by Liliana Hart
He practically felt the steam coming out of his ears. “You’re fired. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
She leaned closer, so her face was just a few inches from his own, and those damned eyes were boring into his soul. He hadn’t looked past the color before, but now he recognized those eyes. They had the same steely determination as any of the men he’d commanded and the same look as those who’d seen too much in the line of duty.
“You can’t fire me. I work for MacKenzie Security. So if you want me fired, you’re going to have to take it up with your brother. I work for him and no one else.”
His hands fisted against the sheets as he tried to figure out a way to get her out of there. She was going to be trouble. She had to go and she had to go now. The primal urge to pull her toward him and slam his mouth over hers just to get her to shut up was overwhelming. And if he kissed her it would be damned hard not to strip off those ugly scrubs and sink between those thighs.
“Listen, sweetheart. I’m flattered you’re so determined to get me up and moving, but the only thing I’m interested in doing with you is putting you flat on your back and fucking that know-it-all smirk right off your face. You’re not exactly my type. I like women with a little more meat on their bones, but it’s not like I’m surrounded by frog hogs anymore, so I guess I’ll make an exception. But I’m telling you, if you don’t leave now, you’re going to regret ever hearing the words MacKenzie Security.”
There was no change in the expression on her face, just a slight arching of her eyebrow that made his dick spike even harder. God, he needed to cum.
“I don’t fuck spoiled little boys who are feeling sorry for themselves,” she said. “I fuck men. And they walk away grateful.” The corner of her mouth tilted up in a sly smile.
“You mean you don’t fuck cripples?” Shane asked, the rage inside him so hot and violent his body shook.
“Mackenzie, if you think a man is made by how many limbs he has, then you’re in sorrier shape than I gave you credit for. Now get up.”
He fought for control as the battle raged inside of him. She wasn’t going to give up. He could see it on her face. But he wasn’t going to give up either. He wanted her gone. He wanted to be left alone. And by the time he was finished, she’d be happy to leave him to wallow in his own misery.
Once Shane had shown her he was perfectly capable of using the crutch and moving around just fine, she blessedly left him alone, along with a couple of aspirin and a bottle of orange juice to wash it down with.
Declan and his mother had taken it upon themselves to remodel his cabin during his hospital stay. He was sure they meant well, but the subtle changes only served to remind him that he was forever changed. The widened doorways in case he ever used the wheelchair. The ramps, the modified kitchen so everything was easy to access and in reach. The bathroom that had been gutted and redone with a large walk-in shower and bench so he could sit, and the immersion tub he wouldn’t have to crawl in and out of if he wanted to soak his sore muscles.
Handicapped. Crippled. They were words that would ever be a way to describe him. He was no longer a whole man. He spent his entire life being the youngest MacKenzie. The one who’d slacked off in school and was always in trouble. The one always ready for a fight. He’d just wanted to be his own man. Always. To not be one of the herd.
And as he’d gotten older, he’d wanted to be someone his parents could be proud of. Someone he could be proud of. He’d done it the only way he knew how. By joining and serving. By working harder than he’d ever thought possible. By pushing himself past limits that should’ve even be possible. He’d played hard and worked harder. It’s who he’d become. And now he was nothing.
He heard the rustle of something through the door and her footsteps on the hardwood.
“I’m changing your sheets,” she called out, as if she’d known he’d be wondering what she was doing.
And then the thought of her leaning over his bed made him groan. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. This wasn’t what he needed right now. His entire life was in limbo. He couldn’t think clearly and his emotions were running from extreme highs to extreme lows on a daily basis. All he wanted was peace and quiet. To be alone. To figure out what his options were without everyone breathing down his neck.
He let the bed sheet fall to the floor, and even the soft cotton was painful against his erection. He pressed the button on the wall that turned on the multiple shower heads and adjusted the temperature, so he didn’t risk falling trying to do it from inside the shower, and then he carefully used his crutch to get into the shower and sat down on the bench, so the hot water sprayed him from all directions.
His balls were drawn up tight and he wrapped his fist around his cock, stifling a groan at the sensation. When was the last time he’d felt pleasure? With Agent whats-her-name in the barn?
It wasn’t the Amazon he was thinking of now. He only saw the petite Doctor Shaw, those amethyst eyes, staring up at him as she knelt before him, his cock sliding down her throat.
He stroked himself from shaft to tip and watched as clear beads of pre-cum gathered. He stroked upward again, this time spreading the creamy liquid over the swollen head before moving back down. The water pounded over his sensitive skin and his back bowed as his muscles tensed.
He could almost feel her mouth, hot and wet around him, the stroke of her tongue and the way her fingers would bite into his thighs.
“Jesus,” he gasped. His fantasy shifted to her rising from her knees and straddling his hips, her pussy clamping around him as she lowered herself over him. The way she milked him as she rode him into oblivion.
The image was too much and he felt the impending eruption at the small of his back. His cock seemed to swell and he pumped faster. Sweat glistened on his skin and his muscles seized as hot jets of semen spurted from his cock.
