Command and Control: Holding Out for a Hero, Book 2

by Shelli Stevens

  She brutally shoved the voice of reason away, having no place for it when pleasure was so predominant.

  He gently bit her clit, and Megan climbed even higher toward that peak. When he slid two fingers inside her, fucked her with them, she exploded.

  With her body still trembling, he came to his feet and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He plunged into her, sinking deep and filling her so magnificently.

  Blind with pleasure, her nails dug into his back as her ankles locked around his waist. He backed her up against the wall of the shower stall, slamming into her and taking her mouth in a hard kiss.

  Megan kissed him back feverishly, tasting herself on his tongue and thrilling at it. Trevor moved harder, deeper inside her, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks as he fucked her against the wall.

  Water sluiced over them, running down her face and in her eyes, but it didn’t matter. In fact it heightened the raw sensuality of the moment.

  Trevor lifted his mouth from hers and let out a guttural groan, before she felt him spurting warm and thick inside her.

  The sensation flung her over the edge again and she let out a ragged cry as she clenched around him. Her nails dug deeper into his back and she clung to him as her world spun.

  Finally, reality returned as the water grew cold. She blinked, stunned to realize Trevor had slid to his knees and they were almost on the floor now. He was still imbedded in her, though she could feel him softening.

  How long had they been in here? Making love?

  She kissed the jagged scar on his shoulder and felt her throat tighten up. He’d returned from Afghanistan with it, and as of a year ago it had still bothered him a bit. Did it still now?

  “I’ve missed you so much, angel,” he muttered raggedly. “I can’t tell you how God damn much I’ve missed you.”

  Smiling, she bit his shoulder lightly. “You swear too much, soldier.”

  He gave a soft laugh “I know. Sorry. It’s habit from being around my men all the time. I haven’t…been spending much time with ladies.”

  “Mmm. And you consider me a lady?”

  “You’re a classy as hell lady, Megan. Always have been.” He lifted his head to smile at her. “I knew that when I came back to town one day and saw you for the first time. Wanted you like I’d never wanted another woman. I knew I’d have you, but realized it might take a little convincing.”

  “You were a little rough around the edges,” she agreed, her heart quickening. “But you were a Wyatt. The sexiest Wyatt—”

  “Damn right. Though don’t let my brothers hear you say that,” he said smugly.

  She gave a throaty laugh. “Anyway, you made me realize pretty quick how hot a rough man can be. One night with you and I didn’t want anyone else…”

  “Mmm. That’s because I made you come twelve times.”

  Slapping his chest, she rolled her eyes. “Ten. But who’s counting?”

  “I’m a guy, of course I’m counting.” Trevor joined her laughter and reached up to turn off the water. “It’s probably two in the morning, angel.”

  “Good God. Where has the night gone? Thankfully tomorrow is Sunday.” She shook her head and yawned.

  Maybe just saying the time made her a little sleepy. Or maybe it was getting screwed silly twice in the last hour.

  “We should probably get some sleep,” he agreed. “Because pretty soon the sun will be rising and we’ll have to do some talking.”

  Her breath caught and she was careful not to look at him. Talking. Did he mean long term? About them? A future? If there was one again? Or was this just a week of hooking up for old time’s sake.

  The possibility didn’t settle well and had a lump forming in her throat. She closed her eyes, thinking of how things had been before she’d left him. That wasn’t settling well either.

  “We have to plan that menu, after all.”

  Some of the tension eased from her shoulders and she gave a small nod. Right. The menu. Apparently Trevor wasn’t thinking beyond tonight and maybe the wedding. Which was okay…wasn’t it?

  “Let’s go to bed,” she said huskily and untangled herself from him. Jesus, her thighs were going to hurt in the morning. “I’m suddenly beyond tired.”

  Trevor stood and exited the shower, grabbing a towel and then handing her one.

  “If you want,” he began hesitantly, “I can sleep on the couch.”

  She froze in the midst of drying herself and glanced up at him. Her pulse quickened and she wondered for a moment if he wanted to sleep on the couch. But once glance at his face showed he was just trying to be respectful. Give her space if she needed it.

