by CLIFF, J. C.
“I’m doing fine,” I respond flatly, staring at the floor.
“I hate that answer, you know that? Fine means you’re doing shitty,” he retorts, leaning in close to me.
I pull away and turn to look at him with a scowl on my face. “What do you want me to say, Travis? Too many things have unfolded in the past twenty-four hours for me to process anything. Not to mention, I was knocked out with God knows what drug since noon yesterday.”
He looks away from me, and hopefully it’s shame that fills him. “I’m sorr—”
“Save it.” I hold my hand up, interrupting him. “I want answers, and I want a phone call,” I demand.
He narrows his eyes, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Yeah, I can’t let you have either,” he says sternly.
“No? What the hell, Travis? No?!” My voice escalates with indignation as he raises an eyebrow at my outburst. “I can’t believe you’re going to deny me.” My throat constricts, and my upper lip snarls. “You’re a real bastard.”
At that very second, Stryker loudly clears his throat, purposely interrupting, and we both turn to look at him as he stands in the doorway holding my glass of orange juice.
I give him the evil eye, and at least he has the regard to act a little penitent for being part of Travis’ game. He walks into the room and hands the orange juice to Travis, which is a smart move. I have the desire to toss the drink in their faces. It’s a coin toss at the moment as to which one.
I turn to face Travis with a heated scowl. “My father needs to know I’m safe. This is my life we’re talking about here, my own flesh and blood, and you won’t even give me the courtesy of a phone call?”
Stryker’s lips thin as if he wants to say something, but he holds back, letting Travis handle the situation. Travis grabs my hands and looks at me with pleading eyes, which is odd. Since we had been invaded, he’s been in warrior-mode the entire time, not showing a speck of his soft side.
“Nothing is safe right now, Jules,” he explains. “The only safe place for you right now is here with me, by my side 24/7.”
I scoff and jerk my hands out from under his. “Is that so? How convenient,” I mock. “I’m surprised you’re not drugging me with more Blyss right now…or did you forget to put that in your backpack?” I hiss. I look at my wrists and make another snide remark. “What? No restraints? You’re slipping, Travis. I’m surprised there’s not a dead bolt on the door, too.”
Stryker steps in front of me, coming to Travis’ rescue, and interrupts, “Jules, you’re not being fair here.”
I raise both brows, staring indignantly at Stryker and his audacity. Who the hell does he think he is? I cross my arms over my chest defensively. “Well, do tell then, Stryker. I’d seriously like to know what you think is fair. How about I rip you apart from everything you’ve ever known and loved, and then drug you. Oh, yeah, then let’s top that scenario off by having you shoot and kill another man, all for a criminal you already know is going to keep holding you hostage.”
He bites at the inside of his cheek, his lips puckering off to the side as he keeps his mouth shut, not having a decent retort.
My bare foot begins tapping on the carpeted floor, with my lips pursed while I stare Stryker down with a heated glare. Is what I’m asking for really that unreasonable? Maybe I shouldn’t be so obstinate, but nobody is giving me answers, and it’s like the minute I got my memory back, Travis has been the very man I knew him to be at the facility, and I don’t like it. He’s played me for a fool the entire time. Now I know how Nick felt when I did it to him.
Travis’ deep voice breaks through the silence in the room. “Stryke, I got this. Just shut the door on your way out,” he commands in a low and ominous tone as he jerks his chin toward the door. I don’t like where this is going. I watch in silence as Travis bends down to put the juice on the floor. His jaw muscles are taut, and as he sits upright, the look in his eyes has me holding my breath. Uh-oh.
Once the bedroom door clicks shut, Travis clenches his fists tightly, and then spreads his fingers out wide, releasing obvious, pent-up tension. Frustration is evident as he leans forward, mere inches from my face, and grits out through clenched teeth, “When I say no, I mean fuckin’ no. I’m not going to deal with your tirades of childish behavior. Not now, not ever. My patience is hanging on by a thread here, and I don’t think you want to push me over that edge, do you?” His steely words cut through my soul like a sharp knife as his eyes flare at mine. “So tell me, Jules, just what the fuck don’t you understand about the word no? Or do you need a lesson in the meaning?”
