Faithful to a Fault

by KJ Reed

  “Don’t.” He nuzzled the corner of her eye. “Don’t go there. It’s fine now. No permanent damage done.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that but blinked the tears away regardless.

  “Good girl,” he murmured. He slipped her sweater over her head, taking his time to skim over every inch of skin he could find. And he found quite a bit, given she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “Easy pickins.” He leaned down to nip the underside of her breast, then worked his way down her ribs. Tongue swirling around her navel, he unbuttoned her jeans and worked them down her legs. A thin scrap of lace was the only barrier left.

  “A sweater, jeans and then this little flimsy piece of fabric? Interesting choice.”

  “A girl has to feel cute sometimes.”

  He let the lace scrape down her legs then flipped her over on her stomach with ease. Pushing a pillow under her hips, he massaged his way down her back. Tension she didn’t even know she had leaked out and she sighed.

  His hand skimmed over her butt, goose bumps following in their wake.

  “Cold? Want me to turn the heater up?”

  “No, no don’t.” She turned her head enough to look. “I’m fine.”

  He took her at her word. One finger brushed down her crease and she wiggled.

  “Tickles,” she said into the pillow.

  “You’re going to feel a whole lot more than some tickling.” A cap flipped open on a click. “Sarah, have you done this before?”

  “Yes.” Though she knew to relax, she couldn’t fight the anticipation that tightened all her muscles. But instead of feeling the cool, wet brush against her ass, he reached around and flicked her clit with one fingertip.

  “Oh,” she breathed and rose up to give him better access.

  Slow, torturous circles around swollen flesh made her groan and fight for more. The tingling ball of energy burned low in her belly and she knew she was close. Then without warning, one cool slick finger slid in her tight hole.

  She gasped and shifted.

  “Shh, relax. You were doing so good. Focus on this.”

  He pinched and rubbed her clit and she found herself relaxing, grinding against his fingers. The tension built once more, swirling and stretching for release. Then the bottled-up nerves exploded and she shuddered with release. In the back of her mind, she numbly registered another finger with the first, stretching and scissoring.

  So far, just pressure, a slight pull. A new experience to layer on top of the last dredges of her previous orgasm.

  “Doing okay, baby?”

  “Mmm.” How did she explain that?

  “Can you come for me?” His fingers shifted down again and tangled in her damp curls.

  Could she? She nodded, willing to try.

  His fingers continued to play with her, moving in time with the other hand’s play behind. Pete’s soothing voice smothered any worries, and she was backing up into him before she realized it, her breath coming in pants as another orgasm hovered just out of reach.

  Then his stretching, playful fingers were gone. When she turned to look behind her, Pete was coating himself with lube.

  He shot her a disarming grin and she smiled in return.

  She would get through this if it killed her.

  No, that was stupid. She was letting the nerves get to her.

  But then he leaned over her, his chest covering her back, and brushed his lips over her shoulders and neck. His lips trailed gentle, opened-mouth kisses along her tingling skin. The nerves fluttered away, lost in the sea of contentment. His hand began its leisurely trail, tracing around her pussy, teasing her clit.

  “Pete. Pete, seriously,” she panted out.

  “Seriously what?” he asked against her neck, working his lips down her spine.

  “I’m close.” The words were said through clenched teeth.

  “Good. I want you closer.”

  “I don’t think that’s poss— Oh.” The blunt head of his cock pushed against her entrance.

  “Focus here,” he reminded her, rubbing faster circles around her swollen bud. “Clear your mind, then zero in right here.”

  Sarah let her mind go blank as best she could. The stretch was impossible to ignore. It burned, but only a little. Mentally, she zeroed in, picturing what his hand was doing to her pussy. She visualized his long tan fingers against her damp, pink skin, the patterns he drew, how his fingertips glistened with her moisture. Sarah’s arousal climbed another notch at the erotic mental image.

  “God, this is amazing. Tell me you’re okay.”