  Closing the distance between them, she cupped the back of his head and brushed her lips over his. “I’d prefer you sleep in my bed, soldier.”

  The slow smile that spread across Trevor’s face was one that had always made her knees a little weak.

  He winked and murmured, “Yes, ma’am,” before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her down the hall to her bedroom.

  They’d slept in. Megan realized it the moment she opened her eyes and saw the sun coming through the blinds. That was, if Trevor was still here. Her pulse leapt as she sat up and looked at the other side of the bed.

  Everything inside her went a little soft at seeing him sleeping next to her. The memories from last night floated to the surface of her mind, sending a warm tingling through her body.

  Without the haze of nighttime and a few drinks, she still would’ve made the same choice and gone to bed with Trevor. And watching him now, she was tempted to do it again. It was as if the year apart hadn’t even happened. Waking beside Trevor, making love to him, it was all so natural. So right.

  He lay on his back, his brows knit from whatever he was dreaming about. The blankets were off his body, but the sheet still clung to his hip, leaving his upper torso naked.

  And, oh yum, what a wonderful torso it was. His chest was smooth, the pectoral and abdominal muscles so defined she had the sudden urge to trace her tongue over the dips and ridges.

  With a devious smile, she decided on just exactly how she’d wake Trevor this morning. Scooting down on the mattress, Megan leaned over his body and lowered her head to brush a kiss over his abdomen. He didn’t stir and she gave a soft laugh. Well, she’d just have to try harder.

  Her long hair fell over his chest as she let her tongue trace one square of muscle on his abs, loving the familiar taste of him as she moved lower.

  The air left her lungs as her back slammed into the mattress—the massive arm pinning across her collarbone made it impossible to move and difficult to draw a breath.

  Megan gripped Trevor’s forearm, her legs kicking on the bed as she tried to throw him off. Drag in air. The eyes that looked down at her were unfocused and almost black with rage. She knew he wasn’t seeing her, wasn’t really even awake, but the lack of air going to her brain wasn’t going to let her rationalize it.

  Trevor blinked and just like that he was back. The rage was replaced with shock and horror as he jerked his arm away from her, allowing her the oxygen she’d been deprived.

  “Megan?” he rasped and lurched away from her on the bed, thrusting his fingers over his head. “Fuck. Oh my God. Fuck.”

  Even with her heart still pounding a mile a minute, Megan knew he was more upset than she was. She crawled toward him and reached to touch his shoulder, but he shook her off and climbed out of bed.

  “I’m sorry,” he ground out, reaching for his jeans and tugging them on, then the rest of his clothes. “Sorry’s not even enough. Shit.”

  She swallowed hard, following him out of bed. “Trevor, wait—”

  “No. Not now, Megan. Not now.” He shook his head and left her room, heading straight toward the door.

  Her heart lurched and she rushed after him, grabbing his arm before he could leave.

  “Don’t do this,” she pleaded, digging in her feet to stop him. “Don’t you dare walk out like this.”

 
He spun around and caught her arms, jerking her against him. His eyes were wild, his face pale.

  “Don’t you realize I could’ve fucking killed you?” he asked savagely. “Without even being conscious of it?”

  The bite of his fingers against her arms was going to leave bruises, but she didn’t protest as she slid her hands up to cup his face.

  “You wouldn’t have, Trevor. I know you wouldn’t have,” she whispered. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me—”

  “I can’t. Jesus, Megan, I can’t.” A shudder ripped through him and he looked down, his gaze taking in where he gripped her. His mouth tightened and he cursed, releasing her immediately.

  “You can, Trevor. Don’t walk out of here right now.” She made sure every trace of fear was gone from her face, and she slipped into the woman she was during her day job. “If you walk out of here right now you’re risking whatever chance we had at making this work. Is that what you want?”

  He shook his head, and opened the door, but she slapped her palm against it.

  “Answer me, Trevor,” she yelled. “Do you want this to fail before it even has a chance again? Because if you walk out this door, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

  His long fingers circled her wrist, but his grip was gentle this time as he pulled her away from the door.

