Man of Honor (Battle Scars)

by Diana Gardin

  Damn, the guy is big, but he’s also fast.

  I’m off the drunk guy’s lap and in Drake’s arms before anyone can say a word. He squeezes me to his side and looks down at me, his eyes gentle and soft.

  “You okay?”

  I’m still in kind of a frenzy and my brain isn’t working right. All I want to do is get away. Get a breath of fresh air. But instead, I drop my head against his chest and snuggle in closer.

  I hear him speaking, his voice low and rumbling. Risking a peek through the crook of his arm I see the table full of good-timers has gone silent as they stare at the hulk that’s just become my savior. On his best day, Drake is a scary man. He’s big and intimidating, and it’s not even the scar on his face or the tattoos lining his arms that tell a would-be opponent to stay away. It’s the air he carries with him. Like he’s seen plenty of death and even been the cause of it more than once. Danger rolls off of him in droves when he’s not being the big teddy bear our friends all know and love.

  “I swear to God, if she wasn’t under my arm right now, I’d make you pay for touching her.” His voice is low and menacing and directed at the man who pulled me onto his lap. “But as it is, I’m going to put her first. Pay your tab and get the fuck out. Before I change my mind.”

  I hear the scraping of several chairs, and by the time I look up again the table is empty. Then Drake turns his full attention on me. His eyes are searching, his hands softly caressing my face as he bends down to search my eyes. “Want to get some air?”

  I nod, thankful he knows what I need and that I don’t have to say it. Without another word he’s towing me beside him out the front door and I welcome the cold January air as it hits my face.

  And I have to admit it to myself.

  Drake Sullivan just became more than a past mistake.

  7

  Drake

  I wouldn’t have stepped in unless I knew she needed me to. I know Mea well enough to know that she’s nothing if not damn independent. She doesn’t want some guy swooping in to save her. Ever. So I watched, with itching palms, as that bastard pulled her without her permission into his lap. I waited for her to get control of the situation. And then it seemed like she blacked out or something. Like she wasn’t even there in the moment. I don’t know what she was thinking about, but when she came back to herself she looked for me.

  She looked for me.

  And I needed no more motivation than that to eat up the space between us and pull her into my arms. When it comes to Mea, some sort of caveman instinct kicks in. I know she’s tough and she wears a coat of armor most of the time, but something tells me it’s a front. There’s more going on in that woman’s head than anyone knows.

  She was so shaken up after that, Lenny told her to go home and relax. Len also sent me a pointed look that told me not to let Mea out of my sight until I was sure she’s okay. So that’s how she ended up in the Challenger beside me.

  “Where can I take you?” I glance sideways at her as I rev the big engine and pull out of See Food’s gravel lot.

  She looks small, even smaller than usual, huddled in the passenger seat of my car. She’s staring out her window, her hands clasped in her lap. She looks tired, so tired that even her normally defiant curls seem limp and spent.

  “Mea?”

  She looks at me, and the expression in her eyes is hollow and wrung out. I reach over to take her hand in mine without another thought. Hers is cold, but her fingers curl around mine. The simple touch does something to me. It kick-starts my pulse, sending it thumping in my chest. It causes my stomach muscles to clench and my merely interested cock to strain against my jeans.

  But the look in her eyes? That carves out a piece of my heart.

  I answer my own question. “You’re coming back to my place.”

  She just nods, her eyes turning back toward the window.

  After the quick ride to my house, I pull into the drive and hop out. When I open Mea’s door for her, she startles.

  Had that asshole done something else to scare her so badly? I can’t fathom that; he was just some drunk dipshit. I know Mea well enough to know that some guy manhandling her a little bit in a bar wouldn’t rattle her this much. I’m pretty surprised she didn’t deck the dude herself. That’s just the kind of girl she is. A tough girl.

  But tonight she was stuck. She was lodged somewhere between terrified and overwhelmed, and she couldn’t pull herself out. What could have made her react that way?