  He was in. Seriously? The fullness, the feel of his balls against her backside when she squirmed confirmed it. “I’m okay.” And she was.

  “Good. Then I’m just going to stay here a minute because if I move, it’s all over.” His voice was strained, but she didn’t dare look back. Seeing him fighting that hard for composure might end it for her faster than anything.

  But before long, the pressure to stay still was too much and she wiggled.

  “Sarah,” he growled.

  “Move,” she asked. Pleaded, really.

  A slow glide out, then back in was her answer. His fingers never stopped their motion and the unusual, new and exciting sensation sent a thrill bolting up her spine. The next thrust she met him halfway, arching her back.

  “I can’t do this… I can’t hold out.” He groaned the words and his fingers picked up an almost frantic pace. “Come for me. Come on, baby.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. Hands twisting in the covers, she let out a short scream, which was muffled in the pillow. The quivering muscles made keeping her position difficult, but thanks to the pillow under her hips, it wasn’t impossible.

  Pete plunged in with short thrusts until he gave a hoarse shout before covering her back once more with his chest. His weight was heavy, but she loved it. Loved that he was so spent for energy from an unbelievable fuck that he couldn’t move.

  Pete stood, kissed her brow and said he would be right back. She faintly heard the water run in the bathroom, then the door closing. Finally the mattress dipped and she knew he was back. A warm washcloth soothed her stinging skin, then he tossed the cloth back to the bathroom and tugged her close. Snuggling down under the covers, he surrounded her with his warmth and security.

  Damn, she had it bad.

  Sarah vaguely remembered that Pete wanted to talk about something before she took charge with her sexual appetite. Part of her was curious enough to want to wake him and find out. But he looked so sweet, so peaceful sleeping.

  They could talk about it later.

  * * * * *

  Pete felt like an ass for sneaking out. But he wasn’t ready to have the conversation yet. Not with her still warm in bed, drifting on the waves of contentment. It would have been like dumping a bucket of cold water over her head.

  Pete grabbed a bottle of water from the guesthouse fridge and plunked down in a chair at the kitchen table. Emptying the pockets of his coat on the table, he stared at his phone. Was now the time?

  His hands were dialing before his brain could catch up. And when Trav answered, Pete knew it was time to face the music.

  “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

  A jaw-cracking yawn was his only answer for a moment. “Night shift. New cops get the shit shifts for a while.”

  “Bummer. Do you need me to let you get some sleep?” Say yes. Give me another day. No, don’t say yes. I need to do this now.

  “If you’re calling this early on leave, something’s up. What is it?”

  Pete took a deep breath and before he could chicken out blurted, “I found your sister.” Exactly how he’d found her wasn’t really the issue. Not now, anyway.

  There was silence. Nothing but the almost nonexistent static hum. Then, “Say again?”

  “Sarah. You said her name was Sarah Cassidy, right?”

  “Yeah. I did.” Trav’s voice was tight, like he was forcing the words.

  “Then I think I’ve got her. Shor
ter, dark blonde hair. Sarah Donovan Cassidy. Though she’s divorced now. About twenty-four, twenty-five years old. Works as a bartender at the same restaurant Miller’s sister works at. Buffalo’s.” He paused, then said, “I haven’t asked her yet. I probably should have. I can confirm—”

  “No!” Trav shouted. “No. Don’t. Not yet. I’m too close. I don’t want her to bolt. I’m still not positive why she cut me out of her life in the first place. I don’t want to risk it.”

  “Trav, I can’t do that.” Oh God. Now he knew what it felt like to be drawn, medieval-torture style. Strapped to horses, pulled in different directions… “Honestly, I have to tell her. I can’t let her be shocked by this. I’d feel like an ass and she doesn’t deserve that.”

  “Give me a head start. Don’t tell her until tomorrow. I’ll work things out and head out there ASAP. Until then…”

  “Until then, what?” Pete asked with dread.

