Solid Steel (Unseen Enemy Book 6)

by James, Marysol

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my God.”

  “Is that a good kind of ‘Oh my God’?” Luke teased her.

  “It’s the best kind.” Unable to resist for one second longer, she reached out and touched that broad expanse of chest. She held her palm over his heart, loving its steady, strong beat. “You’re as gorgeous as I imagined you to be.”

  He tilted his head. “You imagined me naked?”

  “Ummm-hmmm.”

  “I imagined you naked too, babe.” His hand cupped her face, his thumb stroked her cheek. “You want to put me out of my misery here? Let me see you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me help, then.”

  “Yes,” she said again and raised her arms as high as she could.

  It wasn’t far, since her stitches pulled and hurt, and he saw it on her face. Carefully, slowly, he peeled his t-shirt off her body. This time, when he looked at her chest, she didn’t look away. This time, she watched him as he examined her bandaged side, her scar. He raised his eyes to hers.

  “Can I touch you?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. “Your chest?”

  Her breath caught.

  “Selena?” He was suddenly worried that he’d scared her. “I’m sorry… that was too much, right?”

  “No. It’s OK.” She took his hand in both of hers, pulled it to her collarbone. “You can.”

  He kissed her now, trying to say a million things with his lips… and she heard them, she heard every one of them.

  She couldn’t believe that this man who’d been a virtual stranger until that morning was now the only man on the planet that she’d let see her like this. Selena had heard about having an instant connection with someone, but it had never happened to her. Not until here and now. Not until Luke.

  Luke drew back a bit, caressed her hair. She opened her eyes and he saw her silent assent.

  Slowly, he ran his fingers down the center of her body, his touch light. When he got to her scar, he traced its length, followed it under her arm. She giggled a bit.

  “Tickles?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He moved his hand to her bandage now. “How sore are you?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Hey.” His curt tone surprised her. “No lying to me. If it hurts, you tell me so.”

  “It – it hurts.”

  “Then let’s get those pyjama bottoms off and get you in to bed.”

  “OK,” she said, aiming for ‘calm and casual’ and achieving ‘totally freaking out’.

  He knelt down in front of her, his hand moving down her stomach, stopping at the elastic waistband. He gazed up at her, his eyes very dark in the half-light.

  “Yes?” he said in a guttural tone.

  “Yes.”

  With one quick movement, he yanked her pj’s down. She gave a small cry as the cool air hit her warm pussy, taking her arousal up yet another notch. He stared at her dark curls, longing to bury his tongue in her body, deep and intense. She was turned on, he knew that for sure now… he smelled her musk and his cock responded fully. He groaned.

  “My God, Selena. You’re so beautiful.”

  “I am?” she whispered.

  He heard the uncertainty in her question and he glanced up at her.

  “Oh, yeah,” Luke said. “The kind of beauty that I want to worship.”

  She relaxed a bit. “How?”

  “With my fingers. With my tongue.” Slowly, holding her eyes the whole time, he leaned forward. When his mouth reached her pussy, she arched against him, almost begging.

  He didn’t give her what she wanted, though, not yet. It was fucking killing him, but the woman was in no condition to be rolling around on a bed. She’d been stabbed and she was drugged and she was still learning to let him look at her naked. Things could wait until she was healed up a bit more. Until she was sure that she was ready.

  So instead, Luke gave her the smallest, softest kiss imaginable between her lips, right on her pulsing clit. And to her shame and surprise, a sob burst out of her throat.

  Right away, he was on his feet, his arms around her, his hand holding the back of her head, pressing her face in to his neck. She held his upper arms as she shook and cried, not understanding at all what the hell was happening here… that morning, she’d cried from the shock and humiliation of hiding her secret from Luke. But this? This was crying from being seen.

  It was far more beautiful, and also a hell of a lot more frightening.

  Luke murmured sweet nothings in to her ear, needing her to stay right where she was so he could soothe her. She cried until she was hoarse, then without a word, he scooped her up. She let him carry her to the bed, lower her to the mattress. Her arms were around his neck and he followed her down.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said now. “You doing alright?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was wrecked with pain and exhaustion. “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me,” he said, tucking her in to his side and pulling the covers over them. “You just close your eyes and go to sleep. It’s been one hell of a day, but it’ll all be better in the morning.”

  “You promise?”

  “Babe.” He kissed her, tasted her tears. “I promise.”

  Almost right away, Selena slept. Luke stayed awake for hours, though, just holding her naked curves and thinking that he had to be the luckiest damn guy on the planet.

  Don’t you fuck this up, man.

  Chapter Ten

  Dallas opened the door as quietly as possible. It was now past midnight and he was sure that Olivia had to be sleeping, so when he saw the light on in their bedroom, he was surprised.

  “Hey,” he said, standing in the doorway. “Why are you still up?”

  His wife lowered her book and smiled at him, her red hair glowing softly in the lamplight, the scar on her face barely visible in the dimness. “I was waiting for you, Dallas.”

  “Baby, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I wanted to.” She surveyed him, her dark eyes taking in his weariness. “How’s Griff?”

