She needed this. She needed him. At least for this moment. She wasn’t worried about tomorrow or the next day. She only cared about right now.
But he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said a word. Instead, he stood frozen in place.
“Fuck me,” she whispered against his ear.
With a growl, he spun around, tore the glasses from her face, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her onto the bed. He followed right behind her, stalking her, as she scrambled to the headboard.
He took her panties in both hands and pulled, ripping them apart to expose her, to bare her to his gaze. She reached down and spread herself open, inviting him.
He accepted the offer, pressing her knees back, pushing her legs even wider, settling between her thighs. His mouth found her clit and he sucked it hard, teasing with his tongue, scraping with his teeth.
Her hips danced off the mattress and he laid a heavy arm across her lower belly to keep her still. Fingers invaded her—one, then two—discovering her slick heat. She cried out as pleasure vibrated down her spine, landing in her core. She clenched tightly around his fingers, wanting to come. Needing the release. He jammed his fingers inside her harder, faster as he sucked her clit deeper into his mouth, his tongue flicking, swirling.
Her fingers clawed at the bedspread as her back bowed. Her breath hitched for one second, two, then she screamed when the waves of orgasm ripped through her.
Before the last wave settled, he rose above her, pinning her hands to the bed, and pushed into her roughly. She gasped at the unfamiliar stretch inside her. Had it really been that long?
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause. No “are you good?” His movements became raw and fast and hard. He pumped into her as if his life depended on it. As if he chased demons. He gritted his teeth and grunted with each thrust.
She expected him to close his eyes, retreat into his own world, his own pleasure. But he didn’t. He watched her. The shadows behind his eyes darkening as he fucked her relentlessly.
He released one of her wrists and grabbed a handful of her hair, tugging it, pulling her head back, arching her neck. With a loud curse, he sank his teeth into her skin. Not drawing blood, no. But the sensation made the adrenaline rush through her body, all the way to her toes. She wrapped her legs around his hips, accepting the onslaught of his cock as he fucked her deep, stretching her, filling her. She grabbed his ass with her free hand, his glut muscles flexing and tightening under her fingers as he fucked her.
He gasped against the delicate skin of her neck and then groaned, his body tensing.
She closed her eyes as he grew even harder. His cock pulsed, ready to release. And the thought of him coming inside her threw her off the cliff she teetered on. She squeezed her thighs tightly around his hips and threw her head back even farther, screaming mindless words, sounds, as the orgasm rocked her.
Then she found herself back in the bedroom which sounded quiet except for their rapid, hard breathing. Her body melted into the mattress, almost boneless, and very spent.
He remained still, except for a slight tremble in his arms as he held his weight above her. His eyes were closed, his skin slick with sweat. His breath puffed along her heated, damp skin.
She really wanted to stretch like a freshly woken cat and start purring. She had needed a good sexual romp for a long time. But after coming twice, she realized just how much she needed it. It cleared the cobwebs from her exhausted mind and she felt remarkably refreshed.
Or she would after she took a shower.
If he ever moved.
When she ran her fingertips along his brow his eyelids popped open and his eerie light blue eyes bore into her. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say anything. But he did finally move.
He twisted his body and fell to her side.
Warm wetness trickled from between her thighs.
She cursed silently.
He hadn’t worn a condom.
She wasn’t worried about becoming pregnant, but pregnancy prevention wasn’t the only reason to wear a condom. As any good OB/GYN should know.
Fuck.
Matt watched Carly press her fingers to her parted lips and her eyes widen. It made him realize they hadn’t kissed.
Hell, kissing seemed too intimate. And this was a simple fuck. A needed release. Not just for him, but apparently for her as well.
Kissing would complicate things.
And he didn’t want any…complications.
He let out an explosive curse, making her jump.
He had lost his head. And now…
Fuck.
Her becoming pregnant would be the ultimate complication.
He covered his eyes with his hand, cursing himself silently. “You’re on birth control.”
“Is that a question?”
“No. That’s a statement you will tell me is true.”
Silence.
Matt jumped out of bed and went over to the window, staring out, not really seeing anything but what filled his head. The last thing he needed in his faulty brain were images of a screaming infant like Hannah, dirty diapers, and spit up.
He closed his eyes, fighting the memories of dead and dismembered children in war-torn villages and towns. You couldn’t protect the innocent, no matter how hard you tried. Whatever you did, or tried to do, was never good enough. Someone was always dying. Screaming for help, for mercy. Arms out begging for assistance, for relief.
He gripped the window frame so hard his nails dug into the wood. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass.
No matter what, he couldn’t save them all.
He cursed himself for being so careless. Especially with a woman he’d only just met. Pushing himself away from the window, his hands clenched and, before he could stop himself, he slammed his fist through the wall.
The sting of his knuckles brought him back to his dilemma. The gaping hole and the pieces of drywall on the floor made him instantly regret his loss of control.