  “Keep an eye on her?” Trav sighed. “If you can’t hold off on telling her—and I get it, I do—then just try to see if she runs? And if so, let me know?”

  The horses were pulling harder. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Pete hung up the phone and battled back the urge to be sick. Not only was he going to have to wait another day to tell Sarah, but he was basically asked to babysit her until Trav got there.

  So whose side was he on? His best friend—a man who was more or less his family—or the first woman he ever saw a future with?

  * * * * *

  Sarah wiped her hands on her bar apron and stared at the clock. Another hour before her shift was over. Another hour before she could find out why Pete had gone completely missing since he slipped out of her bed that morning. She knew the Millers were having some family fun, but she had at least expected a phone call or a text of some kind.

  And for him to not leave her in the morning without a goodbye.

  She’d had nice morning sex plans for that boy.

  Sarah ran a few beers to a table and when she came back, the object of her thoughts was sitting at the bar. She told herself to remain cool, aloof. Play the part of the unaffected lover. Which would have been a hell of a lot easier if her body didn’t respond to just the sight of him. Thank God for thick sweaters that hid her tightening nipples.

  She walked over and set a cocktail napkin in front of him. “Need a menu?”

  “Sarah.” He spoke quietly, looking at his hands folded on the bar. “When is your shift over?”

  This was not the enthusiastic man ready to grab a vacation fling. He was quiet, reserved. Reluctant.

  “Little less than an hour. Why?”

  His long fingers folded the napkin, smoothed it back out again. “We need to talk.”

  Sarah glanced around the restaurant. Nobody else at the bar, only two tables full, neither who would need a refill any time soon. She felt better about taking news if she didn’t have time to wallow about it. “Here’s good.”

  He looked up then, eyes full of regret. “I talked to Trav.”

  Sarah’s breath caught in her chest until it burned. “Who?” she croaked out.

  “Trav Donovan is my best friend. We met in boot over ten years ago, and we’ve been friends ever since.” Pete’s voice was neutral, almost mechanical now. Like he’d wiped his inner slate clear of all emotion. “He’d mentioned his sister once or twice, nothing major. I knew she wasn’t in his life, and that he regretted it.”

  Sarah felt tears well up in her throat, but she swallowed them down. “Regretted?”

  Pete glanced away. “That’s for him to explain. He’s been looking for you, on and off for, well, a long time. But with life in the Corps, your time is always split between deployments, moving, all that. He’s out now, and hired a PI to find you. Learned you got married and found out your married name.”

  He’d been looking for her. All this time she thought he’d left and never looked back. Abandoned her to an emotionally abusive father and took off for greener pastures. Her father’s words, sneering that her big brother was done protecting her, sick of sticking up for her, echoed in her mind until she’d given up waiting for his return.

  “When I talked to Trav the other day, he mentioned offhand his sister’s new name was Cassidy.”

  “The phone call. When you called me and asked me my maiden name.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you knew when you came to my apartment last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  Pieces of an ugly puzzle started to click into place. “You knew. And you didn’t say anything.”

  “Sarah, I was still processing.” He reached for her hand but she jerked away. More softly, he repeated, “I was still processing. And as much as it makes me sound weak, I didn’t want to give up a night with you.”

  “Because I’m such a prize.” She bit the words off. Fuck the unaffected lover. “And then you ran to tattle on me to my brother. Without seeing how I felt. Without knowing what I wanted.” Without trusting her with the information.

  “Trav is my best friend.” His eyes were tired now. Like he was sick of fighting the world. “He’s been looking for you. If I didn’t tell him…”

  “Out.” If he stayed any longer she wouldn’t hold back the tears. “Just go.”

  “Sarah, please, can we just—”

  “No. We can’t. Get out. Don’t come back.”

  He opened his mouth then shut it again. Without a word, Pete left the restaurant.

