by Kris Norris
Kent mouthed her shoulder, sucking her skin. “Fuck. So wet. I love the way you react to me.” He nipped at the muscle threading into her neck. “Are you sore? Do you want me to stop?”
“No. More.”
He made a sound. Part purr, part growl. Then, he was lifting her leg, tilting her hips and plunging inside. No slow build up. No letting her adjust to his width. Just his cock deep, thrusting in and out. He was thick and long. Bordering on the edge of pain without ever pushing her over. And when he changed the angle just a bit like he was doing, now…
Heat burned a path up her groin then into her stomach, clenching hard as her release coiled inside her. Like a branch bending, bending, bending—snap.
He hit somewhere deep inside—some place she hadn’t known existed—and she broke. Ass grinding back against his hips, her hands clenched around the sheets as she spasmed in his arms, his name a hoarse whisper on her lips.
Kent grunted, his thrusts losing any semblance of rhythm. Hard, fast, long, short—each stroke was different from the last until he stiffened, his cock deep within her.
He reached one hand up, tunneling it through her hair and turning her face enough to capture her mouth. She cried out, licking and biting at his lips when his face appeared amidst a flash of light.
She inhaled, staring into his eyes—those incredible blue eyes that she’d almost convinced herself she’d imagined. That none of the previous snapshots had been real. But this was real. Color flushed high on his cheekbones, the skin unnaturally taut. The blue tinted irises were more of a steel gray around his fully dilated pupils. His brown hair hung in a tousled mess around his face, longer than she’d pictured with him being ex-military. But the longer length was rugged and sexy, and she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t do anything but stare up at him, drinking in every detail. The light pink hue of his lips. The fine lines around his eyes.
Kent met her gaze, glanced at her mouth, then snapped his attention back to her eyes. He must have recognized the way she was staring at him—focused. Attentive. He held himself still, his cock near bursting inside her before dipping down, hovering a breath away.
“Addison? Sweetheart, can you see me?”
She palmed his face over the scars. Marks she barely noticed because he was beautiful. Handsome beyond words as he held her gaze, blue eyes searching hers. She thumbed the corner of his mouth, enjoying the brush of soft skin across her finger. “I was right. It wasn’t a dream before. You’re…breathtaking.”
His eyes widened, his chest heaving against her ribs.
She forced herself not to blink. Not to give her body a chance to steal his image away. “I thought you said you had scars?”
Something flashed in his eyes—stronger than lust. That made her feel utterly possessed. A sign that he didn’t plan on this ending—then he was kissing her. Crushing their lips together. Eating at her mouth.
She closed her eyes out of habit. Narrowing her senses to his lips on hers, his shaft exploding inside her. She felt each pulse, each fierce shot of semen, as his release sparked another climax. She arched back, heat burning across her skin, her breath caught in her chest, until the sensations finally ebbed.
She wasn’t sure if it had been a minute, five or all evening. If the darkness when she opened her eyes was simply the lack of sunlight because they’d been lying there for hours. Well past when the rest of Kent’s friends said they’d reconvene. It wasn’t until she realized she couldn’t see anything—not a silhouette. Not a hint of moonlight or street lamps beyond the window—that she knew the blindness was back.
“No. No, don’t go. Kent—”
His arms tightened around her, his body hugging hers. “Right here, Addy. Not going anywhere. Just…slow your breathing. Try to match mine.”
His chest rose and fell against her side, the steady rhythm finally easing the panicky feeling. “That’s it. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“But what if it isn’t?” She cursed the way her voice cracked on the last word. “What if I never regain my sight? If I’m…blind for the rest of my life?”
Kent sighed, easing out of her then rolling her against him, her smaller frame cocooned within his larger one. He placed her hand on his arm. “Whether you need me to guide you or just have your back, I’m right here. For as long as you’ll have me. And yeah, I know how crazy that sounds, but… Ice was right. I jumped the moment I bumped into you. And I’m ready to land, now.”
He dropped a gentle kiss on her lips—more of a brush of skin than anything else. But the simple act, his whispered words, prickled tears in her eyes.
Kent chuckled. “I’m hoping those are happy tears.”
She gave him a watery laugh. “They are.”
“Good. Now, how about I go warm up the shower, then I’ll come and grab you. We can clean up—get something to eat before the guys return.”
She nodded, and he was gone. Vanished then was back before she could do more than make her body move—sit up on the bed. He leaned over her, scooped her in his arms then walked across the room in the direction of her bathroom. Water splashed in the background, growing louder as he moved toward the sound.
She tsked. “You do know I can walk, right?”
He shrugged, the powerful muscles in his shoulders flexing beneath her arms. God, the man was delicious. All hard planes and smooth skin. “Never said you couldn’t. I just like having you in my arms. Safe.”
Addison stared up at where she thought his face would be once he’d set her on her feet. “I realize we’re heading into unchartered territory, here, but… It’s not your sole mission in life to keep me safe.”
Silence. Not a breath. Not a sigh. Had he left without her realizing it?
“Kent?”
“You’re right. It’s not my sole mission.”
But it was his mission. That’s what he was saying.
