She tried to answer, she did, but her throat was still tight. Oxygen seemed more important than words, so she focused on the count.
4…5…6…
Regan hated, hated being afraid. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. Each attack left her with more questions than answers. What if the power went out at the hospital? Would she be able to do her job? What if the anxiety extended beyond the dark into other areas of her life? How would she cope?
There was no logical reason for her fear. She’d witnessed the aftermath of the attacks of war, but she had never been harmed under the shroud of darkness. How could she even begin to knock down the wall when she didn’t know how it got there?
“Hey.” Ketcher caught her face in his hands. “Look at me, Regan. That’s good. Right at me.” The warmth and concern in his expression loosened the vice around her lungs. God, she loved his face. His thick, expressive eyebrows. The prominent brow that shadowed his molasses-colored eyes. His full, inviting lips. The sharp jawline, not quite hidden by the neatly trimmed reddish-brown beard.
As her gaze started to wander lower, Ketcher’s voice brought her back. “Don’t look away. I want you to breath with me, Regan. We’re just going to breath. Okay, sweetheart?”
His tone was soft, but absolute. She missed this part of him. The strong, confidant man with a warrior’s heart. The need to climb inside him, to lose herself in something other than the anxiety still simmering in her chest, overwhelmed her.
“Ketcher,” she half-sobbed and lunged toward him. He caught her with a grunt, his arm immediately circling her waist.
She wrapped her arms around him and buried her nose in his neck. He smelled like light and the outdoors—pine and soap with a hint of something distinctly … Ketcher. His hard body didn’t give an inch as she struggled to get closer.
He stroked a hand over her hair. “Easy. I’m here,” he assured. “I’ve got you.”
Distracted by his warmth and strength, Regan caressed her lips over the rapidly increasing pulse in his neck. She shouldn’t do this, she knew. The source of her fear wouldn’t be found with sex. She flicked the skin under her lips with her tongue, teasing her senses with a small taste. It wasn’t enough. She opened her mouth and gently sucked his skin.
His body went rigid. “Regan,” he growled.
Her body remembered that tone. Need with a hint of warning. If she continued, there would be consequences. Muscles deep inside her body clenched. “I need you,” she muttered against his throat.
“I won’t be someone you regret in the morning. Don’t ask me to be that guy.”
“I’ve never regretted a moment with you, and I’m not going to start now.”
Ketcher shook his head. He disengaged her arms from around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not thinking clearly. This is a bad idea. Nothing has changed in the last few hours, Regan. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“That you’ll fuck me tonight and let me go in the morning? I’m aware of the parameters, Ketch. I don’t care. I need you.”
Her heart protested with a heavy thud.
Oh no, you don’t, she chastised the unruly organ. Stay out of this. Don’t you dare ruin this for me.
She reached for him again. He captured her wrists and held them against his chest.
“You don’t need me. You need a distraction. You screamed, Regan. And then I ran in here to find you huddled on the bed like a cornered animal. You were terrified and I want to know why. Talk to me, sweetheart.”
She almost relented. Almost opened her mouth and spilled the embarrassing story of how the war had left her changed, broken.
“I don’t want to talk. I want you to undress me. I want you to…” Regan closed her mouth, not sure she could stand the humiliation of voicing what she wanted only to have him reject her.
Ketcher cursed. “Ah, sweetheart. What am I going to do with you?”
“Do you need a diagram?” Ketcher never could resist a challenge.
He cocked his head, considering her. A sly, arrogant curve of his lips told her she had him.
“I could write the diagram, baby. I have every inch of your body memorized. I know all of the secrets underneath those clothes, and I’m about to expose every damn one.” He tucked her hands around his neck again. “Come on, then. Wrap your legs around my hips. Not too high or you might find yourself repairing more stitches.”
She was being selfish. He was already hurt. She didn’t want to make it worse. “I’m sorry.” She tried to pull away, but Ketcher wasn’t having any of that.
He shifted his grip from her waist to the curve of her backside. “Don’t even think about it. You started this mess, and the only way we are going to stop now is if you say no. In which case I’ll be spending the rest of the evening under a cold shower.”
“But—”
His hand connected with her butt with a muffled pop. “Did you think I was asking? Hmm.” There was humor in his voice. “Maybe we better try this again. The word is no. Say it, or get your legs around me.”
Against her better judgment, Regan obeyed, praying she wouldn’t injure him further with her weight. She wasn’t a large woman, but she wasn’t exactly petite, either.
His hands tightened around her butt. The feel of his fingers so close to the seam of her panties made her want to whimper.
He turned and sat down on the bed, pulling her to straddle his lap. Regan had to fight against the urge to rock against him, to keep her hips from using his lap like a stripper pole.
His hand gripped her neck. “No regrets,” he said and then he kissed her. Hard. Greedy. Demanding. Regan opened the moment his tongue touched her lips. Met him stroke for stroke until her head felt light.
She clawed at his shirt, needing to feel his skin under her palms. When she had no other choice, she broke the kiss and reared back. “Off,” she panted, jerking on his shirt.
Ketcher’s husky chuckle tightened her nipples. “You first, sweetheart.”