The blood drains from my face. The icy tone in his voice emits the same viciousness as when I was captive at the facility. I remember this Travis all too well. Now that the jig is up and my memory is back, there’s no need for him to play nice. Every one of his words from not too long ago comes back to haunt me. “This is where the shit gets real, Princess. No one is going to hold your hand anymore, especially me.” And the worst one, “That’s none of your concern; you’re a slave. How’s that for a different perspective?”
I don’t know what the hell he wants from me, but I’m not going to take it from him. I just saved his ass, and this is how he treats me? I haul my hand back, getting ready to slap him across the face, but he catches my wrist.
“Son of a bitch,” he spits out angrily. “What the fuck, Jules?”
“I’ll tell you what the fuck,” I start to rant, but he cuts me off by crashing his lips against mine. I fall back on the mattress, fighting his kisses as his heavy body topples over mine. He grabs my other wrist, manhandling me, and I lift my hips to buck him off, but it only serves to place his cock between my legs.
“You wanna dirty fuck, Jules?” he breathes over my lips. “The way you’re grinding on me, I think you do.”
“Get off me, Travis,” I warn through gritted teeth.
“You mean, get you off.” He smirks then rolls his hips into mine as his lips press hard against me.
I thrash my body, trying to buck him off, but I fail. He slips his tongue over the seam of my lips, and I turn my head to the side to get away, but he just follows, working me over and over until I start to tire from the struggle. Oh, God, his lips are to die for, and slowly I feel myself caving in, my anger dissipating. My chest’s labored breaths change from struggle to lust and passion. How does he do this to me? How does he make me feel like he’s a part of my soul and I can’t live my next minute without him?
“You know you want me,” he arrogantly whispers over my lips. I narrow my eyes, trying to look defiant and not give away my fading resolve. His gaze is heated, and his need is becoming more evident between my legs, causing a rush of heat to spread to my core. He rains hot, passionate kisses down the length of my exposed neck, and shivers roll through me.
“You think you can just get away with distracting me, using your body?” I breathe heavily.
His knee pushes against my thigh, spreading my legs open to him. My nipples have betrayed me already, and I arch my back into his hard chest, seeking friction.
“Yes,” he gruffly whispers as his teeth graze my skin along my neck. I can feel him smiling against my skin, and then a deep chuckle follows suit. Smug asshole. He works his way to the outer shell of my ear. “So sexy.” He breathes his warm breath into my ear, sending goose bumps scattering across my skin.
“Travis…” I whisper in vain. I quickly decide that escaping reality feels better than facing it. I allow my muscles to relax and sink into the mattress as I let him have his way with me.
“That's it, baby. Let me have you,” he softly whispers as he releases my wrist. His hand slips into the front of my panties, and I lose my breath. My stomach flutters, swirling with excitement as his fingers brush along the lips of my sex. I stifle a whimper when his fingertips spread open my folds and dip inside. I let out a soft gasp, and grab onto his shoulders, squeezing in response.
“So wet, already,” he whispers as he slides his finger deep in
side my wet heat, filling me. I thrust my hips into his hand, silently begging for more. He then pushes two fingers in deep, stretching me, and then rubbing them against my g-spot while using deep, sensual circles.
“Oh, God,” I moan, closing my eyes, savoring the pleasure. His fingers are so strong and masculine; they feel like heaven as he brings me to the edge of ecstasy. He withdraws his fingers to swirl my wetness over my clit, and then he plunges his fingers back inside, spreading me open wide. “Travis, we can’t…” I trail off with a helpless whimper as he rubs my clit with his thumb. There are people in the next room.
“Kiss me, Jules,” Travis softly demands.
My tongue slips out and I run it over the seam of his lips, giving him what he wants. My heart skips a beat as his warm tongue deliciously swipes over mine in reply, and my pussy clenches around his fingers. He tastes so forbidden, and it feels like we’re a couple making up after a lovers’ spat. The sexual craving he creates in me always turns my resolve upside down. I scrape my nails down the length of his muscled biceps, and they flex as he continues to pump his fingers in me faster and faster.
