark with arousal and something else, something that looks like joy. “Take me. Need you.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” He grabs his cock, tugs on it, eyes half-closing. “Are you mine?”

  “Only yours.”

  “And I’m yours, babe.” He’s breathing heavily now. After a few more tugs, he releases himself and reaches for something on top of the fridge.

  I laugh. “That your new stashing place?”

  “Laugh all you want.” He grunts as he tears the foil package open with his teeth and drags the condom on. “While you still can.”

  “Sounds like a threat.” My core clenches. I bury my fingers in the fine hair at the back of his neck, tug lightly.

  He licks at my mouth. “Not a threat. A promise.”

  His cock slides against my belly, then he guides it lower, between my legs. Drags it over my opening, pushes inside an inch.

  “Oh God.” I hold on to him. It’s hot. It’s delicious. “Yes.”

  Need more.

  As if reading my mind, he pushes deeper, a long, world-shattering slide of hard, hot flesh into my spasming core.

  Holy crap. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this—the thrill of having him inside me, his pleasure shuddering through his strong body, his need for me—and mine for him. His cock filling me up, taking me high, his mouth on mine, his scent all around me.

  This melding of bodies and souls that gets to me every single time when I’m with him.

  He sinks home, and his eyes flutter closed. He braces his good arm on the counter and his powerful shoulders tremble as he tries to control himself, not pound into me without restraint.

  But I want him to do it. Need it.

  “Show me what you want,” he breathes. “Show me, Manon.”

  So I do. Not just what I like, what I want—but
who I love: him, and nobody else. He’s everything I need.

  Tightening my hold around his neck, I pull his head down and kiss him, really kiss him, like he taught me. The way I want him. The way I love him. Deep. Hard. Demanding.

  Wanting.

  He grunts, kissing me back, and starts rocking faster. My heels dig into his hard ass as the pressure builds inside me. We’re still kissing, tongues tangled, lips locked when it happens—when the dam breaks and the pleasure crests, breaking me to pieces, turning me inside out.

  He moans in my mouth, thrusting once, twice, then he hunches over me as he comes apart, shaking and jolting in my core, sending through me aftershocks of pleasure.

  We cling to each other, panting, trying to catch our breath. I run my fingers through his silky, dark hair, amazed that I’m with this amazing guy. That he wants me, and loves me, and that we have each other.

  The light outside is brightening. A new day is breaking.

  “Hey.” His voice is raspy. He’s still inside me, we’re still connected, and I bite my lip not to moan when he shifts, drawing back just enough to look into my face. “What’s on your mind now?”

  “You,” I tell him truthfully. “Only you.”

  Now and always.

  Acknowledgments

  This has been an amazing journey, and I have so many people I would like to thank for their help, advice, support and friendship.

  Without the help of my wonderful editor this story wouldn’t be readable. Any remaining errors in the text are my fault as I tend to change things last minute.

  Huge thanks to Nathalie Aynié for the constant help and support, and for the brainstorming sessions. She rocks bears in tutus!

  Also huge thanks to Kia Zi Shiru for her support and help, and to 5 Times Formatting for the great formatting.

  I also want to thank very much my author friends J.A. Beard, Alison Foster, Cindy Borgne and Katy Hanna who helped me with suggestions and advice throughout.

  A big shout-out to author Jade West and my PA Tracy Smith Comeford for giving me courage whenever I was down and talking shop with me in the most entertaining way. Extra hugs for Leah Joslin and Kerry Fletcher for leading my readers group and making Facebook such a fun place to be.