Enemy From The Past (Unseen Enemy Book 4)

by Marysol James

  “You ate, right?”

  Jenny nodded. “Yeah. The awesome thing about owning a restaurant is that even as you’re shouting at five different people on the phone, you can stuff your face between threats and expletives.” She grinned. “And? You don’t even have to clean up after. That’s what kitchen staff is for.”

  Chris laughed. “Come on, then. Your bath is ready.”

  She looked up at him. “My what?”

  “Your bath.” He took her hand. “And dessert.”

  “Dessert?”

  “Uh-huh. You’ll see.”

  He led her upstairs in to the master bathroom. Jenny smiled when she saw the candles and the bath full of bubbles.

  “Oh, Chris. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “Get undressed, baby. Climb in and relax.” He gestured to the counter. “I have some strawberries and wine here, too.”

  “You what?” she said.

  “Yep. You soak and drink, I’ll feed you.” His eyes were hot. “Sounds good?”

  “Oh, yeah. It sounds great.” Her breath was coming faster now. “But I want you to join me.”

  “In the tub?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d love to,” he said softly.

  They discarded their clothes, and Chris helped her in. The water was warm, fragrant, and Jenny sank down with a groan. He sat down across from her and handed her a glass of wine. Jenny took a sip, closed her eyes, and leaned back against the edge of the large tub. She felt all the tension just seeping out of her body now, and she sipped again.

  “Here.” Chris was holding a strawberry. “Open those sweet lips, baby.”

  She did and his eyes sparked with desire. It was so erotic, so intimate, him feeding her. She licked his fingertips, and his whole body jolted.

  “Another one?” he asked, his voice molten.

  “Ummmm.”

  Chris placed the berry between her lips, watched as she sucked on it a bit before nibbling. His cock hardened at the sight, and he groaned out loud.

  “What’s wrong?” Her blue eyes were large and innocent. “You in pain somewhere?”

  “Nuh-uh.” He shook his blond head. “Just helpless in the face of your drop-dead sexiness.”

  She smiled, slow and hot. “Come over here and say that, babe.”

  He moved closer, gathering her in his arms. She slid against his body, and he pulled her up and on to his large thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he fed her another strawberry, kissing her as he did.

  “Sweet,” he whispered. “So fucking sweet.”

  They stayed like that for several minutes, Jenny drinking her wine and Chris popping berries in to her mouth between kisses and cuddles; he felt her body relax on his, turn pliant and soft. She ran her soapy hands over his broad back, rubbed her hot centre against his cock. He caught his breath and gently pushed up, touching her pussy with the tip. She gazed at his handsome face, ran her fingers over the curve of his lips.

  “I love you,” she said. “So much. You know that, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Take me to bed, Chris. Kiss me all over… make me come against your mouth.”

  “You sure?” he said. “You’re not too tired or stressed?”

  “No.” She set down her glass and stood up, her amazing curves glistening wet and covered in bubbles. He stared at her, stunned at her lush beauty. “I want you.”

  They dried each other off gently, then Chris picked her up and carried her in to the bedroom. He set her on the bed, lay down on his back beside her.

  “We stop if you say, Jenny. You get scared, or you’re not sure, we stop.” His eyes held hers. “OK?”

  “OK,” she whispered, knowing that he meant it. From the very beginning, he’d never made her feel forced or threatened – not even once, not even by accident.

  She climbed up on his large frame, her thighs open on his muscular chest. Carefully, he pulled her up closer to his mouth, watching her face the whole time, looking for fear or hesitation. She gazed down at him, biting her full lower lip.

  “Just relax,” he said softly. “Open to me, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

  His words made her stomach flip over, and she almost wanted to cry.

  What did I do to deserve this man?

  Chris tugged her up, her gorgeous body still warm and pink from the bath. She was so close now, close enough that he could touch her slick folds with the tip of his tongue if he wanted; he could suck her clit gently if he made a small move forward. But no matter how much he longed to do both of these things – and more – he had to be certain that she was OK with this. He knew he could make it good for her, knew he could have her shaking and crying out with an explosive release… if she really wanted it.

  “Jenny?”

  She knew what he was really asking, and she smiled.

  “Yes,” she said, and lowered herself on to his mouth. “Yes.”

  Chris closed his eyes at the very first taste of her. Goddamn, she was perfect: sweet and hot and all his. He started slowly, running his tongue up and down her pussy, lapping at her wet arousal, letting her get used to the intense sensations. His hands were on her ass, slowly moving her against his lips, guiding her, helping her.

  Jenny gasped in surprise at the shock of white-hot pleasure. Without any thought on her part, her hands moved behind her and gripped Chris’ thighs tightly, bracing herself. Her hips thrust forward, begging him to take more of her in to his hot mouth. She didn’t notice when she started to gyrate and raise and lower herself on her knees, riding Chris’ tongue. All she knew was that it felt so good, and she thought she’d die if he stopped what he was doing.

  Using his thumbs, Chris gently parted her lower lips now, exposing her clit to his gaze and his breath. His lips closed on it, and she gave a small cry of pleasure. He pressed down on the taut bundle of nerves gently, then released it. She dug her nails in to his legs and made a sound of pure need.

