Brothers in Blue: Matt

by Jeanne St. James

  “You need to drop the idea of heading back over there. If not for yourself, think about your mother. It would kill her.”

  His small, fleeting smile quickly turned into a frown. He blinked. Once. Twice. “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, Matt. I don’t think you realize how hard it was for her. It was bad enough when her first two sons went into the military. She was proud, and she expected them to follow in your father’s footsteps. But you don’t think she sighed in relief when they only did one tour? Then her baby goes. And only comes home to attend the police academy, just long enough to earn a spot on the force, then one day he disappears. She comes to find out you reenlisted again. And then you don’t come back for years. You’re sent to the dredges of the Earth. And you choose—you choose, Matt— to stay there instead of coming home to your family. As a mother, how do you think that makes her feel?”

  “How do you know all that?” he asked in a stunned whisper, his face a frozen mask.

  “That day you dropped me off at your parents… The day you stubbornly insisted I had a concussion, your mother talked and talked about her boys. She loves you more than you know. All of you. However, it was you she couldn’t stop talking about the most. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. I held your mother as she cried. Jesus, I felt her pain. It clawed at my heart. She thinks she failed you somehow. She feels like a failure, Matt.”

  Matt covered his face with his hands and turned away. “Stop.”

  “She doesn’t understand to this day why you stayed over there instead of coming home. She blames herself.”

  “Carly, stop. Stop.” His voice sounded muffled behind his hands but there was no doubt her words tore him apart.

  Even though the truth hurt, he still needed to know.

  “All she wanted…all she wants is the best for you. She wants nothing more than for you to be happy.” Damn it, she felt shitty for pushing, but if it kept him from doing something stupid, then so be it.

  “I said stop!” he screamed, dropping his hands. His face became flushed, furious. Edged with despair, maybe.

  Carly was glad the table sat between them. She didn’t think he’d ever intentionally hurt her. Accidentally? She couldn’t be so sure.

  He stepped forward and she stumbled back as he slammed his hands on the table. Hard enough that the heavy table actually jumped. “Why are you doing this to me?” His question sounded low, pained.

  Her heart squeezed in her chest. “I’m not doing it to you. I’m doing it for you.”

  “Fuck you, Carly. Fuck you, goddamn it,” he spat out in complete rage. He grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it before storming out through the sunroom.

  A second later she heard the backdoor slam and the windows rattle.

  She didn’t follow him. She didn’t watch to see where he went. After regarding the table on its side, she lifted her hands out in front of her. They were trembling.

  Should she call Max? Maybe give him a heads-up? But she worried about jeopardizing his job. The thin blue line seemed to be just that right now…thin.

  Carly up-righted the table and pushed the chairs back in order before heading upstairs to her room. Her heart felt heavy and her head throbbed.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, still slightly shaking, worried she pushed him too far. She only wanted him to see reason. For him to realize that he needed to be with his family, that they loved him. He would never get healthy without the support of his family and friends.

  Once he cooled off, she’d apologize for doing it so harshly. Though she wasn’t so sure that tough love would work in his case. Since they were supposed to be “just sex,” it wasn’t like she risked their relationship.

  They could just move on if he didn’t forgive her. No big deal, right?

  Right.

  Carly laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She listened to her own breathing as it drew in and out of her lungs, her nerves slowly settling. Her headache started to recede.

  She needed a hot shower. Hell, more like a hot bath. Take some time to soak, clear her mind.

  She jumped as her door flung open, slamming against the wall. Matt stood in the doorway, breathing hard.

  Carly sat up, not sure whether to be scared or relieved he came back to her. Maybe scared seemed more appropriate after reading the dark expression on his face.

  He stalked to the bed, tearing off his shirt and throwing it. He kicked off his boots toward the corner of the room, yanking off his socks. Within seconds, he had his cargo pants and boxer briefs pooled at his feet.

  She remained frozen on the bed, wondering if he had come to fuck her or punish her.

  With a palm to each of her shoulders, he shoved her onto her back and climbed over her. He remained on his hands and knees, caging her in between his limbs.

  “When I came home tonight, my first intention was to fuck you. And, damn it, I’m going to fuck you.”

  A thrill ran up Carly’s spine. She shivered, her nipples hardening into points. She tried to answer him, to say something, but nothing escaped her open mouth except a gasp as he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

  “I know how much you like being in control, Doc. But not tonight. Not now. You’re at my mercy. You want to play fucking head games with me? Then you have to pay to play.”

  He transferred both of her wrists into one hand and then yanked her hair back with the other. What remained of her bun came undone within his fingers as he forcefully arched her neck using her hair as a grip.

  Her lips parted and her breathing became shallow and quick. There was nothing soft about this man. His body, his demeanor, his cock. He was definitely not there to play games.

  “The only time I find peace is when I’m buried deep inside you, when I’m sleeping in your arms. This is what you do to me. This is the hold you have on me. This is your power over me. So fuck you and your little guilt trip downstairs. Fuck you. You can’t break me. I’m already fucking broken!”