Butterflies exploded in her belly. He had seen her naked plenty of times in the past, but four years had passed. She had changed on the inside … would he see the flaws on the outside, too? She hadn’t taken the time to join a gym since arriving in Texas and she maintained a troublesome cookie habit. Her belly was a little rounder, her breasts a little fuller, her thighs a little thicker.
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s about to get laid. He won’t care about those things.
Determined to stay on track, Regan grabbed the hem of her cami and pulled it over her head. She tossed the material aside as Ketcher did the same with his shirt.
The heat of his gaze caressed her skin. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more gorgeous than you are in my memory.” He shook his head, his expression somewhat awed. “I was wrong. You’re fucking perfect, baby, and I’m dying to see the rest of you.”
“You first,” she quipped.
In an instant, Regan was on her feet, watching as Ketcher peeled off his jeans and briefs. He moved like a predator. Every motion precise, smooth and sleek. She shivered at the sight of him, erect and heavy. He fished his wallet out of his pocket. He pulled out a condom and tossed the leather aside.
Her body vibrated with the need to be touched, to feel the stretch as he buried himself inside her. She couldn’t help it. She had to cup her breasts. She pushed them together, creating a tight line in between. She squeezed and lifted, moaned as she used her thumb and forefinger to pluck at the aching tips.
A similar noise broke from Ketcher’s lips as he fisted the sides of her shorts and stripped them down her legs. He stood and knocked her hands out of the way.
“You’ve done that before, haven’t you, Regan? Played with your tits while thinking of me?” He plumped her nipples with the fingers on one hand while the other slipped between her legs. Regan’s knees went weak as he stroked along the seam of her sensitive flesh.
He pressed his mouth against her ear. “Does it turn you on to know I’ve jerked myself raw to th
e image of you in my head? I dreamed of you every night for the first year.” He opened her with his fingers and slid one inside. Her body arched, instinctively seeking more. More. Ketcher groaned. “You’re so fucking ready for me I might blow before I get all the way inside.”
“Please,” she begged.
Ketcher eased his finger from her body and tugged her back toward the bed. He sat back, situating himself against the headboard.
A flicker of guilt went through her as she noticed the bandage.
Ketcher read her mind. “Oh, you’re gonna have to do most of the work, but I’ll make it worth the effort. With you riding my dick, I’ll get so deep, baby. Your thighs will be spread, giving me access to your clit, but I’m not going to give it the attention it needs. Not at first. First, I want those nipples you’ve been teasing me with. Give them to me, Regan. Climb on and give them to me, now.”
Yes. God, yes.
Regan crawled onto the bed, feeling like the predator she thought Ketcher to be. She stalked between his legs, on all fours, relishing the fire in his eyes and the pink in his cheeks. She wasn’t weak and vulnerable now. She wasn’t afraid. She was a temptress. A woman strong and sexy enough to bring a man like Ketcher Novak to his knees.
“Give me the condom.” Regan held out a hand with a seductive smile.
Ketcher’s gaze narrowed, but he slapped it into her palm. “In a hurry?”
For you? Always.
“There’s no reason we can’t do both things at once.” She leaned down and swiped her tongue over the length of him, drawing a curse from his lips. “You on my nipples, me on your cock.”
Ketcher’s nostrils flared. “You and your dirty little mouth are going to drive me crazy, you know that? Get that thing on and get up here. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to last a minute.”
Regan obeyed. Ketcher fisted the root of his sheathed cock as she swung her leg over his hips and sank down on him.
Her mouth fell open on a moan as he filled her. Talk about perfect. Hot and hard, Ketcher stretched her in the most delicious way. She’d barely had time to adjust to his length when he wrapped an arm around her back and forced her to lean in. “Give them to me.” Ketcher’s voice was sharp-edged and demanding.
Knowing what he wanted, Regan cupped her breast and lifted it to his mouth. Regan gasped as he latched on. He sucked hard and released her with a nip before moving to the other breast.
Her sex clenched, drawing another growl from his chest. She loved that sound. She still loved him, and goddamn if now wasn’t an inconvenient time to acknowledge that fact.
She braced her hands on his shoulders and rocked her hips.
Damn him for wanting to control everything.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Damn him for his perfect cock.
Sweat formed on her skin as she chased the pleasure she’d only experienced with this man. Higher and higher she climbed, her body sizzling and tightening in preparation for what she knew would be the orgasm to end all orgasms.
“God, Regan. Four fucking years.” His voice was rough. “I want to watch you come apart. Let me have it, baby.” Ketcher reached between her legs and stroked her clit.
That was all it took. Regan came with a cry, her body shaking with the ferocity of the sensations blazing through her. Ketcher gripped her thighs. He pumped into her once. Twice. His stomach muscles jerked. His breath hitched as he pumped one final time and held, lodging himself deep within her body.
Regan collapsed against his chest, her lungs once again fighting for oxygen. Only this time she didn’t mind.
Ketcher enclosed her with his arms. “Jesus Christ,” he panted against the top of her head. “How have I lived without this for four years? Without you?”
Damn him for stealing her heart all over again.
