Half-Broke Heart (Combat Hearts #1.5)

by Tarina Deaton

  He took her mouth again, hard, before pulling back slightly. “Keep that thought. The one about us fucking. Maybe not be tonight, but I’m going to want to discuss it. Soon.” One more quick, hard kiss and he was gone.

  She shivered at the sudden loss of his heat. The urge to throat punch Jordan warred with a tiny sense of relief that they’d been interrupted. What was it about Chris that made her lose her iron-willed control? Mentally shaking her head, she pulled her hair back from her face and huffed out a breath.

  Damn emotions.

  Chapter 9

  Chris picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, and set it back down.

  “That’s the third time you’ve done that in the last ten minutes,” Phil said, not bothering to glance away from his computer screen “You developing a tic or you trying to find the balls to make a call?”

  He glared at his partner. “I know exactly where my balls are. Wanna see ‘em?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got my own to stare at. Becca keeps them in a crystal box, lovingly displayed on our mantle.”

  Chris chuckled, knowing Phil was full of shit. “I just don’t get this woman.”

  “Same chick from a few weeks ago or a different one?”

  “Same one.”

  “Let me guess, she pulled a Chris Nolton and you don’t know how to handle it.”

  He sat forward in his chair. “What the fuck is a Chris Nolton?”

  Phil stopped looking at the computer and gave Chris his full attention. “Dude, you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I literally trust you with my life. But when it comes to women, you have a pattern.”

  “Oh, yeah, what’s that?”

  “You pick up these girls. They’re cute, probably spend a lot of time in front of the mirror practicing their duck hunting face and taking pictures of food they’ll never eat. You hook up with ‘em for a few weeks and then get so freaking bored, you break off all contact until they quit calling.”

  Well…damn. It wasn’t his fault he’d had more intelligent conversations with Phil’s nine-year-old. Although…he did pick the women. So it probably was his fault.

  Phil mistook his pondering. “Look, man, I’m not saying you’re a bad guy or a man-whore. I’m just saying you have a type.”

  “That’s the thing. She doesn’t fit into the box you just described. She’s completely different from every single woman I’ve ever dated.”

  “So grab your balls and call her.” Phil turned his attention back to his computer.

  Instead of his balls, Chris grabbed his phone from the desk and headed to the hall.

  “You’re not even going to let me listen?” his partner called out.

  Chris flipped him off over his shoulder, the phone already pressed to his ear. Three rings and it went to voice mail.

  “This is Denise. Leave a message.”

  “Hey. It’s Chris. Give me a call.” He hit the red button as a text bubble popped up.

  Can’t talk now. Checking my cousin into the hospital.

  Shit. Probably not the time to ask her if she was ready to finish their conversation from the camping trip.

  Is everything ok?

  Not really. What did you need?

  Was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner tonight.

  Won’t be home till after 6.

  He took that as a positive sign.

  How do you feel about BBQ?

  As a condiment or a method of cooking?

  He grinned. It probably wasn’t healthy that he found her sarcasm so funny.

  As a food in general.

  I prefer dry rub.

  If things went the way he wanted, they’d both be getting something rubbed.

  6:30 work? I’ll bring food.

  Sure.

  See you then.

  He read back through the texts and thought about what Phil said. Other than the little bit of sarcasm, she didn’t prevaricate. Didn’t try to pretend she might have other plans, even when she had every excuse to blow him off. She didn’t have time or patience for games or bullshit. Maybe that was her biggest draw, other than the obvious reasons—he was sick of the bullshit.

  Seeing Jase open up with Bree…he was almost a different person. It made Chris wonder if what they said about the love of a good woman was true.

  Fuck. Who said anything about love?

  He scratched at the four-day beard he was trying to decide to shave or let grow. He’d let it go another couple of days to make up for all the emotional revelations he was having. If he kept that shit up, he was going to have to surrender his man card. Or put his balls in a crystal box.

  A deep, loud woof sounded from the other side of the door as Chris waited on the landing. He heard Denise tell Sprocket to sit before she opened the door.

  “Hey. Come on in.” She stepped back, using her lean, well-defined leg to as a barrier for Sprocket.

  Following her in, he took in the way her cutoffs showcased her legs. He’d never given any thought to the life of a string hanging off a piece of fabric before, but watching the tattered edges of her shorts brush against the smooth skin of her upper thighs, he had all kinds of thoughts about them.

  The bag in his hand rustled and he pulled it away from Sprocket’s nose. “Not for you, sorry.” He headed for the kitchen and placed the bag and six-pack of beer on the counter. “I remember you said you liked lager, so I brought some from a microbrewery I like.”

  She stood close to him at the counter, took a bottle from the box, and looked at the label. “When did I tell you I liked lager?”

  He scratched at the beard growth under his chin. “I may have overheard you mention it to Matt after the beer chase.”

  Her gaze lifted to his, then moved to his mouth. She pursed her lips and gave a short, distinct nod, as if she’d just figured something out or come to a decision.

  He didn’t know how to take her actions. Her face gave nothing away and he’d been trained to read peoples’ micro expressions.