  “Chris,” she managed to say. “Do that again… please. It felt so good…”

  He grinned and did as she asked. Her eyes shut tight as his lips took her clit again, increasing the pressure a little bit at a time, easing up, pressing once more. Jenny cried out, the feelings almost too much, but still not enough.

  “More,” she begged, her voice hoarse with lust. “Please, Chris… I need more.”

  He mouthed a kiss on her bud, then he started to lick at it slowly, with long, firm strokes. She was shaking wildly now, her whole body tense with want. Without warning, she fell forward, her hands landing flat on the wall above the bed. She stared down at him and he opened his eyes, knowing that she needed to see them when she felt this out of control.

  He lifted his mouth away, just a bit, and reached up to cradle her face. “It’s me, baby. I’m right here, I’ve got you. You’re OK, Jenny.”

  “I know.” She touched his hair, just to reassure herself that he was real. “I know it’s you.”

  “You OK to come like this, honey?”

  She nodded. “Please – I’m so close.”

  “Then let me take you there. Let me take you all the way.”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes again, her blonde hair falling around her flushed face. “I need this. Please…”

  Chris started licking her again, his tongue circling her clit. She gripped his head in both hands, shamelessly directing him for her pleasure, and he loved it. She was grinding herself against his mouth now, her thighs spread wide, her head thrown back, her whole body arching and straining. Her cries rose, higher, louder. She said his name over and over again, and he heard it as a plea, a prayer.

  When her orgasm broke over her, Jenny actually stopped breathing for a few seconds. The sensations were so powerful, so all-encompassing; they were too much, and she could do nothing except hold on to Chris and feel. Then every
thing came back in a rush – her breath, her voice, her awareness – and she screamed her release. Never in her life had she come like that, and she both loved it and was frightened of its unforgiving, unrelenting intensity. Then suddenly, her body slumped and everything went dark.

  Jenny didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she came back to herself, she was in Chris’ arms. He was whispering to her, murmuring in her ear, and she heard his worry, felt the tension in his large body. She opened her eyes, and saw the relief spread across his face.

  “Jenny,” he said. “You with me?”

  “…Yes.”

  “Fuck, baby.” He gave a shaky laugh. “You scared me to death.”

  She smiled and kissed him. “It was amazing, Chris. It was so, so good.”

  He paused. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, God. Yes.”

  He stroked her back. “So – you’re OK?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He sighed. “Thank Christ.”

  She propped herself up on one arm. “You’ve never had a woman pass out on you from orgasm before?”

  “Ummmm.” He looked embarrassed. “Well… yeah. Maybe once or twice.”

  She giggled and he grinned a bit. There had been a time in his life when he’d had numerous one-night-stands, and he hated that she knew that about his past. He was amazed and grateful that she never held it against him, though, and never made him feel cheap about it.

  “Well, there you go.” She traced the curve of his chest. “You have hard-won skills, Brooker.”

  He laughed now, totally relaxed. “And you benefit, you mean?”

  “I do.” Jenny kissed him again. “But only me.”

  “You bet, baby… you’re the one.” He held her as close as he could. “The only one.”

  **

  “OK. I’ve thought about it.”

  Jim glanced up from making up the sofa-bed. Kat was leaning against the hallway wall, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked nervous.

  “OK,” he said cautiously.

  “I’ll talk to you and the guys,” she said. “I’ll – I’ll tell you as much as I can, but on two conditions.”

  “Name them.”

  “Nobody tells my friends anything. I do that myself, if and when I feel ready.”

  “Yeah, OK. That seems fair.”

  “And…” She stopped.

  “And what?”

  “And if you don’t convince me that you can keep him away from me, then I get to leave. I mean, right away. Tomorrow.” She nodded at the suitcase. “I get to pick that up and walk out the door, and none of you stop me or follow me. Dallas doesn’t track me with his teams, nobody asks around at the bus or train stations. You just – let me go. You forget that you ever knew me.”

  Jim stared at her determined face, and was surprised to feel an ache in his chest at the thought of her maybe being gone at this time the next day.

  Goddammit… am I actually expected to agree to this? To just letting her walk on out of here, all alone and unprotected? No fucking way.

  “Kat…”

  “No.” She cut him off. “Non-negotiable. If I’m honestly not convinced, I get to leave.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ll give us a fair hearing? Have an open mind and really listen? Not go in to this with one foot already out the door?”

  “I will, Jim. I’ll give you a chance to show me.” She looked away. “I – I want to stay, you know. I like my life here.”

  That got his head straight again. In his anger at her he’d forgotten that Kat had a great thing here in Denver: good job, decent place to live, great friends. She was happy here, he knew, and the fact that she was ready to just junk it, to throw it all away with both hands, should have told him how scared she was of whoever she was hiding from.

  She’s willing to lose it all, start again from zero and all alone, just to make sure she’s safe. Fucking wake-up call, man, so listen up, yeah?

  “I know you do.” He walked over to her, took her shoulders gently. “I know you’d stay if you felt like you had that choice.”

  Her green eyes filled with tears.