  “The only thing I know anymore, Megan, is that I can’t keep hurting you.”

  After he’d left, Megan closed her eyes and slid down the door to the floor, curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

  She bit her lip fiercely, but it didn’t stop the sting of tears in her eyes.

  Maybe it had felt natural waking up next to him this morning, and maybe every part of her begged to give them another chance. But with Trevor leaving, he’d just given her the brutal reminder of why she’d left him in the first place.

  Trevor walked out this morning because he didn’t want to hurt her. The only thing he didn’t seem to realize was that every time he closed himself off and walked away, a little piece of her died.

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday on Main Street was quiet, with most of the folks in church or sleeping in. There were only two shops open right now. Kate’s Cakes and The Oceanside Tavern. Any other day Trevor would’ve chosen Kate’s Cakes, but today wasn’t any other day. Today was the day he’d woken up nearly choking to death the woman he loved. His stomach roiled and his teeth ground together. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck and he shoved open the door to the tavern with unsteady hands.

  He strode inside, his unseeing gaze moving over the man sweeping the floor and moving straight to the alcohol behind the counter.

  “Morning,” the man called out. “Cleaning up after a bit of a wild night. Bachelorette party.”

  Trevor didn’t reply, just gave a slight nod.

  “Oh, hey, didn’t recognize you at first,” the older man said coming around the counter. “Aren’t you the oldest Wyatt boy? I heard a lot about you. I’m Sam, new in town. Evan was real nice to give me a job.”

  The idea of small talk wasn’t settling well in the least. Trevor forced a slight semblance of a smile and a gruff, “Welcome to town. And yes, I’m the oldest Wyatt.”

  “And a soldier, I’m told. Army.” Sam gave a hard nod and wiped down the counter. “Me? I’m retired from the Marine Corps. I’ve got nothing but respect for you, son. What can I get ya?”

  “Shot of Jack Daniels.”

  Sam didn’t even blink or comment about the time of day, just grabbed a shot glass and poured the shot, before sliding it across to him.

  Trevor lifted the glass and knocked it back, letting the whiskey warm his belly before setting the empty shot down again.

  “You been over to Iraq? Afghanistan?” Sam asked quietly.

  “Afghanistan.” He didn’t want to talk about himself or about Afghanistan. Wanting to divert the bartender’s attention he asked, “What about you? What kind of combat did you see back in the day?”

  “First Gulf War. Somolia.” He shook his head and sighed. “I think you boys got it worse though now. Like I said, you’ve got my respect. And you’ve got another shot on me if you want it, son.”

  Trevor thought about it, stared at the bottle on the other side of the counter and the amber liquid inside. Another shot wasn’t going to solve anything. Hell, the first one hadn’t even helped.

  “Thanks, Sam. I’m good for now.”

  “No problem. Well, then that first one was on me.” Sam paused and then said quietly, “Time does help with the healing, son. I promise you. Now I’ll leave you in peace, but you holler at me if you need anything.”

  Trevor nodded as the other man walked away. Staring into his empty glass, he wondered if Sam had come back from combat as fucked up as he was.

  The army had offered him counseling when he’d returned from Afghanistan. He hadn’t thought he’d needed it, but now, sometimes he wondered if maybe he should’ve.

  Being with Megan last night had been so damn amazing. He’d begun to feel whole again, like everything was finally going to be okay and maybe he’d get the shot at happiness that seemed so damn unattainable. Falling asleep with Megan in his arms, hearing her soft breathing as she’d snuggled against him, he’d had so much hope.

  But as he’d fallen asleep, guilt had sliced through any attempt at letting the past go and moving forward. And then he’d woken up from another nightmare to find Megan pinned beneath him, eyes wide with terror, struggling to breathe.

  He’d left. Gotten dressed and run like hell. If he was smart, he’d run like hell back to Fort Lewis, stay away from Megan and the potential of causing her any more pain.

  The door to the bar swung open, sending blinding light into the dimness and Trevor squinted, glancing away with a scowl.