His words didn’t mean anything, she knew. Phenomenal sex made people say crazy things. Still, her heart twisted.
He’d set the parameters. He would walk away when the time came. Nothing would change that.
She rubbed her cheek against his pec, memorizing the feel of his skin.
He thought four years was a long time?
The real question was how would she live without him forever?
Chapter Eight
Hearing Regan’s tortured cry had taken ten years off Ketcher’s life. What he found after barging into the room would stay with him for the rest of his days. The image of her clawing against the bed as though she was trying to become one with the headboard, the fear that pinched her beautiful face…
Ketcher tried to shake the visual from his head.
He didn’t know what happened, but he intended to find out. His instincts were firing on all cylinders. The version of Regan he’d found on the bed was not the no-nonsense, take charge woman he’d known. Her fear had been palpable.
He was a complete bastard for fucking her when he knew it had been nothing more than a diversion tactic.
But it had worked.
Ketcher glanced down at the woman sprawled out on top of him. Her eyes were closed and she seemed at peace now, breathing easily against his chest. His side ached but he was loath to let her go. Not yet. It felt too good to have her with him again. Felt right and perfect. He wanted to hang on for a while longer.
He shifted her toward his good side. Without opening her eyes, Regan took the hint and slid onto the bed with one leg still draped over his. She snuggled her cheek against his shoulder and stretched an arm across his stomach.
More than anything, he wanted to take away her fear. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her safe. Wasn’t that some shit? The most effective way to keep Regan safe would be to keep his damn hands off her. To send her away. Two tasks, both impossible to consider when minutes ago he’d been buried in the wicked pleasure between her legs.
He’d told her nothing had changed, and he was right. When it came to Dr. Regan Daniels his willpower was for shit. He should feel bad about that, but with her in his arms, he couldn’t think of a single reason why. The woman went to his head like no other. Before and after Regan, he’d been a blow and go kind of guy. He’d intended to follow the same pattern with her, but the first time he slid into her he knew once wouldn’t be enough. A hundred times wouldn’t be enough.
So, he let her go. To keep her safe, he’d do it again, no matter how much it killed him.
He spoke the God’s honest truth when he said he didn’t know how he’d lived without her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until now and it scared the fuck out of him. He couldn’t picture a single woman he’d been with. When he closed his eyes, it was Regan’s face he saw. It was Regan who haunted his dreams.
Fuck. Regan had the potential to pull real feelings out of him, and that absolutely, positively could not happen.
And if he repeated that enough times, maybe he could convince himself it hadn’t already happened.
“Thank you.”
The whispered words reminded him of why she was lying sated and naked beside him.
“You’re welcome, but I should be thanking you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through the night, knowing you were so close yet not being able to touch you.”
“You stayed away all day.”
“I had to, baby. It seems my ability to control myself around you isn’t any better now than it was before.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sensed she wasn’t apologizing for his inability to keep his hands off her.
“Don’t be.” Ketcher traced his fingers along the crease of her backside. “It worked out, wouldn’t you say?” The puckered hole flexed as he passed over, as though wanting to grab hold of his finger. He lingered. Circled once, twice, a third time, loving the way her breath hitched with each caress. He slipped lower, teased through her folds and gave her clit a flick.
Regan hummed and arched her back, lifting her ass in an invitation for more. His cock responded, wanting in on the action.
Pipe down, dude. Answer
s first.
He needed to know what had set this ride in motion before he hopped on again, so to speak, since technically, she’d done all the riding the first time.
With what felt like a herculean effort, Ketcher stopped playing with her. Her whimpered protest gave him hope for the night to come. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Don’t worry, baby. I ruined dinner so I’m going to make a feast of your pussy. But I need to know one thing first. What the hell happened here tonight?”
Regan shoved away from him and sat up. She grabbed the sheet, clenching it between her breasts, covering herself.
Ketcher rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. His look was expectant, but the hand he placed on her leg gave her comfort. “Hey, come on. Talk to me. Did you have a nightmare?”
Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them away. He didn’t know what he was asking. Talking to a therapist had been hard enough, but admitting her affliction to Ketcher made her feel weak and unworthy.
Lord, what she wouldn’t give to have an ounce of his strength. Nothing got past Ketcher’s defenses. As much as his desire to control the world around him annoyed her, Regan admired the hold he had over his own mind. He was fearless. Courageous and confidant.
What would he think once he learned he’d just fucked a coward? The fact she was tempted to blow it off as a nightmare proved the point.
“Regan?”
Once she left the cottage, she wouldn’t see Ketcher again. He’d made it clear there was no room in his life for her. What difference would it make if she lied or not?
Regan took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. She opened her mouth and the truth tumbled from her lips. “I didn’t have a nightmare. I have trouble with the dark sometimes. It’s worse when I’m in an unfamiliar place. When I woke up and the light was off, I guess I freaked a little.”
Ketcher’s fingers flexed against her leg. His questioning gaze was steady on hers. “Baby, you were more than a little freaked. You were terrified. I don’t remember you having an issue with the dark before. How long has this been going on?”
The Omega Team: No Control (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Martin Family Book 3) Page 6