  We walk silently into the house and I close the door behind Mea. She stands there in tight black jeans with black motorcycle boots, a sparkly red sweater, and a black leather jacket. She’s hotter than an August afternoon, but all I want to do right now is make her feel safe.

  “Tired? Hungry?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture doesn’t seem sassy or surly like the usual Mea, though. It’s more like she’s closing herself in, protecting herself. She curls inward, something I’ve never seen her do except for when she was leaving me the night I met her.

  “I’m just…” She sighs, trailing off.

  Without another word, I lead her back toward my bedroom. As I’m turning down the covers on my bed, I glance at her and see she’s still standing in the doorway.

  “I’ll get you something to sleep in.” My voice is gruffer than I want it to be. I just can’t stand seeing her like this. It hurts.

  “I’m…I’m okay you know, Drake.” When I look at her she lifts her chin the slightest bit, and the determined gleam is back in her eyes. I almost sigh with relief until I see that her hands are still trembling. “I always am.”

  I walk slowly forward until I’m standing right in front of her. She holds her ground beside the bed. I take both of her shaking hands in my own and hold them close to my heart. I don’t talk until those thick-lashed dark brown eyes are staring into mine. Inside them flecks of emerald green are swimming in the chocolate.

  Deep, deep, deep.

  Deep enough to drown in.

  “No, you’re not okay. And it’s fine for you not to be okay sometimes, you know? I know how strong you are…we all do. It’s not something you have to prove. Not with me.”

  She struggles. I can see the battle happening within her. It’s clear in the way she tenses her jaw, in the way her expression turns pleading and needy, in the way her fingers squeeze mine. She’s drawing me in at the exact same time that she’s pushing me away. I wish I could read her struggle. I wish it were a book I could open and devour, page by page. So I could understand. So I could help.

  When I’m with her, I forget to drown in my own pain and failure. I just want to absorb hers.

  She closes her eyes, and the connection is broken. Dropping her hands, she wrings them together and takes a step back. She falls onto the bed. Glancing around the room, toward the floor, anywhere but at me, she whispers.

  “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed again.”

  I grunt. “Doesn’t matter. It’s yours if you need it.”

  She nods, and then looks directly at me. “Thank you, Drake. For…all of it.”

  Nodding, I turn and leave her alone in my bed.

  Again.

  A scream cuts through my sleep and I bolt upright on the couch. I’m instantly completely alert, my eyes searching the darkness of my living room. My back is ramrod straight, my bare feet planted on the carpet. The fuck?

  And then I remember Mea.

  Another scream slices me up, and I’m up and in the bedroom in seconds. In the doorway, I reach out to the dresser and flick on a low light. It’s enough for me to assess the situation in a glance.

  Mea, tangled up in sheets, is thrashing in the bed. She’s asleep, but her breathing is coming in gasps and she’s sobbing.

  “No, no, no!” Her voice is a sound that I’ll never forget. She’s terrified—no, she’s horrified. She’s fighting off an invisible attacker with her hands and her legs and even her teeth are gnashing in her mouth. My he
art sinks to the floor, and something inside me cracks wide open.

  I cross the room and climb onto the bed. I wrap my arms around this tiny but strong, trembling girl. From behind, I stroke her wild curls and wipe the tears from her face. And I squeeze her to my chest until she stops rioting in the sheets. Her body arches at first, fighting against my hold, until I use my voice. I don’t recognize it; it’s gravelly and raw, but it’s all I have.

  “Mea. Shhh…baby. Shhh. You’re safe. I got you.”

  I say the soothing words over and over again until she goes rigid in my arms. And then she sags into me completely, her back flush against my front, and her tears are no longer sobs. She’s just crying quietly.

  “Oh, baby girl…fuck. Who hurt you?” The rasp in my voice is heavy with pain. Her pain, my pain. I don’t even know the difference anymore. She wraps both hands around my forearms, holding on to me.

  And I just hold her while she cries.