He needed to be better than that. If he couldn’t keep his shit together, he’d lose his job, his career.
Reluctantly, he turned to face Carly. She sat up, the covers wrapped tightly around her, her face ashen. She looked scared and it added one more regret to his ever-growing pile.
Taking a step toward the bed, he stopped when she drew the sheet up higher. He should apologize, but an apology would never cover everything he felt sorry for.
“I’ll fix the wall. The rent will be two hundred a month, and I’ll get Leah to take you to the boarding house to pick up your things.”
He stooped to pick up his boots and pile of clothes, then walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
Carly sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. She had a day full of appointments, but her mind was more on the whirlwind of the last twenty-four hours.
She went from living in the boarding house with a bunch of strangers and sharing a toilet, to sitting in this fully stocked kitchen, grateful for a working coffee maker.
And, even better, only living with one stranger.
She thought about the hole in the wall and everything that occurred prior to that. Mary Ann was right when she said her son had issues. But even so, he had stepped in to offer her a better place to live for insanely cheap rent. And by taking the offer, it meant she’ll be able to sock more money away in her savings, as well as not worry about her safety when she slept.
Gratefully, last night Matt’s future sister-in-law, Leah, had gone back to the boarding house to help her pack her things. Not that she had much, but whatever she had she needed.
She liked Leah and, in the little time they spent together, the woman had given her a little more insight on the family.
But not a lot on Matt. Carly wasn’t sure if Leah didn’t know much, since he had only been discharged from the Marines six months ago, or if she just remained tight-lipped. Whatever it was, Carly could tell that Leah held a deep respect for him.
Maybe that
said something about the man.
Who, at that moment, happened to burst through the back door in a rush. He avoided looking at her while he filled up a travel mug with the coffee she made. Skipping the sugar and cream that sat on the counter, he swigged a mouthful before popping on the leak-proof top and frowning. “Make it stronger next time. Especially if you’re going to use my coffee.”
He wore a baseball cap on his head, camo cargo pants, and an olive drab T-shirt. The lines on his face and the shadows in and under his eyes made him look older than the thirty-one years Leah revealed that he was.
No one should be old before their time.
He went to leave the kitchen and stopped abruptly, but didn’t turn around. “If you end up pregnant, I’ll take care of it.”
Carly almost choked on her coffee. She cleared her throat. “Take care of what?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“The pregnancy.”
He spat the word pregnancy out like a curse.
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
“I’ll get you the money.”
Carly stared at the man, his back to her, his body stiff. She knew exactly what he meant, but wanted to hear him say it. “Money for what?” she asked slowly, carefully.
“To take care of it.”
She could have told him last night she couldn’t get pregnant. But she didn’t. If he wanted to beat himself up about his slip-up, then fine, let him. Even though she bore as much as the blame as he did.
Though, now, in the light of day, she could see it ate away at him.
And she had to live with the man. Well, she didn’t have to, but the offer of two hundred dollars a month seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up. She had been paying more than that to live in that shitty boarding house.
Plus, for the most part, she would live in a house by herself. One with two bedrooms and one and a half baths.
With a big tent in the backyard that came with an asshole.
“Don’t worry. I can’t have any.”
One breath, two breaths, and then he finally turned to face her, his brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
She blinked. “Now, I know you’re not stupid.”
He frowned, his eyebrows drawing even lower.
She sighed. “I can’t have children.”
His expression became blank. Totally unreadable. His gaze locked on her for a moment, then dropped to his coffee mug.
She waited for him to say “I’m sorry,” because tended to be the typical response when someone found out. Not that they had anything to apologize about, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. But he didn’t. Though, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Are you sure?”
Did he ask out of concern for her or out of relief for himself?
“It’s why my husband left me.”
His nostrils flared slightly. “I didn’t know you had been married.”
“How would you?” she asked softly.
He inhaled deeply, his patience seemingly thin. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”
She pushed herself up from the table, scraping the chair back. “So, you can keep your money. You won’t be saddled with a child by mistake. At least by me, anyway,” she clarified.
She didn’t quite know why, but anger suddenly ate at her. Whether from the all-too-familiar pain of being unable to conceive, even though she desperately wanted to. Or because he seemed clearly…broken.
Working in the medical field she saw plenty of mental health issues, so she recognized the signs. Though, she didn’t know how to help him, or even if she wanted to.
He wasn’t her responsibility.
And she wasn’t his.
They had fucked once. That’s it.
And now, strangely, kind of lived together.
He turned around to leave, but hesitated, once again not facing her. “How are you getting to work?”
Good question. She no longer had a vehicle and hadn’t had time to contact the insurance company about a rental.
“I’m not sure,” she finally answered.
“There’s an old Buick in the garage. The key is hanging on a hook by the door. Use that.” Then he strode away, not looking back.
Well, damn. Sometimes he was a thoughtful asshole.
