He glanced over the seat to see if he had an extra bag in the back. Murphy apparently didn’t have anything against hunters because he found a pair of hiking boots in a duffel on the back seat. There wasn’t much he could do about his wet feet, but at least they weren’t encased in wet socks anymore.
Gripping the steering wheel, he tried to convince himself he was waiting for the windshield to finish defogging and not trying to think of an excuse to go after Denise. She didn’t need him and she’d made that crystal clear. Shaking his head, he checked his mirror and pulled onto the street. He’d help her by finding Eddie Perry and putting him back in jail.
Fifteen minutes later, the wipers were on full speed and barely keeping the windshield clear enough for him to see. His phone rang and he answered it with the Bluetooth button on the dash. “This is Nolton.”
“Chris? It’s Bree.”
He could barely hear her over the pounding rain on the metal of his truck.
“Is something wrong?”
“Can you check on Denise?” she asked. “I’ve texted her a couple of times, but she hasn’t answered me.”
“Uh. I don’t think I’m the best person to do that, all things considered.”
“Right now, you’re the only one that can. Jase isn’t going to let me drive out there by myself in this weather.”
There was a short pause and he could hear Jase’s voice, but not what he was saying.
“I need to be here in case the kids wake up since they don’t know Jase as well.”
“Bree—”
“Please, Chris. She didn’t take Sprocket with her and she’s also not in a good place. Plus, if something happens to her in the storm, no one is there to help her. I need some peace of mind and to know she’s okay. Please.”
Damn. Looked like he had a reason to go after her after all.
“Yeah. I’ll check on her.”
Chapter 9
Denise held the trembling dog away from her as anxiety caused it to empty its bladder. It was the second dog that had done that. She hadn’t been quick enough with the first dog and now she reeked of piss.
Blowing out a breath through clenched teeth, she set the dog down in the pen and it ran to the corner to curl up on the mat with the other two dogs already huddled together.
On a positive note, most of it should wash off in the torrential downpour she had to walk through to get back to her apartment.
Perfect fucking ending to a perfect fucking day.
The dog seemed to calm down as the others welcomed her and she arranged herself on the pile. Even the damn dogs had someone to comfort them. She had…her. Her nose began to sting and her bottom lip trembled. Turning on her heel, she headed to the barn door. Setting the lights on low, she stepped through the smaller man-door, making sure to lock it behind her.
The sheets of rain drenched her within moments. A few steps into the yard, thunder crashed overhead.
“Fuck!” Mother Nature’s violence fed the anger roiling inside her, primer on the detonation cord waiting for an inopportune moment to set off the explosion she was desperately trying to keep contained.
But it wasn’t fucking fair. Sarah was loving and kind and forgiving and had finally been in a good place in her life. She had two smart, beautiful kids who didn’t deserve to lose their mom to cancer.
Denise was halfway across the yard when lightning split the sky and struck a tree in the field next to the barn.
Fists clenched at her side, she screamed into the storm. Everything came crashing down—the anger, the pain, the fear, and uncertainty pressed mercilessly down on her and she couldn’t bear the weight of it any longer. Her knees buckled and she sank to the ground.
Violent sobs forced their way out of her chest. The storm raged and crashed around her, echoing the one inside her. A small, rational section of her brain told her to get her dumb ass up and out of the rain, but she couldn’t make her limbs move. Couldn’t find the strength to keep pushing forward.
“Denise! Denise!”
Hands grabbed her upper arms, jerking her out of her stupor.
Surging to her feet, she fought the person holding her, pushing away from him.
“Denise, it’s Chris!”
She didn’t care. She needed to lash out and hurt something—someone. Use her fists to transfer this pain and anger away from her onto someone else.
Her fist connected with a hard wall of flesh, followed by a muffled, “Oomph.”
“You wanna let it out?” he shouted. “Have at it.”
“Fuck you!” She threw a left jab, followed by a right hook to his jaw, snapping his head to the side.
He turned his head back and laughed. “That’s it?”
“Fuck! You!” She shoved him and forced him back a step.
He took two forward, crowding into her space. The thin material of his t-shirt molded to his chest and abs while water dripped from his face. He held his arms out to the side, daring her to hit him again. “Come on, Denise. I know you can do better than that. Give me your worst.”
Something inside her broke. Shattered. She didn’t want to do her worst. She didn’t want to keep feeling this way. Taking a shuddering breath, she closed the distance between them and grabbed the sides of his face, pulling his mouth down to hers.
He flinched and, for a few heartbeats, she worried he wouldn’t respond. As she made the decision to pull away, his arms banded tightly around her and he opened his mouth, his tongue thrusting into hers.
Thank God. This was what she wanted to feel. Comfort and care from another person, in the touch and caress given by a lover. Given by Chris. Pressing her body against his, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Pulling back slightly, he said, “Up”, then sealed his mouth back to hers. He bent slightly and hefted her weight.
Denise wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her water-filled boots together behind his back. Rain seeped past her lips and mingled with their kiss, making it wetter and hotter. His wide-legged pace ate up the distance across the yard and he was climbing the stairs in mere seconds.