  The sound he released made her shiver as it reminded her of a wounded animal. The urgent need to comfort him overcame her. But that’s not what he wanted. Not now.

  He wanted hard, heart-pounding, mind-blowing release. Carly had no doubt about that as he tore at her clothes with one hand, actually shredding the T-shirt she wore into ragged pieces. Luckily, she had removed her bra when she changed after work, otherwise he would have destroyed it too. He yanked her leggings midway down her thighs. He would have to release her wrists to completely remove them. And she wasn’t sure he would.

  But he did. He moved down her body, stripping the black, skin-tight pants off of her legs, leaving her completely naked on the bed.

  She didn’t cover herself and had no desire to escape him. Instead, she welcomed him completely, spreading her legs, extending her hand.

  He ignored her and shook his head as he moved back over her. He brought his head level with hers and they locked gazes. His breath came rapidly, his eyes looked a bit wild, his jaw tight.

  “I’m not one to play games with, Carly.”

  “I’m not playing games.”

  “Don’t try to fuck with my head,” he warned, holding himself barely above her.

  “I’m not. I’m trying to get you see reality.”

  He shook his head again, slowly this time. “This is just sex. Nothing more. I don’t want you to try to fix me.”

  “I’m not.”

  A curse exploded from him. “Bullshit.”

  Carly closed her eyes for a moment, trying to break the intensity of his stare.

  “I’m not your patient. I’m not your project.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else.

  “Don’t make me tell you that again.”

  She met his gaze once more.

  “Do you understand that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered with a shaky breath.

  Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed. He asked for something. Wanted something from her.
<
br />   But what?

  Then she realized what it was. Matt didn’t want to be in control. Not here. Not now. Only his anger had demanded it. But deep down inside it wasn’t his true desire.

  “Get off me,” she ordered, taking the control from him and putting it into her own hands.

  A shuddered breath escaped him, and his lids lowered, hooding his eyes.

  “Now,” she snapped.

  His hard body seemed to turn fluid as he fell to her side.

  “On your back,” she commanded. Goosebumps broke out over her as he did what he was told. She climbed to her knees and moved between the tight space between his thighs. “Spread your legs farther.”

  He did so and she fisted the root of his cock. She squeezed it hard, causing the crown to darken.

  “You think you’re going to come home and fuck me? You have that backwards. This cock is mine when I want it. Do you hear me?”

  He said nothing, but his lips parted. His chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.

  Grabbing his sac with her other hand, she squeezed almost as hard. “These too. Mine.” With a jerk to both, she caused his hips to rise off the mattress and for him to grunt. “All mine.”

  She lowered herself until her lips were barely above the swollen head, and whispered, “I will do with it what I want.”

  Once she took him into her mouth, his body relaxed and melted into the bed. She worked the tip of her tongue around the head, tasting the salty precum. Stroking his length, she sucked the knob, then again took him deep. At least as much as she could take of his length, which wasn’t all of him. As she sucked him, licked him, scraped her teeth over the crown, his body flinched and moved with each stroke and caress.

  He said no words, but the small sounds he released drove her mad, made her wet, and caused an ache between her legs. She sucked harder, faster, squeezed the root tighter until his hips shot off the bed and he grabbed her hair, pulling.

  “No. No. No more,” he groaned.

  She released him, his cock shiny with her saliva. “Beautiful,” she murmured, admiring him before pushing herself back up to her knees and moving to straddle his hips. She reached between them and held him in place as she slowly sank onto his slick shaft. When she reached the base…when there was no more of him to take, her eyes fluttered shut and she savored the full feeling of him deep inside her.

  In that moment, she realized that she wanted no one else but him. Only him. Fucked up or not.

  She studied him then. His eyes glazed over, his mouth parted, his face relaxed. And she leaned forward, placing both palms on his muscular chest, not worried about the pressure of her weight on him. He was strong and able-bodied. The outside was perfect. The inside not so much.

  Hell, no one was perfect. Everyone had their faults. His might just be a little harder to deal with.

  Life had never been easy for Carly. Why should her lover be any different?

  She lifted and lowered her hips, moving at a maddening slow pace. His cock hit all the right places as she tilted and circled her pelvis above him. When he reached out to snag both of her nipples to twist them, tug, stretch them to their limits, she slammed herself hard onto him, causing them both to grunt and gasp, and have their eyes meet…hold…pause.

  His lips turned up in a small smile and she returned the gesture, relieved he was back to being Matt, her lover, and not Matt, the tortured soul. She rocked back and forth, her smile widening, while his turned into a grimace. He released her breasts to grab her hips. He didn’t try to control her movement, he only held on as his eyes closed and he cried out. His neck arched as he rolled his head back, his fingertips digging into her flesh.

  “Matt. Matt. I’m going to come. I want you to look at me.”

  As she rose up, he met her gaze once more, holding it as she herself cried out, the orgasm overtaking her, spasms traveling all the way to her toes, curling them.

  But she didn’t stop. She hadn’t had enough of him yet.