Chapter 5
She ran behind on her appointments all day, so she dragged her ass back in the house a lot later than she wanted to. Her stomach growled and her head pounded with a headache that wouldn’t quit.
Today, she had to tell one of her patients that she, too, wouldn’t be able to conceive a baby. She felt horrible and actually started to cry along with the woman and her husband.
Carly remembered getting her diagnosis as well. It became one of the reasons she concentrated her medical training on becoming an OB/GYN. She became determined to bring children into the world one way or the other.
However, her field was never all puppy dogs and glittery unicorn farts.
Her patient’s devastated expression remained burned into her brain.
She parked the Buick back in the garage and noticed Matt’s silver 4Runner parked alongside the driveway. So, he was here somewhere on the property. Whether in the house or hiding in his tent, she didn’t know.
Nor, at the moment, did she care.
When she stepped into the house from the garage, she heard the music. It was hard to miss since it blared so loudly the windows shook. What a wonderful way to end her day and help her headache.
She walked through the house, not finding a soul, and then stomped up the steps. A light came from the open doorway of the master bedroom. The room she had made hers. As she stepped inside, she saw Matt shirtless and barefoot, wearing the same camo cargo pants from this morning. His deeply tanned skin had a fine coating of white dust over it as he scrubbed sandpaper over the new patch on the wall.
How he could think with the music so loud?
But then, maybe that was the point. He didn’t want to think.
She would to have to do research on PTSD.
Fuck. No. No, she wasn’t. She reminded herself that he wasn’t hers to worry about.
Watching the play of muscles under his skin as he moved the sandpaper violently over the seams of the patch, she wouldn’t be surprised if he ripped a new hole in the wall with his angry movements.
She studied the tattoo on his back for a moment before shaking her head to stop the fantasy that formed in her mind. Though she needed to get his attention, she knew not to approach him unawares. The music had drowned out all the noise she made coming into the room, so he had no idea she stood behind him.
After a brief glance at the stereo and the very large speakers he had set on the floor temporarily while he worked, she went over and hit the power button. Suddenly silence surrounded them, but her ears still rang. She’d be surprised if he had any hearing left at all. Especially after listening to that horribly depressing country music at deafening levels. He could have at least picked a better genre of music if he wanted to kill off one of his senses.
He turned slowly, the sandpaper in his hand. The light from the work lamp illuminated his side as he turned. It was then she spotted the scar along his ribs. She hadn’t noticed it the night before. But then, they had taken little time to explore each other. Fast and furious had been the name of the game.
He noticed where she stared, and his hand automatically came up to his side, his fingers brushing along the raised scar.
“Shrapnel,” was all he said before turning back around to finish sanding. Slower this time and more methodical, not so frantic. “I’ll try to finish this as soon as possible. I’ll paint it tomorrow after you go to work so you don’t have to sleep with the smell of fresh paint.”
“I could always sleep in the spare bedroom.”
He nodded, yet didn’t answer.
She tilted her head and couldn’t help but study his body as he moved. The man appeared powerful and in excellent shape. He could probably hurt someone very easily. She wo
ndered how many people he had hurt. How many he had killed.
While, in contrast, she had done everything to save people. To help them live or be born. She had taken the Hippocratic oath to help people. He had taken the pledge to defend his country and his fellow Marines, no matter what it took.
Her heart ached for him. For everything he’d seen, for everything he had done. For everything he had to live with for the rest of his life. His memories, his nightmares.
He’d dealt with death.
She dealt with life.
Such total opposites.
“Why are you still standing there?” he asked without turning around.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
His arm fell to his side, his head dropped, and his body heaved when he took a deep breath.
She wanted this man more now than she did last night. She wanted to heal him, even though she knew it was most likely impossible.
She was crazy, certifiably insane to even get involved with him. “When you’re done, we can take a shower together.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, the shadows in his eyes darker, deeper than she’d seen yet.
Excitement ran through her. He was dangerous.
In more ways than one.
Matt watched as she stripped her clothes off slowly, throwing them onto the bed. He turned off the work light and glanced at the mess on the floor. Dust, drywall, spatulas, a tub of patch. The need to clean up ate at him, but his desire for Carly pulled stronger.
He had been preoccupied all day while on patrol. Even to the point of almost running a stop sign. He couldn’t get her softness, her wetness, the heat of her when he sank deep inside her, out of his head.
She was a distraction and maybe not a good one.
She was no delicate female and he liked that about her. She seemed tough and she liked to take charge, which excited him. Nowhere near petite or weak, she could take the pounding he gave her last night. The furious sex made him forget a lot of things. Even if only for a short time.
And anytime he could forget he was grateful.
Hell, he had even forgotten a condom. Enormous relief overcame him when she told him this morning she couldn’t get pregnant. He could fuck her without worry. Especially now she would be close and convenient, and…
Brothers in Blue: Matt Page 4
