Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1)

by Colleen S. Myers

  “Why don’t we head home, and we’ll discuss it there.” John looked over at Sara and inclined his chin. “Thank you.”

  Sara waved them out. “No worries. We had fun.”

  Vicki grabbed her jacket and followed on his heels. “What trouble?” Vicki repeated. “And what couldn’t you say in front of Sara?”

  “It’s not that. Sara knows.” John opened the car door and motioned her in.

  Vicki sat and buckled in. “What do you mean, Sara knows? Knows what? And what don’t I know?”

  John’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She wasn’t going to like hearing this. He hated to see her upset. To lie wouldn’t sit well with him, either. He’d tell her straight out. “Someone vandalized my place.”

  “What?” Vicki’s eyes grew wide. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? The person after me went after you. This is all my fault.” She stared down at her balled hands.

  “That is a huge leap for you to make. I piss people off all on my own.” Boy, did he ever. He placed his hand over hers. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “There is no way this is not connected,” Vicki insisted.

  John started the car and turned onto the road. “Bentley agrees that this is about you.”

  “Well, then, we need to break up.”

  John instinctively stomped on the brakes, causing the car to shimmy before pulling over to the side of the road. Thank God there wasn’t any traffic. There was only one other dude who shot around them with an expletive. John turned and glared at Vicki. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “You’re stupid. I won’t put you at risk.”

  “I am already at risk, and nothing is going to change that. And I am not giving you up.”

  Vicki’s lips twisted. “Who says it’s your choice?”

  “You did when you crawled into my lap.”

  Vicki folded her arms. “We haven’t even had sex yet.”

  “We will soon.” John planned on it at the earliest possible time.

  “Says you.”

  “Damn straight, says me. Now let me drive and get us home before we get into an accident.”

  ****

  Vicki stared transfixed at John’s apartment. Most of the furniture had been trashed. Big red letters covered one wall in sick verbal graffiti, you suck and jarhead being some of the nicer ones. The walls had been hacked with knives. His stuff littered the corners of the room. TV gone. The couch was intact. Thank goodness. She had many fond memories of that couch, and it was the only thing not touched in the room.

  “I replaced it.”

  “What?” Vicki blinked and brushed back her bangs.

  “I replaced the couch—well, Flick did. He went and got me a new one.”

  “Oh.” Her chest hurt. Another couch then. Damn it. They’d done a number on his place.

  “You were staring at it hard enough to drill holes.”

  “Sorry, it’s just . . .” She swept her hand around the room. This was so stupid. She should have known better. That first episode, she should have stayed away. He’d withdrawn then. She’d brought him into this. It was her job to get him out.

  “I think it would be best if we give up on this for now.” Vicki squeezed her fingers together. Her knuckles whitened. She couldn’t let him see this made her upset. That it was the last thing she wanted to do, or else he wouldn’t go.

  John reached out and took her hand. He uncurled her fingers, then laced them with his own. “No. Good try, though. Next time put some conviction in your tone. Little less quiver.”

  Vicki went to yank back her hands, but the jerk refused to let go. He used her jerking to yank her into his arms. “Stop it, John. Let me go.”

  “No. Look at me, Vicki.”

  But she didn’t want to; she was afraid to really. “Why?” Her voice did quaver, darn it.

  “Look at me.” The softness of the fingers trailing down her cheek belied his hard tone.

  Her eyes traveled up. Their gazes met.

  John adjusted her in his arms, aligning their hips. “There. I am not going anywhere. Just like you wouldn’t leave knowing that I’m not quite in one piece.”

  “You are in one piece!” And if anyone tried to say different, she’d—

  With a laugh, John leaned his forehead against hers. “You know what I mean.”

  Vicki turned her face into his hand. “I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you. I can hire guards or something.”