  He said he felt at peace when he was inside of her. And she wanted to give him more of that. It was one thing she could do for him.

  “Fuck me,” she demanded in an authoritative tone.

  In a flash, he had her rolled over and onto her back, his cock still deep within her.

  He pounded hard and quick, each thrust shoving her up the bed until her head banged against the headboard. He paused only enough to pull her back down and started all over again, fucking her with abandonment. His eyes flicked from her breasts, as they rocked with each movement, to her face. Then he rose up enough to watch them where their bodies joined as he moved in and out of her. Over and over.

  “Fuck me harder,” she yelled at him.

  “I can’t,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

  “Do it!” she screamed, not taking no for an answer.

  He grimaced and grabbed the sides of her face before crushing his mouth against hers, invading her with his tongue, snagging her bottom lip between his teeth.

  He didn’t fuck her harder. He slowed. He softened. His kiss became gentle as he stroked her cheeks. His hips fell into a rhythm that made her think of making love, not pure, raw fucking.

  He pulled his mouth away a breadth, just enough for him to breathe her in, and she him.

  He entered her, he left her. Their breath echoing the movement of their hips.

  “I—”

  “Hush,” she whispered, not wanting any confessions.

  He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, rocking against her like a gentle wave along the shoreline. Her heart broke for him. For the pain he had to endure on a daily basis. For his tortured thoughts and memories. If this was the only peace he could find, she didn’t want him to ruin it with words.

  His hands found hers and they intertwined their fingers.

  Her climax wasn’t an explosion this time. Instead it built slowly, a simmer starting from her center and working its way outward to rush over him, to bring him tumbling alongside her in the rushing waves.

  With a last push, he stilled while she rippled around him, whispering his name on a broken breath.

  Then something wet fell on her. One drop. Two. She looked up at him in dismay. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his lips pressed together, and he was…

  Crying.

  She pushed away her shock and whispered his name. He didn’t move or respond. She ran a thumb over his cheek, gathering the string of tears on its tip. She wanted to tell him not to cry, that everything would be okay.

  But she didn’t know if that would ever be true.

  Every day seemed to be a journey for him.

  And now for her.

  “Matt,” she whispered again as his arms shook under his weight. She slid her hands along his shoulders and pulled him down to her. He didn’t fight it; he fell willingly into her arms. She wrapped herself tightly around him, wishing she could absorb his pain for him, take at least some of the burden.

  He pressed his face into her neck and held her tight. If it wasn’t for the proof of the tears, she wouldn’t have known he was crying. Men like him probably didn’t want to admit to it or to any kind of perceived weakness. But she understood the need to cry. It could be cleansing.

  She’d done it plenty of times herself.

  When she found out she was sterile. When her husband left her. When she learned how difficult and expensive it was to adopt. When she had no choice but to move into that hellhole of a boarding house and all seemed hopeless.

  She cradled his head against her and stroked his back, running her fingers along the indentation of his spine, then followed the lines of his massive tattoo, until his breathing steadied. And then she continued to hold him close as his body went limp against her and she heard what sounded like soft snoring.

  She wiggled out from under his weight, but before she could move too far, his arm draped across her waist, dragging her back. He mumbled something in his sleep and she smiled softly.

  She brushed her fingers over his short ha
ir, around the shell of his ear, and along his jawline, then closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep as fast as he had.

  Chapter 14

  Matt jerked awake, unsure of where he was for a moment. He was pressed tightly against something or someone warm and soft.

  Carly.

  He glanced at the clock radio on the nightstand. The amber digital numbers glowed 2:04.

  He shifted to his back and stared up at the ceiling in the dark, tucking an arm beneath his head. He didn’t want to think about his breakdown. The first one when he was angry, the second one when he broke down crying.

  There was no crying in love or war.

  Right. What a complete falsehood.

  Being a Marine and a cop, he should be able to take anything thrown at him. Except it wasn’t so with the woman who slept soundly next to him. She got under his skin.

  For the first time ever, he longed to talk to his therapist. He needed some advice…what to do about her. He could ask one of his brothers. But he didn’t want to deal with them. Or he could talk to Leah. However, he really didn’t want her to know his personal conflict either.

  For anyone else it would be simple.

  Of course, with him it seemed anything but.

  Most guys date a woman, have sex, fall in love, get married, plan a family…

  Not necessarily in that order.

  He wanted to keep it simple. Just sex. Though, the more “just sex” he had with her, the more complicated it became.

  And this was why he had stuck with only “dating” his own fist for years. Simple. Easy. Neat. Emotionless. No falling. No quicksand. No hope. No future.

  He scrubbed a hand over his hair. To keep his mind busy, he needed to get back to work. This downtime had killed him. It gave him way too much time to think. Max had meant for his temporary suspension to be a punishment. And it ended up being so in more ways than one.

  “About time you release me so I can go pee. My bladder is screaming.”

  “Sorry, you should have said something.”

  “There was no way I was waking you up. Do you think you’ll be able to fall back asleep?” she asked.

  He lifted his shoulder slightly and then let it fall. “Don’t know.”