Halfway up, he stumbled on a step. Sharp wood risers dug into her back and hips when he fell forward, all but dropping her on the stairs.
“Ow! Shit. Sorry.” He braced himself above her, blocking the rain from falling into her eyes. “You okay?”
“I think so,” she said. Pain radiated from the center of her back and hips where she’d landed, but the bruises would be worth it tomorrow.
“We should probably walk up normally.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to give you room to think.” He used a finger to hook a wet strand of hair off her cheek.
“About what?”
“About whatever it is you think about that makes you shut down.”
His gaze was too intense. She looked at his mouth, his lips wet from the rain and their kiss. All she had to do was say the word and he would walk away. He’d pretend he hadn’t found her losing her shit in the middle of a thunderstorm. But how many times could she push him away before he stayed away for good? She was so tired of being alone. Even when she went back to Sarah’s and Kaden and Kimber, she’d still be alone.
She looked back up. Chris waited patiently while cold rain pounded onto his back. “I’m not going to shut down.”
He hesitated, as if he was going to ask her something, but decided against it. She almost asked him what, but the same hesitation stopped her.
What about tomorrow?
She didn’t want to think about tomorrow when she had to face the reality of being a single parent and all that entailed. Right now, she just wanted to think about him and the next few moments.
Curling up, she kissed him. His hand cradled the back of her head as he slanted his mouth over hers. They stayed there until another rumble of thunder rolled over their heads. She pulled away. “No thinking. For the next ten minutes, at least.”
He scowled at her. “Ten minutes, my ass. Up.” Pushing away from th
e stairs, he helped her stand then turned her and prodded her up to the landing.
She pulled her wet feet out of her boots and pushed open the door. Spinning as soon as she cleared the threshold, she threw herself into Chris’s arms, latching onto his mouth once more. He shifted their bodies so he could close the door, stumbling back against it as he took her weight.
“Shoes,” he mumbled against her lips.
She stepped back and watched him bend at the waist to untie his hiking boots. He’d changed out of his suit at some point. Water pooled at their feet as it dripped from their bodies. Tugging at her shirt, she shimmied out of the clinging material, dropping it in a sopping pile. He paused and looked at her shirt, then sped up his movements.
“Fucking laces are knotted,” he muttered. He reached into his back pocket and a pulled out a knife. Flipping it open, he slid it under the laces of his right shoe and flicked his wrist. He closed the blade and stood while kicking out of his boots.
“Eager much?”
“Fuck, yes.”
She glanced up from the stuck zipper she was trying to work down. His gaze was fixed on her chest. She noted her simple white bra had become see through. He’d apparently noticed the same thing.
He lunged at her, taking her to the ground in a controlled move while his mouth latched onto her nipple. Sweet baby Jesus, he’d better be able to get her jeans off. Heat radiated from him, warming her front while the cool floor under her caused her to shiver.
Or maybe it was all him. He pulled the cup of her bra down, flicking her pebbled nipple with his tongue. She moaned and thrust her hips against him. He tugged at her pants, wrenching at the zipper until it gave, then peeled them down her legs. On the way back up he put his hot, open mouth on the exposed skin of her hip, sucking briefly before licking the same spot.
Her eyes closed and she rolled her hips up, pressing harder against his mouth. For once she wished she was the type of woman who wore sexy, lacy underwear instead of simple, cotton briefs.
“I’m about to be doin’ a whole lot better,” Chris said.
“What?” She popped her head up in confusion.
He nuzzled the juncture of her thighs. “Your underwear says, ‘How you doin’?’ I was letting you know, I’m about to be a whole lot better. So are you.” His teeth scraped against her clit, through her underwear.
Liquid warmth spread up and out. “Chris, I want to feel you inside me.”
“You will. Just as soon as I can get out of these jeans.” His movements were frenzied, pushing the wet material of his pants past his thighs.
She lifted her hips and shoved her underwear down to her knees, managing to free one leg from the constricting material. His cock sprang forward and the warm, hard length rested against the inside of her thigh. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once—her butt, her breast, her hip—as if he wanted to touch all of her at one time. Wrapping her hand around him, she stroked from the base to the tip, rubbing her thumb through the drop of moisture at the tip.
He groaned and one of his hands briefly disappeared behind his back and returned holding a condom. He ripped the packet with his teeth, then pushed her hand out of the way while he rolled it on. Lining himself up with her entrance, he pushed forward, bottoming out in one hard thrust.
She hissed against the invasion and the sting. Surrounded. Engulfed. As if an ocean wave had crashed over her, enveloping her in its peaceful silence all while threatening never to release her from its powerful grasp. Dropping his face into the hollow of her shoulder, he stayed still, buried to the hilt. His lips soft and gentle against the sensitive skin of her neck while he throbbed inside her, his heartbeat keeping time with hers, a clock ticking down to some kind of explosion. One that had the power to cleanse or destroy.
It may have been seconds or hours, but just as she reached her threshold and was ready to push him away and retreat to her bedroom, he moved. Slow at first, as if he needed a moment to find his rhythm, then fast, hard, and uncontrolled. He hooked an arm under her leg and moved it to his shoulder, tilting her pelvis up, which allowed him even further into her core. Pushing up, he pistoned his hips with enough force she began to inch across the floor. She held on to his back and shoulders, wrapping her other leg high around his ass.