  Sarah walked back to an empty server station, away from view of the front of the house. Then, because nobody would see, she let her knees buckle and squatted down, letting the wall support her.

  He would come for her. She knew that much. If Pete was telling the truth and Trav was looking, he’d come for her. But did she want that? Was she okay with him searching her out? Admitting her failure of a marriage, her stubbornness in not contacting him.

  She had time. She could leave if she wanted.

  No, Sarah thought. She really couldn’t. Not this time. If Trav had something to say, then he could say it. A decade had passed. She could handle seeing him.

  Sarah would hold. Hold her ground and when—not if—Trav came for her, she’d meet him head-on and they’d work things out.

  Chapter Seven

  The airport was overrun with people hustling, loved ones shouting to each other, babies crying, luggage rattling.

  Pete heard none of it. His mind was elsewhere. Back in the restaurant where Sarah worked. Where Trav would be confronting her today. Meeting up, seeing if their relationship could be repaired.

  Back with Sarah. Where he wanted to be. Not that she would welcome his presence. Not now, anyway.

  “Seriously, why do they make these things and ask you to use them and then have it so they never work?” Pete groused at the automatic ticket counter. What the hell was wrong with customer service? This took twice as long, it only worked a quarter of the time the way it was supposed to, and an attendant still had to verify his ID matched his ticket anyway.

  “Someone’s in a pissy mood,” Tony observed.

  “Yeah, well, you managed to have a human being check you in and print your ticket. We could have been in the security line twenty minutes ago if this thing didn’t suck.” He punched another button too hard and watched as his information drained from the screen. The beginning screensaver asked him to please begin the checkout process.

  “Son of a humping bulldog.”

  “You could have stayed another day,” Tony pointed out. “Tried to see how the meeting with Trav went.”

  Carefully, Pete punched in his flight number for the fourth time before answering. “I can’t. It won’t change anything. And it would only prolong the inevitable.”

  “You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if—”

  Pete held up a hand to cut his friend off. “If I don’t get my ticket soon, I am going to rip this machine from the ground and throw it out a window. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

  Tony shook his head, eyes wi
de.

  “Then don’t say another word until I have my ticket in my hand and we are standing in the security line.”

  After giving the check-in process the same concentration he used to pass his Military Police quals, he finally had a ticket to show for his effort. They walked back to the Millers, who had been waiting for them to make sure their flight was still on time and everything worked out.

  A tearful goodbye followed, where Laura blubbered over both of their shirts and Colin gave a gruff handshake before turning suspiciously bright eyes away. One more hug from a near-hysterical Maria left them with completely soggy collars by the time they were headed to the security checkpoint.

  Tony waited until they were seated at the gate and groaning over an hour delay on their flight.

  “If you like her this much, why are you giving up?”

  “I’m not giving up,” Pete bit out. “But this reunion isn’t my business. And right now, she’d rather shoot me than look at me. So I’m giving her some space. If she wants to talk to me, she knows my number.”

  “Seems kind of like the pussy way out,” Tony said.

  “It’s the respectful way,” Pete corrected. Wasn’t it?

  For sure it wasn’t his place to interfere with the family reunion. Sarah and Trav had issues layered in problems wrapped in miscommunication to work through. But after, when the dust settled, would he regret not being there? Whether it was for support—on either side—or to be a punching bag, or whatever they needed…

  Yeah. He would. This wasn’t the time to play noble jackass, never to see the possible girl of his dreams again.

  As the plane that they would eventually board landed with the previous flight, and old passengers deplaned, Pete formed his plan. Wait it out. Get the update from Trav. Give her some space. Then rally the troops and storm Thanksgiving with everything he had.

  Retreat wasn’t a part of his vocabulary. He sure as hell wasn’t giving Sarah up without a fight.

  * * * * *

  Sarah would not wait for him. She would not sit at home, pining, wondering, worrying.

  The him was twofold. Her brother Trav or her…whatever. Pete.