  “It’s alright, baby.” He wiped the tears away, his hands more tender than she thought they could ever be. “Let’s just see if me and the boys can give you that choice. OK?”

  “OK,” she whispered.

  Can they offer me that? The choice to stay this time, to not run?

  God. I hope so.

  **

  Dean got home from the tattoo parlour at just past eleven o’clock that night. His last client had wanted a huge job done, and Dean had agreed because the guy was a regular. Also, he thought that maybe Emma needed some more time on her own.

  He stood in the living room, taking off his jean jacket, listening. The house was quiet, and he walked down the hall slowly, hoping that she was awake. He needed to hear how she was doing.

  Dean stood in the bedroom doorway, listening to her steady breathing. She was curled up on her side, facing away from him, and he sighed. He knew she was pretending to be asleep.

  Baby, I have watched and listened to you sleep for thousands of hours. I know your after-chemo breathing, and I know your after-great-sex breathing, and I know your fucking-exhausted breathing.

  “Emma.” He kept his voice gentle. “I know you’re not sleeping, angel. But it’s clear to me that you don’t want to talk, and that’s OK. Just listen to me, though.”

  He paused, gathering his thoughts, and her breathing stilled.

  “I know you’re scared to hope," he said. "You’re scared to believe it’s over. Hell, all we’ve done for as long as we’ve been together is look as far as the next blood test, the next chemo session, the next bone marrow check. And now? Now you’re being told to look to a whole, wide-open future, and I know that’s huge. Huge enough to crush you.”

  Emma turned to face him, her eyes very dark in the half-light.

  “What happens if you let in even a tiny bit of that hope, and the cancer comes back?” he asked. “What if you get a glimpse of that whole amazing future, and it’s just taken away from you? I think that’d break your heart, Emma. I know it seems easier to just not hope or believe, in some ways. But if you do that, baby, if you just refuse to live for beyond tomorrow, then you’re not really living, are you? And if you’re not going to really live, then why did we fight so hard to save your life?”

  She sat up and he came to the bed, sat on the edge.

  “It’s your choice, Emma. I’ll have your back no matter what you decide to do, you know that. But I’m thinking now about the future that I want with you… marriage, kids, our own house, grandkids. The whole damn thing. And the only way I’ll throw myself in to all of that is if you’re by my side and as committed to it as I am. To the love and mess and chaos of all of it.” He held her eyes. “No holding back, no half-belief. All-in.”

  “Dean…”

  “It’s OK.” He pulled her to him. “You’ve had one hell of a day, and I’m beat. We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

  She nodded against his chest. “I love you.”

  “God, I love you too.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll take it all up tomorrow. When you’re ready, OK?”

  Dean went to the bathroom to have a shower before bed, and Emma lay down again. She’d been lying there for hours, her whole body tense with unhappiness.

  She’d been sure that Dean was angry at her for her self-pitying response to what was actually amazingly great news. But – yet again – the man had been nothing but patient and compassionate with her. One more time he’d shown her who he was, his good heart shining through in every word he said.

  Emma closed her eyes as she started to feel exhaustion wash over her. She'd intended to stay awake until Dean came to bed, but the shock of the day made her feel incredibl
y tired. She fell asleep, and when Dean came back in to the bedroom, he smiled at her genuine slumber. He climbed in to bed with her, took her in his arms carefully. Emma burrowed in to his warmth, and he sighed.

  Whatever comes, we’ll get through it, the same way we always have. Together.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Dean and Dallas stood on their respective front porches, clutching their cups of coffee. They sipped and chatted, but neither man really talked about what was on his mind.

  Despite the fact that he trusted Dallas with his life – and he had done exactly that in Afghanistan, and more than once – Dean didn’t breathe one word to his friend about Emma’s remission. He thought it best for her to tell their friends when she was happy about it. To tell anyone before she was ready seemed to him to be a massive betrayal.

  On Dallas’ side, he was worried about Olivia. Yeah, in so many ways she was doing better than anyone could have hoped. This was a woman who’d been a famous model, lauded for her perfect face and body, splashed across the covers of men’s magazines in little more than a bikini or a thong. This same woman was now covered in scars: on her cheek, her stomach, her hips, her breasts. Her modeling career had crashed and burned, she’d had to sell her house, she’d had to start all over again.

  And Olivia had. She was happily planning their wedding. She’d thrown herself in to working for her shelter for battered women and kids, heart and soul. She was comfortable in bed with him, she trusted Dallas to look at her naked, to touch her everywhere. Still, though… her inability to touch her own scars, to even look at them sometimes, that worried him. He knew it was normal, that it would take time. But he wanted to help her more, if he could. He just didn’t have any idea how.

  At eight o’clock, Dallas’ cell phone rang. He glanced at it and said to Dean, “Jim.”

  Dean walked over to Dallas’ porch, leaned against the railing. He’d told Dallas about Jim retrieving a drunk Kat from the bar, and how he’d stayed at Kat’s place the previous two nights. Dean had watched Dallas’ face carefully as he’d talked about Kat: he knew that Dallas knew something about the woman, but as always, Dallas didn’t let on a damn thing. The man was an expert at keeping his thoughts to himself.