  She set the bottle back in the carrier, her movements slow and precise. He watched as her chest expanded and contracted with the deep breath she took.

  “Sprocket, bed.” She watched over her shoulder as her dog lumbered to the large pad in the corner of the living room. Her gaze found his once again and he could finally see some emotion. Her pupils dilated and her nostrils flared, ever so slightly.

  Then he was moving backward, her hands on his stomach pushing him back against the refrigerator. His head tilted down as hers reached up, seeking his mouth, and one of her hands went behind his head while the other went under his shirt.

  He gripped the firm expanse of her ass, his fingers finding the edge of her shorts as they moved toward the juncture of her thighs. Crouching slightly, he ran his hands along the thick seam of her shorts and pulled at her thighs, giving her no choice but to lift her legs around his waist.

  She pulled her mouth from his. “You’re not going to be able to—” He hefted her up. “Oh, we’re doing this.”

  Using his hips, he pushed away from the fridge. “Don’t challenge me, woman.” He strode around the end of the counter, heading to the only other door in her apartment—the one that led to a bed.

  “Or what?” One of her eyebrows lifted at the corner.

  Damn, she was beautiful. And yeah—challenging. She wasn’t going to let him take an inch. He was going to have to fight for everything she gave him.

  He grinned. It was going to be fucking worth it. He tossed her down on the bed and she bounced, bracing her hands out to the side.

  “I might have to find something creative to do to make you see the error of you ways.”

  Her legs dangled off the bed and he knelt down between them. Hooking his hands behind her knees, he pulled her close to the edge. How easy was it to rip denim?

  She didn’t give him the chance to find out as her fingers undid the button of her shorts.

  He smacked the tops of her hands and she snatched them away.

  “Ow
! What the hell was that for?”

  “Mine.”

  Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and her eyes grew wide. “Excuse me?”

  Bracing her legs apart, he buried his face between them, using his teeth to scrape the seam of her shorts. “Mine,” he growled.

  She fell back on the bed. “Yup. All yours. Have at it.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He unzipped her shorts before hooking his hands into the waistband and pulling them down her legs, revealing her black and red diamond underwear with a black face mask on them.

  “Is this—are you wearing Harley Quinn underwear?”

  Denise’s head lifted from the bed and she glared down the hills and valleys of her body. “Do not make fun of my girl crush.”

  He ran a hand over his mouth, knowing he wasn’t doing shit to hide his smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She continued to give him the evil eye.

  “Mind if I leave them on for a few minutes while I let the visual of you and your girl crush simmer in my mind?”

  Her lips twitched slightly. “It’s your boat. Float it.” Her head dropped back to the bed.

  Oh, yeah. He could work with that. He ran his nose up the center of her underwear, inhaling the sharp, musky scent of her arousal.

  Nipping with his teeth and pushing with the hard tip of his tongue, he took her to the edge of release before backing off. He was surprised by how quickly he got her there and smiled when she growled her frustration. Rising from his position between her legs, he hovered over her upper body, running his nose up the centerline of her body while he pushed her shirt up her torso revealing tendrils of gray and black ink swirling across her ribs and under her right breast.

  Curiosity to see what the tattoo was almost diverted him from getting her naked, but it felt like it had taken years to get her there and he wasn’t going to stop for anything. He’d take the time to explore her ink later, after he’d gotten his fill of her. And she got filled by him.

  Standing straight, he stared down at her. Her gaze, traveling down his body and lingering on his crotch, felt like a physical touch, and he wondered what she was thinking.

  She arched her back and curved her shoulders up to take off her shirt, tossing it at his head with a smirk. Sitting up, she scooted back on her bed until her feet no longer dangled off it and reached behind her to unhook her bra.

  He wet his lips, anticipation racing through him.

  “You first,” she said, her hands still behind her back.

  “But I’m not wearing a bra.”

  She grinned, her dimple making an appearance. “And I’m not wearing any pants, so lose something.”

  Fuck that, he lost everything. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shucked his clothes so fast. So fast that he got tangled up in his shoes and fell on his ass.

  Her deep, husky laughter filled the quiet and his arousal, already pretty damn epic, ramped up another notch.

  She cleared her throat. “You okay?”

  “Yup, just doing some pushups to make my muscles stand out.” He kicked out of his pants and figuratively kicked himself in the ass. Smooth move, Don Juan. Shit, he hadn’t been this eager when he’d lost his virginity. He popped up and assumed a super-hero pose—hands fisted on his hips, chest puffed out, and his head tilted up slightly.

  She laughed again, falling back on the bed.

  He dropped his pose. “Fuck, woman. Your laugh.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s a fucking aphrodisiac. Makes me hard every time I hear it.”

  A shadow across her eyes and she stopped laughing. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not that girl.”

  He shook his head. “What girl?”

  “The hearts and flowers kind of girl. You don’t have to feed me a line to make me believe I’m going to be something to you that I’m not.”

  What the fuck? He crawled over her until his knees were on either side of her hips. Taking one of her hands, he placed it over his cock, pushing against the opening of his boxers. “Does this feel like a line?”

  She rubbed her palm up and down the length but didn’t say anything.