  John stiffened underneath her thighs. Probably not the best thing to say right now. She opened her mouth to clarify as his icy words dripped into the silence. “So you don’t think I could protect you? What am I, a fucking girl now? I am a marine. I can take care of myself. Six months out, and I can jog with this damn thing. My hand to hand remains the same. Practice is all it will take, and my weapons skills remain—”

  Vicki covered his mouth and hung on as he tried to sit up. “I didn’t mean that. You are perfectly capable. You know I know this. I ran to you when I was in trouble. It would kill me if you were hurt protecting me. Not when I’ve just found you.”

  She let her fingertips feather along his lower lip. His tongue licked in her wake. His lips were so soft. Softer than they should be. Pillowy. What a stupid word. Velvety? Maybe. And he had a frown line. Her thumb stroked between his brows.

  “Vicki,” he said, sighing. “It would kill me if you pulled away now, if anything happened to you. I would feel responsible unless, well, you are pulling away because you don’t want to be with me.”

  And we couldn’t have that. How could he doubt her feelings? She drooled when he walked in the room. Yesterday, she’d dropped her glass at lunch when he bent over. It was embarrassing. And unfair. He didn’t seem half as affected by her. She was going to have to do something about that, wasn’t she?

  Vicki pressed him back toward the couch. John looked up at her with one brow raised. “You’re right.”

  John stuttered. “I am. I mean, of course, I am. I know I am.”

  She smiled. Her eyes focused on the base of his neck. His pulse throbbed. She could see the beat pick up. She leaned down and licked, loving the fluttering under her tongue. She pushed him back on the couch and straddled him.

  “Hello,” John said, spreading his arms out along the back of the furniture.

  Just where she wanted him. Vicki grinned. With a growl, she latched her teeth onto the column of his neck.

  His hands gripped her hair. She thought he would pull her back, but instead his hands urged her against him. Good. She wasn’t done. Her tongue swiped along the pulse once more, then trailed up to his ear.

  He stirred against her thigh. She felt him hardening in excitement. Soft words whispered past her ears. She couldn’t make them out. A few were in Spanish. Look at that. She reduced him to another language. The power that rushed through her at the thought was heady.

  ****

  John couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d tried to resist. Well, a little. Okay, maybe not that hard. But she was—it was . . . He needed this. He needed her. He had to have her. It was that simple. The knowing made it easier.

  He used her hair to guide her face to his. “You sure?” His lips met hers in a quick caress.

  Her eyes opened, dazed. “You’re not going to run away again, are you, John?”

  “Hell, no. But you’re getting over being bonked on the head.”

  Vicki’s mouth tilted at the corner. She twined her arms along his neck. “That means you do all the work.”

  John huffed out a breath. His cock could hammer nails at the moment, and the more she rubbed her thighs along his, well, the less likely he would be able to let her go. Ever. “But you’re the one on top.”

  Vicki blinked. “Oh, yes, that does give me control, doesn’t it? Take off your shirt.”

  John stripped off his T-shirt, ripping the neck a little more in his haste. Fuck it. Afterward, he smoothed his hands down her hair. Vicki’s fingers trailed along his chest. Her pinkie brushed his
pec, making his heart ache. Her expression—part wonder, part lust—set his heart racing. His thighs tensed when he shifted and put his hands underneath her shirtdress. One tug, and it all would come off. The thought sent all the blood rushing south.

  He inched up the fabric, watching her face. When he reached her groin, she peeked at him through her lashes. “What are you doing, John?”

  His eyes reflected his purpose. “I should not be the only one topless in this room.”

  Vicki tapped her chin. “That doesn’t seem fair. You’re right.” She raised her arms in the air, daring him.

  John slid his hands up her sides, and with a flutter, Vicki’s dress flew to the corner. John sucked in a breath. She wore black lace, only lace. The wire cups forced her breast out and up, her nipples dusky against the dark fabric. His cock grew even harder at the sight. His mouth hovered over the nearest peak, his breath causing the nipple to bead.

  Vicki gasped and grabbed the back of his head.

  He looked up into her flushed face. Damn, he did that. Put that soft look in her eyes. His hands slipped between her thighs as his tongue flicked out to caress her nipple lightly. He cupped her sex, sliding one finger in.