  At some point, I bury my face in her hair. I inhale, smelling something fruity and so utterly feminine it makes me instantly hard. But I ignore my body, because I can’t get the sound of her screams out of my head.

  I don’t know how long we stay like that. Her breathing evens out, her chest rising and falling underneath my arms. I refuse to let her go.

  “Drake?” Her voice is small. Normally, everything about Mea is larger than life. But right here, in this moment, she’s miniature.

  “I’m right here.”

  She inhales. It’s a long, deep, shuddering sigh that moves her entire body.

  I have questions. So many fucking questions. But somehow I know she’s in no way ready to answer them. So I just ask one.

  “Who knows, Mea?”

  I need to know that there’s someone in her life that she can count on with this. Someone she can turn to, talk to while she’s falling apart.

  “I…I don’t usually have the night terrors anymore. But after the guy in the restaurant tonight…I just, I know that’s why.”

  I’m relentless, because I need to know this more than I need my next meal. “Who knows, Mea?”

  Who have you told about what happened to you?

  “My brother, Mikah. That’s all.”

  I blow out a harsh breath. That’s not good enough. She needs to depend on someone in her inner circle. I can’t believe she’s never trusted her best friends with it. But then again…I went alone when I went back to Georgia. Sometimes the moments you lived alone, you want to keep that way. They’re too utterly private and monstrous to lay at anyone else’s feet.

  But she can lay it on me. I can take it.

  I curse softly under my breath. And then my lips meet her neck, because they need to be touching her. I keep my hands still, but I press soft kisses against her even softer skin. Over and over again.

  She shudders against me. And her hands squeeze me tighter.

  “You need to trust someone, Mea.”

  She nods, her soft curls tickling my chin. “I…can’t. Not with this.”

  A few minutes tick by, and when I speak again, my lips are against her skin. “When you’re ready…you can trust me. With anything.”

  She doesn’t answer, and I don’t know if that means she’s declining my offer or whether she just isn’t ready. Either way, I’m not giving up on her. Because she needs me, whether she knows it or not. She needs someone.

  When her breathing evens out again this time, I know she’s asleep. I stay awake a little bit longer, remembering. Remembering what she sounded like, what she looked like thrashing in covers tangled by her fear. It’s a sight I never want to see again. But somehow, I know her pain isn’t over. Just like mine.

  I fall asleep to the sound of her breaths, the feel of her heartbeat, and the sweet smell of her hair.

  8

  Mea

  When my eyes blink open, I think I must have accidentally fallen asleep underneath a bear. I’m warm, much warmer than I usually am when I sleep, and the light is so dim it could be called cave-like. I’m torn between wanting to snuggle in deeper and hibernate and wanting to leap up in fear of the unknown.

  Then the bear grunts in its sleep and pulls me tighter, and I realize instantly what must have happened.

  Drake crawled into bed with me during the night.

  Why would he do that? Oh…

  Last night’s horror show flashes through my mind like a film, reel after reel of mortifying moments from the night before. I can’t believe I had a night terror while sleeping in Drake’s bed. I actually woke him up…he must think I’m a complete whack job.

  Since when do you care what anybody thinks of you?

  Behind me, Drake’s rock-hard body is completely molded to mine. I can’t remember the last time I slept next to a man. Wait…that’s because it’s never happened. As something warm and gooey begins to spread through my chest, something molten and fiery makes wetness pool between my legs. Sucking in a sharp breath, I squirm and twitch.

  It’s not that I’m a stranger to sexual attraction. I’ve never shied away from bringing a guy home from the bar if there’s a connection. I decided a long time ago that the way my father marked me wouldn’t be the thing that ruined me. I made sure, after years of cowering in fear of the man and then of the memories of him, that I was going to take control of the part of me that he stole.

  I am in control.

  So why, with every inch of Drake pressed so firmly against every inch of me, do I feel so utterly out of control?

  I can’t see his face, but the warm puffs of breath skate across my neck as he breathes. He’s still sleeping. But sleep doesn’t stop his body from reacting to mine. The evidence of his awareness is very blatant against my back, and all I want to do is push my hips backward to meet his.