  He sat next to her and she wrapped her arms around his massive body. He exhaled, letting her just offer him some comfort.

  Nobody – except for Dean and Chris and Jim – had ever seen Dallas Foreman anything like vulnerable, but Olivia did sometimes and he was slowly but surely becoming OK with that. That was marriage, he’d come to understand: letting someone in all the way, knowing that they were just as open and honest from their side. He liked doing this with Olivia; he loved it, in fact.

  “He’s OK,” Dallas said. “Way better. He woke up just as I was leaving, so I stayed put for another two hours before the doctor kicked me out.” He grinned, his hard blue eyes almost playful. “I want to be able to go back tomorrow, so I thought it best to humor the medical professionals.”

  “Smart move,” Liv said, running her hands through his dark hair. “You want anything to eat?”

  “Nah, sweetheart. I just want a shower.”

  “Go on, then. I’ll wait.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “OK.” He pressed a kiss to her full lips. “I’ll hurry.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Ten minutes later, he was in bed holding her as tightly as possible. He stroked up and down her back and she almost purred. She loved nothing more than being close to Dallas.

  “How was it today with Emma and Francine?” he asked now. “They worked out their schedule?”

  Olivia nodded. “Yeah, no problem. Emma will work as the main safe house therapist for another month and then she’ll cut her hours from twenty-six a week to twelve. Francine’ll pick up the difference, and when Emma gets closer to her due date, Francine will take over all the therapy sessions at the safe house and schedule sessions around her private clients. S
he’ll stay for the duration of Emma’s maternity leave, too.”

  “But Francine can’t continue to be your therapist, can she?” Dallas said. “I mean, it’d be a conflict of interest, her working for you and being on your payroll and being your therapist?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Olivia smiled up at him. “But she and I decided yesterday that I don’t need to keep on with therapy sessions.”

  This was one hell of a bombshell, and Dallas sat up. “Really? You feel like you’re – you’re OK now? With what happened?” He ran his hand over the long, thick scar that started just below her breastbone and ended down at her stomach. “You still have nightmares, baby, you still wake up screaming about it sometimes.”

  “I know.” She spoke quietly. “But talking to Francine was never about forgetting what happened, Dallas, not completely. It was about giving me the tools to cope when I have nightmares, or when I look in the mirror at the scars. It was about accepting what happened, to the point that I could make love with you and not feel ugly.”

  “And you think you have the tools?”

  “Yes. I’m ready to do this on my own now.” She kissed his chest. “And with you.”

  “Always, Olivia. You know I’ll always have your back.”

  “I know, Mr. Foreman.” Her smile was the most gorgeous thing that Dallas had ever seen, and for about the thousandth time, he thanked God that she’d agreed to be his wife. Olivia was simply the most shining, stunning thing he’d ever seen – and her strength amazed him every single day.

  For a few seconds, Dallas thought about Selena and her scars. Yeah, hers were as a result of voluntary surgery, not a deranged stalker slicing her up on a floor like Olivia’s were, but Dallas would bet they were still pretty fucking traumatic. He knew damn good and well how hard Olivia had struggled with feeling attractive again, how afraid she’d been that he’d find her deformed and repulsive. If Selena had lost both of her breasts, she’d have a lot to be getting on with in terms of body image. He wondered if Luke was going to be willing and able to help her with that; he wondered if Selena would let him.

  “OK, then, Mrs. Foreman,” he said, turning his attention back to the here and now. “If you think you’re ready to stop therapy, then I’m behind you, one hundred percent.”

  “Thanks, babe. That means a lot. It means everything.”

  “And have the women and kids met Francine?” Dallas said. He knew how much they loved Emma and how suspicious they were of outsiders and no wonder. The safe house was, in reality, a secret shelter for battered women and their kids, and Olivia had founded and financed it totally on her own.

  The shelter and its inhabitants were a standing, living, breathing tribute to Olivia’s own mother, Grace, who had suffered years of abuse at the hands of Olivia’s father before finally gathering up the courage to take her daughter and run. Dallas was absolutely certain that Olivia was the strong, compassionate woman that she was today – despite having been a successful and highly-paid model – because of that rough childhood.

  She and her Mom had had nothing at all after they’d run, and Olivia knew all too well the reality of women leaving abusive domestic situations. She knew the fear and the poverty and sleeping in bus stations and going without food for days at a time. The shelter was her small way of giving back, of making things not so hard for others. It was also one more reason to love her as much as he did.

  “Oh, yeah,” Olivia said. “They adore her. I really don’t see any issues with Emma stepping back and Francine stepping in.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad the transition will be smooth and painless.”

  “Me too. And it’s a load off Emma’s mind, you know? She was worried about leaving me in the lurch and abandoning the women and kids.”

  “Emma would never do that.”

  “I know and I said that, but she pointed out that, actually, she is on kind of a clock and it is beyond her control.”

  Dallas grinned, thinking about how excited Dean was about being a father in just four months or so.

  “True enough.”

  Olivia smothered a yawn. “Dallas?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “What are you going to do about Diana Keeler?”