I whimper as our tongues dance in a heated tangle. I gasp for breath as his thumb relentlessly swirls around my clit with firm pressure, tormenting me, and finally pushing me over the edge. I thrust my hips into his hand as he ignites a fire, my inner muscles pulsating and squeezing his fingers.
“Damn,” he groans, and then drowns out my cries with his possessive kisses. I grab his broad shoulders, pulling him into me so I can wrap my arms around him. When my legs stop shaking and I’ve come down from my high, he breaks the kiss and pulls back, with his lips hovering over mine. “I want nothing more than to fuck you right now.”
“Please do.” I'm shameless.
He groans as he removes his fingers from my sex, and I immediately miss his touch. He then rests his body back over mine and holds my face in the palms of his hands. His desire is still evident as his erection throbs between my legs, but he ignores it. “I have important business to work out right now, baby.” His eyes search mine before he softly says, “Look, you will get your answers, and I’m not saying you can’t call home…just not right now, okay?”
I nod, agreeing with him. With the oxytocin released from my orgasm, the hormone is humming happily through my veins. It’s left me calm and sated. We both fall silent for a moment. He gently caresses along my cheek with the back of his fingers as each of us gets lost in our own thoughts.
I’m sure he’s just trying to placate me, because really, when all this mess is said and done, I’m still somebody’s captive. With the thought of being his captive, his marriage proposal comes to mind. The happy hormones come to a screeching halt, and I feel confused all over again. I glance at my left hand resting on his shoulder, the glimmering diamond catching my eye. Why did he ask me to marry him? What is his motive? With there being so many secrets, how am I supposed to know if he was being genuine or not?
I bring my hands to my chest and nervously begin to twist the ring around my finger. As I do, I contemplate the questions that are swirling around in my head. Decision made, I nervously bite the inside of my cheek as I slide the ring off my finger. Travis sees what I've done, and quickly places his hands over mine, stopping me. He dips his head to the side to catch my gaze, but I keep my eyes fixated on his hands.
“Don’t even think about it, Jules. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want it back.”
I lift my chin slightly, peering up at him. His eyes swirl with distress and affliction. “How do you know what I’m thinking?” I softly ask.
He breathes out a huff of air, sounding slightly offended. “You really have to ask that? I’ve spent damn near every waking hour with you for the past six weeks. I know how you think.”
“Travis,” I clench my jaw and look away from him, not sure if I want to hear the answer, “why did you ask me to marry you?”
His two fingers come to rest under my chin, turning my head back to him. “That’s a loaded question,” he states as his eyes bore a hole through me, straight to my soul. His voice is serious and full of finality, “but one we will address later, when we have time to work on us. The ring stays on.”
Wow. He's seems so sure of this...of us. It would have been nice to hear an I love you.
“What does keeping this ring on until things blow over have to do with anything?” I whisper, confused. I slip my hands out from under his, and despite his protest, I hold the ring out for him to take back. He shakes his head adamantly, refusing it.
“No, Jules,” he breathes in a low voice, and he looks as if I ripped a piece of his heart out, but I continue to hold the ring out for him to take anyway, remaining silent. “This isn’t going to happen right now,” he insists, his tone hell-bent with determination. As if he’s in denial, he wraps his hand back around mine, closing the ring inside the palm of my hand. His eyes search mine for answers, but I don’t have any. He’s the one who popped the question, and like everything else, he remains elusive as to why he does the things he does.
My voice comes out croaky and downhearted. “Relationships are built on communication and trust, not on lies and deceit. Have you forgotten the fact I’m already engaged to someone else, Travis?” He briefly closes his eyes, and his jaw muscles flex with tension.