A swirl of air, then his hands on her face, cupping each side. Drawing her closer. “I know you’re a cop. That you can handle yourself. That you have Blade, but…” A strangled grunt, as if he was in pain. “I need you to let me do this. Protect you. I know I can’t follow you around. That when you regain your sight, you’ll be back chasing meth heads and drug dealers, but…”
He rested his forehead on hers. “I need to feel like I have some control over your well-being. That you’re as safe, as protected, as humanly possible. And I need you to be okay with that.”
More tears burned her eyes, and she tiptoed up—kissed his mouth. Thankful she hadn’t missed. “You said when. When I get my sight back, not if.”
“My girl’s too damn badass not to kick this.”
God, his girl.
“I think I can make that concession. As long as you allow me the same privilege. To have your back.”
“You already do, sweetheart.”
She snorted, taking a step back. “Again, currently blind, not deaf. I heard that tone.”
“What tone?”
“The one that said I can have your back as long as it doesn’t put my safety at risk.”
He laughed. Not a forced one, but one that sounded rich and full, and she promised to do whatever it took to hear him laugh like that, again. “Damn, you’re something else. Now, get that adorable ass in the shower before I remember that Ice and the others are coming back and pounce on you.”
She smiled. “And what would happen if I pounced on you?”
She didn’t have time to consider it. His arms wrapped around her, lifting her up—taking them both into the shower. Warm water cascaded over her skin as he plastered her to the wall, trapping her with his body. She gasped at the cold press of the tile, inhaling sharply when he cupped one ass cheek, tilted her pelvis, then pushed inside her.
She broke.
Just like that. One stroke. The whispered sound of her name, and her senses exploded. She clamped around his shaft, each contraction drawing a harsh grunt from him. He was rock hard inside her, balls deep. His breath washing over her face.
Then
, he moved. Pounded into her. No semblance of the man who had touched her as if she’d break. This was lust. Hunger. Desperation. He claimed her mouth, kissing her as if he couldn’t remember her taste, despite having just made love. Then, his hand wedged between. Flicked across her clit. And she came, again.
Harder than before. Crying his name against his lips. Clawing at his back while he grunted then stilled, emptying inside her in a series of long spurts.
Addison slumped against him, hoping he could hold them up. She was drained. Exhausted in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Sex had always been a means to an end. A quick tumble. An equally quick goodbye. She’d never lingered. Hadn’t spent more time than necessary. So sleeping with Kent, showering together. Having him care for her… It meant more to her than the steamy sex. The pretty words.
Kent moaned, slowly easing free. “God, sweetheart. Are you okay? I…” He sighed, his hands trembling a bit as he trailed them along her arms.
She smiled. She did that to him. “Remind me to threaten to pounce on you more often.”
He smiled against her lips. “I’m trying to remember you need to eat.” He gave her a soft kiss. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Positive. Though, if you wanted to check for yourself after everyone leaves, I wouldn’t resist.”
“Christ.” His breath breezed over her face, his chest pushing against hers. “Addison…”
“I know. Me, too. Now, are you going to clean me up then feed me? Or was that all talk?”
“Sass like that won’t get you a gentle loving, later.”
“Who said that’s what I wanted? Or needed?”
“Point noted. And no, it wasn’t all talk. But… Can we stay like this? Just for a few minutes?”
Her throat thickened at the pleading tone of his voice. “For as long as you want. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
He kissed her, again, staying close. “I’m glad you don’t have plans, because you do, now. With me. For as long as I can convince you I’m indispensable.”
“Then, I guess you’ll be here for the foreseeable future, because I already know how irreplaceable you are—clued in the moment you saved my life.” She smiled against his skin—kissed his chest. “Now, about that food…”
Chapter 15
I thought you said you had scars?
And damn, she’d been serious.
Rigs had known the moment he’d glanced at her—her beautiful blue eyes fixed on his. Attentive. Focused—that she was in the midst of one of her flashes. That she could see everything.
But for once, he hadn’t cared. Hadn’t gotten the familiar tensing of his muscles. The chill down his spine at being on display. Then, she’d cupped his face—right over the marks—and told him he was breathtaking.
Him.
Breathtaking.
He’d been unrelenting after that. Pounding into her until she’d climaxed. He barely remembered his own, too caught in the sheer beauty of her as she pulsed around him, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. When she’d opened them and realized her sight was gone, again, his damn heart had hurt. Physically hurt watching pain shape her features—listening to the panic in her voice. The despair. He’d managed to calm her, but only after admitting what he’d been keeping to himself—that he was falling in love with her.
Belay that. He was already in love with her. He just didn’t know how to say that without sounding as crazy as he felt. He’d never been one to believe in love at first sight. In magic or fate. That a couple of tumbles in the sheets would feel so different than all the other sex he’d had. That’s when he’d realized how far gone he really was.
The thought should have scared him. Thirty-five years without getting attached, with having his life be all about the mission—his brothers—and he’d fallen the moment she’d smiled at him.
And now, all he could do was hold on. Pray she didn’t suddenly come to her senes and realize she could do so much better than a scarred soldier. One who couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her. After he’d carried her to the shower, he’d been silently reminding himself she needed to be pampered. Fed. To pull back. Give her some time to recover. He hadn’t wanted to come across as some sex-crazed asshole. Have her think he was only interested in her body—in using her.