  “What do I want to do, or what will I actually do?” he said grimly.

  “Oh, I know what you want to do, believe me.” Olivia’s eyes glittered with her own barely-suppressed rage. “I adore both Griff and Selena, you know, and that woman put them in the direct line of fire. But what will you actually do, babe? Drop her as a client?”

  “Yeah, for damn sure.” Dallas stretched a bit. “Her stalker’s being charged with two counts of assault and one count of attempted murder, and a friend down at the police station told me on the sly that the idiot doesn’t have the cash for bail.”

  “So he’s being held in jail? Until trial, during trial, almost definitely after trial?”

  “Yep to all of it. Which means that Diana Keeler’s stalker is caught and she’s safe.”

  “So you can terminate her contract without putting her in any danger.”

  “Exactly.”

  Olivia heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank Christ.”

  “Yeah. Mark called and told me that when he announced that at the office this afternoon, there was a thundering round of applause. Damn near blew the ceiling off, he said, and apparently Roxanna was almost weeping with joy that she won’t have to take any more of the woman’s angry, drunken phone calls.”

  “I bet.” Olivia knew that Dallas’ team was pretty close-knit, and when one of them got hurt, it worried everybody badly. She also really liked Roxanna and was annoyed on her behalf that Diana Keeler had treated the poor receptionist like her personal punching bag. “Does Diana know she’s being dropped?”

  “Not yet. Boomer and Tim are on duty overnight, so she still has protection until eight a.m. tomorrow. I’ll go to her place in person before I head back to the hospital in the morning, give her the formal letter ending our agreement.”

  “Then you’ll do a happy dance all the way to the SUV?”

  “Oh, yeah. You know it, darlin’.”

  **

  Jim Alden sat straight up in bed, startled awake by the screaming right next to him. Blindly, he reached for her, but she slapped his hands away.

  Cursing now, fumbling in the dark, Jim turned on the lamp on the bedside table. He turned to look at Beth Harper, saw that she was sitting up, her arms extended, wildly pushing someone off her in her dream.

  Not ‘someone’. Michael Fucking Ferguson. Christ, how I wish sometimes that I’d been the one to put that bullet in his goddamn head, and not Sully.

  “Beth.” Jim kept his voice low, trying to not scare her more. “I need you to wake up for me now, baby. Come on.”

  She sobbed and started to shake. That was the sign that she was starting to come out of the dream, and he knew that she was afraid and confused. He took her in his arms now, ignored her twisting to get away.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Beth, it’s me. It’s Jim. You’re safe, baby. He’s dead and I’ve got you… it’s all over. You’re OK, sweetheart. You’re OK.”

  Over and over, he murmured comforting words against her hair. Gradually, her breathing slowed a bit and her hands unclenched on his chest. That was when he crossed his legs and gently pulled her up on to his lap; this was the best way for him to hold Beth to calm her down completely after a nightmare. Some nights, it was the only way.

  Beth felt Jim tug her up against his large body and she wrapped her legs around his waist without a single conscious thought. Despite the intimacy of the position, sex was just about the last thing on both of their minds.

  She huddled in to his embrace, his arms caging and protecting her, her face hidden in his chest. When he held her this way, she felt his heartbeat against her body and was surrounded by his warmth. She felt safe here
; she felt totally loved.

  Jim rocked her back and forth a bit, waited for her to talk to him. In the months since she’d moved in to his place and woken up screaming more nights than not, he’d learned extreme patience. Pushing Beth did more harm than good and forcing her to talk about Michael Fucking Ferguson was a huge, grave error. So Jim just held her and waited to see what she’d want to do.

  A minute passed, and then she pulled away a bit, her moss-green eyes still bright with tears.

  “It’s not getting better, Jim.” She shuddered and his arms tightened around her automatically, helplessly. “It’s been months since he – he died. Since Sully killed him. Years since I ran away from him and hid. But I’m still – I’m so scared of him. It’s not getting better. I’m not getting better.”

  Jim was silent. As much as he wanted to disagree with her, he really couldn’t, but he wanted to stay positive for her.

  “Beth.” He stroked her brown hair off her face. “You will get better.”

  “I don’t think so,” she whispered. “Not like this. Time isn’t going to do much for me, I don’t think.”

  “OK. So what do we do? You want to start seeing Ernie more than once a week? Maybe even have a session with him every day, for a while?”

  Beth looked up at Jim now, met his intense golden gaze. Lord, the man could hypnotize her with those eyes: they were as bright as a mountain sunrise, and they warmed her, calmed her. She took a deep breath.

  “No, I don’t think that’s the answer.” She gave a small laugh. “I couldn’t afford therapy every day, anyway.”

  “I could,” he said softly. “I’ve got all this money just sitting in the bank, baby, and you know I’d pay for more therapy in the goddamn blink of an eye, if you told me that’s what you needed.”

  “Jim.” The lump in her throat cut off her words for a few seconds. “I know. I do know, I promise you. But I want to try something else first.”

  “Something that I can help you with?”