“We are not discussing this right now,” he states firmly, and the discussion is over. There’s a war going on between the two of us, an unspoken one with our eyes. With renewed determination, he takes the ring from my hand and slips it back on my finger. I look from the ring back to his eyes in disbelief. “This ring belongs here, right on your finger. Even if I were to take it back, which I won’t, I have nowhere safe to keep it right now. First, let’s get through this ordeal alive…then we’ll talk,” he says adamantly. It’s obvious I’ve upset him. Maybe he does love me and doesn’t know how to say it. “We’re also going to need to sort out the battle scars in your head before you even think about handing that ring back.”
“I don’t need to sort out anything, Travis. I know what I need. I need to go home.”
I watch as he forces himself to relax, battling to keep his voice calm. “You can’t do that just yet. We’ve already discussed the reasons why you can’t go home right now. You need to trust me when I tell you the full magnitude of the past two days hasn’t hit you yet. The amount of emotional turmoil on your psyche is going to bowl you over,” he says with concern.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, looking down at my hands.
“Unfortunately, I know better.” He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his somber gaze. “I’ve been through this hell before. Shit, I’ve been trained for it, but even that doesn’t stop the consequences that follow the act. Even the most highly trained men and women struggle with the aftermath of battle. It’s a basic fact. Something happens on a subconscious level when you pull the trigger.”
“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Travis.” My heartbeat accelerates just from the mention of the word trigger, and I squeeze my eyes tightly, wishing it away. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear in a tender show of compassion.
“Hey,” he says in a soft, husky voice, “don’t check out on me.” I search those beautiful eyes of his, and all I see is genuine concern. “I have to wrap up some plans with my men out there, sweetheart. They’re waiting on me.” He brushes his lips over mine in an endearing kiss. “I want you to take a nice, warm shower while I finish debriefing my men, and then after that, I want you to eat something.”
I clear my throat. “Why can't you tell me what’s going on?”
He rests his forehead against mine and softly sighs. “The only thing I can tell you is shit’s getting very intense. I need you to listen to all my orders, and follow them to the T. I can’t afford you doing something off the cuff right now. I’m serious, Jules, because doing so will inevitably put yourself and my men at risk, and it will all be on you if you decide to buck my authority,” he firmly states.
&n
bsp; “All right,” I whisper, agreeing to listen.
“By the time you get out of the shower, I’ll have some breakfast in here waiting for you.”
“Okay,” I softly reply.
Whatever is going on with his men, it has him wound up in a bad way, because he schools his facial features again, turning them back into his infamous stone wall. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and then gives me a tender kiss on my forehead before he gets up to leave.
This must be what it feels like when love and hate collide, and then intertwine, creating mass confusion and mixed-up feelings. I feel so discombobulated over my unsorted feelings. He’s a criminal for God’s sake, Jules! One who stole you, and has not only kept you captive, but continues to do so.
This situation of me having feelings for him is really screwed up, and I wonder where this leaves Adam and me. Hell, is there even an Adam to return to? And if there is, could it even work at this point? There is no way either one of us would be able to ward off this type of danger chasing us. Both of us are simply too inexperienced in the department of guns and street battles, let alone being able to hide ourselves effectively. Is it even fair to pull him into this perilous world? We’d forever be on the run, looking over our shoulders. Where would that leave his job and our future?
I’m precariously teetering on the edge of a cliff, and I don’t know how hard I will fall when I hit rock bottom. I feel a sinking depression coming on, and my hope is waning. I chastise myself for wanting to give up hope. Maybe I’m just simply tired and worn down. Perhaps Travis is right; I’ll feel better after a much-needed shower, and then once I eat something, I’ll gain a little strength and a fresh outlook. I force myself to get out of bed and head for the shower.
Travis
When I left Jules alone to take her shower, I made her a nice spread of breakfast food and placed it on a tray. I left it on the little table in our room for when she got out of the bathroom, because I knew once the men and I started discussing strategies again, I’d forget to feed her. None of us slept well last night, and we’re all tired. The mental strain of figuring out what our next move needs to be just adds to our exhaustive state. Even though we’re used to working under pressure like this, especially on very little sleep, I find myself more on-edge than usual. Maybe because I’m worried about Jules.