Then, she’d teased him about making the first move, and he’d pinned her to the damn wall and pushed inside. He didn’t know if it was the years of abstinence or just because once he’d admitted he loved her—even to himself—he’d wanted to spend every moment with her. Holding her. Loving her. Make up for not finding her sooner. That only Addison could affect him this way. But… Fuck. He was lucky she hadn’t told him to leave. Or slapped his face.
He’d been prepared for both. Had been working through a number of scenarios. Ones he’d hoped would keep him in her house—in her bed. Because, simply holding her had quieted the voices in his head. And for the first time since Ice had saved his ass, Rigs had forgotten about the marks.
She did that to him. Broke him down then built him back up. Stronger than before. As if she’d found his missing pieces and secured them in place. Hell, maybe she had. Given him back what the IED had taken. His confidence. His humanity.
His life.
Not that he’d done anything to deserve it. Sure, he’d dealt with a few threats against her. But he would have done that for anyone. It was in his blood. An essential part of his genetic makeup. She deserved to know what she meant to him. That she was special.
Too damn bad he didn’t have a clue how to do that. He’d never been romantic. And spending a dozen years in the Marines hadn’t helped the situation. If anything, he was more emotionally removed than before he’d enlisted. Special Forces soldiers didn’t let their feelings dictate their actions. They were focused on the outcome. On taking whatever measures were necessary to guarantee the success of their mission. On making hard decisions. Exactly the opposite of what Addy deserved.
Which meant, he needed to change tactics. Be less the hardcore ordinance soldier Rigs, and more the man she’d brought back to life. More Kent. Surely, he could figure out a way to make that a reality. To stop looking for trouble every second of every day.
After he’d unearthed who was after her and disposed of the fucker. Permanently. Because putting her stalker in jail didn’t feel like enough. Wouldn’t completely eliminate the chance of more men being sent in the future.
Damn, how would he deal with her rejoining the force? Hunting down drug dealers? Because he knew, without a doubt, that she’d be back on duty the moment her sight returned for good.
Rigs took a calming breath. He could deal with that. No problem. He’d just have to make sure he wasn’t on an assignment whenever she went on a raid. That he could find himself in the vicinity—just in case. Or… Maybe he could convince her to join the bomb squad—have Blade at her side. While most people thought bomb disposal officers were crazy, he considered it a calculated risk. One far better than dealing with men with nothing to lose. Who’d rather kill everyone than get taken into custody. And Rigs could definitely help her out—give her pointers. Have an excuse to hang around her work more often.
Fuck. He was thinking like a possessive asshole. Not the kind of ideas that would keep Addy in his life. Maybe if he—
Footsteps sounded in the hall, then she was standing there. Blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. She was dressed in jean shorts and a tank, her adorable sandaled feet shifting on the wooden floors. Those beautiful blue eyes searching the area, not that she could see, right now. The way she tilted her head, trying to zero in on any sound. How one hand was palmed against the wall—whether for balance or to keep herself oriented he wasn’t sure—but it all spoke to her being back in the darkness.
She smiled, and his heart kicked over. Left a sore spot right in the center, again. Confirmed all the thoughts running through his head—that she was his. That he’d find a way to be the man she needed—the one she’d resurrected. Only better.
He force
d himself to breathe, to do anything other than stare at her in utter silence. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
She laughed at his words—at the raspy tone of his voice. The one he’d used when they were making love. “I’m not the only one.”
Christ. She was serious. Again. It didn’t make any sense, but Rigs wasn’t going to question his good fortune.
He stepped out from behind the counter, finally realizing she wasn’t holding her cane. “Shit, did I move your cane? Forget it someplace?”
She shook her head, blonde hair swishing about her shoulders. “I thought maybe I could just use your arm.” She toed at the floor with one delicate foot. “If you don’t mind?”
Mind? She wanted to let him care for her. Guide her. Spend the rest of the evening with her touching him, even if it was just his arm. While his teammates were there. A visible declaration that they were a couple.
He made a noise—part grunt, part moan. Did she know what that meant to him?
Addison laughed louder, holding out one hand. “I’ll take that as a yes. Of course, once Blade’s recovered, you’ll have to share that duty. Though, I’m sure you two can come to some sort of understanding.”
Damn straight they would. He didn’t have much experience with dogs, but he’d make sure he became an expert. Or at least, Blade’s best friend.
Rigs stepped toward her, heart hammering, his hands clammy, when a red dot flashed on the corner of the wall behind her, then shifted to her shoulder.
His training kicked in before he’d even finished processing the situation. Had him diving across the space, catching her in his arms and taking her to the floor. Glass shattered in the living room, chunks of wall spraying across them as he rolled them into the hallway. Another dull thud, and the light next to the kitchen exploded, raining down glass and bits of filament.
Rigs glanced up, Addison’s body pinned beneath his—as much of her as possible shielded from the debris. From another attack. Another bullet cracked through the wall—far too close to their heads for his liking—then punched through the drywall across from them.