  He bit back a groan and forced himself to finish what he wanted to say. “The first time I heard you laugh, I almost rubbed one out in Bree’s shower.”

  Her eyebrows rose sharply and she pulled her lips between her teeth.

  “I don’t know who fucked with your head so bad that you, of all people, would think I was feeding you a line, but I’m not. I don’t know where this thing between us is going. I don’t know if it’s going to go anywhere at all. But don’t ever think you aren’t sexy as all hell and that I don’t get turned on when you’re around. Especially when you and your girl are together and cracking each other up. Now, are there any other questions before we continue with tonight’s entertainment?”

  Her tongue darted out and she wet her lips. The fire was back in her eyes, thank fuck. “Do you have any condoms? Because I don’t.”

  “Yeah. I need to get it out of my wallet.”

  “You should probably do that, then.”

  He leaned down and gave her a hard kiss. “I’m on it. Then I’m on you.”

  “Oh my god.”

  He could hear the eye roll in her tone as he leaned over the edge of the bed. When he righted himself, she’d taken off her bra. Her large, dark pink nipples were hard and stood out from the creamy expanse of skin that never saw the sun. “Sweet baby Jesus loves me.”

  She grinned and shook her head at him.

  “I’m getting the sense sex hasn’t been very fun for you.” He ran his tongue from the edge of her panties, over the small swell of her belly, and up the middle of her torso to the center of her breasts.

  “Oh, I’ve had fun sex. I just don’t remember ever having funny sex.”

  “All sex is funny. Haven’t you ever watched porn?”

  Her dimple made another appearance and her hands moved up his sides and over his shoulders. “Not recently.”

  He tweaked her nipples with his fingers and then palmed them, rubbing and massaging them, feeling her breath catch as he squeezed. “Those women should be in the running for the Oscars. Best damn acting you’ve ever seen.”

  She moved her hands down his sides and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, edging them over his ass and down his upper thighs, reaching as far as she could. Her legs came up on either side of him and she used her toes to push his underwear the rest of the way down his legs.

  He kicked out of them and stared down between their bodies. “Nice feat of accomplishment.” Looking back at her, he wiggled his eyebrows. “Get it? Feat?”

  She covered her eyes with one hand and laughed. “Oh my god. That was horrible.”

  “I seem to be at a disadvantage though.”

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “There seems to be a super-hero blocking my progress.”

  “She’s an anti-hero.”

  “She’s still in the way.”

  “Then by all means, you should take care of that.”

  “With pleasure.” He eased the cotton panties over her hips and down her legs. He wanted to savor this moment. Revealing her. He’d always been that kid who carefully pulled the tape off birthday and Christmas presents because he knew the anticipation could only last for so long.

  He hunched over and licked between the juncture of her legs, finding her sensitive clit through her swollen folds. She arched and hissed in a breath. He’d only meant to have a taste, but she was so responsive he couldn’t help but do it again. And again.

  She planted her feet on the bed and pressed her hips up against his mouth. “Chris,” she panted. “Chris!”

  “Yeah?” He pulled back slightly, his hands propped under her hips, keeping her within easy reach.

  “I’d like you to fuck me now, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her one last lick and lowered her to the bed. Grabbing the condom he’d set to the side, he rip
ped the packet open and rolled it down his hard length. Bracing himself on his hands, he lowered his hips to hers and pumped them up and down, running his cock between her slick folds.

  Her legs came up around his hips and she pushed against the inside of his elbows, causing them to buckle. “Quit teasing.” She pulled his head down to her and kissed him. Reaching between their bodies with her other hand, she grabbed his cock, pumping it twice before guiding it to her entrance.

  He pushed forward and was immediately met with her impossibly tight sheath. Fuck. She was so tight, he had to back off and inch forward again. He gritted his teeth, fighting for entrance.

  “Fuck. Shit. You’re so fucking tight.”

  She tilted her hips, giving him a better angle and he finally sank into her. He felt her clench around him and he twitched, sinking even further in. “Christ almighty, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

  “Sorry,” she said against his neck. “It’s been a while.”

  He pulled out slowly and eased back in. “How long is a while?” Shit. Don’t ask her that. Too late now.

  “Uh.” She met his thrusts, her hands trailing down his back and gripping his ass cheeks. “Seven years or so.”

  He reared up onto his elbows. “Seven years?” She hadn’t had sex in seven years? And she picked him to break her streak? Fuck. No pressure or anything.

  “I heard if I went ten years, I’d revirginize.”

  “What? That’s not really a thing is it?”

  She tilted her head back and laughed. “No, but you were looking at me like I’d grown another head.”

  He could feel her inner muscles contracting when she laughed. Combined with the sound of it, he didn’t care if she had managed revirginization, he was about to send her back to square one. “You know this gives a whole new meaning to the phrase seven-year itch, right?”

  “Yeah. You mind scratching it for me?”

  He grinned down at her. “My pleasure.” He surged forward again as he kissed her. Her mouth met his, their tongues dueling, while her hips met his thrusts. One of her legs rose high on his back, opening her up more for him and he groaned, hooking his arm under it to keep it in place.