  In a corner of my mind, I’m terrified about giving in to this pull I can’t ignore with Drake. It’s everywhere all at once; it’s in my mind and my body and my soul. It lives in me. But something happened the first time we had sex that sent me running, and my head tells me not to ever let it happen again. Not to get that close. With anyone.

  I sigh as Drake’s hand caresses my stomach where the shirt he loaned me has ridden up. The simple touch sends a wild rush of sensation along my skin. My breathing becomes heavier, because I can’t help it. This is a purely physical reaction to this particular man’s proximity. Never have I wanted to just give myself over to a guy. But everything about Drake right now is surrounding me. His manly smell, his strong, hard body. In contrast, his hands are gentle where they touch me.

  I know he’s awake when his lips meet the soft skin just below my ear. A needy moan escapes me, matching the needy ache between my thighs. My hips begin to move on their own, restless.

  Restless.

  Restless.

  Behind me, Drake tries to suppress a groan. He does a shit job of it.

  “Mea, sweetheart. If you want me to be a gentleman this morning, then you need to stop wiggling around against my dick.”

  His voice is rough, raw, and so delectable I want to swallow every word he says. I want to lick my way around his perfect lips before diving deep into his mouth to taste him.

  Something is seriously wrong with me. I’ve officially lost my ever-loving mind.

  With a heavy breath, I nod. Speaking right now isn’t an option.

  With one quick movement, Drake flips me onto my back so that he can look me in the eyes.

  His assessment is blazing. His beautiful honeyed gaze roams from my half-lidded eyes to the pert peaks of my nipples showing through the thin tee, to my bare legs. I’m still having trouble catching my breath, and Drake’s eyes zero in on my face once more.

  Slowly, his hand, resting on my hip, slides up my body. When he grazes the side of my bare breast, the shirt hitching up with his hand, I bite my bottom lip to avoid crying out. And dammit I can’t keep my restless hips still.

  Drake’s eyes widen. “Are you needy, sweetheart?” He scoots closer, his nose caressing the skin of my throat. I throw
my head back and clench the sheets with my fingertips as his hot, wet tongue licks my neck. When he pulls back again, his gaze is pure hunger.

  “Do you…do you need me to take care of you, baby?”

  I bite my lip again.

  Drake pulls away. “Mea. I’m not going to do anything that might hurt you. If there’s something you need from me, you need to ask.”

  I suck in a breath. I might burn up from the inside out if some part of him isn’t touching some part of me in the next few seconds.

  But when I look into his eyes, seeing the evidence of his own need and weighing that against the obvious way I’m feeling…I can’t deny it. Not this time.

  “Drake…” My voice is nothing but a whisper. “I need you.”

  A slew of curses fly from his mouth as he stares into my eyes. Seeing what he wants, his hands make quick work of removing the shirt I’m wearing. Underneath, there’s nothing but black satin boy shorts.

  “Fuuuuck. I’ve been sleeping beside you all night, and you were wearing this? I’m a fucking idiot.”

  I send him a small smile. “Now you know.”

  He nods, dipping his head low to trace a path with his tongue around the fullest part of my breast. I push toward him, helping him aim for the part I really want him to focus on. When he pulls one pebbled nipple into his mouth, I gasp. The pleasure is intense and immediate. He settles there with his mouth so hot against my skin, nibbling and sucking like he missed his last meal. When he’s completely worked over one breast, he just moves on to the next. Drake is a man who used to run missions for a living. And it seems that right now, his mission involves me and driving me as insane as he can.

  For me, sex has always been about achieving the greatest high possible in the shortest amount of time. I’ve never wanted to spend time with a guy before. And I’ve never been with a man who wants to spend time making me feel good. I’ve never allowed it to be that way.

  Without me even realizing it, I’ve turned to completely face him. My hands are rubbing at the top of his head, the sides of his face, cupping him and pulling him closer. I want everything he’s giving me times ten. My body is screaming for more.