His body was in the throes of rapture, and he couldn’t stop coming. It barely registered when the bathroom door opened and Shaw opened her mouth and started to say, “Are you al…” But she didn’t finish the sentence as their eyes met—hers filled with surprise and embarrassment—and then she quickly closed the door again.
By the time the last of his semen had washed down the drain, his body was lax and he was trying to work up some embarrassment over the fact that she’d walked in on him. Maybe it would be different when he saw her again, but for now he was going to enjoy the aftereffects from a hell of an orgasm. Because reality would set in soon enough.
Maybe being stuck with Doctor Shaw wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe she was exactly what he needed to feel alive again.
Chapter 12
Lacey considered herself a hardened combat veteran. She’d seen and done it all. But nothing in this world had prepared her for walking in on Shane MacKenzie in the throes of an orgasm. To say it was impressive was an understatement. And it wasn’t an image she was likely to get out of her head anytime soon.
He was an intimidating figure, and he knew it. He was tall like his brothers, a couple of inches over six-feet, and his body was as close to perfection as was humanly possible. She considered herself an expert as she was a doctor, and she’d also seen her fair share of male human forms in her lifetime. Shane won the prize, hands down.
He was a man that commanded attention. His face and jawline were sculpted, and it was easy to see the Scottish MacKenzie heritage. He’d have stood on the battlefield with his ancestors, his face painted and his war cry piercing as swords and bodies clashed.
His shoulders were broad, and the muscles of his back, chest, and abs were well-defined. The latest scars from the explosion were still raised and pink on his bronzed skin. Tattoos scrolled and wound across his shoulders and down his arms. The missing limb from his knee down didn’t detract from him in any way. She wasn’t sure anything could. He was that intimidating. That alpha. And she was drawn to him like she’d never been drawn to anyone before. There was something primal in him that called out to her, an
d damned if she didn’t want to answer his call.
She was an educated, intelligent woman, but when she’d seen him in the shower, the water sliding across his skin, and the most impressive erection she’d ever laid eyes on, her basic reaction had been to stake a claim. There was no doubt she’d be having some excellent dreams while tucked into her bed. Alone.
Neither of them acknowledged what had happened, though the silence between them was awkward as they went to physical therapy. There was nothing more painful to watch than a strong man who had to deal with his body’s weakness. It brought tears to her eyes that he thankfully hadn’t seen.
She’d watched him in PT while he’d been in the hospital, but she’d always stood behind the looking glass. In fact, she’d done her best to stay out of his way completely, even though she’d wanted to be there for every step of his recovery. She wouldn’t lie to herself and say that she hadn’t been fascinated by Shane MacKenzie for years. Since the day she’d laid eyes on him at Cade’s wedding. But she could also admit she was afraid of getting close to him.
What would happen if he discovered she was the one who’d fought like an animal to bring him back from death? That she was the one to take his leg? If Declan hadn’t asked her for the personal favor to take the job, she would’ve made it a point to never cross paths with Shane MacKenzie. For him to never know her face.
But still she watched and fought back tears as he’d struggled through PT. The muscles in his remaining leg had weakened them, and the plates and screws they’d added only made his recovery more difficult and painful.
But he’d done it. He’d done it again and again and again, the determination on his face unwavering because to Shane, failure wasn’t an option. Working at the machines until his muscles became too weak to do almost anything. Stumbling and falling as he tried to get up unassisted.
He hadn’t wanted her help. But she stood there unwaveringly until he’d taken the hand she’d held out to him. And she’d stayed solid as a rock as he got his leg under him.
She knew there was so much rage in him, and it was going to be looking for a target.
For two weeks their routine was the same. She’d knock on his door at what seemed like the crack of dawn and see that he got out of bed and showered. And then she’d drive him over to the gym where they’d eat breakfast together before he went in to physical therapy. He didn’t know how Lacey did it, but she managed to fill the silence, since he refused to engage in more than a word or two at a time.
And then before he knew it they were having actual conversations—debating everything from politics to movies to books and art. He wasn’t sure he’d ever enjoyed talking to anyone as much as he did Lacey. She was smart and sarcastic, and she didn’t put up with his bullshit. He found himself looking forward to the early morning wakeups.
But the conversations were only the tip of the iceberg. She was driving him crazy. For two solid weeks she’d gotten under his skin so thoroughly that he was a walking hard-on. It didn’t matter how many times a day he came, his dick would spike the moment he saw her.
There were so many sparks flying between them he was surprised neither of them were singed. If he were the man he was before the accident, he would’ve made his move. And she would’ve accepted the invitation to his bed or rejected it, but his instincts told him she would’ve accepted. He’d seen her nipples harden to tiny points. He’d watched the color wash over her cheeks and her eyes dilate when their bodies accidentally touched. There was no doubt in his mind, if he’d been whole, they would’ve gone at each other like animals.
They would’ve fucked until the terrible ache was gone, and then they would’ve moved on with their lives. It was what he’d always done in the past. But he’d never ached for another woman quite like he had with Lacey Shaw. He’d never met anyone else like her. She was a smart ass, which attracted him automatically. She was brilliant and she was a hell of a shot. He’d watched her practice on the range. He’d also been watching her in the gym and as she brushed up on her hand to hand combat. She’d been rusty there, but it wouldn’t take her long to build the skills where she was deficient. She was a fighter.