  “Hey, big bro.”

  For fuck’s sake. Really? Trevor bit back a sigh at the sound of Todd’s cheerful voice and turned on the stool to face the door.

  Only it wasn’t just Todd. It was Todd and Tyson. They stood in the doorway, arms folded over their chests, staring at him like they were about to stage an intervention.

  “Kind of early to be hitting the bar, don’t you think, boys?” he drawled with a slight smile.

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” Tyson said, striding across the bar and sitting to the left of him.

  Todd took the seat to Trevor’s right.

  “Megan called us,” Todd explained.

  Trevor’s mouth slipped from the forced smile back into a grim line and his chest tightened with regret. Had she told them about what had happened? That he’d damn near killed her?

  “Did she now?”

  “She’s worried about you. We all are,” Tyson said softly.

  Trevor gave a short, humorless laugh. “You’ve got a wedding coming up, Ty, the last thing you need to be worrying about is me.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t have a wedding coming up,” Todd said, his mouth curving into that wide smile that had probably charmed half the women in town out of their panties. “In fact I have no intention of ever marrying. So that leaves me plenty of free time to worry about my big brother.”

  “Good to know.” Had his brothers always been this determined to drive him nuts?

  Tyson leaned forward and grabbed his shot glass, setting it farther away. “You need to cut with the alcohol, Trev. You seem to be seeking out the tavern every time you have a problem.”

  The hell he did. He hadn’t turned into the soldier that turned to the bottle.

  Or have you?

  Anger and frustration brought a slow flush up his neck. His jaw flexed. “I won’t deny it. But I usually stop at a shot or two.”

  “Even a shot or two isn’t the way to deal with whatever the hell’s going on in your life,” Todd replied, siding with Tyson. “You’re better than this, Trevor. You know you are.”

  “How the fuck do you know I’m better?” Trevor finally snapped, letting all the anger at himself and his l
ife explode. “Either of you? And what gives you the right to walk in here and tell me what I can and cannot do? If I want another shot of whiskey, who the hell’s going to stop me?”

  “I am.” Tyson replied matter-of-factly, cocking his head.

  “I’ll take that second shot now, Sam,” Trevor yelled, but kept his narrowed gaze on his middle brother.

  Sam idled over. “Jack Daniels?”

  “Actually, he’s going to pass,” Tyson said calmly. “And, yes, this time I am speaking as the sheriff.”

  The hell he was. Trevor turned to Sam and repeated his request for another drink.

  Sam’s gaze slipped between Tyson and Trevor and finally he sighed.

  “Sorry, son,” he muttered. “But like I said, I’m new in town. Last thing I’m gonna do is piss off the sheriff. Even if he is your brother.”

  Trevor saw red. Before he could think about what he was doing, he lurched off the chair at his brother, fists swinging. He got in one good punch before Todd jumped in, getting him in a headlock and pulling him off Tyson.

  “Fuck you both,” Trevor choked out, struggling in his brother’s hold. “You have no right. No right to come in here and try and control me. Control my life.”

  Tyson rubbed his jaw and glared at him. “We’re not trying to control your God damn life, Trevor, we’re trying to help save it.”

  “Sorry about this, Sam,” Todd called out. “We’ll take it outside.”

  Humiliation warred with the rage as Trevor was dragged outside by his youngest brother. Already he planned on getting in a punch on Todd the moment he let him go.

  A few minutes later they stopped on a path that led to the Pacific Ocean. The warm morning sun beat down on them and the only sound came from the waves slamming into the beach.

  Todd let him go and took a quick step backward, obviously sensing his intent.

  Trevor dragged in a lungful of sea air and glared at the two. They were smart, keeping their distance now. The urge to fight and destroy was ripping through him, and he had to remind himself they were his brothers. They were blood.

  He glanced at Tyson, saw the red mark on his jawline and hoped it wouldn’t be a bruise by his wedding day. Guilt pricked at him, not deep enough to make him want to apologize, but enough to make him regret not taking a deep breath before he’d attacked.