  She moaned and arched back, urging him on. As his mouth sucked in the peak, he turned his head. The noises she made with every move, every touch urged him on. He pushed up and put his hand on her neck, yanking her head down for an open-mouth kiss. Her taste flooded him, making his head swim. Sweet, like the most delicate flower. Fuck. She was going to his head.

  Her tongue mated his, rubbing against his lightly in return.

  He curled his hand into a fist on her hair, tugging. His breath whistled out. “Damn, baby. You taste so sweet.”

  Vicki smiled and ran her hand down his face. Her bra hit the floor as she shrugged it off. “More, John.”

  He gripped her waist and rubbed her hard against his shaft. “Up for one second, baby.”

  She knelt, a knee on each side, while he kicked off his pants. They landed next to them on the couch armrest. Next to where her wisp of lace panties soon draped the lamp.

  Desperate, he yanked her back on his lap, nipping her lower lip. “Are you sure?”

  There would be no going back for him. Now or ever. This was it. He needed to know she was on the same page.

  Her hand bracketed his face. “I have never been surer of anything.”

  John reached out and grabbed protection. Another gift in the suitcase from Flick. Boxes and boxes of condoms. A few rolls and he was ready. His stomach tensed when she shifted on his lap. He pulled her down into more kisses, angling his head to get deeper. Kiss after kiss, caress after caress. His thoughts shattered as she ground into his thigh, whimpering.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He moved so she was on top of him and pressed up. Fuck.

  Vicki screamed out, “Oh, God, John. That. Oh. God.”

  John closed his eyes and bit her neck. Riding out the sensation that flooded him, tight, warm, perfect. Mine. His teeth bared, he seated himself all the way, once, twice. She quivered, and he felt her inner thighs start to shake. Her scream filled the room as she came. With one more thrust, he followed her into bliss.

  Nineteen

  Vicki rolled over, her inner thighs protesting the movement. She rubbed the muscles as she took in John’s bedroom. It was pretty sparse, one huge king bed and some dressers. Less damage here. Nothing on the walls, just piles of fabric shredded and mounded against the wall. She felt a stab of guilt. Torn due to his involvement with her. She’d have to get him some clothes to replace what he’d lost. If he’d let her. He tended to be stubborn. She snorted. Tended to be—ha! He could give a mule a run for its money.

  After flipping her hair, she wiggled to face him.

  John lay on his back, arms above his head. A faint trail of hair decorated his pecs, then trailed to form a—hello.

  Her gaze darted upward. John’s lips were curved in a slight smile, but his eyes were still closed. Morning wood or was he faking? One way to find out. She moved the cover off his chest inch by inch, planting little kisses in the wake, her hand smoothing down to explore under the sheet. His shaft filled her palm; her fingers flexed automatically.

  She glanced up again. John’s eyes were slits, watching her. A light gleamed in their depths.

  John crossed his arms behind his head. “What are you doing down there, Vicki?”

  She scooted down to straddle his thigh. “What do you think?”

  “Are you sure?”

  For some reason, his words made her angry. Of course, she was sure. Didn’t she prove that last night? And speaking of last night, she smoothed a hand up his groin. “Yes, I am sure. Let me show you.”

  She felt a wicked grin slide across her face and saw the effect it had on him, her man, her everything. For a minute, panic flooded her, eased away by desire. Her desire for this man. She’d been waiting for him her whole life. Her palm stroked his member.

  His eyes closed on a gasp, and he said only her name. “Vicki.” And she’d never felt so desired.

  Her tongue licked the tip of his penis. Salty, sweet, perfect. This was her man. And he needed to know she wanted him. Scars, limbs, everything. “John?”

  His eyes drifted open, smoldering.

  She trailed her hand along his chest, sitting up. “This is mine.” She trailed the same hand down to cup him. “This is mine.” She trailed her hand farther down to stroke his left leg where it ended. “This is mine.”

  His eyes flickered and mouth opened. Oh, can’t have that. She rose and kissed him, mouth open, her tongue stroking his.

  “You’re all mine. Let me show you.”