She’d told him the first day that Declan wanted him field ready, and it still made his blood boil. That his own brother would think he was stupid enough to fall for that. Declan was a mastermind at choosing agents that would benefit MacKenzie Security the most. They both knew Shane would never be at a capacity where Dec could use him as he did his other agents, and Shane was pretty sure Dec had only fed Lacey the lies to get him past the “grief” process, or whatever the hell the psychologist had said he was going through.
Shane could feel the anger building in him, and it was as if his skin had sealed off all the exits for it to escape. It was just building and building, until he felt he might explode. He either needed to fuck or to fight, and neither of those things seemed to be in the cards.
His body ached from that morning’s PT and every jostle and bump in the road as Lacey drove him back to the cabin emphasized the pains. All he wanted was a swim and a beer to ease the ache. Maybe several beers. He was tired. He hadn’t been sleeping well. Not really since he’d woken from the coma at the hospital. Those last few moments before the explosion played out in his dreams, and then he’d wake gasping as the doctors took off his leg without the anesthesia. Dreams plagued him like they never had before. Once he’d let them in, they’d bombarded the hours he slept.
Battles were never forgotten, only pushed aside in the recesses of the mind. The more he dreamed about the day he lost his leg, the more he dreamed of other missions. Missions where innocent lives were lost at the hands of evil. Where the screams of women and children could never be erased.
Waking in a cold sweat with the feel of blood on his hands was becoming a common occurrence. Just as common as the beers he was drinking to try to forget. Lacey had taken all of the strong stuff from his house, and none of his brothers would bring him any more when he asked.
Instead of taking the road that led to their cabins, Lacey kept driving, out toward the vacant land he’d claimed as his own. He wondered if she knew that or if it was just by chance she headed in that direction.
“Where are we going? I’m tired and want to go back to the cabin.”
“A little training exercise,” she said. “It’s good to learn to compensate for the loss of your leg while fighting. I’ve been doing a lot of research, and I’ve found two instances where soldiers who lost a leg were able to rejoin their platoons.”
His fist pounded against the dashboard before he could control it, and she stopped the car not far past his cabin.
“Goddammit, you know that’s not the same,” he said. “I wasn’t just a Private serving on the front lines. I was a fucking United States Navy SEAL. And not just any SEAL. I was the commander of the most elite team of SEALs this country has ever known. There is no going back to that. Why can’t any of you understand that? You think I don’t see past all the bullshit? All the let’s make Shane feel like he has a purpose and promise him he can go back into the field if he just tries hard enough. It’s a fucking insult.”
He threw open the car door and hopped out, steadying himself on the car to catch his balance. His breath was coming harder and faster, and if he’d had both legs he would’ve taken off running, just to escape the pressure building behind his chest.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, hearing the distant slam of the other car door and Lacey’s footsteps as she came around to him.
“Shane, look at me,” she said.
He could feel her body standing directly in front of his, even though they weren’t touching. Her hand touched his arm lightly and she said, “You have every right to be angry. But there is still a life for you to live. It might not be the life of a SEAL. But it can still be a life where you serve your country. But you’ll never know what you’re capable of unless you dedicate yourself to getting a hundred percent better.”
He couldn’t take it anymor
e. She was too close, and her hand was too cool and soft against his arm. He bent his head before he could think too much and crushed his mouth against hers. He couldn’t fight with her. Not the way he needed to fight, with fists pounding flesh, but he could fuck, and that was the only other option on his list to relieve the godawful tension building inside him.
Lacey knew this moment would happen from the minute she’d met Shane MacKenzie. She’d been anticipating it and dreading it in equal measure, but the anticipation won out once his lips touched hers.
His arm tightened around her waist and the next second she found herself pressed against the car door, his big, hard body anchoring her in place as he ravaged her mouth. Her fingers tightened in the hair he hadn’t cut since his accident, and she held on for dear life as his tongue stroked against hers and his erection pressed against her stomach.
He was using her. She knew it, and it didn’t seem to matter. All his anger and frustration had come to a point, and she was the only target available. And as she’d gotten to know Shane over the past weeks, she knew he’d never strike out against her. He had a respect for women that was too ingrained, and even when they argued or butted heads she could visibly see him try to rein in his temper with her.
The rasp of his beard against her was unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, and she opened herself to him, giving him everything he needed and more. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soothing—it wasn’t meant to be. But still her body craved his touch. His taste. She’d cut herself off from human contact for so long, she found she was starving. Having Michael as a lover didn’t count. There was a big difference between a clinical physical release and the all-consuming fire that was devouring her now. There was no comparison. And she realized in that moment that Shane MacKenzie might leave her damaged as no other man had.
She put her shaking hands against his chest and pushed against him until his lips left hers. They stared at each other, breath heaving. His erection was still pressed against her and it looked as if he had no plans to move it.