He looked down at where they were joined. She followed his gaze and watched him thrust in and out. Her breathing quickened as she anticipated each time he disappeared into her tight sheath, savoring the brief press against her clit, straining for more contact. More pressure. Something to help push her over the precipice she hovered on.
He dropped down to his elbows, obscuring her view. His hands cupped the sides of her face, his thumbs brushing the tops of her cheeks. She looked into his eyes and promptly closed hers.
“Denise.”
She opened her eyes.
“Stay with me.”
Her brows pinched together, unsure of the meaning in his gaze. It unnerved her. There was something…more. Something she wasn’t ready to face.
He thumbed her clit, putting just the right amount of pressure on the hood. There it was, that feeling coalescing in the very center of her. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she concentrated on letting her orgasm take her.
“Eyes open, Denise.”
Her eyes snapped open and immediately clashed with his. The damn broke—in more ways than one. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she came. The wave of release pushing everything up and out of her.
She closed her eyes and turned her head away, hardly aware of whether Chris came with her or after her. Dropping her leg, she waited for him to finish. She felt like an asshole, but she needed him to be done and to leave her alone. He kissed her cheek and her temple. Trying to hold it in only made it worse and she began to tremble.
“Shhh. It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. Her body heaved with the force of her crying. She covered her face with her hands and curled onto her side, pulling her legs up close to her body.
“Shit. Denise, please talk to me.”
She shook her head. “Just go.”
“Fuck!” A chill descended when he stood and she heard the rustling of his jeans.
He’d done exactly what she’d asked him to do. So why was she crying even harder now that he was gone?
Chapter 10
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Chris pulled up his jeans, not caring that the condom was falling off his softening dick. He had bigger things to worry about. Like what the hell had set Denise off right after they’d had sex. Had he hurt her? Did she regret what they’d done? Should he have taken his time and gotten her into her bedroom? Shit, he hadn’t even been able to get his pants off and her underwear still hung on one ankle.
Regardless, he couldn’t leave her like that, curled up in the fetal position on the cold floor of her entryway. They hadn’t even made it to the living room. She could hate him later for ignoring her order to leave.
Squatting down, he hooked an arm under her legs and shoulders and scooped her up, cradling her to his chest. She cried almost uncontrollably and it tore him apart. He carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She didn’t acknowledge him or her change in position.
Indecisive, he stood by the bed warring with his earlier decision to leave her alone and unwilling to leave her vulnerable. Fuck it.
In the bathroom, he removed the condom and peeled his pants off inside-out, hanging them over the shower rod. Grabbing a hand towel from the bar on the wall, he went back into the bedroom. Denise hadn’t moved, although her crying seemed to have eased up some. He cradled her head and lifted it from the pillow. With his other hand, he spread the towel out under her head and hair as best he could and folded the towel over the wet ends.
Going to the other side of the bed, he lay down behind her. He snagged the edge of the soft comforter and pulled it over them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as a fresh wave of sobs escaped.
Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do. He s
wallowed hard. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want,” he said softly.
She gripped his arm so tightly he’d likely have bruises in the morning. They’d go nicely with the one he was probably sporting on his jaw. Denise had a mean right hook. He released a sigh and pressed his forehead to the back of her neck, the tension leaving his body. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted her to want him to stay until that moment. He had no idea what would happen tomorrow, but she needed him in that moment, whether she could admit it or not. If this was all she needed, so be it. This was what he would give her.
Chris jerked awake when Denise left the bed. Watching her walk to the bathroom, he realized he hadn’t taken her bra off when he’d carried her to bed. She closed the door and he released a pent-up breath. Was he supposed to leave now? The toilet flushed and he took the coward’s way out—he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
The bed shifted as she eased back into it, giving him her back, but pressing close to him. Cracking open his eyes, he stared at the back of her head and concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and even. She rolled to her stomach and pulled the pillow under her head.
“I was an interrogator at an Operational Detachment in Iraq,” she said. “One of the ones no one admitted existed.”
So much for pretending to be asleep. He half rolled on top of her, pressing his lips to the center of her back. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
“I got involved with one of the senior interrogators. He was CIA. Older. More experienced. I was young and still naive, but I was good at my job. I was able to get information without resorting to some of the more…drastic measures, but I did that, too, when I had to.”
He didn’t say anything—he didn’t want to interrupt her and possibly derail her story. Instead he rubbed his lips across her back, tracing her tattoo of Joan of Arc.
“Back then, they still took women and children off the objective if they missed the primary target. One night they went out for a key Al-Qaida leader but he wasn’t at the target house. They brought back his sister instead and her ten-year-old son. His name was Ali. He came because he was protecting his mother’s honor. Preston, the guy I was involved with, decided the sister had information on her brother’s activities, so they decided to keep her in detention along with Ali. I was sent in as a friendly face to get information since it wasn’t acceptable to torture women.”
Locked-Down Heart (Combat Hearts Book 3) Page 6