  Last night, he’d explored every inch of her; now it was her turn.

  ****

  Stray light pierced John’s eyes, waking him. He groaned and rolled over onto his chest, his hand reaching out. After the best wake-up call of his life, they both had napped again. When his hand didn’t encounter anything, his head rose. Bah on mornings.

  He scanned the room. No Vicki. Hmm. “Babe?”

  No answer.

  John sat up and ran his hands down his face, getting his bearing. He grabbed the prosthesis and put it in place, threw on some sweats, and stood. A survey of the apartment found it empty.

  “Vicki.” His words rang out in the silent room.

  He cursed and strode to the door. Where the hell could she be? Maybe she ran to her own place, but she should know better than to have gone alone. What the hell was wrong with her? He bolted toward her door.

  As expected, Vicki stood at the entrance to her place. His breath hitched when he saw her in his white dress shirt. Sleeves rolled up and what looked like his jeans, too. He needed to get her clothes. Then from the bottom of the steps, he saw the tears sliding silently down her face, the fallen shoulders, hand tight on the doorjamb.

  John cursed and let his head fall against the wall. “I forgot to tell you. They got both of our places.” Damn it. He could have spared her this. Hell, with Joonie’s help, it could have been put to rights almost immediately.

  Vicki jolted and turned to look at him, her fingers shaking as she dashed away a tear. “Yeah.” Her words sounded hollow, as if they came from a long distance.

  John flew the last couple of feet between them to pull Vicki into his arms. “It’s all right, babe. It’s just stuff. We can replace stuff. It’s the other shit that matters.”

  “It’s just . . .”

  His words gruff. “What, baby?”

  “It was mine.”

  “Just stuff, Vee.”

  “But I was never allowed my own stuff before.”

  John glanced inside to see the damage to the walls, equal to, if not worse than, his own place. Damn it. “What do you mean?”

  “Everything I had was picked out for me. What my parents felt I should want, not what I really wanted. And it was worse when I was married. Everything we owned was all about David’s view on competing with the neighbors. Everything here.”
She splayed out her hands. “That was my choice, this . . . oh my God. Zelda!” Vicki pelted into the apartment, making clicking noises.

  “Who’s Zelda?”

  “My kitten. Where is she?” Vicki stuck her head under the couch.

  John couldn’t help appreciate the view of her butt as she bent over before he joined her on the floor and checked behind the solid wooden end table. Thank God he wasn’t allergic to cats.

  A distinct meow answered Vicki’s next call before a furry white body flew into Vicki’s arms. The cat appeared no worse for wear. Vicki buried her face in the cat’s hair and started to weep.

  John pulled her in tight to his body. Her crying ripped him up. “See now. The cat’s okay. It will be okay. We can replace this. I got the number for the place that’s coming to clean my rooms. They can do both.”

  “No! I’ll do it myself.” Her hands gripped his shirt; her tears stained the collar. “Who is doing this to me, to us?”

  “I don’t know, but I will find out. I swear it.” Her head nodded against his chest, her fingers swirling along his skin. Idly, she started drawing letters across his pecs, sending a shiver down his spine.

  John’s fingers covered hers; his lips grazed her temple. “I can hear you thinking. Smell it even. Like burned motor oil.”

  ****

  Vicki smacked his arm. How romantic was he? “That’s not the greatest of images, John.”

  “What’s bothering you?”

  She collapsed against his chest again. It was fast becoming her favorite spot. “Something my mom said. Can we go to her place?”

  “Okay. Let me grab a shirt first. She might object to the view.”

  They both glanced down at his bare chest, nipples beaded in the cool afternoon air. Vicki lost her train of thought. John did that to her. Her fingers tingled. John grabbed them before their sudden southerly exploration. “Not here, babe. Not that I object to the direction of your thoughts, mind you. Just the location. There isn’t even a door here. And the cat might object”

  Vicki’s cheeks burned, and she pulled her hand back. He brought out the ho in her. That had to be it. She brushed her hair back. “You’re right. We need to get you a shirt. That’s the only way to protect you.”